She stood there on the low revetment, shading her eyes with the flat of her hand and scanning the shallow valley spread out below her. There, in the dry and stony river bed at the bottom of the valley, a mixed force of heavy Gradniki musketeers and horse artillery fought a large remnant of the Witch armies. She squinted in a vain effort to make out the course of the fight, but twilight was coming, and the battlefield was obscured by dust and smoke. All she could make out was the flash and boom of the artillery, the peevish crackling of musketry, and the screams of the dying. Musket balls filled the air around her with a sound like angry hornets. A six-pound cannon ball shrieked out of the murk and smashed into the wall next to her feet, showering her with soil and stone fragments. Its energy spent, the ball rolled into the trench behind her, stopping at the feet of the frightened young conscript serving as her aide de camp.

Only a few can master the mysterious powers of witchcraft. Those with the inner gift and discipline to control these unnatural powers are called white witches. Just being able to use witchcraft is not enough for one to be a white witch—this title is only bestowed upon men and women who use these powers for the benefit of others, and above all, who fight against the dark influence of the cruel Witches who rule Morden. Others who have mastered witchcraft at the cost of their allegiance to the Witches are instead known as warlocks. Both types of witches and witchcraft in general was mostly unknown in Morden until the Bane War brought the knowledge of these abilities into the forefront.

The sharp, flat end of the pry bar bit deeply into the seam between the two slabs, sending chips of red-flecked stone flying in all directions. With a grunt, Malakai heaved on the pry bar, the muscles in his shoulders and arms straining against his coat. With all of his considerable might, the big golem pulled, gritting his teeth and willing the massive slab to move. As they watched, Dmitri and Karan saw the pry bar, a stout piece of iron some two inches thick, bow under the incredible strain, and they both took a step back. After a seemingly endless moment in which Malakai, the slab, and the pry bar were all balanced at their breaking points, there was a loud crack like a musket shot and the slab inched forward.

We have previously discussed the Enochian faith and its presence throughout Morden. However, we have done little to discuss those who work to spread and maintain the faith. While there are many churches—from roadside chapels to massive cathedrals—not every small town or farming village has an anointed member of the faithful. Even those locations that do have one welcome the alternative perspectives on the virtues that a visiting minister can bring to a sermon.

Alchemists possess an unusual flair for combining and mixing ingredients to form a host of different substances, ranging from potions and salves to chemical concoctions and even metals. The alchemist’s skill and the bizarre nature of his ingredients infuses these mixtures with unique properties that often rival the magical effects of witchcraft. However, unlike witchcraft, alchemy does not require a unique inner ability nor does it endanger the alchemist’s soul. In return, alchemy is also less flexible than witchcraft—it cannot be used on the fly, and requires preparation against the expectation of a future need.

Yuriy lay concealed on the rugged hillside in the fall of man-sized boulders in which he'd made his home these past few days. His heavy woolen cloak, smudged with stone dust and ocher to help him blend into the land, was wrapped tight about him to ward off the morning chill. In his hands he held a long, finely crafted Model IV rifle, the pride of Manreia, its forend steadied on the stones before him. Through the powerful scope mounted along the top of the rifle, he surveyed the fog shrouded Bruchstadt valley that stretched out before him. Three days he'd waited on this hill to get a glimpse at the Beast of Bruchstadt. Three days in this chill, damp autumn weather with no fire and little to eat. It was worth it, though. He would find the creature and he would kill it, and there would be one less evil in the world. For that opportunity, he would wait on this hillside for a thousand years if needs be.

The Kickstarter is now live, so for the next batch of posts we wanted to try to take our postings in a slightly different direction. The blog has already presented a healthy amount of information about the game world from a historical perspective. We decided that now would be a great time to present information about the viewpoint of the characters. After all, for a game group considering Accursed, persuading the players is just as important as exciting a Game Master about the material. With that in mind, we wanted to delve into the roles that we envision most commonly fitting into an Accursed campaign. We recognize, and most gamers should too, that not every hero in the setting is going to fit into one of these roles. Some might fulfill two or more, others might represent a completely different approach. However, these represent the archetypes.

In some cases, a carefully chosen word and a well-timed smile can represent an extremely effective weapon. Not every conflict is overcome with a blade or a rifle. Instead, simply talking out the situation can persuade an opponent to adopt a more amicable solution. Of course, sometimes, this doesn't always work, which is why a veteran knave is certain to have fallback skills—including those associated with running very fast.

A Revenant may appear human at first glance, but a closer look reveals more of his Accursed nature. As one of the living dead, Revenants have a faint scent of rotting flesh around them at all times, and their eyes are a milky-white in color. Their flesh is often disfigured with mortification, and the wound that ended their former life is often the most prominent of their many scars. Due to their unsettling appearance, Revenants have a difficult time dealing with the people of Morden. Most citizens consider Revenants untrustworthy at best, and there are many who consider all living dead—Revenants included—to be horrid pawns of the Witches.

The horrors of the Mummy Witchbreed originate with a foolish mistake made at the time of the initial Grand Coven invasion. As the Outlands began to fall before the Witches' armies, the other nations were scarcely aware of the dangers. For them, their daily routines were untouched by the political instabilities in far off lands. Consequently, the inhabitants of Hyphrates continued to scheme against one another, in hopes of gaining ever greater control over the fertile land. It was part of this scheming that led to the creation of these Accursed—and proved an early turning point in the war.

In the land of Hebron, legends tell of a powerful being made of clay that protects the people in their hour of need. Details vary by the telling, but most agree that the creature was formed from dust and clay by a powerful priest and given life through magic words carved on its body or by a magic formula written on parchment and placed in the creature's mouth. In some of these stories, the creature is little more than a mindless automaton; a powerful construct that possesses personal initiative and follows orders to the letter. In other stories, the creature is deadly and cunning; a monster requiring constant supervision and a danger to both its creator's enemies and the creator himself. These Golems, as they were called, existed in one form or another throughout Hebron's antiquity, being at once metaphor for man's hubris and a representation of man's power and his wish to protect hearth and home. When the Crone and her armies boiled out of the Mountains and entered Hebron, at their head strode massive, hand-built horrors. Automata of bone and clay, of iron and straw and pallid flesh, these horrific creatures cut a swath through Hebron's defenders. Those few who survived called the monsters Golems and fled before them, their ancient stories come to life at long last.

The Chimera's obsession with transmutation and interconnectedness led to the creation of the Mongrel Witchbreed. Their curse, however, is not entirely manifested by the dark magics that the Witchmark imparted. Rather, it is the Witch's unholy curiosity that represents the heart and soul of the curse. Because of this, the perception of a Mongrel and the reality are two very different things. Few outside of its victims recognize the true essence of this Witchbreed's curse.

After the majority of the witches' forces retreated beyond the mountains, they abandoned many of their tools. The armies that they used to conquer Morden were not needed to secure it. Their banes were adequate to keep the people and nations firmly under their control. The witches released the humans that they had inducted into their service, so that these soldiers could once more care for the land, providing their taxes and homage to their conquerors.