Early in the Spellwars, an Arcanarch sent an army to a fortress-abbey of the Raven Queen's paladins, the Harbinger Brotherhood, to capture an artifact of power being kept there. The garrison force consisted of roughly two hundred Harbingers; the force sent against them was more than twenty times their number. The Harbinger knight-commander, a deeply pious man named Wendell Turnskull, ordered the gates sealed as soon as word of the approaching army reached him, and the Harbingers of Tarken Abbey settled in for a long siege, for the artifact the foe desired was sacred to the Harbingers. They had been unable to send a messenger for aid before the foe was upon them, and such was Tarken's remoteness that a chance patrol stumbling upon the siege and going for help seemed unlikely. Seeing that the abbey's defenses were as strong as they could be, Knight-Commander Turnskull repaired to the chapel to pray for aid.
For twenty-seven days, Wendell Turnskull and the other Harbinger knights prowled the battlements, watching for any movement on the part of the enemy. For twenty-seven nights, Wendell Turnskull and his lieutenants prostrated themselves in prayer before the altar of the Raven Queen, fasting and even flagellating themselves as a show of faith. The abbey's supplies were sufficient for several months, but each day keen-eyed knights reported that supply caravans arrived to feed the besieging army. Turnskull and the other senior knights discussed plans to sally forth and attack the foe; they knew it to be suicide, but barring a miracle, death seemed the only possible outcome. They were men of stern faith, these Harbingers, and devoted servants of the Raven Queen besides. They did not fear death, but they were sworn to keep the holy relic from the hands of the enemy so long as they lived.
On the morning of the twenty-eighth day, a miracle occurred. In the predawn light, an angel lit upon the battlements of Tarken Abbey, facing west, toward the enemy camp. The Harbingers fell back from the angel in holy fear, for it was in the shape of a woman, robed and hooded in deepest black, its wings dark as a moonless night, and in its right hand it bore a sword of cold iron. It was an angel of death, an instrument of the Raven Queen's divine will. It made no sound, nor spoke a word, nor made any sign that it was aware of the Harbingers' presence. It stood but lightly upon the battlement, fanning its great wings, and waited with the inhuman patience of its kind.
An enemy scout had noised the angel's presence about the instant it had appeared, and there was considerable commotion in the camp beyond the abbey gates. None of the soldiers there doubted that the angel boded ill for them, and hurried preparations were made to leave. But their preparations were for naught. As the sun rose at the angel's back, it raised its sword and spread its night-dark wings, so that its shadow fell across the entire enemy army; and every man whom the angel's shadow touched fell down dead in that instant.
Having slain the enemy army, the angel turned to face the knight-commander, who drew back, ashen-faced, then fell to his knees before his Goddess' divine servant. The angel's voice resounded inside the skulls of all the Harbingers of Tarken Abbey; blood started from their ears and noses and eyes, and their mouths were filled with the taste of iron. "Look well upon the mercy of the Raven Queen, Wendell Turnskull," said the angel. "Our Mistress has heard thy prayers, and been mov'd by them. Thou art worthy; strive always to remain so." So saying, the angel vanished like smoke before a freshening breeze.
Word of the miracle spread far and wide, and never again did any foe of the Raven Queen dare to assail Tarken Abbey.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Act I: Veils and Shadows, pt. 3
Having determined that Executor Nalis possessed information they needed, the Legend Breakers, never a group famous for their subtlety, gatecrashed his office and assaulted him point-blank. After a brief, inconclusive engagement in which Nalis stunned most of the party while avoiding or shrugging off their most powerful attacks, Clangden called a retreat. The Legend Breakers were intercepted in their flight through the city by members of an organization dedicated to resisting the rule of the Triat, who revealed that the Triat was actually a front for the cult of Orcus. The leader of this resistance cell revealed the existence of an artifact he called the Viridian, which he claimed had the power to reverse the necrotic wave's effects. Recalling their mandate from the Raven Queen, the Legend Breakers agreed to help recover the Viridian.
The heroes and a party of resistance fighters traveled to a ruined temple not far outside Shan, and discovered, as the resistance leader had claimed, that it was occupied by soldiers bearing the emblem of the Triat. There being no secondary entrance to the shrine, the heroes and their allies opted for a frontal assault. The Triat forces consisted of three battle wights, a banshee, and - striking dread into the Legend Breakers' hearts - a dracolich. Despite the beast's intimidating presence, the Legend Breakers and the resistance fighters moved right in. It was a punishing fight, with the heroes opting to focus on the wights while the banshee and dracolich bombarded them from afar. At last, though, the last wight fell, and the banshee not long after. The dracolich, seeing its allies destroyed, let out a fearsome roar as the Legend Breakers turned to face it...
Experience rewards:
Battling Executor Nalis and linking up with the Resistance: 1,000xp
3x Drow Battle Wights: 2,100xp
Wailing Ghost (Banshee): 700xp
Total: 3,800xp
Per character: 950xp
Current status: 29,850 + 950 = 30,800xp
To next level: 32,000 - 30,800 = 1,200xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
Only the dracolich remains standing between the heroes and the Viridian. What is this mysterious artifact? Will the Legend Breakers know what to do with it when they have it? How will the Triat respond to its theft?
The heroes and a party of resistance fighters traveled to a ruined temple not far outside Shan, and discovered, as the resistance leader had claimed, that it was occupied by soldiers bearing the emblem of the Triat. There being no secondary entrance to the shrine, the heroes and their allies opted for a frontal assault. The Triat forces consisted of three battle wights, a banshee, and - striking dread into the Legend Breakers' hearts - a dracolich. Despite the beast's intimidating presence, the Legend Breakers and the resistance fighters moved right in. It was a punishing fight, with the heroes opting to focus on the wights while the banshee and dracolich bombarded them from afar. At last, though, the last wight fell, and the banshee not long after. The dracolich, seeing its allies destroyed, let out a fearsome roar as the Legend Breakers turned to face it...
Experience rewards:
Battling Executor Nalis and linking up with the Resistance: 1,000xp
3x Drow Battle Wights: 2,100xp
Wailing Ghost (Banshee): 700xp
Total: 3,800xp
Per character: 950xp
Current status: 29,850 + 950 = 30,800xp
To next level: 32,000 - 30,800 = 1,200xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
Only the dracolich remains standing between the heroes and the Viridian. What is this mysterious artifact? Will the Legend Breakers know what to do with it when they have it? How will the Triat respond to its theft?
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Act I: Veils and Shadows, pt. 2
At first, the new plane seemed much like the Shadowfell, dimly lit and nearly lifeless. But here there was an almost palpable aura of decay: the river water was black and stank of rotting vegetation, and the trees along the bank reeked of corruption. The very land was blighted, diseased. A thin, cold mist flowed over the ground, and the moon that shone down from the sky was as red as blood. The Raven Queen had spoken true: something was horrifically wrong here. Clangden attempted to consult the Manual of the Planes to find out where "here" was, but the book, apparently possessed of its own will, showed him only a strange symbol that caused a taste of rotten meat in the heroes' mouths.
Coming ashore near a signpost on a road that ran along the river, the Legend Breakers learned that they were halfway between a town called Aronville and another named New Bronton. Given that New Bronton, according to the sign, lay some sixteen miles downriver, the heroes opted to get back in the boat and sail downriver rather than walk the distance.
Arriving at New Bronton, the heroes were only mildly surprised that the guard who greeted them was a zombie, recalling the Raven Queen's remark about living beings attracting "undue attention." At first the guard was reluctant to permit the Legend Breakers entry into the town, citing a "quarantine," but when the heroes displayed their ignorance of the local circumstances he became more open, taking them to be "newly risen." The guard allowed them into the town and directed them to Prelate Hadric in the town hall.
The Prelate proved to be a hideously disfigured man, missing his lower jaw entirely. He communicated, in a manner brusque to the point of rudeness, through sign language and an interpreter. He explained that the previous year, a magical experiment gone awry had resulted in a massive wave of necrotic energy covering the entire planet and transforming every living thing into an undead version of itself. Half the recently buried corpses had also risen as undead, and bodies had continued to rise at irregular intervals ever since. Prelate Hadric noted that the only bright spot in all this was that an organization he called the Triat had volunteered its services to help stabilize the country, and advised the group to travel on to the capital city of Shan if they wanted to know more. He did not appear at all sorry to see the back of them.
Shan proved to be a partially rebuilt ruin, nearly a quarter of its area taken up by a massive crater centered on what had been the wizards' tower from which the catastrophe had originated. Residual eddies of magic suspended chunks of masonry in the air above the crater, including what appeared to be the nearly-intact top three floors of the tower. A giant scaffold extended out from the rim of the crater to a window on the lowermost of the three, and the Legend Breakers decided to scale this makeshift bridge. They passed several work parties on their way around the rim of the crater, noticing that the leader of each wore a surcoat bearing the emblem that the Manual of the Planes had shown them on their arrival. None of the workers or their supervisors attempted to stop the heroes, however, or even remarked on their passage.
The inside of the tower proved only moderately illuminating. The bottom floor was strewn with skeletons and signs that they had died violently. Old, dried bloodstains and blast marks were prevalent, and much of the furniture had been smashed. The second floor showed signs that the battle had grown more intense as it moved up the tower: hardly any surface was free of blood or soot, and human remains were scattered more thickly on the floor. One group in particular had fallen facing outward from the staircase leading up to the top floor, as though they had died defending it from an attacker. The uppermost floor consisted of a single huge room with an empty pedestal in the center, whose walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in arcane glyphs and runes. Marris was able to determine that the spells woven into the stone pertained to protection and containment, presumably aimed at whatever had previously occupied the pedestal.
There were also a number of skeletons in the top room, again facing outward from a central point, this time the pedestal. Sprawled across the pedestal was one skeleton of decidedly inhuman aspect. Instead of feet, it had cloven hooves; batlike wings sprouted from between its shoulder blades; and great horns curved back over its skull. It was clearly the skeleton of a demon. A partial picture emerged of the final moments leading up to the disaster: a demonic intruder invaded the tower, slaughtered everyone in its path on its bloody climb despite the resistance of the tower's occupants, stepped over the corpses of the last defenders to reach the pedestal, and... what? Did it activate some kind of artifact, or shut one down? Had it intended to cause global devastation, or was that merely an unforeseen side effect? For the demon itself had certainly gained nothing except a swift death for its efforts.
At a loss to answer these questions, the Legend Breaker decided to seek out someone in the city who might be able to shed more light on the matter. One of the Triat officers overseeing a work crew directed them to city hall and one Executor Nalis. Unfortunately, the Executor proved less than helpful, claiming that while Triat researchers had indeed combed the surviving floors of the tower, they had learned nothing of particular value. When Marris, sensing Nalis was not being entirely truthful, brashly demanded that the Executor provide more information, Nalis' manner turned from diffident to actively hostile, ordering the heroes to leave his office and forget that they had ever set foot in the tower.
Certain that Executor Nalis knew far more about the tower and what happened there than he was letting on, the Legend Breakers determined to capture him for interrogation.
Experience rewards:
Learning of the necrotic wave from Prelate Hadric: 500xp
Examining the interior of the tower: 1,000xp
Determining than Executor Nalis knows more than he's letting on: 500xp
Total: 2,000xp
Per character: 500xp
Current status: 29,350 + 500 = 29,850xp
To next level: 32,000 - 29,850 = 2,150xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers attempt to capture Executor Nalis. Will they succeed, and if so, what will they learn from him? Who summoned the demon that invaded the Shan wizards' tower? Can the necrotic wave be reversed, and this world returned to normal?
Coming ashore near a signpost on a road that ran along the river, the Legend Breakers learned that they were halfway between a town called Aronville and another named New Bronton. Given that New Bronton, according to the sign, lay some sixteen miles downriver, the heroes opted to get back in the boat and sail downriver rather than walk the distance.
Arriving at New Bronton, the heroes were only mildly surprised that the guard who greeted them was a zombie, recalling the Raven Queen's remark about living beings attracting "undue attention." At first the guard was reluctant to permit the Legend Breakers entry into the town, citing a "quarantine," but when the heroes displayed their ignorance of the local circumstances he became more open, taking them to be "newly risen." The guard allowed them into the town and directed them to Prelate Hadric in the town hall.
The Prelate proved to be a hideously disfigured man, missing his lower jaw entirely. He communicated, in a manner brusque to the point of rudeness, through sign language and an interpreter. He explained that the previous year, a magical experiment gone awry had resulted in a massive wave of necrotic energy covering the entire planet and transforming every living thing into an undead version of itself. Half the recently buried corpses had also risen as undead, and bodies had continued to rise at irregular intervals ever since. Prelate Hadric noted that the only bright spot in all this was that an organization he called the Triat had volunteered its services to help stabilize the country, and advised the group to travel on to the capital city of Shan if they wanted to know more. He did not appear at all sorry to see the back of them.
Shan proved to be a partially rebuilt ruin, nearly a quarter of its area taken up by a massive crater centered on what had been the wizards' tower from which the catastrophe had originated. Residual eddies of magic suspended chunks of masonry in the air above the crater, including what appeared to be the nearly-intact top three floors of the tower. A giant scaffold extended out from the rim of the crater to a window on the lowermost of the three, and the Legend Breakers decided to scale this makeshift bridge. They passed several work parties on their way around the rim of the crater, noticing that the leader of each wore a surcoat bearing the emblem that the Manual of the Planes had shown them on their arrival. None of the workers or their supervisors attempted to stop the heroes, however, or even remarked on their passage.
The inside of the tower proved only moderately illuminating. The bottom floor was strewn with skeletons and signs that they had died violently. Old, dried bloodstains and blast marks were prevalent, and much of the furniture had been smashed. The second floor showed signs that the battle had grown more intense as it moved up the tower: hardly any surface was free of blood or soot, and human remains were scattered more thickly on the floor. One group in particular had fallen facing outward from the staircase leading up to the top floor, as though they had died defending it from an attacker. The uppermost floor consisted of a single huge room with an empty pedestal in the center, whose walls, floor, and ceiling were covered in arcane glyphs and runes. Marris was able to determine that the spells woven into the stone pertained to protection and containment, presumably aimed at whatever had previously occupied the pedestal.
There were also a number of skeletons in the top room, again facing outward from a central point, this time the pedestal. Sprawled across the pedestal was one skeleton of decidedly inhuman aspect. Instead of feet, it had cloven hooves; batlike wings sprouted from between its shoulder blades; and great horns curved back over its skull. It was clearly the skeleton of a demon. A partial picture emerged of the final moments leading up to the disaster: a demonic intruder invaded the tower, slaughtered everyone in its path on its bloody climb despite the resistance of the tower's occupants, stepped over the corpses of the last defenders to reach the pedestal, and... what? Did it activate some kind of artifact, or shut one down? Had it intended to cause global devastation, or was that merely an unforeseen side effect? For the demon itself had certainly gained nothing except a swift death for its efforts.
At a loss to answer these questions, the Legend Breaker decided to seek out someone in the city who might be able to shed more light on the matter. One of the Triat officers overseeing a work crew directed them to city hall and one Executor Nalis. Unfortunately, the Executor proved less than helpful, claiming that while Triat researchers had indeed combed the surviving floors of the tower, they had learned nothing of particular value. When Marris, sensing Nalis was not being entirely truthful, brashly demanded that the Executor provide more information, Nalis' manner turned from diffident to actively hostile, ordering the heroes to leave his office and forget that they had ever set foot in the tower.
Certain that Executor Nalis knew far more about the tower and what happened there than he was letting on, the Legend Breakers determined to capture him for interrogation.
Experience rewards:
Learning of the necrotic wave from Prelate Hadric: 500xp
Examining the interior of the tower: 1,000xp
Determining than Executor Nalis knows more than he's letting on: 500xp
Total: 2,000xp
Per character: 500xp
Current status: 29,350 + 500 = 29,850xp
To next level: 32,000 - 29,850 = 2,150xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers attempt to capture Executor Nalis. Will they succeed, and if so, what will they learn from him? Who summoned the demon that invaded the Shan wizards' tower? Can the necrotic wave be reversed, and this world returned to normal?
Saturday, October 10, 2009
On gods and angels
There are many gods. No one knows exactly how many, but name a concept and there is probably a god of it. The more universal the concept, the more powerful the god who embodies it. Thus, deities like Viridex (war) and the Raven Queen (death) are among the most powerful gods, commanding legions of angels and other divine servants. There is also a hierarchy of gods, in which lesser deities serve greater ones. Moradin (craftsmanship) commands the gods of metalwork, stonecrafting, woodwork, and other specific crafts. He also holds the loyalty of the gods of architecture, engineering, and other applied sciences. Viridex commands the deities of combat (insofar as combat is distinct from warfare), swordsmanship and other martial disciplines, and shares with Moradin rulership over the gods of weaponsmithing (who, in turn, rules over the gods of specific arts such as swordmaking) and armorsmithing. The Raven Queen rules a host of lesser deities, each of whom hold the portfolio of a specific aspect or manner of death: disease, starvation, overt violence (as distinguished from the covert violence of assassination, which is the portfolio of another of the Raven Queen's servant gods), etc. She also, in her capacity as the god of fate, commands the god of destiny and shares responsibility with Ioun (knowledge) for the gods of prophecy and divination.
The relationships of fealty and rulership among the gods are fearsomely complex, and though many mortal agencies have attempted to chart them, the resulting documents are widely considered apocryphal at best.
Angels are even more diverse than their masters. There are many classes or castes, each fulfilling a different function: observant angels, messenger angels, harbinger angels, warrior angels, and many others. In the larger hosts, those commanded by stronger deities, there will be considerable diversity even within a particular role. The Raven Queen's warrior angels, for example, range from human-sized skirmishers to hundred-foot-tall dreadnought angels, living siege weapons capable of laying waste to a medium-sized continent.
The relationships of fealty and rulership among the gods are fearsomely complex, and though many mortal agencies have attempted to chart them, the resulting documents are widely considered apocryphal at best.
Angels are even more diverse than their masters. There are many classes or castes, each fulfilling a different function: observant angels, messenger angels, harbinger angels, warrior angels, and many others. In the larger hosts, those commanded by stronger deities, there will be considerable diversity even within a particular role. The Raven Queen's warrior angels, for example, range from human-sized skirmishers to hundred-foot-tall dreadnought angels, living siege weapons capable of laying waste to a medium-sized continent.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Act I: Veils and Shadows, pt. 1
As the river faded from azure fire back into ordinary water, and the landscape on either side assumed its new aspect, it became immediately apparent to the Legend Breakers that they were not where they had been only moments before. While the general contours of the land were the same, everything around them was dead. The grasses were brown and dried, the trees withered and leafless. More disturbing, the Temple City of Hennes, which had been visible only a few miles away, was no longer there. The heroes did not resist when the boat began drifting, apparently of its own accord, into shore. Stepping off onto a road seemingly placed there for their convenience, the Legend Breakers started walking.
Almost immediately, they realized that their arrival, if not anticipated, had certainly been monitored by whomever - or whatever - ruled this bleak and forbidding place. Approaching a large tree full of eerily still ravens, Marris appealed silently to his goddess, the Raven Queen, for a sign. He received a distinct impression that they were to follow the road to its end. The journey proved an unnerving one, for the adventurers passed many servants of the Raven Queen, each stranger than the last. By now it was obvious that the Legend Breakers had landed in the Shadowfell, the private domain of the Raven Queen. Death knights, shadar-kai, tengu, even vaguely spiderlike creatures which had served Lolth before Her destruction observed the Legend Breakers' progress to be sure they did not deviate from the path laid out for them. At one point, a shadar-kai woman, approached by Marris, instructed him, "Do not dawdle. Our Mistress awaits you at your destination." Suffused with joy at the prospect of meeting the Veiled Lady in person, Marris hurried onward with his companions in tow.
At the end of the road the heroes found themselves before the gates of Mortuus, the colossal black stone fortress-palace of the Raven Queen. Hosts of angels circled overhead, the beat of their vast wings providing the only sound. The gates were guarded by a pair of tall angels, each robed and hooded in absolute black, each with glowing green eyes as their only discernible feature, each bearing a great sword of black metal. They regarded the heroes as dispassionately as a harvester regards his fields, then turned aside to admit them into the divine Presence. Here the Judge of the Dead presided over a court thronged with the empty-eyed souls of the dead, come to be judged for their deeds in life. The grim crowd parted for the four living adventurers to pass through the vast, colonnaded hall toward the Seat of Judgment.
As the Legend Breakers had passed across the threshold into the Raven Queen's hall, a deep fear had taken root in each of their hearts, and it grew steadily more intense with each pace toward the death god's throne. Somewhere around the middle of the hall, their courage failed them, and they tried with all their might to turn and flee toward the fortress gates, hoping the angels would let them out... but they could not stop themselves from continuing to advance. The Raven Queen's divine will dragged them forward, step by horrifying step. Their hearts were pounding, cold sweat ran from every pore, their guts churned like nests of serpents, but still they were compelled to approach the being sitting on the throne. At last they stood before Her, every fiber of their being screaming to flee somewhere, anywhere, away from the living embodiment of death, their hearts threatening to burst with sheer terror... and then the fear vanished, instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch in the heroes' heads.
The throne was of black iron. Against its right arm leaned the sword Nightbringer, the instrument of Lolth's annihilation, its blade of roiling darkness seeming to promise the same fate to all who looked upon it. Seated upon the throne was a woman of superhuman beauty, Her features at once delicate and patrician, Her skin nearly paper-white with only the faintest blush of color at her cheeks, Her hair as black as a raven's wing, Her eyes... Her eyes were the same luminous green as Anriel's. She was clad in a black dress with a strangely protean pattern; in one moment, it seemed to be made of ravens' feathers, and in the next to be woven of spiderwebs. Upon Her brow sat a circlet of silver, set with a single enormous jewel which burned with a violet flame. As the Legend Breakers gazed upon Her, each of them knew in the pit of his soul that She was the Raven Queen, god of death and fate. Marris fell to the floor in reverence, crying, "My Queen!"
The dark goddess smiled very slightly at this display of devotion. "Rise, my servant. Know that I am well pleased with thee." As Marris scrambled to his feet, faith and adoration shining in his face, She raised Her hand, and Marris felt a searing pain in the center of his chest, as if he were being branded. The Raven Queen had blessed him with resilience against necromancy and stiffened his spine against even supernatural terrors. "I know that thou seekest the creature Kharebutu. I know the reason for thy quest. I know Kharebutu's nature and goals, which thou dost not. For this knowledge, I require a service of thee." Marris stepped forward eagerly, "Anything, my Queen. Command me." Clangden, Heinrich and Dunstad were less certain, but nodded assent. Clangden made the point, "I can offer my service, but not my allegiance." The Raven Queen nodded, saying, "Thou art the servant of My cousin, Viridex. I know how jealously He doth guard His minions. Fear not, warfather, for thy soul is safe in His hands."
Addressing the entire party, She continued, "There is a place, not far from here as gods reckon distance, in which the natural order, the delicate balance of life and death, hath been undone. The reasons for this, and the methods by which it was accomplished, are hidden from Me. Yet I am constrained from sending My angels, or any other servant who openly bears My faith. I require thou to go to this place, to learn what has happened and why, and to put it right, if thou can. Do these things, and I shall impart to thee all the knowledge that is needful for thou to prevail against the creature Kharebutu. Is it a bargain?" Again, Marris agreed avidly, the three dwarves less so.
"In the place where I shall send thee, living beings attract... undue attention. Thus it is necessary for thou to feel death's embrace - at least for a time." So saying, the Raven Queen exerted Her divine power and transformed all four heroes into undying death knights. The transition from life to undeath was unsettling, but the Legend Breakers proved their long experience with strange occurrences and adapted quickly to their new state. The Mistress of Bones also caused several new runes to appear on the Sextant of the Planes, saying, "This device will now carry thee where thou need to go. Tarry not, for the balance cries out to be set aright."
Having received their mandate directly from the lips of a god, the Legend Breakers wasted no time returning along the road to their boat. They sailed out into the center of the river and activated the Sextant. Again, the river became as blue fire; again, the landscape phased into a new form; and again, they were in a new world.
Experience rewards:
Meeting with the Raven Queen and receiving Her instructions: 2,000xp
Total: 2,000xp
Per character: 500xp
Current status: 28,850 + 500 = 29,350xp
To next level: 32,000 - 29,350 = 2,650xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
What is the nature of this new plane? What did the Raven Queen's cryptic references to the "balance between life and death" actually mean? How will the Legend Breakers' new status as death knights affect them, and what foes will they meet to test them?
Almost immediately, they realized that their arrival, if not anticipated, had certainly been monitored by whomever - or whatever - ruled this bleak and forbidding place. Approaching a large tree full of eerily still ravens, Marris appealed silently to his goddess, the Raven Queen, for a sign. He received a distinct impression that they were to follow the road to its end. The journey proved an unnerving one, for the adventurers passed many servants of the Raven Queen, each stranger than the last. By now it was obvious that the Legend Breakers had landed in the Shadowfell, the private domain of the Raven Queen. Death knights, shadar-kai, tengu, even vaguely spiderlike creatures which had served Lolth before Her destruction observed the Legend Breakers' progress to be sure they did not deviate from the path laid out for them. At one point, a shadar-kai woman, approached by Marris, instructed him, "Do not dawdle. Our Mistress awaits you at your destination." Suffused with joy at the prospect of meeting the Veiled Lady in person, Marris hurried onward with his companions in tow.
At the end of the road the heroes found themselves before the gates of Mortuus, the colossal black stone fortress-palace of the Raven Queen. Hosts of angels circled overhead, the beat of their vast wings providing the only sound. The gates were guarded by a pair of tall angels, each robed and hooded in absolute black, each with glowing green eyes as their only discernible feature, each bearing a great sword of black metal. They regarded the heroes as dispassionately as a harvester regards his fields, then turned aside to admit them into the divine Presence. Here the Judge of the Dead presided over a court thronged with the empty-eyed souls of the dead, come to be judged for their deeds in life. The grim crowd parted for the four living adventurers to pass through the vast, colonnaded hall toward the Seat of Judgment.
As the Legend Breakers had passed across the threshold into the Raven Queen's hall, a deep fear had taken root in each of their hearts, and it grew steadily more intense with each pace toward the death god's throne. Somewhere around the middle of the hall, their courage failed them, and they tried with all their might to turn and flee toward the fortress gates, hoping the angels would let them out... but they could not stop themselves from continuing to advance. The Raven Queen's divine will dragged them forward, step by horrifying step. Their hearts were pounding, cold sweat ran from every pore, their guts churned like nests of serpents, but still they were compelled to approach the being sitting on the throne. At last they stood before Her, every fiber of their being screaming to flee somewhere, anywhere, away from the living embodiment of death, their hearts threatening to burst with sheer terror... and then the fear vanished, instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch in the heroes' heads.
The throne was of black iron. Against its right arm leaned the sword Nightbringer, the instrument of Lolth's annihilation, its blade of roiling darkness seeming to promise the same fate to all who looked upon it. Seated upon the throne was a woman of superhuman beauty, Her features at once delicate and patrician, Her skin nearly paper-white with only the faintest blush of color at her cheeks, Her hair as black as a raven's wing, Her eyes... Her eyes were the same luminous green as Anriel's. She was clad in a black dress with a strangely protean pattern; in one moment, it seemed to be made of ravens' feathers, and in the next to be woven of spiderwebs. Upon Her brow sat a circlet of silver, set with a single enormous jewel which burned with a violet flame. As the Legend Breakers gazed upon Her, each of them knew in the pit of his soul that She was the Raven Queen, god of death and fate. Marris fell to the floor in reverence, crying, "My Queen!"
The dark goddess smiled very slightly at this display of devotion. "Rise, my servant. Know that I am well pleased with thee." As Marris scrambled to his feet, faith and adoration shining in his face, She raised Her hand, and Marris felt a searing pain in the center of his chest, as if he were being branded. The Raven Queen had blessed him with resilience against necromancy and stiffened his spine against even supernatural terrors. "I know that thou seekest the creature Kharebutu. I know the reason for thy quest. I know Kharebutu's nature and goals, which thou dost not. For this knowledge, I require a service of thee." Marris stepped forward eagerly, "Anything, my Queen. Command me." Clangden, Heinrich and Dunstad were less certain, but nodded assent. Clangden made the point, "I can offer my service, but not my allegiance." The Raven Queen nodded, saying, "Thou art the servant of My cousin, Viridex. I know how jealously He doth guard His minions. Fear not, warfather, for thy soul is safe in His hands."
Addressing the entire party, She continued, "There is a place, not far from here as gods reckon distance, in which the natural order, the delicate balance of life and death, hath been undone. The reasons for this, and the methods by which it was accomplished, are hidden from Me. Yet I am constrained from sending My angels, or any other servant who openly bears My faith. I require thou to go to this place, to learn what has happened and why, and to put it right, if thou can. Do these things, and I shall impart to thee all the knowledge that is needful for thou to prevail against the creature Kharebutu. Is it a bargain?" Again, Marris agreed avidly, the three dwarves less so.
"In the place where I shall send thee, living beings attract... undue attention. Thus it is necessary for thou to feel death's embrace - at least for a time." So saying, the Raven Queen exerted Her divine power and transformed all four heroes into undying death knights. The transition from life to undeath was unsettling, but the Legend Breakers proved their long experience with strange occurrences and adapted quickly to their new state. The Mistress of Bones also caused several new runes to appear on the Sextant of the Planes, saying, "This device will now carry thee where thou need to go. Tarry not, for the balance cries out to be set aright."
Having received their mandate directly from the lips of a god, the Legend Breakers wasted no time returning along the road to their boat. They sailed out into the center of the river and activated the Sextant. Again, the river became as blue fire; again, the landscape phased into a new form; and again, they were in a new world.
Experience rewards:
Meeting with the Raven Queen and receiving Her instructions: 2,000xp
Total: 2,000xp
Per character: 500xp
Current status: 28,850 + 500 = 29,350xp
To next level: 32,000 - 29,350 = 2,650xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
What is the nature of this new plane? What did the Raven Queen's cryptic references to the "balance between life and death" actually mean? How will the Legend Breakers' new status as death knights affect them, and what foes will they meet to test them?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Prologue: The Legend Breakers, pt. 3
Kharebutu's trail led the heroes into the mountains north of Varen, to a small plateau on which he was busy inscribing a ritual circle on the ground under the protection of three warriors. Nothing could be discerned of the bodyguards' identities under their heavy robes and cowls, but they were capable enough to hold the Legend Breakers at bay long enough for Kharebutu to complete his ritual preparations. Then, by a single accord, all three made prodigious leaps to land inside the circle along with Kharebutu and Anriel, and the four mysterious villains and their helpless captive vanished in a flare of red light.
While Imno was unable to identify the ritual from the sigils left behind, he produced a drawing of the circle in hopes of finding a mage more versed such things. The heroes' first stop in search of enlightenment was the High Energy Magic department of the University of Varen, but following a (for Brandis) pants-moistening encounter with a surprisingly well-spoken gibbering mouther, the head researcher there could only shrug and direct them to the College of Astrologers and Diviners in - where else? - the Temple City of Hennes. Frustrated but determined to find answers, the Legend Breakers set out on the month-long journey back to where their quest had started.
This time, the trek across the Plain of Bones was unmarred by violence; the quartet traversed the Via Mortis without incident. Upon returning to Hennes, they immediately sought out the College, but the diviner they spoke to was only slightly more helpful than the theorist in Varen. He recognized the party, however, and strongly recommended they show Imno's drawing to Wayfarer Scanvio. Clangden was reluctant, thinking that perhaps Scanvio had orchestrated the whole sequence of events, but finally relented.
Scanvio was profoundly disturbed by the Legend Breakers' tale. He said he had to report the attacks and Anriel's abduction to his superiors, and offered to have his hirelings quartered in the temple of Anathor's spare but comfortable rooms for the night. They accepted, and the next morning Clangden received a personal missive from no less an individual than the High Warfather, leader of the church of Viridex. It contained instructions to Clangden and his comrades to attend a meeting in the Ur-Cathedral, meeting place of the Apostolic Council. The junior warpriest who had delivered the scroll led the heroes to the meeting chamber, and then retired.
Here, in a room filled with the heads of most of the major churches as well as the more prominent wizards' guilds, the Legend Breakers were made privy to awesome and horrific secrets. First, Wayfarer Scanvio told them that Kharebutu's magic had carried him and Anriel beyond the borders of the world, to another plane. Then, it was revealed that eons earlier, on the night of Sirrenar's death, His high priestess, Magistrix Lilah, had uttered a prophecy. She spoke of a being called the Dweomerchild, who would be born in the closing years of the Fourth Time, and whose life would herald the return of the god of magic. Finally, it was explained that Anriel's abduction not only imperiled the fulfillment of the prophecy, but the life of every living thing on the planet. The Arcanum, Wayfarer Scanvio explained, was continuing to decay, and within less than a century its dissolution would render the world a barren and lifeless rock. The only way to regenerate it was to ensure that Magistrix Lilah's prophecy was fulfilled and the god of magic resurrected; Anriel must be rescued at any cost.
Now knowing the true stakes, the Legend Breakers bravely volunteered to venture into the unknown in pursuit of Kharebutu, and to rescue the little girl upon whose fate their entire world turned. They were given powerful arms and armor, artifacts of magic hoarded from the time of the Spellwars and earlier, far more potent than anything that could be crafted now. The heroes were also given a small but thick magic tome, the Manual of the Planes, and a brass disc incised on both sides and around the rim with runes and sigils, the Sextant of the Planes. With these in hand, they were taken to a river outside the city, where they set sail in a small boat. Activating the Sextant's magic, they saw the river turn to blue fire, and the land phase from one shape to another, and thus passed into another world.
Experience rewards:
Fighting Kharebutu and his bodyguards: 1,000xp
Learning about the prophecy and Anriel's importance: 2,000xp
Departing your home plane: 3,000xp
Total: 6,000xp
Per character: 1,500xp
Current status: 27,350 + 1,500 = 28,850xp
To next level: 32,000 - 28,850 = 3,150xp
Treasure rewards:
Your "going-away gifts" from the Apostolic Council.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers find themselves in (literally) a whole new world. Where have they arrived? Are the natives (if any) friend or foe? How will they ever find Kharebutu's trail when they must search, not just a world, but an infinity of worlds?
While Imno was unable to identify the ritual from the sigils left behind, he produced a drawing of the circle in hopes of finding a mage more versed such things. The heroes' first stop in search of enlightenment was the High Energy Magic department of the University of Varen, but following a (for Brandis) pants-moistening encounter with a surprisingly well-spoken gibbering mouther, the head researcher there could only shrug and direct them to the College of Astrologers and Diviners in - where else? - the Temple City of Hennes. Frustrated but determined to find answers, the Legend Breakers set out on the month-long journey back to where their quest had started.
This time, the trek across the Plain of Bones was unmarred by violence; the quartet traversed the Via Mortis without incident. Upon returning to Hennes, they immediately sought out the College, but the diviner they spoke to was only slightly more helpful than the theorist in Varen. He recognized the party, however, and strongly recommended they show Imno's drawing to Wayfarer Scanvio. Clangden was reluctant, thinking that perhaps Scanvio had orchestrated the whole sequence of events, but finally relented.
Scanvio was profoundly disturbed by the Legend Breakers' tale. He said he had to report the attacks and Anriel's abduction to his superiors, and offered to have his hirelings quartered in the temple of Anathor's spare but comfortable rooms for the night. They accepted, and the next morning Clangden received a personal missive from no less an individual than the High Warfather, leader of the church of Viridex. It contained instructions to Clangden and his comrades to attend a meeting in the Ur-Cathedral, meeting place of the Apostolic Council. The junior warpriest who had delivered the scroll led the heroes to the meeting chamber, and then retired.
Here, in a room filled with the heads of most of the major churches as well as the more prominent wizards' guilds, the Legend Breakers were made privy to awesome and horrific secrets. First, Wayfarer Scanvio told them that Kharebutu's magic had carried him and Anriel beyond the borders of the world, to another plane. Then, it was revealed that eons earlier, on the night of Sirrenar's death, His high priestess, Magistrix Lilah, had uttered a prophecy. She spoke of a being called the Dweomerchild, who would be born in the closing years of the Fourth Time, and whose life would herald the return of the god of magic. Finally, it was explained that Anriel's abduction not only imperiled the fulfillment of the prophecy, but the life of every living thing on the planet. The Arcanum, Wayfarer Scanvio explained, was continuing to decay, and within less than a century its dissolution would render the world a barren and lifeless rock. The only way to regenerate it was to ensure that Magistrix Lilah's prophecy was fulfilled and the god of magic resurrected; Anriel must be rescued at any cost.
Now knowing the true stakes, the Legend Breakers bravely volunteered to venture into the unknown in pursuit of Kharebutu, and to rescue the little girl upon whose fate their entire world turned. They were given powerful arms and armor, artifacts of magic hoarded from the time of the Spellwars and earlier, far more potent than anything that could be crafted now. The heroes were also given a small but thick magic tome, the Manual of the Planes, and a brass disc incised on both sides and around the rim with runes and sigils, the Sextant of the Planes. With these in hand, they were taken to a river outside the city, where they set sail in a small boat. Activating the Sextant's magic, they saw the river turn to blue fire, and the land phase from one shape to another, and thus passed into another world.
Experience rewards:
Fighting Kharebutu and his bodyguards: 1,000xp
Learning about the prophecy and Anriel's importance: 2,000xp
Departing your home plane: 3,000xp
Total: 6,000xp
Per character: 1,500xp
Current status: 27,350 + 1,500 = 28,850xp
To next level: 32,000 - 28,850 = 3,150xp
Treasure rewards:
Your "going-away gifts" from the Apostolic Council.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers find themselves in (literally) a whole new world. Where have they arrived? Are the natives (if any) friend or foe? How will they ever find Kharebutu's trail when they must search, not just a world, but an infinity of worlds?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Prologue: The Legend Breakers, pt. 2
After the ambush on the Via Mortis, the journey to Varen passed without incident. The Legend Breakers arrived at their destination at the onset of winter, took rooms at a student hostel called the Red Banner, and set about locating their contact, the sage Kharebutu. A little legwork earned them the knowledge that Kharebutu was employed as a professor of divinity in the University of Varen, for which the city was named. Curiously, although Kharebutu claimed to have been educated in the Royal College of Ronon, this point appeared never to have been verified, despite the University Chancellor's claim to the contrary.
Soon after speaking to the Chancellor, the heroes had their first hint that little Anriel might not be entirely what she seems: when discussing the Chancellor's obstinacy, she seemed altogether too adult for the eight-year-old she ostensibly is. Brandis, in particular, found this troubling.
Kharebutu happened to be away from Varen when the Legend Breakers arrived, and Heinrich took the opportunity for a little leisurely drinking. Unfortunately, he happened to order "potato wine," not knowing that this was the local euphemism for "rotgut moonshine that kills anything less hardy than a dwarf." After a deeply regrettable incident with the Red Banner's groom, in which Heinrich attempted to heave his 500-pound bear into the hostel through a second-floor window, Clangden and Brandis managed to subdue the (literally) blind-drunk dwarf.
Upon finally meeting with Kharebutu, the heroes discovered him to be a frail old man with wispy white hair and a scrupulously polite demeanor. He used divinatory geomancy to examine Anriel for some time, and finally announced that he would need to keep the child overnight for further observation. This occasioned some debate from the heroes, but in the end they agreed to return for Anriel the next day.
That night, while Brandis infiltrated the campus to discover more about Kharebutu, Clangden, Imno, and Heinrich were apprehended by the overzealous City Watch on suspicion of kidnapping. It came out that Kharebutu and little Anriel were both missing, and had been seen leaving the University in the company of three robed and cowled men. Examination of Kharebutu's quarters revealed that, although considerable effort had been expended to make it look like the place had been ransacked, the most likely culprit was Kharebutu himself.
Just then, a Watch sergeant burst in with the news that Anriel had been sighted leaving the city half an hour earlier by the north gate in the company of Kharebutu and his... partners? ...accomplices? ...minions?
Experience rewards:
Averting disaster at Heinrich's drunken hands: 1,000xp
Skill challenge - Kharebutu's quarters: 2,400xp
Total: 3,400xp
Per character: 850xp
Current status: 26,500 + 850 = 27,350xp
To next level: 32,000 - 27,350 = 4,650xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers pursue the absconding Kharebutu, and learn the true nature of the child Anriel. What secrets does she hide? Why does Kharebutu want her badly enough to abduct her virtually from under her guardians' noses?
Soon after speaking to the Chancellor, the heroes had their first hint that little Anriel might not be entirely what she seems: when discussing the Chancellor's obstinacy, she seemed altogether too adult for the eight-year-old she ostensibly is. Brandis, in particular, found this troubling.
Kharebutu happened to be away from Varen when the Legend Breakers arrived, and Heinrich took the opportunity for a little leisurely drinking. Unfortunately, he happened to order "potato wine," not knowing that this was the local euphemism for "rotgut moonshine that kills anything less hardy than a dwarf." After a deeply regrettable incident with the Red Banner's groom, in which Heinrich attempted to heave his 500-pound bear into the hostel through a second-floor window, Clangden and Brandis managed to subdue the (literally) blind-drunk dwarf.
Upon finally meeting with Kharebutu, the heroes discovered him to be a frail old man with wispy white hair and a scrupulously polite demeanor. He used divinatory geomancy to examine Anriel for some time, and finally announced that he would need to keep the child overnight for further observation. This occasioned some debate from the heroes, but in the end they agreed to return for Anriel the next day.
That night, while Brandis infiltrated the campus to discover more about Kharebutu, Clangden, Imno, and Heinrich were apprehended by the overzealous City Watch on suspicion of kidnapping. It came out that Kharebutu and little Anriel were both missing, and had been seen leaving the University in the company of three robed and cowled men. Examination of Kharebutu's quarters revealed that, although considerable effort had been expended to make it look like the place had been ransacked, the most likely culprit was Kharebutu himself.
Just then, a Watch sergeant burst in with the news that Anriel had been sighted leaving the city half an hour earlier by the north gate in the company of Kharebutu and his... partners? ...accomplices? ...minions?
Experience rewards:
Averting disaster at Heinrich's drunken hands: 1,000xp
Skill challenge - Kharebutu's quarters: 2,400xp
Total: 3,400xp
Per character: 850xp
Current status: 26,500 + 850 = 27,350xp
To next level: 32,000 - 27,350 = 4,650xp
Treasure rewards:
None this session
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers pursue the absconding Kharebutu, and learn the true nature of the child Anriel. What secrets does she hide? Why does Kharebutu want her badly enough to abduct her virtually from under her guardians' noses?
Saturday, September 12, 2009
On Viridex
The Warmaster is a complex figure. While many simply equate war with violence, and Viridex certainly favors those who perform acts of glory on the battlefield, He is just as much (if not moreso) the god of strategy and tactics, of waging war as distinguished from personal combat. Priests and followers of Viridex frequently play games which encourage strategic thought, such as chess or go. While soldiers and warriors from the lowliest private to the most exalted warlord revere the Grey Knight's teachings, His priests actively discourage berserkergang, the battle-madness.
Viridex teaches the importance of honor among warriors. Although His scriptures place no particular emphasis on protecting the weak as a moral imperative, a warrior who assaults those who cannot defend themselves is seen as a blot on the escutcheon of all who follow the way of the sword. Such individuals frequently find themselves on the wrong end of an inquisitorial unit dispatched by the church of Viridex.
In addition to serving the spiritual needs of Viridex' followers, His church also serves as a broker for mercenary units, putting those in need of professional soldiers in touch with soldiers looking for work. Contracts obtained in this way have certain limits: ten percent of the fee is tithed to the church, and the actual services contracted for may not go against Viridite scripture. Even with these constraints, however, virtually all mercenary outfits do their contracting through the church of Viridex. The church takes great pains to maintain its position as an honest, impartial go-between, and maintains meticulous records of each contract. Employers who do not pay in a timely manner or who expect their mercenary hirelings to perform unsavory acts quickly find themselves unable to hire anyone at all, as the priests of Viridex noise their reputation about. By the same token, sellswords who bring shame on themselves, their profession, or worst of all, the church, find that no one will hire them.
Viridex teaches the importance of honor among warriors. Although His scriptures place no particular emphasis on protecting the weak as a moral imperative, a warrior who assaults those who cannot defend themselves is seen as a blot on the escutcheon of all who follow the way of the sword. Such individuals frequently find themselves on the wrong end of an inquisitorial unit dispatched by the church of Viridex.
In addition to serving the spiritual needs of Viridex' followers, His church also serves as a broker for mercenary units, putting those in need of professional soldiers in touch with soldiers looking for work. Contracts obtained in this way have certain limits: ten percent of the fee is tithed to the church, and the actual services contracted for may not go against Viridite scripture. Even with these constraints, however, virtually all mercenary outfits do their contracting through the church of Viridex. The church takes great pains to maintain its position as an honest, impartial go-between, and maintains meticulous records of each contract. Employers who do not pay in a timely manner or who expect their mercenary hirelings to perform unsavory acts quickly find themselves unable to hire anyone at all, as the priests of Viridex noise their reputation about. By the same token, sellswords who bring shame on themselves, their profession, or worst of all, the church, find that no one will hire them.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Open-endedness, or the lack thereof
I'm not sure I've ever explicitly articulated this to any of my players, so let me take this opportunity: "Sailing the River of Worlds" is a limited campaign, which is to say it has a definite beginning, middle, and end, and when we get to the end the campaign will close. I haven't actually plotted every single step along the way, but I know how the campaign will end (in both the case of player success and the case of player failure), and once we reach that point, that's it. That will be our curtain call.
I'm sorry if this clashes with your expectations; I just don't want anyone to feel like I'm springing this on them at the last second.
I'm sorry if this clashes with your expectations; I just don't want anyone to feel like I'm springing this on them at the last second.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
On the Raven Queen
The goddess of death and fate is a figure of mystery, even to her own clergy. Unlike other deities, She has never revealed Her name. She is known only by a series of epithets: the Raven Queen, the Veiled Lady, the Mistress of Bones, the Judge of the Dead. Her church treats ravens as sacred, believing them to carry the souls of the dead from the material world to Mortuus, the Raven Queen's fortress in the Shadowfell, to be judged. The Raven Queen's scriptures emphasize acceptance of mortality and death as an integral part of the natural cycle. While ordinary worshippers are few and far between, the church sponsors several monastic orders and an order of paladins, the Harbinger Brotherhood. The Raven Queen's church is also notable for having the largest single plot of consecrated ground in the world: the Plain of Bones, the entire vast necropolis, is holy ground to the Veiled Lady's priests and other followers.
The goddess Herself is unusual in several respects, most importantly in that she was challenged only once during the wars of the gods. Lolth, the then-goddess of fate, craved the portfolio of death. Her power extended over mortals only during their lives, and by becoming the goddess of death She hoped to become absolute mistress of all mortals. Thus it was that Lolth marshaled Her angels and other servants and came against the Raven Queen. The two goddesses met on an astral battlefield: many-eyed Lolth, Mother of Spiders, patroness of seers and oracles, wielded nets, whips and chains in each of Her many hands, and Her fangs dripped corrosive venom. The Raven Queen stood calmly in the face of the Fateweaver's charge, seemingly making no move to defend Herself... but when Lolth was nearly upon Her, She stretched forth Her hand and a sword made of roiling darkness appeared in it, and the sword's name was Nightbringer. The Veiled Lady raised Nightbringer and smote Her enemy once, and without so much as a single cry Lolth was blasted into nonexistence by the dark sword's power, and the Raven Queen absorbed the portfolio of fate.
When word of this reached the other gods, they all took pause. None had previously had the merest inkling of the existence of something like Nightbringer. Duels between two deities were normally lengthy affairs, with each struggling to penetrate the nigh-impervious defenses of the other. For one god to dispatch another with a single blow was unheard-of, and horrifying to contemplate. Though the other gods bent their wills and their servants to discovering the nature of the sword Nightbringer, none succeeded. Even the wisest could not say how, or even if the Raven Queen had created the blade, or if She had summoned it from somewhere... else, a place somehow beyond the reach of the other gods.
Thus, Lolth became the first and last deity to challenge the Raven Queen for the portfolio of death.
When word of this reached the other gods, they all took pause. None had previously had the merest inkling of the existence of something like Nightbringer. Duels between two deities were normally lengthy affairs, with each struggling to penetrate the nigh-impervious defenses of the other. For one god to dispatch another with a single blow was unheard-of, and horrifying to contemplate. Though the other gods bent their wills and their servants to discovering the nature of the sword Nightbringer, none succeeded. Even the wisest could not say how, or even if the Raven Queen had created the blade, or if She had summoned it from somewhere... else, a place somehow beyond the reach of the other gods.
Thus, Lolth became the first and last deity to challenge the Raven Queen for the portfolio of death.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
The Fourth Time: Being an Account of the Reconstruction, and the Matriculation of the Younger Races
For centuries, the dwarven and elven races teetered on the brink of extinction as they labored feverishly to pass on all they knew to their respective successors, the halflings and the gnomes. Under the tutelage of the dwarves, the halflings grew into a race of travelers and traders, perpetually migrating in great caravans along the rivers and highways from one town to the next, slowly reweaving the web of civilization that had been destroyed in the Spellwars. The gnomes, learning at the feet of the elves, came to crave knowledge in every form, and together the elves and gnomes worked to return enlightenment to a world fallen into darkness.
In the early part of the Fourth Time, magic was anathema to all. It was magic that had fueled the empires of the Arcanarchs, magic that had led so many into hubris, and magic that had ignited the conflagration that nearly extinguished all life. The few wizards' towers that remained intact were razed to the ground by raging mobs, their treasure troves of hard-won arcane knowledge burned and scattered to the wind. Mystic artifacts were shattered by the scores, sometimes with catastrophic results: at least three cities were destroyed by arcane detonations when authorities attempted to dispose of powerful magic devices. This led to a change in policy: artifacts from the Spellwars and prior Times were to be sealed in hidden vaults, and all records of their existence destroyed.
But, of course, nothing stays buried forever. In time, a few scattered individuals, motivated variously by curiosity, lust for power, or simply the lure of the forbidden, began to research the foundations of magic again. Practicing in deepest secrecy, the arts of wizardry, druidism, and other forms of magic were resurrected by solitary practitioners or small cells. Some of these were rooted out by inquisitors and put to the sword, but others always sprang up in their place. As the decades and then centuries wore on and the horrors of the Spellwars largely forgotten, the taboo against magic lost its power. Finally, mortals dared to wield arcane, divine and primal magic openly again.
Peace has reigned for well over three millennia. To be sure, there are skirmishes among proud nobles, and provincial wars for pride and for territory, but most agree that mortals' taste for widespread warfare was burned out of them in the furnace of the Spellwars. But now change is coming again. Strange lights appear in the night skies, and astrologers say the Fourth Time is drawing to a close. What does this mean? What do the alien stars portend? What will be the character of the Fifth Time? None can say.
In the early part of the Fourth Time, magic was anathema to all. It was magic that had fueled the empires of the Arcanarchs, magic that had led so many into hubris, and magic that had ignited the conflagration that nearly extinguished all life. The few wizards' towers that remained intact were razed to the ground by raging mobs, their treasure troves of hard-won arcane knowledge burned and scattered to the wind. Mystic artifacts were shattered by the scores, sometimes with catastrophic results: at least three cities were destroyed by arcane detonations when authorities attempted to dispose of powerful magic devices. This led to a change in policy: artifacts from the Spellwars and prior Times were to be sealed in hidden vaults, and all records of their existence destroyed.
But, of course, nothing stays buried forever. In time, a few scattered individuals, motivated variously by curiosity, lust for power, or simply the lure of the forbidden, began to research the foundations of magic again. Practicing in deepest secrecy, the arts of wizardry, druidism, and other forms of magic were resurrected by solitary practitioners or small cells. Some of these were rooted out by inquisitors and put to the sword, but others always sprang up in their place. As the decades and then centuries wore on and the horrors of the Spellwars largely forgotten, the taboo against magic lost its power. Finally, mortals dared to wield arcane, divine and primal magic openly again.
Peace has reigned for well over three millennia. To be sure, there are skirmishes among proud nobles, and provincial wars for pride and for territory, but most agree that mortals' taste for widespread warfare was burned out of them in the furnace of the Spellwars. But now change is coming again. Strange lights appear in the night skies, and astrologers say the Fourth Time is drawing to a close. What does this mean? What do the alien stars portend? What will be the character of the Fifth Time? None can say.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Prologue: The Legend Breakers, pt. 1
On a hot summer day late in the Fourth Time, a letter arrived in the hands of Clangden Stonehammer, dwarven cleric of Viridex and leader of the adventuring company known as the Legend Breakers. The letter had been sent from the Temple City of Hennes by a Wayfarer named Scanvio, and invited the Legend Breakers to Hennes to discuss the prospect of work for the church of Anathor. Clangden discussed the matter with his comrades, and they agreed that they would travel to Hennes in the fall to meet with the priest of the Lord of Roads.
So it was that as Harvestmoon drew to a close, the Legend Breakers rode into the Temple City and took lodging at the Silver Shield in the Knights' Quarter. The next day saw the adventurers taking counsel at the sacred grove of Anathor with Wayfarer Scanvio and, curiously, a young human girl with quite striking eyes. The task Scanvio asked seemed a simple one: escort the child, whose name was Anriel, across the Plain of Bones by way of the great dwarven highway known as the Via Mortis to the city of Varen; take the child to see a certain sage who dwelled in that city; and then return the girl to Hennes when the sage's examination of her was finished.
The pay the Wayfarer offered seemed scant to Clangden and his fellows, and they successfully haggled Scanvio up to 100 platinum coins from the sixty he had initially proposed. Having gained half their payment, with the promise of the remainder upon Anriel's safe return to Hennes, the Legend Breakers and their young charge set out on the Via Mortis for Varen.
Approximately a week into the month-long journey, the adventurers were lured away from the highway by a false cry for help and set upon by nearly a dozen ambushers. The assailants were no match for the experienced combatants of the Legend Breakers, however, and were put down with little trouble. In the pocket of their leader, however, a troubling item was found: a note indicating the approximate date the adventurers would be departing Hennes, brief but accurate descriptions of each of them as well as little Anriel, and instructions to "retrieve the girl, and make sure her protectors never leave the Plain of Bones."
The note was signed with a single cryptic letter: "K."
Experience rewards:
Haggling with Wayfarer Scanvio: 500xp
Defeating the ambushers:
1x Human Hexer, 300xp
1x Human Knife Fighter, 600xp
4x Human Lackey, 300xp
4x Human Bowman Lackey, 300xp
Total: 2000xp
Per character: 500xp
Current status: 26,000 + 500 = 26,500xp
To next level: 32.000 - 26,500 = 5,500xp
Treasure rewards:
The ambushers carried coins and goods with a total value of 250gp.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers arrive in Varen and meet with the sage. What is his interest in Anriel? Why did the church of Anathor hire them for such an apparently simple mission?
So it was that as Harvestmoon drew to a close, the Legend Breakers rode into the Temple City and took lodging at the Silver Shield in the Knights' Quarter. The next day saw the adventurers taking counsel at the sacred grove of Anathor with Wayfarer Scanvio and, curiously, a young human girl with quite striking eyes. The task Scanvio asked seemed a simple one: escort the child, whose name was Anriel, across the Plain of Bones by way of the great dwarven highway known as the Via Mortis to the city of Varen; take the child to see a certain sage who dwelled in that city; and then return the girl to Hennes when the sage's examination of her was finished.
The pay the Wayfarer offered seemed scant to Clangden and his fellows, and they successfully haggled Scanvio up to 100 platinum coins from the sixty he had initially proposed. Having gained half their payment, with the promise of the remainder upon Anriel's safe return to Hennes, the Legend Breakers and their young charge set out on the Via Mortis for Varen.
Approximately a week into the month-long journey, the adventurers were lured away from the highway by a false cry for help and set upon by nearly a dozen ambushers. The assailants were no match for the experienced combatants of the Legend Breakers, however, and were put down with little trouble. In the pocket of their leader, however, a troubling item was found: a note indicating the approximate date the adventurers would be departing Hennes, brief but accurate descriptions of each of them as well as little Anriel, and instructions to "retrieve the girl, and make sure her protectors never leave the Plain of Bones."
The note was signed with a single cryptic letter: "K."
Experience rewards:
Haggling with Wayfarer Scanvio: 500xp
Defeating the ambushers:
1x Human Hexer, 300xp
1x Human Knife Fighter, 600xp
4x Human Lackey, 300xp
4x Human Bowman Lackey, 300xp
Total: 2000xp
Per character: 500xp
Current status: 26,000 + 500 = 26,500xp
To next level: 32.000 - 26,500 = 5,500xp
Treasure rewards:
The ambushers carried coins and goods with a total value of 250gp.
Next time, in Sailing the River of Worlds:
The Legend Breakers arrive in Varen and meet with the sage. What is his interest in Anriel? Why did the church of Anathor hire them for such an apparently simple mission?
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The Third Time: Being an Account of the Spellwars and the Devastation wrought thereby, and the Creation of the Younger Races
When the Arcanarchs realized the Arcanum was being worn away at an accelerating rate by their own reckless use of magic, their reactions were as varied as the Arcanarchs themselves. Many, principally dwarves and elves who, by virtue of their long lives, were already accustomed to taking the long view, immediately proposed measures to conserve what magic remained by limiting its use. Most human Arcanarchs, unfortunately, rejected this idea out of hand. Some were pressed by rivals and feared for themselves and their people should they relinquish even a fraction of their power; others refused to believe that the Arcanum really was degrading, or that it was their fault; and still others, sad to say, were simply drunk with power and unwilling to let go.
The dwarves argued the case for conservation with passion, and the elves with cool logic, but with few exceptions, the humans would not listen. They continued to use large-scale magic for military and industrial purposes, in arcane forges and factories churning out everything from goblets that changed color when their contents were properly chilled to vast siege weapons capable of reducing the mightiest fortresses to rubble. The Arcanum continued to deteriorate, and the pleas from the Conservators (as their faction became known) grew ever more strident. Eventually, the Conservator Arcanarchs realized their Exploiter rivals could not be dissuaded from their reckless course by speech alone, and the Conservators girded for war.
What followed was, if anything, even more terrible than the wars among the gods. Although no single Arcanarch could muster anything like the power of a deity, there were far more Arcanarchs than there had ever been gods; and while the divine battles had laid waste to vast portions of the world, this had only ever been a byproduct, where the Arcanarchs now devoted their considerable intellects and magical prowess to this very end. Where the armies of the Arcanarchs met, the very fabric of reality boiled. The land heaved and bubbled; spectral beings flickered in and out of existence, snatching away the souls of their victims; wizards raised their hands and consumed entire regiments in fiery holocausts; vast constructs battled titanic aberrations from beyond the stars.
Entire races were created for the express purpose of waging war. One human Arcanarch, having allied himself with beings of primordial evil, blended that evil with a cadre of his most bloodthirsty human warriors to create beings he called tieflings. He made them the generals of his armies, and their inhuman cruelty and cunning won him many battles. At last, another Arcanarch uncovered the secret of the tieflings' creation, however, and adapted it to his own ends. Merging his own people with elemental spirits, he created the dragonborn, and they were even mightier than the tieflings. As the war ground on, however, and the Arcanum continued to degrade, both races eventually died out. The lucky ones simply sickened and died; the unlucky ones lived long enough to die in unutterable agony when the magic that sustained them drained away.
The Spellwars lasted for two thousand, three hundred and eighty-four years. Entire continents were taken, lost, and retaken, over and over. Billions died. In places, the weight of their deaths tore aside the veil between the world and the afterworld, and undead abominations rose to add still more misery to the burden of the living. At last, when the Arcanum had frayed so badly that it could no longer support any magic at all, the spellcasters died. All of them. All over the world, at the same instant, every wizard, cleric, sorcerer, and druid cocked their heads as though listening to a distant song... and fell down stone dead. The Spellwars had claimed their last casualties.
All the mortal races had been driven nearly to extinction. The dwarves and elves feared for the survival of their cultures, and took steps to ensure it. They searched within themselves for the fragments of the divine spark left over from their own creation, and coaxed it forth. From elemental air and fire, the elves created the gnomes to carry on the knowledge of their greatness. From elemental earth and water, the dwarves created the halflings to continue their traditions of craftsmanship.
With the birth of the younger races, the Third Time came to an end.
The dwarves argued the case for conservation with passion, and the elves with cool logic, but with few exceptions, the humans would not listen. They continued to use large-scale magic for military and industrial purposes, in arcane forges and factories churning out everything from goblets that changed color when their contents were properly chilled to vast siege weapons capable of reducing the mightiest fortresses to rubble. The Arcanum continued to deteriorate, and the pleas from the Conservators (as their faction became known) grew ever more strident. Eventually, the Conservator Arcanarchs realized their Exploiter rivals could not be dissuaded from their reckless course by speech alone, and the Conservators girded for war.
What followed was, if anything, even more terrible than the wars among the gods. Although no single Arcanarch could muster anything like the power of a deity, there were far more Arcanarchs than there had ever been gods; and while the divine battles had laid waste to vast portions of the world, this had only ever been a byproduct, where the Arcanarchs now devoted their considerable intellects and magical prowess to this very end. Where the armies of the Arcanarchs met, the very fabric of reality boiled. The land heaved and bubbled; spectral beings flickered in and out of existence, snatching away the souls of their victims; wizards raised their hands and consumed entire regiments in fiery holocausts; vast constructs battled titanic aberrations from beyond the stars.
Entire races were created for the express purpose of waging war. One human Arcanarch, having allied himself with beings of primordial evil, blended that evil with a cadre of his most bloodthirsty human warriors to create beings he called tieflings. He made them the generals of his armies, and their inhuman cruelty and cunning won him many battles. At last, another Arcanarch uncovered the secret of the tieflings' creation, however, and adapted it to his own ends. Merging his own people with elemental spirits, he created the dragonborn, and they were even mightier than the tieflings. As the war ground on, however, and the Arcanum continued to degrade, both races eventually died out. The lucky ones simply sickened and died; the unlucky ones lived long enough to die in unutterable agony when the magic that sustained them drained away.
The Spellwars lasted for two thousand, three hundred and eighty-four years. Entire continents were taken, lost, and retaken, over and over. Billions died. In places, the weight of their deaths tore aside the veil between the world and the afterworld, and undead abominations rose to add still more misery to the burden of the living. At last, when the Arcanum had frayed so badly that it could no longer support any magic at all, the spellcasters died. All of them. All over the world, at the same instant, every wizard, cleric, sorcerer, and druid cocked their heads as though listening to a distant song... and fell down stone dead. The Spellwars had claimed their last casualties.
All the mortal races had been driven nearly to extinction. The dwarves and elves feared for the survival of their cultures, and took steps to ensure it. They searched within themselves for the fragments of the divine spark left over from their own creation, and coaxed it forth. From elemental air and fire, the elves created the gnomes to carry on the knowledge of their greatness. From elemental earth and water, the dwarves created the halflings to continue their traditions of craftsmanship.
With the birth of the younger races, the Third Time came to an end.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
On Elves
Elves live the life of tribal nomads. There isn't a single corner of the world that has not known the tread of an elven foot; certain elf-tribes have even taken to the sea in great flotillas. Living off the land and owning no more than they can carry, land-dwelling elves have little use for commerce, but sometimes trade with dwarves for items of metalwork they cannot make themselves: tools, weapons, and armor chief among them. Seagoing elves, while they do not build trading ships per se, are given to carrying small but valuable trade goods in the unused nooks and crannies of their vessels.
In order to gain the coin to purchase what they need, elves reaching maturity leave their tribes and hire themselves out as scouts, skirmishers, ambushers, spies, and other careers requiring stealth and discretion where they can put their incredible fieldcraft skills to good use. A few even become adventurers, forsaking regular pay for the opportunity to gain incredible treasure. These sojourns among other races traditionally last for one hundred years, and in addition to being opportunities to gain wealth for the tribe, are seen as an essential part of a young elf's education.
Elves have generally excellent relations with the other races. Their constant wandering frequently brings them into contact with other cultures, and has made elven diplomats the finest anywhere. This, coupled with the respect their status as one of the elder races gains them, means that elves are often asked to mediate in disputes between different races.
Elves are generally laconic and taciturn. The elven language has an immense vocabulary, containing words for every imaginable object, condition, action, and so forth. This allows elves to be extraordinarily precise in their speech and to use no more than the bare minimum of verbiage. Where dwarves wear their hearts on their sleeves, elves are very restrained, to the point of seeming shy. They are also scrupulously polite, and will never give offense if they can help it. An elf will even show an icy courtesy to a blood enemy... usually just before putting an arrow through the enemy's eye. In combat, elves display economy of action similar to their economy of speech, disdaining flashy maneuvers and grandstanding flourishes in favor of a brutally simple doctrine of cutting the enemy down as efficiently as possible.
Elves enjoy a degree of longevity only slightly less than that of dwarves: reaching maturity at approximately 30 to 35 years of age, the average elf lives a total of roughly 800 to 1,000 years.
In order to gain the coin to purchase what they need, elves reaching maturity leave their tribes and hire themselves out as scouts, skirmishers, ambushers, spies, and other careers requiring stealth and discretion where they can put their incredible fieldcraft skills to good use. A few even become adventurers, forsaking regular pay for the opportunity to gain incredible treasure. These sojourns among other races traditionally last for one hundred years, and in addition to being opportunities to gain wealth for the tribe, are seen as an essential part of a young elf's education.
Elves have generally excellent relations with the other races. Their constant wandering frequently brings them into contact with other cultures, and has made elven diplomats the finest anywhere. This, coupled with the respect their status as one of the elder races gains them, means that elves are often asked to mediate in disputes between different races.
Elves are generally laconic and taciturn. The elven language has an immense vocabulary, containing words for every imaginable object, condition, action, and so forth. This allows elves to be extraordinarily precise in their speech and to use no more than the bare minimum of verbiage. Where dwarves wear their hearts on their sleeves, elves are very restrained, to the point of seeming shy. They are also scrupulously polite, and will never give offense if they can help it. An elf will even show an icy courtesy to a blood enemy... usually just before putting an arrow through the enemy's eye. In combat, elves display economy of action similar to their economy of speech, disdaining flashy maneuvers and grandstanding flourishes in favor of a brutally simple doctrine of cutting the enemy down as efficiently as possible.
Elves enjoy a degree of longevity only slightly less than that of dwarves: reaching maturity at approximately 30 to 35 years of age, the average elf lives a total of roughly 800 to 1,000 years.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
On character creation
As previously mentioned, there are five races available for PCs. See post "New edition, new rules" for details on racial ability score modifiers. I will allow any class for which you have documentation (D&D 4E book or class preview document from D&D Insider). Player characters will start at level 11; yes, this means you will choose your paragon path immediately.
Ability scores are generated by 22-point buy, per "Customizing Scores," p. 17 of the PHB.
Each character may choose up to four backgrounds, per the PHB2: one each from the Birth, Geography, Society, and Occupation categories. Optionally, you may substitute a Racial background for your Birth background. The "On Another Plane" Birth background is disallowed. Overlapping skill bonuses from multiple backgrounds stack. Backgrounds from other sources may be substituted at my discretion.
In terms of equipment, each character may choose one magic item, weapon, or armor up to level 5. Each character will also start with 50 platinum pieces (equivalent to 5,000 gp).
Ability scores are generated by 22-point buy, per "Customizing Scores," p. 17 of the PHB.
Each character may choose up to four backgrounds, per the PHB2: one each from the Birth, Geography, Society, and Occupation categories. Optionally, you may substitute a Racial background for your Birth background. The "On Another Plane" Birth background is disallowed. Overlapping skill bonuses from multiple backgrounds stack. Backgrounds from other sources may be substituted at my discretion.
In terms of equipment, each character may choose one magic item, weapon, or armor up to level 5. Each character will also start with 50 platinum pieces (equivalent to 5,000 gp).
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The Second Time: Being an Account of the Wars among the Gods, and the Rise of the Arcanarchs
The wars of the gods were terrible. Mountains were cloven in two, seas drained away, plains and forests burned. Countless mortals died as the gods slaughtered each other. The power of the slain deities passed to their killers... except for one. Among the greatest of the fallen was Sirrenar, god of magic and custodian of the Arcanum, the conduit through which mortal mages and clerics accessed the power of magic. Viridex, god of war, coveted Sirrenar's portfolio jealously, and so fell upon Him while Sirrenar was engaged in another battle. Viridex successfully murdered Sirrenar... but could not take his power. The portfolio of magic, and with it custodianship of the Arcanum, vanished. Viridex searched every corner of the world, but He could not find it. He combed the Arcanum itself with every grain of power and divine perception at His command, but uncovered nothing.
Viridex attempted to conceal His failure to absorb Sirrenar's portfolio from the other gods, but could not. When His fellows learned of it, they took pause, for here was a consequence of their war they had never conceived of: the total amount of divine power in the universe had declined. Prior to this, the gods had thought that at the end of the war one of their number would stand triumphant, all-powerful, having gained all the portfolios of all the gods. Now, however, each was forced to confront the idea that, even should He or She claim victory, that victory would be incomplete. Who could say how many portfolios would be lost, should the conflict continue? So it was that by common assent, the wars among the gods came to an end in an uneasy truce. Each still coveted sole dominion over the world, but none could attack another for fear of further diminishing all.
Time passed. First years, then centuries, then millennia. Fears that the Arcanum would wither for lack of tending proved unfounded; indeed, the power of mortal mages grew at rates undreamed of in the First Time. Some grew so powerful as to approach the level of the gods themselves; such quasi-godlings named themselves Arcanarchs, and they ruled vast empires. One Arcanarch thought to slay a god, steal the divine spark, and become a deity himself; for his hubris, all the remaining gods joined together and laid him low, making it clear to all magi: seek not above your station. The reasoning of the gods was that if one of their own could prevail in battle yet lose the portfolio of the defeated, a mortal challenger would surely be incapable of seizing the divine spark and divinity would be lessened still further.
The Arcanarchs grumbled at this prohibition, but none believed themselves powerful enough to defy the gods united. They contented themselves with ruling over lesser mages and those who lacked significant magical ability. For the most part, this was a good era. The Arcanarchs were, in the main, reasonably enlightened, and did not rule with fear or cruelty. Their empires occasionally skirmished with one another, but outright war was prevented by the titanic power of the Arcanarchs themselves: each had the power to lay waste to vast portions of an enemy nation, but their hands were stayed by the knowledge that they faced opponents of similar ability.
At last, after centuries in which civilization spiraled upward, in which the powers of mages and clerics fuelled wonders like flying cities and vast golem armies, the Arcanarchs came to an horrific realization: the magic was going away. The flying cities drifted slowly to the earth, the armies of constructs fell over one by one and become inert. All the myriad minor cantrips used by ordinary people to save labor and make life easier ceased to function. Magic became hard. Spells that once were taught to teenaged students in magical academies became so difficult that only experienced magi could use them reliably. The Arcanarchs and their most accomplished servants delved into magic's deepest and most esoteric secrets in an effort to understand what was happening, and uncovered something terrible: their own magic, drawing on the Arcanum in ways it was never meant to withstand, had been degrading the conduit for centuries. Bereft of a custodian, the Arcanum was beginning to fray.
With the beginning of the decline of magic, the Second Time came to an end.
Viridex attempted to conceal His failure to absorb Sirrenar's portfolio from the other gods, but could not. When His fellows learned of it, they took pause, for here was a consequence of their war they had never conceived of: the total amount of divine power in the universe had declined. Prior to this, the gods had thought that at the end of the war one of their number would stand triumphant, all-powerful, having gained all the portfolios of all the gods. Now, however, each was forced to confront the idea that, even should He or She claim victory, that victory would be incomplete. Who could say how many portfolios would be lost, should the conflict continue? So it was that by common assent, the wars among the gods came to an end in an uneasy truce. Each still coveted sole dominion over the world, but none could attack another for fear of further diminishing all.
Time passed. First years, then centuries, then millennia. Fears that the Arcanum would wither for lack of tending proved unfounded; indeed, the power of mortal mages grew at rates undreamed of in the First Time. Some grew so powerful as to approach the level of the gods themselves; such quasi-godlings named themselves Arcanarchs, and they ruled vast empires. One Arcanarch thought to slay a god, steal the divine spark, and become a deity himself; for his hubris, all the remaining gods joined together and laid him low, making it clear to all magi: seek not above your station. The reasoning of the gods was that if one of their own could prevail in battle yet lose the portfolio of the defeated, a mortal challenger would surely be incapable of seizing the divine spark and divinity would be lessened still further.
The Arcanarchs grumbled at this prohibition, but none believed themselves powerful enough to defy the gods united. They contented themselves with ruling over lesser mages and those who lacked significant magical ability. For the most part, this was a good era. The Arcanarchs were, in the main, reasonably enlightened, and did not rule with fear or cruelty. Their empires occasionally skirmished with one another, but outright war was prevented by the titanic power of the Arcanarchs themselves: each had the power to lay waste to vast portions of an enemy nation, but their hands were stayed by the knowledge that they faced opponents of similar ability.
At last, after centuries in which civilization spiraled upward, in which the powers of mages and clerics fuelled wonders like flying cities and vast golem armies, the Arcanarchs came to an horrific realization: the magic was going away. The flying cities drifted slowly to the earth, the armies of constructs fell over one by one and become inert. All the myriad minor cantrips used by ordinary people to save labor and make life easier ceased to function. Magic became hard. Spells that once were taught to teenaged students in magical academies became so difficult that only experienced magi could use them reliably. The Arcanarchs and their most accomplished servants delved into magic's deepest and most esoteric secrets in an effort to understand what was happening, and uncovered something terrible: their own magic, drawing on the Arcanum in ways it was never meant to withstand, had been degrading the conduit for centuries. Bereft of a custodian, the Arcanum was beginning to fray.
With the beginning of the decline of magic, the Second Time came to an end.
Friday, August 14, 2009
On Dwarves
Dwarves are the great makers and builders of the world. Every dwarf practices some form of handicraft: brewers often make their own barrels, warriors frequently forge their own arms and armor, traders build their own wagons and so on. Even in their downtime, a dwarf will nearly always keep his hands busy with knitting, whittling, or some other minor craft.
This deep and abiding love of artifice means that the meanest product of dwarven hands is fit to stand beside the masterpieces of other races. A dwarf-forged blade will never rust, dull or break. Dwarf-raised buildings, invariably built of stone, are so tightly constructed that not even a knife-blade can be slipped between one stone and the next. Although dwarves seldom sell their work to other races, they can be persuaded if a potential buyer performs a service of some kind.
The dwarves originated the concept of cities, and most of the world's great cities are of primarily dwarven construction, linked by broad stone highways also of dwarven design. Humans and halflings commonly inhabit most surface structures, even in dwarf-ruled cities, with the dwarves themselves delving underground in vast halls and great corridors.
Dwarves are intensely passionate people, outspoken and headstrong. A dwarf's friends are never uncertain about where they stand, for dwarves are honest to a fault and despise liars. Most dwarves also have a vengeful streak, and though rarely troubled by minor slights, a dwarf who has been the victim of theft or violence will hold that grudge for centuries and go to enormous lengths to gain satisfaction.
Dwarves are tremendously long-lived, reaching physical maturity at the age of approximately 40 years, and living for a total of 1,000 to 1,200 years on average.
This deep and abiding love of artifice means that the meanest product of dwarven hands is fit to stand beside the masterpieces of other races. A dwarf-forged blade will never rust, dull or break. Dwarf-raised buildings, invariably built of stone, are so tightly constructed that not even a knife-blade can be slipped between one stone and the next. Although dwarves seldom sell their work to other races, they can be persuaded if a potential buyer performs a service of some kind.
The dwarves originated the concept of cities, and most of the world's great cities are of primarily dwarven construction, linked by broad stone highways also of dwarven design. Humans and halflings commonly inhabit most surface structures, even in dwarf-ruled cities, with the dwarves themselves delving underground in vast halls and great corridors.
Dwarves are intensely passionate people, outspoken and headstrong. A dwarf's friends are never uncertain about where they stand, for dwarves are honest to a fault and despise liars. Most dwarves also have a vengeful streak, and though rarely troubled by minor slights, a dwarf who has been the victim of theft or violence will hold that grudge for centuries and go to enormous lengths to gain satisfaction.
Dwarves are tremendously long-lived, reaching physical maturity at the age of approximately 40 years, and living for a total of 1,000 to 1,200 years on average.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
New edition, new rules
After talking it over with Richie, I have decided to use 4th edition rules rather than 3.5. I think it will make the campaign easier for me to DM and easier for you to play, and as far as I can tell there's nothing I can't do in 4E that I could in 3.5.
Also, a few notes on character creation: the following races are allowed, with changes where noted.
Also, a few notes on character creation: the following races are allowed, with changes where noted.
- Elves - +2 DEX, +2 INT
- Dwarves - +2 CON, +2 CHA
- Humans - As per the Player's Handbook
- Halflings - +2 CON, +2 DEX
- Gnomes - As per the Player's Handbook 2
In this world, the eladrin never existed. More exotic races, like tieflings and dragonborn, may have existed in the past, but are now extinct. (I'm not being capricious there; there is a reason, and it will become clear.) There are no half-elves: elves and humans can reproduce together, but any such child has a 90% chance of being a full-blood human and a 10% chance of being a full-blood elf.
On the subject of the low-magic initial setting, converting to 4E has made this much simpler than the half-caster-level nightmare I concocted earlier: all powers drawing on the arcane, divine or primal power sources are used at -2 to-hit and -2 damage. This may be subject to revision. Later, when you leave your home plane, these penalties will disappear.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
The First Time: Being an Account of the Creation of the World, and the Birth of the Mortal Races
Eons ago, the gods spun the world out of nothingness. From the void they created an infinitely precious jewel, blue and green and white: white of clouds, green of forests and growing things, and blue of the deep, deep sea. Having created a world, the gods moved to populate it, for what is a god without worshippers? In the deep and secret places of the world, the gods fashioned the dwarves out of earth and fire, gifting them with the resilience of stone and an unquenchable spirit. In the hidden glens, among the trees and the wild things, the gods shaped the elves out of air and water, granting them grace of mind and body coupled with untamable wildness.
For a time, all was well. But the gods were not content. Each coveted sole dominion over what they had jointly wrought. They fell to scheming and plotting against one another, alliances and enmities shifting as soon as they were formed. Soon enough, jealousy begat anger, and anger begat violence, and the gods warred among themselves. The weapons of the gods struck sparks from one another that illuminated the whole sky, and where these sparks fell to earth, a third race arose: humans, the children of conflict, ever restless, often reckless, capable of greatness but prone to fall.
With the birth of humanity, the First Time came to an end.
For a time, all was well. But the gods were not content. Each coveted sole dominion over what they had jointly wrought. They fell to scheming and plotting against one another, alliances and enmities shifting as soon as they were formed. Soon enough, jealousy begat anger, and anger begat violence, and the gods warred among themselves. The weapons of the gods struck sparks from one another that illuminated the whole sky, and where these sparks fell to earth, a third race arose: humans, the children of conflict, ever restless, often reckless, capable of greatness but prone to fall.
With the birth of humanity, the First Time came to an end.
Hail, and well met.
This is the chronicle of the Dungeons & Dragons 3.5 campaign entitled "Sailing the River of Worlds." I'm the Dungeon Master for this campaign. If you're reading this, you're probably one of my players, and got here because I sent you the link. Alternatively, you may simply be the kind of person who browses random blogs. Either way, welcome. I hope, first and foremost, to run an exciting, challenging, and engaging campaign; and if the blog also turns out to be worth reading, so much the better.
"Sailing" will be my first effort at running an RPG campaign. This blog will consist primarily of the things that happen both to and because of the player characters; but will also contain asides consisting of my thoughts, observations and experiences as a first-time DM.
Welcome to my world, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy the ride.
"Sailing" will be my first effort at running an RPG campaign. This blog will consist primarily of the things that happen both to and because of the player characters; but will also contain asides consisting of my thoughts, observations and experiences as a first-time DM.
Welcome to my world, gentlemen. I hope you enjoy the ride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)