One of the few almost-green places along Lake Bykaal’s shores, Bolyany’s vegetable larders are fiercely protected by the natives.
Once a small farming community around a central market-town hub, Bolyany was sparsely populated but always busy, farmer’s wagons pouring into its market square every day and traders from all around the lake would come to buy produce. The root crops were withered and meagre by any standard, but still superior to any grown elsewhere around the lake. Local tribes-folk now inhabit the place, a twisted husk of what it once was but still growing some form of crop, namely blood-red sour beets and extremely large varieties of hideous turnip, and pretty much the only source of food around the lake. The sullen masked people whisper prayers to nameless gods, but mostly keep to themselves and tend to their eerie gardens
Old Growth Turnip Patches
On the other side of a tributary river from Boylany. Even without farming this land is overrun with hideously distorted and misshapen turnips. It would be impossible to grow anything else here. The farmers who gathered the crops have seen their families murdered by outsiders and are aggressive and resentful of anyone not wearing a traditional Bolyany mask.
Pool of Frozen Reflections
The faces of every mortal who has ever gazed upon this cursed pool’s waters glare upward with black, empty eyes.
The Market Square
The gated Market Square is surrounded by the largest and most ornate buildings in Bolyany, though like the rest of the village they have seen better days. Their faded opulence speaks of a time, long past, when the village was wealthy. The inner walls of the square were painted with murals of townspeople exchanging crops of turnips for fine cloth and jewelry, but the paint is blistered, peeling and weathered and it is hard to make out anything but the turnips.
The square itself is now cluttered with tangled abandoned waggons and market stalls and littered with long-rotted vegetables, the cobbled square used to be a hive of activity every day. Now it is infested with a herd of Deadwalkers, trapped among the broken waggons, aimlessly wandering back and forth.
The Lake Road
A winding dirt track that leads from Bolyany to Lake Bykaal, once the main route for outbound produce. It is pitted with holes and often flooded by rain or snow-melt waters. The mud makes journeying along the road excruciatingly hard work.
The Chapel of the Mask
A small, humble place of worship, outsiders are not welcome - especially if their faces are uncovered. The grey stone walls of the circular building are etched with frost damage and pitted with chips and cracks. The high arched stained glass windows are boarded and dark. A few candles light the interiors at all hours, maintained by the masked and robed priests.
The Sourbeet Fields
The earth is stained red with the beet-juice of a hundred crops but the hideous turnips have taken over here too.
The Bell of Nyura
A mouldy and dilapidated drinking-house with few customers near the gates to the village. It is treated as the “inn for visitors” by the locals.
The Twisted Root
A slightly less mouldy and dilapidated drinking-house, with slightly more custom. The stables behind the inn have been empty for years and are often used for late night gambling on bare-fist fights.
Another Animosity Campaigns event is coming - socially distanced (i.e. mostly online) and this time a "weekender", rather than a full-blown five-weeker. It will be focused on one small town on the shores of Lake Bykaal, in Shyish.
Another Animosity Campaigns event is coming - socially distanced (i.e. mostly online) and this time a "weekender", rather than a full-blown five-weeker. It will be focused on one small town on the shores of Lake Bykaal, in Shyish: The Root of All Evil
I drew the maps (above) and some of the interior art for the event pack for the campaign and I have started expanding my #Turnip28-styled warband.
First up is a civilian villager (made form Cawdor upper half and Delaque lower half and a Gloomspite Gitz Boingrot Bounder head). Smolek is a candlemaker but they have become the de facto leader of a small group of Bolyany Irregulars loyal to Kemdedaya the eel-witch.
The band will battle the Root on the streets of Bolyany on Mallusnacht and light the turnip lanterns on the homes around the broken town wall.
"Light the lanterns and put on your damn mask! The Root is coming and it's our best defense!"- Smolek the candlemaker
A Freeguild Handgunner (made from a Flagellant with a Greatsword head and normal Freeguild Handgunner arms).
Sitek is a priest from the Chapel of the Mask. He was assigned to the Irregulars to look after their spiritual wellbeing and make sure they wear their masks. He has very little actual work to do in that regard, so he has taken up a handgun. He has become the best shot in the warband.
Next is a mixed batch of a wizard (made from an ancient, and slightly damaged, plastic Talisman wizard, from the late 90s, rescued from the bottom of a box). Grega will do his best to assist the Bolyany Irregulars through his art; powerful though somewhat unpredictable Rootmancy. He won't always actually help, and may sometimes be a severe hindrance. He is a lot shorter than Smolek, and intimidated by them.
A peasant ruffian with a spiked club (made from the Cawdor legs left over from the first civilian, an old Mordheim Militia body with a long coat, a cut-down Cawdor head, Poxwalker left leg - the Cawdor's leg was bionic! - and right arm, and a Flagellant left arm). Kloc is Smolek's apprentice. He is fiercely loyal to them, and sees battling the Root and lighting the lanterns as just another part of his job, as well as important #Bolyany traditions. He is not a fan of Grega the Rootmancer.
Another Freeguild Handgunner (more of the 6th Edition Empire Handgunners, that I also used for the first batch of the Irregulars, with assorted Empire baggage and a knight's helm).
A tiny gryph-hound (an unconverted young gryphon, from the old Empire General kit) called Ollek.
And finally a horrible monstrous root-thing (made from the parts I didn't use when I converted a Feculent Gnarlmaw into a Tree of Woe).