Gothic monster-hunting, gaslit and grim
Learn the bane, forge the gear, then finish what the dark started.
The world
Mournwick is a city of gaslit streets and fog-drowned rookeries, built on the scar of the Sundering, the night the veil between the living and the dead was torn. The Pale Houses keep their secrets behind locked crypts, the Drowned Mile swallows its dead, and the Lantern Watch pins bounties on things that bleed wrong. Every creature that stalks the fog came through that old wound or was born from what it let in.
A session breathes like a hunt: a patron, a corpse with wrong wounds, then the slow work of investigation. The first encounter teaches you that your service revolver does nothing, that the thing mends faster than you can hurt it, and that retreat is a victory. The second encounter, once you have named the monster and found its bane, is the catharsis. Silver for the cursed, wood and sunlight for the blood-drinkers, cold iron for the fae: every monster is a puzzle the engine enforces, and only the right gear ends it. Or start AS the monster — Vampire, Werewolf, Hollowed — and live the hunted life, masking among the people who would burn you.
What drives it
Dread runs from 0 to 10, raised each time a hunter witnesses the truly wrong, fails a save against terror, or draws on a dark gift, and it breaks them entirely at 10. The weakness engine gives every monster a bane, a damage tag (silver, holy, wood, iron, fire) that deals full damage, lands the killing blow, and stops regeneration, while mundane steel is merely halved and can never finish the job. You cannot kill what you do not understand.
How it plays
These mechanics are original to Mournwick — you will not know them from any rulebook. Read them here, then simply ask your gamemaster for any of them at the table; the engine enforces every number.
“Steel teaches a monster nothing. Silver teaches it fear.”
Who you can be
Commonborn
Wretched
Highborn
Foreigner
TouchedPremium
BloodmarkedPremium
FoundlingPremium
HalfbloodPremium
VampirePremium
WerewolfPremium
HollowedPremiumWhat you can do
The arsenal
Real rows from the engine's own tables: the dice are the dice, the prices are the prices. Your gamemaster cannot fudge them, and neither can you.
One salvo costs a week's wage. The werewolf remembers it.
A season's wages, consecrated edge-first.
Faith, stoppered. Spend it like you mean it.
Nearly free. Carrying enough of them is the art.
Bottled daylight, for things that fear the dawn.
For the hunts where you want it alive.
… and 47 more priced pieces in play.
The opposition
Every foe is statted before the fight starts; what your party learns about them is recorded, hunt by hunt.
The wounds knit shut while you reload.
A dead lord with a will; steel merely bores it.
A fae delighted by exactly one thing. Run.
It remembers being worshipped.
Patience measured in centuries, hunger in nights.
What sits a throne after the kingdom forgets it died.
… and 45 more in the bestiary.
Connect lorewend to your AI, make a character, and tell the gamemaster you want Mournwick. The free tier plays a full campaign.