The Articles of Dragon: "Aesirhamar"

Over the years I've written this blog, I don't think I've devoted much space to the adventures that have appeared in the pages of Dragon. I'm not quite sure why that is. In retrospect, it seems to me that this would be an obvious source of commentary, particularly as I often made use of these scenarios in whole or in part. Perhaps one day I'll go back and correct this omission in a more systematic way. Today, though, I want to focus on a single specific Dragon magazine adventure that I think is genuinely worthy of attention – for a couple of reasons.

Roger E. Moore's "Aesirhamar" appeared in issue #90 (October 1984) and is a companion piece to "Plane Facts on Gladsheim" from the same issue. I'd actually go farther and say that "Aesirhamar" is just as important as the article it accompanies, because it shows how the information in the article is supposed to be used in play. I think that's important in this case. As I stated in my earlier post, "Plane Facts on Gladsheim" is rather dull, focusing primarily on the way that the normal rules of AD&D must be modified to account for the home of the Norse gods. The result is, in my opinion, quite tedious rather than exciting, which is why I never regarded "Plane Facts on Gladsheim" as highly as I did Moore's "The Astral Plane."

With the addition of "Aesirhamar," though, Moore's approach in the accompanying article makes more sense. Now that the Dungeon Master has a scenario set on Gladsheim, he has the opportunity to make use of all those rules changes and exceptions that Moore has laid out. Rather than being abstract ideas, they're very important, tied to an adventure in which high-level characters journey to Jotunheim and must contend not only with its hostile inhabitants but also with the way magic and other abilities are warped by the very nature of this Outer Plane. 

Like a lot of older AD&D adventures, "Aesirhamar" doesn't really have a plot. Instead, it presents a situation and several locales connected to that situation through which the characters journey. In brief, the characters are summoned by some of the Aesir of the Norse pantheon to locate and stop an evil dwarf who is in league with the giant Hargnar Left-Hand. The dwarf is in possession of a mighty magical weapon, the titular Aesirhamar, which was forged in order to kill the gods in revenge of Thor's killing of Hargnar's brothers. It's a pretty straightforward situation, one that's easy to understand and appropriately Norse in its focus.

For the most part, the adventure consists of a series of keyed encounters in Jotunheim while the characters travel there in search of the hammer. Given the nature of the place, these encounters are quite challenging – there are lots of giants here, as well as associated creatures, like trolls – and each one of them will likely test the mettle of the characters. Moore doesn't include any maps of these encounters. Instead, the DM is left to his own devices, tailoring them to his own tastes. This approach was pretty typical of the era in which "Aesirhamar" was published and I don't mean that as a criticism. There was an understanding in those days that the referee could easily whip up his own maps if they were needed.

Of course, the real meat of the adventure is not these encounters per se, challenging though they are, but the overall context in which they occur. The characters are acting as agents of the Norse gods, charged with defeating (or at least neutralizing) a threat to their rule. That's a pretty compelling adventure hook and one I remember being quite effective in my own campaign. One of the player characters, Morgan Just, was an admirer (though not worshiper) of Thor and considered it a great honor to have been chosen to aid him against the giants, whom he already hated. His fellow player characters, though, were a lot more venal, and saw the recovery of Aesirhamar as an opportunity to gain, if not the upper hand, at least some mighty rewards for the gods. Needless to say, this difference of opinion led to some interesting conflicts that helped spur on subsequent adventures.

Ultimately, that's why I have an affection for "Aesirhamar" – it provided me with what I needed to kick off some fun, Norse-inspired AD&D mayhem. It also provided an opportunity for me to make use of "Plane Facts on Gladsheim," which was a plus. In combination, that was enough. Whether that makes "Aesirhamar" good in some objective sense, I can't say. For my friends and I, that was enough.

CleriCon Musings

This past weekend was CleriCon, a small game convention held in Glen Williams, Ontario, which is a little over 50 km outside Toronto. This is the third CleriCon organized by The Dungeon Minister, but the first one I've attended. The con takes place over three days – Friday night, all day Saturday, and part of Sunday. I was only there Saturday, but, after having gone, I wish I'd been there for its entirety. I have no idea how many people actually attended; I'd guess about 60 or 70 people. Even so, it had a terrific vibe, with everyone obviously enjoying themselves.

For the morning session, I ran a Dolmenwood adventure, The Ruined Abbey of St Clewyd, for four players. From what I can tell, everyone had a good time. My only real regret is that the scenario, while excellent, is probably a little too involved to be completed in a typical convention time slot. I should have prepared a shorter scenario and will remember that for the future. Still, the session was fun and the players really got into their characters. I was especially impressed by the player of Brother Aubrey, a friar, who was responsible for some of the most memorable moments in the session.

In the afternoon, I played Forbidden Psalm, a skirmish-level miniatures game based on Mörk Borg. As I've written here on numerous occasions, I've never been much of a miniatures player, though not for lack of interest. Mostly, my lack of skill in painting has kept me from looking too deeply into this part of the hobby. Regardless, I really I enjoyed playing this game, once I got the hang of its rules, which were simple and straightforward – just the way I like them. Though my faction, The Horrific Morbidities, did not emerge victorious, I have no regrets. The referee and the other players were great and I will happily play this again in the future.

One of the best things about CleriCon – and Gamehole Con too, about which I still have to write more – was meeting my fellow gamers and hanging out with them. For the Dolmenwood game, it turns out that I already knew or had interacted with three of the four players previously, though I didn't realize it. Two were people who knew me through this blog and one was someone I'd met in real life several years ago but did not remember until he jogged my memory. With my birthday in a couple of days, I guess I really am getting old!

I regularly remind myself that "the Internet is not real" in the sense that, when I go to conventions, no one there cares about the latest outrages and controversies. Even if they read blogs or social media, they're at the con to roll dice and have fun, not to rehash whatever silliness we get up to here. That's wonderfully refreshing and I think I need regular infusions of that kind of energy to buoy my spirits. That's probably why, whenever I come back from one of these gatherings, I feel a renewed sense of purpose.

I should add that I attended the con with an old and dear friend of mine, who's a stalwart of my online games. We didn't play any games together at CleriCon but we both left the event with the same sense that we should make a greater effort to arrange face-to-face gaming with our mutual friends. We might not be able to get together weekly the way we do with our online games, but we could perhaps aim for monthly or something similar. The busy-ness of many people's lives makes it so that we're unlikely to ever be able to meet in-person as regularly as we did in our youth, but there are nevertheless unique pleasures to sitting around a table together and rolling real rather than virtual dice. We need to get back to that.

In any case, I would say that CleriCon was, for me, a huge success. My only regret, as I said at the beginning of this post, is that I didn't spend more time there this weekend, as I am certain I'd have enjoyed myself as thoroughly as I did on Saturday. That's what next year is for, I suppose!

Blurry Photographic Proof of My Playing Forbidden Psalm

Pulp Fantasy Library: The Cairn on the Headland

Though Weird Tales was without question the premier magazine of the pulp era, it was hardly alone in exploring the strange and macabre. Among its would-be rivals was Strange Tales of Mystery and Terror, edited by Harry Bates, a capable writer himself, best remembered for his 1940 story “Farewell to the Master,” which later inspired the classic film The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). Strange Tales set out to challenge Weird Tales directly and earned a solid reputation for the high quality of its fiction and the caliber of its contributors, including such luminaries as Clark Ashton Smith and Robert E. Howard. Sadly, the magazine’s ambitions outpaced its fortunes. Its publisher went bankrupt after only seven issues, released between 1931 and 1933.

One of the most intriguing stories to appear in Strange Tales was Robert E. Howard’s “The Cairn on the Headland,” published in the magazine’s final issue in January 1933. The tale stands out not only for its content, which is an imaginative fusion of Norse mythology and Christian legend, but also for what it reveals about Howard’s own enduring fascination with that theme. As he often did, Howard wrote and rewrote versions of this story in his search for a suitable market. Unlike his friend H.P. Lovecraft, who generally shelved a piece once Weird Tales editor Farnsworth Wright rejected it, Howard was relentless in finding new outlets for his fiction. Yet the persistence with which he revisited this particular idea suggests he found something deeply compelling within it and I’m inclined to agree.

The story begin as “Spears of Clontarf,” a historical adventure centered on the Battle of Clontarf  (1014 AD) and featuring Turlogh Dubh O’Brien, one of Howard’s recurring Irish heroes. When he failed to sell it, REH recast the material as “The Grey God Passes,” introducing more overt fantasy and mythic elements to the same historical events. This, too, went unpublished in his lifetime. Finally, Howard returned once more to the subject, transforming it into a modern story of supernatural horror. In this final version of the idea, the Battle of Clontarf becomes a haunting memory intruding into the present, and Howard at last succeeded in finding a publisher. It's this version of the story I want to discuss today, as the final entry in this month's horror-themed Pulp Fantasy Library posts.

The protagonist of "The Cairn on the Headland" is James O’Brien, an Irish-American scholar devoted to medieval Irish history. Fluent in Gaelic and steeped in the great chronicles of his ancestral homeland, O’Brien embodies Howard’s ideal of the learned yet passionate antiquarian. His career, however, is blighted by Ortali, a strange blackmailer who holds false evidence linking O’Brien to a murder. Ortali believes O'Brien will one day unearth some great treasure through his researches and hopes to benefit from them, hence his extortion. Trapped, O'Brien has little choice but to work side by side with Ortali, even as his hatred for him grows.

During a visit to Dublin, the two men explore the titular cairn on a headland overlooking the city. The locals shun it, believing it cursed since the time of Clontarf, when the Irish under King Brian Boru threw off centuries of Viking domination. O’Brien is uncertain whether the cairn commemorates the victors or their foes, but he is certain it should not be disturbed. Ortali scoffs at his superstition, vowing to return at midnight and dig beneath the stones for treasure, mockingly wearing a sprig of holly, which the villagers say must never come near the place.

Later, O’Brien encounters a mysterious woman dressed in archaic clothing who introduces herself as Meve MacDonnal. She gives him the lost Cross of Saint Brandon [sic], insisting he will soon need it. Only later does O’Brien realize that Meve MacDonnal has been dead for centuries, her grave not far away. That night, in troubled sleep, he dreams – or is it remembers? – his former life as Red Cumal, an Irish warrior who fought at Clontarf. In this vision, Cumal helps defeat a one-eyed Viking chieftain who reveals himself as Odin in human form. Wounded by a spear marked with a cross, the god lies helpless, trapped in mortality. Cumal knows that holly must never touch Odin’s body and he and his comrades seal him beneath a cairn.

O’Brien awakens from his dream to find Ortali gone. He rushes to the headland and arrives just as the blackmailer uncovers the body buried within, unchanged after a thousand years. A sprig of holly falls from Ortali’s lapel and the corpse stirs. Odin reawakens, shedding human guise to become a towering, demonic spirit wreathed in auroral light. His first act is to destroy Ortali with a blast of lightning. O’Brien, remembering the cross he'd been given, raises it high. The relic shines with unearthly brilliance, banishing the pagan god in an act resembling an exorcism. At dawn, O’Brien stands alone among the shattered stones, free of both Ortali and Odin.

The story's fusion of Norse myth and Christian legend is unusual, though not entirely without precedent in Howard's writing, especially when one considers his many Solomon Kane yarns. The Battle of Clontarf becomes not just a struggle for Ireland’s freedom but also a cosmic contest between Light and Darkness, Christ and Odin. Howard’s Odin is no noble All-Father but instead a demon, an ancient power of frost and cruelty whose defeat marks the turning of an age. 

Such stark moral contrasts are typical of Howard, but in “The Cairn on the Headland,” they take on an unmistakably theological tone. The story reflects the medieval Christian reinterpretation of pagan gods as fallen angels. Howard’s Odin undergoes precisely this transformation, stripped of his majesty and recast as a malevolent spirit lingering on the edges of history. Yet, for all its moral gravity, the tale remains quintessentially Howardian. O’Brien, though a scholar by nature, is no passive intellectual. Confronted with a supernatural threat, he meets it head-on, triumphing not only over Odin himself but also over the lingering shadow of his own moral weakness and subjugation to Ortali’s blackmail.

“The Cairn on the Headland” may have begun as an unsold historical adventure, but in its final form it stands among Howard’s more distinctive weird tales. It's a compelling fusion of myth, theology, and pulp vitality. It also serves as a kind of bridge between his historical fiction and his horror stories, where the heroic and the haunted intermingle. On the storm-swept coast of Ireland, faith and myth collide and the old gods are finally banished, not by priests or saints, but by a man of courage who embodies Howard’s enduring belief in strength, will, and the indomitable human spirit.

Green Devil Face

As an avowed enjoyer of the face of the Great Green Devil, I had to pick up this magnet a vendor was offering for sale at Gamehole Con. It now graces my refrigerator, alongside a couple of other RPG-related magnets. I wish I could recall the name of the vendor, because he was selling a lot of really great little souvenirs and tchotchkes like this one.

In any case, I'm still playing catch-up after my travels and, since I'm heading off to CleriCon this weekend – yes, another convention, but a local one this time – I've still got a lot of non-bloggy work on my plate. With luck, regular service will resume next week. Thanks for your patience.

The Dark Between the Stars

As I alluded to yesterday, this week marks the start of a new campaign for the (formerly) House of Worms group – today, in fact! After a decade and half a year of exploring Tékumel together, we're finally ready for something new and the game chosen by my players was Fading Suns, originally published by Holistic Design in 1996. That might seem like an odd choice, given my own inclinations, but it's not really. Indeed, I think it makes a great deal of sense, though it's probably worth delving into this a little bit.

Firstly, I should reiterate that Fading Suns was suggested by my players, not myself. I actually put forward Secrets of sha-Arthan, which I first started working on four years ago and whose recent development I've been chronicling each Friday at Grognardia Games Direct. I thought starting up a SosA campaign would be a great way to put its rules through their paces and expand on its evolving setting. However, several of the players rightly pointed out that Secrets of sha-Arthan is, by my own admission, a riff on many aspects of Tékumel. Since we'd already spent more than a decade in that kind of setting, there's a danger that we'd just be doing more of the same.

I couldn't disagree with that logic, which is why I also offered to run Dream-Quest, the Lovecraftian fantasy game I'm creating. Like Secrets of sha-Arthan, it really needs to be playtested and an ongoing campaign would be a great way to do that. This, too, was rejected on the grounds that my players didn't want to do another fantasy game, preferring instead something science fictional – or at least adjacent to that genre. You might wonder why we didn't opt for my own Thousand Suns, which I'd have gladly refereed, but the simple truth is that, by the time the conversation turned to SF, a couple of the players independently indicated that they'd always wanted to try Fading Suns, a suggestion that was soon embraced by everyone else (except one player, who decided to take the opportunity to bow out).

I had no problems with this. Fading Suns is a game for which I have a lot of affection. In the early 2000s, during the heaviest period of my freelance writing days, I contributed to three different supplements for the game, so I'm quite familiar with its setting. I also worked on the current edition of the game, writing the parts of the initial releases pertaining to the Universal Church of the Celestial Sun, along with the supplement devoted specifically to the Urth Orthodox sect. Since I haven't actually played the game since the late '90s/early 2000s, I had no problem returning to it for our new campaign. In fact, I was pleased the players were interested in it.

The campaign frame is that one of the characters is a young nobleman of House Li Halan who's something of an embarrassment to his family. Inexperienced and more than a little disrespectful of the traditions of his exalted lineage, he's been politely exiled under the guise of being sent on a Grand Tour of the Empire to "gain some seasoning" when, in reality, it's to ensure he's someone else's problem. Of course, even as troublesome as he is, the Li Halan don't want to see one of their own come to a bad end, which is why he's been sent out on his Grand Tour with a small entourage – the other player characters – including an Urth Orthodox priest-confessor who is genuinely concerned for the nobleman's soul.

Though there is a new edition of Fading Suns available, I'm honestly not all that keen on its rules. Consequently, we've opted to use the 1999 second edition of the game. It's not quite to my liking either, being an uncomfortable marriage between a White Wolf-style dice pool system and Pendragon's roll-under-but-still-roll-high mechanic. It's clunky and inelegant but still works after a fashion. Plus, I have an entire library of books written to support this edition, so it makes sense to use it. I'm sure that, in play, we'll eventually house rule anything that doesn't work to our satisfaction. That's the way every campaign I've ever played in works and I see no reason why this one should be any different.

Naturally, I have no idea where this campaign will go or indeed if it will go. It's been my experience that the early stages of any campaign are particularly fraught and it's quite easy for it to die before it has a chance to establish itself properly. While I don't think that will happen in this case, there is never any guarantees. It's quite possible I'll be writing again in a few months about yet another campaign that I'm starting, because Fading Suns didn't take root. For now, I have high hopes that my fears will be unfounded. I'll keep you posted as things unfold, giving you periodic updates on our progress, as I've done with my own current campaigns.

Reviews Reviewed

Reviews Reviewed by James Maliszewski

More Thoughts on Reviews

Read on Substack

Embodied

I'm still catching up on everything I left behind while attending Gamehole Con XII last week, which is why I've fallen a bit behind on my usual posting schedule here, as well as on Patreon and Substack. I apologize for that, but such is life. I figure I'll settle back into my usual rhythm by the coming weekend, if not sooner. I, unfortunately, have a lot to do this week that doesn't involve my online life – like preparing for the first session of the new campaign I'm starting with the former House of Worms players. I'll talk more about that particular topic soon, but, for now, I wanted to continue with some thoughts occasioned by my time in Madison, Wisconsin.

I was very blessed to have shared a hotel room with one of the players of my Barrett's Raiders campaign. Though we’ve known each other for years, our friendship had only existed in the digital realm until last year’s Gamehole Con, when we finally met in person. Even after all these years of online gaming, there’s something quietly profound about that first handshake and the realization that someone you’ve shared countless imaginary worlds with actually exists in the same one as you. Perhaps it’s my age showing, but I still place great value on the tangible and largely unmediated experiences.

Online friendships are real. I have many that I treasure deeply, but there’s a particular joy in crossing that invisible line between the virtual and the physical. Sharing a meal, talking late into the night, comparing notes on games and life are all things that remind me why conventions like Gamehole Con matter. They’re not just about dice and character sheets; they’re about connection, which grounds this strange hobby of ours in real human company.

In the course of our many conversations at the con, my friend said something that struck me as both insightful and absolutely true. He remarked that one of the great things about our hobby is that, unlike most others, it’s entirely possible (and even likely) that, if you attend a convention, you’ll meet the very people who helped create something you love. And he’s right. Throughout the convention, I regularly chatted with Marc Miller, the creator of Traveller, swapping thoughts and stories as if we were old friends. If you’re a fan of a particular actor or director, the odds of ever spending time with them, let alone engaging in a long, thoughtful conversation, are practically nil. In this hobby, though, that kind of connection isn’t rare or guarded by velvet ropes. All it really takes is showing up with curiosity and a love of the game.

What makes this even more remarkable is that so many of the hobby’s “celebrities” (for lack of a better word) are, themselves, fans. I can’t tell you how many times, while sitting down to talk with someone well-known in the hobby, he told me how much he enjoyed Grognardia and how glad he was that I’d returned to blogging. A few times, I was even introduced to others as “the guy who writes Grognardia” and the look of recognition that followed was both humbling and gratifying. I was particularly tickled to discover that Ed Greenwood had bought all thirteen issues of my Tékumel ’zine, The Excellent Travelling Volume, because he’s a fan of the setting. I’ve met Ed several times before, but even so, that revelation surprised me.

My point here isn’t to brag (much) but to emphasize something I think is special about our hobby. There’s no vast gulf separating creators from players. In most cases, they’re the same people, sitting across the same tables, rolling the same dice, and dreaming the same dreams. That shared enthusiasm, that sense that we’re all participants in something communal and ongoing, is what gives tabletop gaming its continued vitality, even after half a century.

It’s easy to forget, especially when so much of our engagement now takes place online, that this is a living, breathing culture made up of people who still gather, talk, and play together. Conventions like Gamehole Con are a reminder of that. They're little oases where the virtual becomes tangible and the hobby renews itself through conversation and camaraderie. Each year I attend, I come home not only inspired to create more but also profoundly grateful to be part of something that remains, at its heart, so wonderfully human.

Starports!

Starports! by James Maliszewski

Thoughts Occasioned by My Recent Travels

Read on Substack

Thoughts on Gamehole Con 2025 (Prologue)

As I did last year, I'd like to begin my reflections on Gamehole Con by doing a quick overview of the people I met and the games that I played. Compared to 2024, this year's con felt a fair bit busier for me personally, as I was constantly running into people and then discovering, much to my surprise, that hours had passed while talking and now I had to hurry to a game or some other meeting. This is a good problem to have, but I sometimes worried that I spent far less time with some people than I'd have liked (or that they deserved). 

• Justin Alexander of The Alexandrian and its associated Youtube channel.
• Daniel of the YoDanno podcast.
• Charles E. Gannon: Science fiction author and old Traveller old. I hadn't seen him since Origins 1991(!) in Baltimore, so it was a very pleasant surprise to spend time with him again.
• Joseph Goodman: Head honcho at Goodman Games.
• Kenneth Hite: A true Renaissance man who's contributed to more games than I can remember.
• Jason Hobbs: Host of the Hobbs & Friends and Random Screed podcasts. He's one of the people I wish I'd been able to hang out with more.
• Sean Kelley: Co-host of the Gaming and BS podcast.
• Mike Mearls: Formerly of WotC and Chaosium, now with Asmodee.
• Marc Miller: Creator of Traveller and one of my favorite people, gracious and knowledgeable as ever.
• Travis Miller: Blogger at The Grumpy Wizard.
• Ben Milton: Host of the Questing Beast channel and The Glatisant newsletter.
• Jon Peterson: Author of Playing at the World and probably the premier historian of hobby.
• Victor Raymond: A dear friend, as well as my co-host on the Hall of Blue Illumination podcast (sadly now on extended hiatus).
• Tyler Stratton of Limithron, publisher of Pirate Borg. 
• Dave Thaumavore: Host of a Youtube channel.
• Ronin Wong: Actor and referee extraordinaire. He was the Keeper of a very fun modern day Call of Cthulhu adventure I played.
• Dustin Wright: Chaosium's intrepid customer service guy.
• And so many others whose names I have forgotten to my shame.

You’ll no doubt notice a fair number of bloggers and YouTubers in the list above, which isn’t surprising, since I’m part of that world myself. Still, it’s always a genuine joy to meet people I’ve known for years online in the flesh. There’s something profoundly, well, human about it, and I can’t help but feel we all need to do this more often. Spending time with someone unmediated by technology reminds us of the warmth and immediacy that no screen can replicate, especially as our lives grow ever more entangled with the digital. That’s exactly why attending Gamehole Con has become so meaningful to me: it’s a chance to reconnect, not just with friends and colleagues, but with the shared humanity at the heart of this hobby. 

I'll go into greater depth about the people, the games, and other activities of the con in upcoming posts.

There and Back Again

I am now safely back in my northern lair after spending the last five days at Gamehole Con in lovely Madison, Wisconsin. I have a lot to say about it and other topics, but that will have to wait until after I have dug myself out from under all the emails, comments, and other correspondence that has piled up in my absence. In the meantime, enjoy another amusing Tolkien-related comic:

https://reparrishcomics.com/post/186528205633/facebook-twitter-instagram-redbubble-buy