Hexmas Blogwagon - Three Calves
7 December 2025
Contents
Merry Hexmas!
Over on Prismatic Wasteland, there's a new blogwagon: a hexcrawl themed after old Rankin/Bass Christmas movies. Each blogger writes their own hex and connects them to others in one big patchwork map. Warren helpfully provided a categorized list of R/B movies for perusal. Obviously I was drawn to one that I never watched as a kid: Nestor the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey (helpfully filed under the Wait, Jesus Exists in This?! category). Nothing brings us together in the year's long end like a little light blasphemy, so I'm gonna write some! Let's dig in.
Hex: Three Calves
Connections
- Southwest: Periapt Games' Transient Snowfields
Terrain
Snow blankets unsettled scrubland in perfect sheets. Rolling hills gently build to three sharp mounds, crowned by the rock formations that lend this hex its name: lumpy, primitively shaped calves turning their heads to the sky.
Someone's lit a fire on the tallest mound. It remains lit throughout the day and is easily visible across the hex.
The other two mounds are empty save for shattered wooden slats at their peak. Long, ugly nails are driven through their ends. Old blood and deep ruts trail down their eastern faces, but the tracks end under fresher snow at their base.
The Campfire
Whiffs of mulled wine hit well before you reach the peak. Two tired men in dark cowls, Dismas and Gestas, sit on hard-packed snow near the fire, playing dice and trading barbs. Fragrant spices steep in a pot over the flames. There's enough firewood piled up behind them to last a week, at least.
Nearby sits one of the Calves, unreadable face leaning skywards. Draped across its back: a corpse, rigid in simple robes. His throat is cleanly slit; his face is gentle, almost beatific. A woven basket sits underneath his right hand, bearing dried jerky, a few gold pieces, and some waxy, aromatic resin.
Don't worry, croaks Gestas. He'll be back tomorrow.
What Happened Here?
Dismas and Gestas were hired to murder an annoying nomad known for whipping up the yokels into zealous fits. So they killed him (knife in the important bits, easy peasy), took their cash, and went on their way.
Or not. Three days later, their client broke down their door with a group of hired thugs. The freak's back. Do your job, or else. The boys figured, hey, wrong guy maybe? Didn't matter. They tracked down the nomad, killed him again (rock to the head, easy peasy), and hung around a while to make sure nothing funny happened.
Three days later, the nomad woke up wound-free, like nothing happened. Three more days later (after a quick beheading, easy peasy), he was back again. Now, unwilling to return with a job unfinished, Dismas and Gestas camp next to the corpse, killing him each time he opens his eyes.
At first, things were all business - quick kills, no yapping. But as days turned to weeks turned to months, the two men and the nomad formed a begrudging bond. He greets his killers as old friends, offers suggestions on new murder methods to spice things up, and the killers in turn spend more time in conversation with each revival.
Recently, the nomad mentioned his birthday was coming up. Dismas and Gestas scraped together a meagre offering and plan to celebrate with drinks and a meal before sending him back to the spirit world. If the party wants to fetch food or gifts while they're waiting, it'd be much appreciated. He likes books, grumbles Gestas. Dismas nods absentmindedly.
Frequently Asked Questions
What's his name?
They never got one. Josh? offers Dismas. No, something else, spits Gestas. Chris, maybe?
How long are they gonna keep this up?
Gestas coughs. Got an agreement. We die of old age, he wins. He already offered to bury us up here.
Why doesn't he run away?
His wounds heal up when he comes back, says Dismas, picking at gristle in his teeth with a knife, so we cut his feet off first thing.
Day of Return
A day after the party arrives, the nomad opens his eyes, quickly wriggles his toes, and grits his teeth in silence as Dismas and Gestas lop off his feet with quick, practiced cuts. As he pushes himself upright and sees the basket below, his eyes well up. Oh, he laughs, you shouldn't have.
If the party added gifts to the pile, the nomad thanks them profusely and offers to lay his hands on their shoulders. Any who accept find their wounds healed and illnesses cured. Additionally, once per day for the rest of the hexcrawl, a ration manifests in their packs: fresh bread and fish.
If they did not add gifts... the nomad shrugs and makes the same offer. It's the reason for the season, he says.
If undisturbed, the nomad spends the next several hours catching up with Dismas and Gestas. He's inquisitive about the party and insightful of the situations in each surrounding hex. Finally, as the sun sets, the nomad lays down on the Calf's back and says his goodbyes before Gestas cuts his throat.
The two killers offer any leftover food and drink to the party.
And After
Dismas and Gestas remain on the peak. Occasionally one of them heads down to hunt for supplies.
The nomad returns every three days, like clockwork.
Notes
I've done most of my writing this year over on Carouse, Carouse, a monthly TTRPG newsletter, rather than this personal blog. It's been creatively invigorating. Check it out!
Drop me a line on bluesky if you connect to this and I'll update the post.