Hitchhikers and Doctors

This is a bit off my usual bill of fare. But after finding a recent review on the Hitchhiker’s Guide film adaptation and a subsequent rewatch of some of the television series (middling good, but the pictures are better on radio), I decided to write up this, having not seen anyone suggest it elsewhere.

The claim is that certain parts of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy are something in the way of a pastiche and/or parody of Dr Who. Douglas Adams was a writer for it at the time; I understand that Life, the Universe and Everything is an unused script – as is Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (look up Shada sometime). But this isn’t just about biographical information. Consider the following:

·         An everyman is whisked off on a tour of time and space; but Rather Than appreciating the Wonders of the Cosmos, he obsesses about his home.

·         The Everyman’s Guide is a being from another world, but Rather Than being a nigh-on immortal space wizard, he’s a layabout and occasionally a travel writer.

·         Rather Than getting round the universe in a fantastic machine than can speed across time and space and violate dimensions, they have to Thumb a Ride.

·         Rather Than saving the world time after time, it is destroyed pretty finally in the first episode.

·         Rather Than being having as a nemesis semi-robotic psychopathic fascists, the race of assorted baddies are ‘not actually evil, but bad-tempered, Bureaucratic, officious and callous’.

·         Rather Than an ancient race of immense cosmic power and learning being the Progressive Rock equivalent of the House of Lords mixed with Oxbridge, they are driven by a desire to sell planets and make vast profits  – or appear on chatshows.

( “In the sky a huge sign appeared, replacing the catalogue number. Whatever your tastes, Magrathea can cater for you. We are not proud.

And five hundred entirely naked women dropped out of the sky on parachutes.”)

Doubtless there is more, for those that want to find it.

Now, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is hardly just a pastiche or parody or satire. But it is in some ways part of the DNA of its creation, in the same fashion that the Ford Prefect and a computer that prints out ticker tape point to the time in which it was written.

To make a further comparison, in the late Sir Terry Pratchett’s Discworld, the city of Ankh-Morpork starts as something in the way of a parody of Lankhmar from Fritz Lieber’s Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser stories. Yet it becomes something greatly more complex (not to denigrate Lankhmar!).

This is hardly essential for you to know – but it has some interest for me. It might sound like this makes The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy  sound somewhat derivative. But even going back to it with this in mind, it was hardly at the forefront of my viewing experience. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is sufficient to push any such claim away.

Fallout: Home Counties - Introductions

The New Model A.R.M.Y have taken over the forbidden City of Westminster.

The Chiltern Hundreds are excavating the secret vaults underneath Chequers.

There’s a bounty on your head put there by The Three Sabres Mercenary Company.

The Brethren of the White Horse continue their battle against smugglers from a hidden base on the Isle of Thanet.

The Forgemasters of Hammersmith are in a trade dispute with the Shepherds of Shepherd’s Bush, The Temple of Blackfriars are sending out crusades from their fortresses on the Embankment and the Barbican against the sinful Circuses of Piccadilly and Oxford, strange things that go on all fours have been seen near Limehouse and Battersea, something Yellow and Feathery is lurking in the Docklands and nobody knows what’s going on in Mornington Crescent.....

Welcome to Fallout: Home Counties

That was how it started.  A simple enough tongue in cheek little remark. All those on the FB feed for the Terrae Vertebrae game were well enough versed in Computer RPGs; including the Fallout series – principally Fallout 3 and New Vegas, I shall confess.

But the joke was one that stuck; taking the violent, devastated, barbaric world of Fallout and throwing it into the Home Counties. I am aware of the views this blog gets and know that some of you are Canadian or American (Hello! You are most welcome!); therefore, to explain things a little. The Home Counties are those English counties directly around London, forming a heart, a centre – a homeland. The cultural impression the phrase ‘Home Counties’ elicits is one of wealth, with the well-to-do enjoying the country life but working in Greater London, or the comparative Arcadia that is not so very far from the Metropolis in the Cotswolds.

Now, these genteel elements are scarcely the whole truth – there are less than pretty places in the Home Counties, as well as less than wealthy people - and there are a few sizable cities. But the air of country quiet persists nonetheless in Kent, Essex, Sussex and Hertfordshire. So the gag – Mad Max gangs and road chases through country lanes past drystone walls and thatched cottages – is at heart terribly simple.

But once one has recovered from the sheer hilarity of all this, the mind dwells on it a little. The sheer Americanness of Fallout is difficult to ignore. After all, the starting premise is rather good, relying as it does with the tensions implicit in the United States in the 1950s: post-war optimism, wealth and science-fiction wonders brought to life – contrasted bleakly with the looming Cold War, Racism – as expressed in laws and in the deeds of the citizens-, McCarthyism and all that followed it. This isn’t just in the background as setting details, it is a primary part of the aesthetic: finding oneself having a shootout with Buck Rogers ray guns over tins of food in the ruins of a white-picket-fence American suburb.

It’s a strong contrast, and a powerful setting for a story. There are a few things like it in the popular mind; of all things, one might point to Austin Powers, with the contrast of suave Sean Connery espionage and its enduring cool with dated 1960s fashion trends. Played for comedy rather than tragedy, of course, but nonetheless an effective contrast. Those pieces of steampunk literature that one might call relatively Hard (in the SF sense of the word) also play this up; the splendour and wonder of Victorian discovery and glamour contrasted with the squalor of the age and the fact of what that power might do in the hands of a world whose morals we now so frequently decry (The Difference Engine might be the best example of this.).

Anyway, I had lived all my life in or near the Home Counties (at the time we were all in Kent) and had a good working knowledge of some of the cultural influences one could draw on. There was some online discussion, but a certain amount of it was (I believe I may say) all my own work.

The following premises guided me.

• Firstly, it was in response to British 1950s themes and experiences – and would draw to a certain degree upon the Science Fiction of that time (a separate post for that later).

•          ….though the key elements of Fallout canon would be there: IE, the laser rifles work on roughly the same principally and patterns – even if there might be different models produced on different sides of the Atlantic.

•          Speaking of such canon, if Washington DC isn’t just a crater, neither is London. The theatre of operations is the South East of England – including the ruins of London. But those areas once though rural will have a vitality and life that the centre does not.

•          Following in the footsteps of one rather persuasive critical video, the importance of having a world that made some logical sense was important.

•          In the Nuclear War, the fallout was blown to the north and east of London; quantities of farmland were preserved fairly well in the Home Counties. Kent especially did well; it was surrounded on three sides by the sea, and was subject to fewer incursion from raiders and similar desperate fellows than other regions.

•          This has resulted in a number of factions forming around London in the Home Counties. These factions are, in the fashion of New Vegas various shades of grey rather than black hats-white hats.

So, that’s something in the nature of a starting premise. Whether everyone would latch onto the same things I did in the creation of what eventually came about is another matter. More on that to come.

Finally, I came up with the following little conceptual recipe: One Part Fallout to One Part The Napoeleon of Notting Hill. Stir well. Pour in a measure of Wyndham and allow to settle.

Terrae Vertebrae: A Summation

I rather think I have posted as much as I can adequately for now on the setting I called Terrae Vertebrae. It was perhaps my first attempt at such a thing; as such it is something of a loose sketch of influences; not only derivative but unpolished. It was possibly wise on my part to stick to tried and tested tropes in my first sessions as GM, but aspects of it seem a little shabby in retrospect.

I rather suspect I got a little worked up about making it all 'work'; that is, seem functional and sensical - no orc warrens within a days travel of a major stronghold full of troops. Not exactly adventure friendly and a little paralysing to consider.

Nonetheless, there are a few things that might stand a re-visitation or use elsewhere; not that are not only useful but pleasing.

The Giants and Half-Giants I like as a blend of influences; the willful semi-divine ids straight out of Tim Powers; the Atlantis as Iceland picture of vast ruins built for another race in another age; the opportunity to play a race twice the size of a man. All a little stronger and more resonant than the Caprines, the other house rules race.

Kapelleron has a wonderful through line in conception; if you ever want to play a Reconquista-Boer-Wild West-Mormon character, this is the place to be. It feels like Cormac McCarthy could do some pontificating on the whole business.

The Faith of the Eight is pretty robust, but does not perhaps stand out. The Heavenly Jury, meanwhile, has more potential.

The one entry in the canon that I think perhaps pleases me the most is the Land of Punth and its denizens; not only adventure friendly (all that wilderness, that hostile regime!) but the influences are a worthy blend of literary and pulp (Winston Smith rebels against the Ministry of Love inside the Tower of Babel by riding sandworms and fighting the Tharks!). The in-universe clash of Eurocentric Vertebreans against Near Orientalist-flavoured sword-and-planet folks is rather lovely in some ways. It almost seems worthy of a trans-dimensional setting as in False Machine's Great Fold.

Anyway, having reframed and cleaned up a lot of my old notes for this blog, it seems time to move on a little. I might come back to all this in time, but let this be a stopping point for now.

Armour Alternatives

Thinking on the images of first level adventurers being dressed in near-identical (to the point of uniform) armour, it robs it of flavour. Consider: picking up a Sword in the character creation might suggest itself to a long, thin epee or a cutlass or a scimitar (presuming the system being used doesn't give different stats for each). Similarly, choosing a Polearm might suggest a Billhook or Halberd or Glaive.

Just saying that you wear chainmail or leather (studded or otherwise) or laminar - it doesn't offer quite the same options. Now, this does offer the opportunity to gain interesting armour at later levels - a breastplate of Dwarven manufacture, an Elven cloak, a helmet made from the skin of the Nemean Lion. But it feels less characterful, after a fashion.

So: this is meant to be a selection of armour, plausible to be found by a aspiring adventurer and a touch more interesting than a shirt of mail.

Gladiator Armour  Armour that protects only certain parts of the body, forcing the wearer to favour a particular fighting style - for the amusement of the spectators. Perhaps not the first choice for the aspiring dungeon explorer, but a viable alternative. It might be possible to incorporate new pieces of armour into the ensemble - but at a cost both financial and aesthetic.

(Exactly this kind of thing, in other words)

Branded Armour  The armour you have obtained is or was emblazoned with the symbol of a particular organisation. It might be a military or religious order, a merchant house - or something else entirely. This might have no effects in battle - but have a very definite effect in social scenarios.

If, then, you find or purchase a breastplate bearing the sigil of the Gilded Regiment of the Imperial Legion, you may find that anti-Imperial partisans object to this - or that the Imperial Authorities object to your use of something from their armouries. Even if you have the sigil removed (which may be costly or unsightly) there are those who will take you for a deserter trying to conceal his crime.

Cavalry Armour Armour designed to be those riding into battle. Perhaps not a problem at all times, but liable to  prove a problem at a critical moment. Moreover, consider that in the fantastical settings one might inhabit, the beasts of burden may differ significantly from the horse or camel.

Marine Armour Armour worn by seaborne soldiers. Capable of being removed swiftly at need when one falls overboard and treated against rust - if somewhat less robust than other types.

Concealed Armour It doesn't look like armour. But underneath the doublet, there are layers of plates - detectable to those who know how to look for them, or those close enough to touch. Of course, once battle is joined, the concealment is ruined and must be repaired by a skilled tailor. Moreover, the armour, in order that it can be concealed, is principally made of unlinked plates that are not always reliable at stoppingthe heaviest blows.


(One other good example of flavourful armour for starting characters can be found over at Dungeon of Signs. I love these sets of starting equipment - but they are explicitly part of the setting. This article is hopefully more general purpose).

A Few Healing Items

On the basis that Hit Points are the ability to keep going and reflect an abstract will or morale as much as anything else (an idea explored a number of places - for instance, here), witness the following, designed to get the player up and moving when the healing potions aren't to hand.

Dwarven Mustard: Great Serpents of Smoke, that’s strong! Make a body save or lose the beneficial effects (subject either chokes it down or spits it out, depending on nearness of lost body save). If save made, 1d6 HP.

Elven leaves: a fine remedy; regain 1d6 but spend a round contemplating the taste and aftertaste of these most aesthetically pleasing of medicines.

Satyr Vintage: Like really potent retsina. A draught will restore 1d8 HP, but player must make a Body Save to get over the taste....and a Mind save, or Charge/Retreat as per spell card.

Dodgy Nostrum from Dodgy Apothecary: You bought it from a booth at a fairground, or a dusty shop in a back alley. How does it help/hinder?

Roll 1d6: 1. make body save, or become incapacitated with stomach cramps.

2. Make body save, or lose 1d3 HP

3 . Make body save, or lose a turn.

4. 2HP

5. 1d3 Hp

6. 1d4 Hp

The New World Problem

Having established that in worldbuilding for Terrae Vertebrae that:

a) The world in which Vertebrea and the other continents exists has some likenesses to our own world.


b) These likenesses express themselves in Vertebrean society in resembling High-to-Late Medieval Europe. Exploration-wise, I expressed it thusly: There’s been Marco Polo, but not Henry the Navigator. Suitable to this article I might also say: and certainly not Christopher Columbus.

c) Complicating the entire picture, we have magic - in terms of the mage's craft and the prophet's blessing, elder races that have some relatively stable intercourse with humanity and more.

So: the titular problem. How can we have the existence of a New World (or indeed, any set of remote continents that may or may not resemble the Americas) in Terrae Vertebrae (or any comparable setting) that specifically has that 'undiscovered lands' feel comparable to the real events of discovery and exploration - and whatever that might bring in its wake - How can we have that when the magicians have known of the continent for centuries thanks to scrying glasses (or whatever magic one deems appropriate to bring news of other lands)?

To ward off the question at the pass, yes one can imagine Leif Erikson existing in Terrae Vertebrae. But there's a distinction between that and the whole business of the Colombian Exchange and settlement.

Well, this may not effect one's players unduly. But one rather likes things to be complete, as the creator.

One answer is to just say that there is another place on the maps very far away that people from Vertebrea don't visit with any kind of regularity. European contact with China and the Far East was not unknown, but not frequent in the same way as it would be after the voyages of the Portuguese. The same idea can be applied to Pseudo-America; no regular route is known, but suitably potent wizards can teleport out that way occasionally and bring back wild tales (incidentally, perhaps this is why only wizards are seen smoking!)

The other, perhaps, is to say that, yes, wizards know about it (scrying, teleporting, psychic contact with Pseudo-American magic users of one stripe or another) but that wizards are notoriously unreliable.  Nobody believes them, and even if the Archmage has tea with his pseudo-Incan counterpart every Thursday they discuss the goings-on of the astral realm and the methods and means of magic rather than hashing out trade deals and sending out diplomatic missions. Moreover, the geographical knowledge one gains from such matters is limited, like not being able to zoom out terribly far on Google Maps or some similar software. Yes, one could connect lots of little images together - but it would take excessive time and effort, and magic is rarely entirely reliable.

Until somebody more commercially-minded comes back with a hold full of gold, tobacco, potatoes and the natives of Pseudo-America (in chains or otherwise) - and indeed, then goes and repeats the trick - the entire question is moot.

There are hardly the only answers, I suppose. But these are mine. The whole thing bounces off my "Wizard is a Journeyman" concept that I have written of previously that allows the world of Vertebrea to remain relatively similar to our own - except where and when one wants it to erupt in magical display!

Terrae Vertebrae: Notes on the Sub-Continent

The following is taken verbatim from my notes. Derivative it might be, but I didn't want it to be a direct pastiche of Hindu myth - as, I understand, the RPG Arrows of Indra is. Therefore, I took the setting back to the same roots as Vertebrea and went from there.

The Sub-Continent

All this ranges into the (Psuedo) Indian Sub-Continent. I haven’t conceived a definitive Hinduism-esque faith. But....on the basis that all faith in Terra Vertebrae works its way back to the Elder Races, after a fashion.....

OK, so the Manifest Vision and the Unified Vision in Vertebrae were the Dwarven and Elven influence divided by geography. Let’s play with that, and have the same influence divided by caste/class. So: Faith among the peasantry and lower citizens goes down the village guardian spirit – localised god of place Dwarven semi-Shinto route. But the ‘Brahminic’ priestly-monkish caste come up with vast unifying theologies leaning towards Pantheism – like the Elves. Nobles, richer merchants, &c. walk a line between the two camps.

Reincarnation is a little more complex than otherwise – necromancy, ghosts &c suggest some form of afterlife.  So, this is a doctrinal dispute.

What Gods do they worship? I shan’t invent the Hindu Pantheon from scratch. But to the ‘Brahmins’ most any god would be valid, after a fashion. Rustic peasants worship nature spirits. Merchants worship figures embodying concepts (a limited number thereof). Warriors worship Hero-Saints and Supermen, tallied to specific concepts – with the notion of a God above them all, who they learn about from the Priests.

Religion is taught and delivered to the masses in separate ways. A village has a wise man who teaches prayers and leads them. A regiment of troops might have a keeper of the icons and resident tale-teller to talk about not-Rama and Pseudo-Hercules. Merchants and Shopkeepers will place statuettes in their booths and will approach a Priest if they want to know more.  Priests will cater for all comers and would not hesitate to bless a standing stone or a battle-totem. Some priests will tailor their careers to a specific caste. But the ‘most priestly’ priests will be thinking in very abstract concepts of the Divine, and the Universe, and the Divinity of the Universe....

Politically, there are many fractured kingdoms. Just about right for the Mughals to wander in and unite things. 

Dress for Success

Imagine, if you will, a scene. There you are, sat in your favourite coffeehouse, tea room, pub or similar establishment.

Five people walk in. They carry assault rifles and a variety of other weapons. They wear bulletproof vests over their clothes - which are stained with dirt, and something else that could conceivably have come from someone's artery. They approach the counter of your establishment and order drinks and a few small items of food.

Would you feel terrified? Would you feel dismay? Would you leave that coffeehouse with as much swiftness as you could muster?  These people don't even display the marks of any police force or army about their persons - not that would necessarily be a comfort, but it would perhaps give you an idea of their intentions.

Ask yourself, then, how a band of adventurers in the traditional Dungeons and Dragons vein would fare wondering into a place that did not know them.

"But surely, sir, Dungeons and Dragons and similar fantasy has at least part of its basis and inspiration in the genre Western.  Moreover, we are talking of a world far removed from the norms of the Twenty-First Century AD. My reaction to a man with an AK-47 interrupting me in the middle of a pot of Darjeeling is hardly comparable, however dramatic an image it is."

Well, I agree. I have rather exaggerated proceedings. But let us consider the Western: think of a saloon scene. Everyone might sprout six-shooters and Bowie knives from their belts. There is a distinction between this and sitting all night at the card table with a Winchester repeater across one's knees.

If nothing else, consider the uncomfortable business of a mail-clad Fighter sitting at a table trying to keep steady a broadsword, shield, crossbow and obligatory foaming tankard of ale. Not what one dreams of after a busy day of dungeon-crawling.

Which is why scenes set in a city far from the frontier or frontier-equivalent demand a few things. Firstly, that our heroes walk around a little less openly armed - or suffer minor in-universe penalties, largely, perhaps, to Charisma (not that Charisma is at all simple; the Barbarian in the City might give the impression of being an unlettered primitive or a noble savage).

Secondly, a change of clothes. Even if folk in armour do not necessarily spell trouble, unknown folk in armour without badges of office or letters of introduction certainly do. To say nothing of unsanctioned preachers and hedge wizards.

(This also allows the possibility for a carousing-equivalent. This table may prove useful.)

There is, of course, the possibility of the lawless city; the Wretched Hive of Scum and Villainy that cares not for what weapons one carries in the street. But even this seems like it would have something in the nature of a weapons check at the door. The Head of the Thieves' Guild is as careful of his personal safety as the Grand Duke, if not more so.

If this seems a little limiting to you or your players, think back to the Western, or to that interstellar gunslinger Han Solo. Think of the sudden explosions of violence, rather than the drawn out skirmishes in dungeon corridors. Think of what those lacy cuffs might conceal.

Small Military Units, the Party of Adventurers and Evelyn Waugh

This is feeding somewhat off my Cosmopolitanism and Vietnam article. You may wish to give that a read.

Let me pose a question: how would one connect the small band of freelance adventurers, religious zealots, magicians, mystics and such as seen in many an RPG to a military organisation?

Well, there are a few simple answers. Mercenaries are nothing new - even if the dozen or so personnel that any given band of heroes could offer are hardly going to sway the fate of nations on the battle field. Irregular units are perhaps as old as regular units, or indeed older - it just needed a moment to identify them as formally irregular (if you will). The same might be said of guerrillas or partisans.

There are perhaps better solutions to this. But what I wish to talk about is something else. Jumping off that previous article, I happened upon a copy of Popski's Private Army in the library at home.  For those who don't know, it is the history of a man, Vladimir Poniakoff, not a regular soldier, who effectively started his own special forces unit - the titular private army - in the British Army in the North African campaign of the Second World War.

Without diving too heavily into the details of the history of the unit, this appears to be the sort of time and place in which this little unit - less than thirty men under arms - could function and exist in connection with an organised, deeply formal organisation - that is to say, the British and Imperial forces. This is the same place the Long Range Desert Group came into being, and, indeed, the SAS. Numerous units from allied nations or resistance groups seem to have existed in the same sort of space.

Reflecting on this, my mind went gently to Evelyn Waugh's Sword of Honour trilogy of novels. These detail the experiences of Guy Crouchback, a British Catholic nobleman and his military service during the Second World War - or indeed, his lack thereof. Based on Waugh's own experiences as a man in his late thirties joining the army and on the whole, failing to find his place. Both Waugh and Crouchback end up in a Commando Unit and take part in a series of failed military operations.

The whole thing comes off as somewhat satirical of military life - the chivalrous Crouchback unable to come to grips with the enemy, sent to desk job after desk job - even if the tragedy of the Second World War and Waugh's lament for the undoing of the old order stand out most prominently by the conclusion.

Both 'Popski' and Crouchback exist in a sort of space where a band of adventurers could link itself to a modern army; where the money would be flowing plentifully enough to be spent on such a group, and where the need would be felt most keenly for these rough-hewn mercenaries.

Incidentally, the regiment Guy Crouchback ends up in is the fictional Royal Corps of Halberdiers. I like to use this in the same context I might Ruritania or Barsetshire; a fiction with real roots. For the United States, I thought up the fictional state of West Dakota - a decent proportion of the European settlers of which might well have been Ruritanian refugees. 

Cosmopolitanism Follow-Up

One very definite source for Cosmopolitanism in Dungeons and Dragons (cited in the famous Appendix N) has to be Lankhmar, from Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and the Grey Mouser tales.  It is the meeting place of our heroes; themselves possessing different talents (Fafhrd, a former skald of a battle-ready northern tribe; the Grey Mouser a magician's apprentice turned thief) and of different backgrounds.

Lankhmar bears a deliberate resemblance to Alexandria and even takes its place in 'Adept's Gambit', when our two protagonists do some universe-hopping. Howard Chaykin adapted the stories for Dark Horse Comics; his introduction to the collected edition makes comparison with Manhattan circa 1935. The artist - the superb Mike Mignola - seems to have taken note: his exterior scenes of Lankhmar show as full of tall, narrow tenements with rickety external staircases. At least one panel even seems to have a drum-shaped water tank on a roof-top.

Fafhrd and the Grey Mounser, Dark Horse Comics

The story 'Lean Times in Lankhmar' perhaps demonstrates some of this best. The difference between the Gods in Lankhmar and the Gods of Lankhmar is made very clear. But the national character of Lankhmar is always somewhat occluded: aside from some mentions of urban customs. The Gods of Lankhmar are a shadowy presence; the Gods in Lankhmar - and there are a great many Gods passing through - taking centre stage most of the time.

This situates Lankhmar as a city of bustling, competing identities; with religions in competition, living alongside one another - even if one temple is rather more splendid than its neighbours. That the Gods of Lankhmar are content to wait in the background until they need take action allows the cosmopolitan nature of the city (something similar occurs with the traditions of the Thieves Guild in 'Thieves' House'). Considering the Alexandria analogue, the city may have been deliberately founded by a leader of many nations, establishing the nature of the city from the word go, although this is merely speculation on my part.

Nevertheless, this bustling metropolis of Lankhmar seems a model for all D&D cities since; with numerous temples and factions of believers.

***
To re-iterate the purely human, faintly 18th Century, semi-military re-naming of 52 Pages Character Classes:

Fighter: Can stay the same,
Rogue: Rogue? None of that loose cannon stuff here! You're a Ranger from now on!
Wizard: Tempting to say apprentice, but an apprentice would be serving their apprenticeship in safety, one feels (see my Journeyman article). 'Magetrooper' or something of the sort feels too on the nose; merely saying a player is Talented or a Talent or some such defies the scholarly, Vancian magic of The 52 Pages. Perhaps saying the player is a 'Newly-Qualified Magician' works best.
Prophet: Devout Follower of the XYZ, presumably becoming a Prophet of the XYZ
Dwarf: Pioneer
Elf: Scout or Guide
Gnome: Skirmisher

***
To speak on the 'Pietistic Discipline' naming of things: the nature of a specific denomination with -ist and -ism lends an Early Modern air to things, as well as implying that all the believers involved are of one faith, as they are of one organisation, of one species.

Consider also, for this kind of effect renaming other things in a more abstract fashion: EG, the Workings of Providence instead of the Will of Zeus; the Image of the Divine instead of the Face of Ra. This gives things a more modern feel - though be suitably verbose and arcane in your language, or you risk becoming dangerously 20th Century!