Lore

An ever-growing archive of stories, knowledge, and background articles about Hârn and HârnWorld.

By Fástred

History of the Mángai

One of the features of advanced societies across northwestern Lýthia is the pervasive nature of the association of Guilds known as the Mángai. The Mángai is considerably more wide-spread and powerful than equivalent Terran medieval guilds, and as an international element that is largely unique to Lýthia.

How did this situation come into being? The answer to this question will be explored in the upcoming Venârivè module, but some of the key facts are related here.

By Robin

Languages in Role-Playing

Frankly, managing even a few foreign languages in such a way as to create a suitable ‘air’ of the strange and wonderful, and the sense that these languages actually exist is a task sufficient to daunt a philologist.

By Robin

Of Field, of Wood & Hedgerow
Part IV: Changeling.

Gazing into the distance, she listens nearer, feels farther for the scent of the beast. Rubs the ground softly with tender feet, holds a stone between her toes and sways gently in the chattering wind.

By Robin

Those Who Ignore Geography
Shall Shiver in the Dark

After many years of creating my little private world and (paradoxically) sharing it with others, there are still a few little details that I have never quite managed to make clear. One of the most outstanding of these is, of course, why do I do what I do.

By Robin

En Yârensynen al Chélemby
The Járind Stones of Chélemby

The Yârensynen (or Járind Stones), which stood in what is now the north bailey of Ânstrad Kîkè (Parliament Castle), were a three-ring henge. It was the first structure known to have stood on the site of the City of Chélemby.

By Robin

Of Field, of Wood & Hedgerow
Part III: Chickens is Vegetables.

The rhythms of field and village, of folk and spirit, of earth and nurture may be harder to sense. Perhaps folk who build cots and huts, plant tofts and orchards, keep clever pigs and honest dogs, make brooms and weave tablecloths put a blanket betwixt their selves and the rhythmic world.

By Arien

Of Field, of Wood & Hedgerow
Part II: The Language of Wolves

One could see from the gold of her eyes that the spirit of Jârlak moved there. Like the fingers of the soul, like petals in the wind, it moved. It set her paws upon the snowfall, upon paths, it stood her whiskers in the air, ran attentive bristles down her spine and tuned her, tuned her to the sighing, to the small sounds, to the unrelenting songs.

By Robin

Of Field, of Wood & Hedgerow
Part I: Met the Winter, Met the Ways

Things come and go, things change. Nothing changes more than anything else, but we cling to our illusions and we get by.

By Robin

I've heard that folks might like to know a bit about how Hârn got started, and it's certainly true that people do ask me now and then, "How did you think all this stuff up?". When I say "now and then", I mean about every other day for twenty-five years, so I expect this qualifies as a Frequently Asked Question. The easy answer is "I have no clue", but I have noticed over the years that many people seem to exhibit a reaction to this response that might tend to indicate a defecit of satisfaction. Some actually hit me. Despite the fact that the answer is true, the various reactions have (after 20 years) conditioned my answer to the question depending on my proximity to the questioner (within arm's reach, for example). So permit me if you will, to offer a few ecclectic, unorganised and unrelated meanderings in lieu of any *actual* answers.

In the beginning everything was dark, then I got born and started designing worlds. This is not as much of an exaggeration as you might suppose. Other kids made pictures. I made maps. I also made pictures. I made maps and pictures... Well, maps and pictures and more maps. By the time I was ten I had surely mapped half a dozen worlds.

I started developing HârnMaster around 1975 and the first version of Hârn by 1980. At this point, of course, I had no thought of publishing anything. This thought took another year to impose itself.

All in all, the idea for Hârn took about ten years to spring full-grown into what has to serve as my mind, but once it got there it seemed to stick, like gum on your shoe, tar in your hair or a defecit in your bank account. It strikes me that there must be at least a few folk who might like to see some my early Hârn maps.

N. Robin Crossby

By Robin

Demon in the House
A Parable of Domestic Disharmony

One day, the woman came unto her husband, who was working in the fields saying,

"My lord, there is a demon dwelling within our house." The husband ran into the house, and gazed about, but he saw no demon.


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