Story Seed - The Thousand Rune Lock

Image Source: http://romanrazgriz.deviantart.com/art/circle-596823626

"Hurry up! Come on!" Naerl said, tugging her brother's arm to try and get him moving faster.

"Naerl, I'm sure whatever you found isn't going to disappear in the extra moment it takes to walk there like a civilized person." Horion said, gently chiding his little sister. He was older by almost a decade, and with their mother gone and their father often locked away with his studies Horion was as much partent as sibling at times.

"Don't be such a grown up!" Naerl yelled over her shoulder as she broke away and scampered across the lawn. She stopped at the thickly overgrown hedge that marked the end of the lawn itself and, as far as Horion knew, the edge of the manor house's grounds. "I found a thin spot and you won't believe what's inside!"

Horion frowned, he began to wonder just what Naerl had found. He thought back to when he was her age, seven years old, and always crawling about in the wilds outside the small house they'd lived in before their mother had died. Strange rocks, curious insects, and secret spaces had consumed his carefree life then.

That had ended little more than a year later when Naerl had been born and their mother had gotten sick. At last their father had won out and brought the family to his family's manor house with the hope that the nearby city would yield up a healer with sufficient skill to save his wife from the sickness.

That hope had proven to be in vain, and Horion had lost both parents. His mother dead, and his father now engrossed in his studies of who knows what. Horion and Naerl had been raised by relatives and nannies, and Horion had gone from a curious and excited child to a reserved and serious premature adult.

"This way!" Naerl cried, bringing Horion's attention back to the hedge. There was indeed a thin spot, and by the looks it may once have been an intentional opening. Nearl was small enough to crawl through the thinnest part near the ground, leaving Horion to push his way through, the branches scratching and clawing at his robes.

Beyond the hedge he took a moment to straighten his clothing before realizing that instead of an overgrown wilderness he was standing in what seemed a carefully constructed clearing. "It's a maze!" Naerl breathed excitedly, "And I found the center. You won't believe what's in the middle! C'mon!"

Naerl grabbed his hand and tugged and this time Horion found himself following her as fast as she was going. The maze was a blur of carefully trimmed hedgerows. wild and unkempt but still navigable. Horion quickly lost his bearings to a seemingly endless parade of left and right turns. Pulled along in Naerl's wake he could only follow and hope that she knew her way.

Suddenly the narrow and winding maze fell away into a large clearing nearly ten paces across. The ground was covered in low crawling ivy and dead brown leaves except in the middle where a portion had been cleared. An arrangement of concentric circles of stone around a central disc. Naerl pulled up at it's edge and pointed, "What is it?"

Horion stared at it for a long moment. What indeed, he thought to himself. "Let's me see." He bent down and touched one of the outermost stones. At his touch a glyph formed in glowing energy upon the surface and Horion drew his hand back so quickly that he fell backward, leaving Naerl giggling. "It's a rune, but ... it can't possibly be."

He moved forward on his knees and reached out for one of the inner rings, touching a stone there which also displayed a glowing glyph at his touch. The second glyph lasted only a moment before fading. Horion saw that both glyphs were now faded and he swallowed hard, "It's a rune lock, like on father's study door."

Naerl looked at the vast lock and then at Horion, "But daddy's lock only has eight runes!"

Horion nodded, "And this one must have nearly a thousand." He looked at Naerl, "What could possibly be so important as to be locked behind a thousand rune lock?"

Story Seed - Anvil

Image Source: http://artofjosevega.deviantart.com/art/Lighting-Anvil-584182785

"Is it just me, or is it getting hot as damnation down here?" Carrik complained. He rubbed a calloused palm across his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat that reformed just as quickly.

Jeen and Hathor both groaned. Jeen looked at the other woman and held up four fingers, making a wordless bet. Hathor nodded, a grim smile on her angular face as she tried to suppress a laugh. Ahead of them Carrik made some other complaint about the heat as the group trudged down the narrow tunnel.

At the head of the party Marolo shook his head and kept on walking, hawkish eyes scanning the path ahead. Carrik complained again which finally got Marolo to stop and throw his hands up, "NO! It is not only you! OK? It's hot; it's getting hotter. I think maybe it's going to get hotter still. So, for the love of all the dead gods, just SHUT. UP."

Jeen scowled and dug a silver moon from her coin purse, pushing into Hathor's outstretched palm. "I don't know what you were thinking," the latter whispered, "he's only lasted to the fourth like twice." Jeen just shot an acidic look at the other woman and kept moving.

An hour and four bets later the group found the tunnel at an end, a pair of elaborately carved stone doors. The heat was oppressive and the doors hot to the touch. "Let me look" Jeen said, speaking for the first time in hours. The normally loquacious entertainer had been unusually silent since the group had reached the second deeps. She moved to the front, an illuminated the doors with a simple cantrip. "These doors are quite old, but ..." Her voice drifted to silence as she studied the reliefs carved into the doors.

"This was the workshop of a god lost to the past. Valk the Smith, I think. The dialect is rather old even for my studies. Still, this says that here Valk created the weapons of the gods and ... yup here..." Jeen pressed a section inward and twisted it. With a thunderous crack the doors split down the middle and began to swing inward. A wave of torrid air, stinking of metals and sulfur, rolled out into the passage as a ruddy red glow filled the tunnel.

Beyond the doors a large chamber stocked with tools and lit by flows of molten ore was arrayed around a massive central work space. A great rune encrusted anvil that radiated divine power sat in the center of the space by a pool of semi-molten rock. "Well, I guess that explains the heat," Carrik said.

Story Seed - Fear

Image Source: http://real-sonkes.deviantart.com/art/Guardian-587848364

"What was that?" the boy asked, fumbling for the short tanto at his hip.

The long slow ring of Kai's sword clearing its sheath sounded out in response. "Please stay close young master, but if it comes to combat you must flee and hide." The boy's bodyguard was eight feet of hammered steel and mystic engine bound to an array of ancestor and kami spirits. An animated and armored warrior who could protect the prince without need of sleep, food, water, or reprieve.

The prince's tanto shook in his small hand as he pushed his broad hat up, fearful eyes darting about. The forest was quiescent once more. The sunlight filtering through the trees above dappled everything adding a layer of false depth to environment. Distantly a song bird trilled away, oblivious to the goings on of mortal and immortal.

Kai stood, sword raised up and perfectly still, ready to strike in any direction. The complex magically created consciousness was aware of nearly everything around in for five steps in any direction, and it sensed no threat. Kai was aware of the prince's fear though. At only five years old the boy was fleeing the capital, alone but for Kai. Though he maintained a brave face the protector knew the young one was afraid and alone; his parents dead at the hands of a traitorous aunt.

After a minute Kai resheathed his sword, "It was nothing young master, only an animal fleeing our presence. None know we are here, you are safe."

Story Seed - Ring

Image Source: http://bengo-matus.deviantart.com/art/Sumerian-ring-210676789

Zalaz turned the odd ring over in her hands, the wizard's withered finger tips brushing over the inscribed runes. "I've not seen an item the likes of this in many a year."

Willis grinned and capered, "Is it magic? Is it valuable?" The halfling had cut the ring from the finger of the Warlord of Nebaar, an action which had apparently proven vital during their defeat of the Nebaaran horde.

"Oh yes, certainly," Zalaz replied absently, still studying the ring intently.

"We should sell it," Kromark interjected. The barbarian had taken an instant dislike to the ring.

"It's my ring!" Willis had produced a pair of short daggers from somewhere and was looking rather pointedly at the elf, "My ring, and my decision to keep it or sell it. Do you hear me up there Kromark? Or is the air too thin?"

Stinging gubbeez suddenly surrounded both of them, heading off the impending argument. Zalaz rolled her eyes and dismissed the simple summons as quickly as it had coalesced. "Quiet please gentlemen or ... else." The halfling and elf subsided, both with sullen expressions on their face. Muffled laughter came from under the hat and cloak in the corner where Jendu had been dozing. "That includes you girl, I'll not tolerate your barbs and quips right now."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Jendu replied curtly, amusement tinging her voice.

Zalaz returned to the study of the ring, studying the carefully laid magics carved into the bone ring as well as the living aura that surrounded the item. Some time later the old dwarf looked up from the ring and tossed it to Willis, "It's magic is dying. Perhaps a half dozen uses remain. In this instance you would do well to heed Kromark's advice and sell it before it fails completely and becomes so much worthless bone."

"But ... awww" Willis complained while Kromark grinned in triumph.

Story Seed - Binary Sunrise

Image Source: http://cyberkolbasa.deviantart.com/art/Double-Sun-576518546

The darkness of night slowly leaked away. The horizon began to glow faintly orange, then red, and then purple. The hot first rays of light from the Blaze illuminated the ship and sparkled in motes across the seas of sand. The first mate bellowed orders and the crew quickly climbed the rigging, forming a chain of men passing the water buckets up to the highest reaches. They quickly doused the sails, soaking them through. The Blaze's light quickly turned that water to steam, the hot sun's light banishing the cool of night in mere moments.

The crew kept themselves doused as well, the Blaze's rays burned, and burned quickly, in the early morning hours before the rising of its blue tinged sister Frost. At last the first cool blue rays leaped over the horizon cooling everything they touched. The crew began to remove the fireproof clothing as the sails dried with little risk of catching fire.

The first mate barked more orders, the sails were finally rigged full and the ship's leisurely night pace was left behind as it leaped forward with renewed vigor. The dunes below fell behind faster and faster as the navigator began to take fresh measurements against the twin suns.

Story Seed - Corruption

Image source: http://little-spacey.deviantart.com/art/Red-River-Waterfall-Stock-558969721

"You hear that? That's water, there must be a river nearby!" Cait dashed off through the brush toward the noise. "Come on!"

Helad sighed and shook his head. "Wait," he called lamely after her, knowing full well it would fall of deaf ears. He marked a nearby tree with a narrow strip of red cloth so he could find the narrow path if need be, and headed off after Cait.

"I think its a waterfall!" Cait's voice trickled back to Helad as he picked his was along the path of broken branches and disrupted underbrush she had left for him. "Oh, its ... holy shit! Helad, something's very wrong here!" 

"Here we go again," Helad murmured as he picked up speed, pushing through the brush until he popped out into the clear banks of a river-way. What he saw made him skid to a halt. The river was reddish brown, the color dried blood. There was indeed a fall, and it too was tainted an unnatural color. "What ... what could cause this?"

Cait pointed to the opposite shore, "Look there." There was something crawling from the red water, it's hide looked like a mass of raw blisters with only sparse tufts of lank hairs. There was corruption at work, one limb had too many joints, another seems entirely boneless like a tentacle. Spines or teeth jutted at strange angles from the creature's mouth, and it moved as if in pain. 

An arrow flashed out and slew the mutant. "Looks like Jellard village is going to have to wait, somebody has to track this to its source and stop it."

Cait drew her short sword, "Right, I didn't need a bath or a night sleep in a bed anyway."

Story Seed - Lakini's Origins

Image Source: http://tituslunter.deviantart.com/art/H-I-V-E-origins-484344787

On the off chance you missed it somehow, +Monte Cook Games is running a Kickstarter for Worlds of the Cypher System, featuring three settings that will use the Cypher System Rulebook. One of these settings, Gods of the Fall, features a dark fantasy world where the gods have perished and the heavens fell to the earth. Character travel the path of divinity as they try to attain godhood and either save or destroy the world. +James Walls is running a live on-air session of Gods of the Fall this evening titled "A Vigil for Cows." As part of this event I'll be playing Lakini, a Sleen Destroyer who Moves Like the Wind. Today's story seed is part of the background I came up with for Lakini ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since I was just a hatchling I enjoyed going fast. I ran everywhere. Always.  Being fast just helped me find new places to explore, new sights to see, and new experiences. Being fast also meant I got into trouble a lot by going where I wasn't wanted. Thankfully I could get out of trouble just as quickly. Running is what made me realize my destiny. I wasn't just fast, I was faster than anybody I had ever met. I was so fast others started to talk, to ask what magic made it so.

Divine magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The town had stories of thing in the ruins. We'd all heard them. There was a treasure of the old gods that was waiting to be claimed. There was a monster, a thing left over from before the fall. There was danger an darkness and death. The stories did what they were intended to do, they kept the foolish scared enough to stay out of the ruins, they reminded the smart why they too stayed away, and they reminded all of us that there were things best left undisturbed.

Well, almost all of us. God of Wisdom I am not.

I was curious, more curious than cautious, and far more so than afraid. That made all the difference. Where others balked, or dreaded, or quaked fully in fear, I saw mystery. I saw a sight unseen in ages. I was faster than anybody that anybody had ever heard of wasn't I? If I was so fast maybe I could go and explore and return before any monster could catch me, or any trap could hold me.

I was partially right.

I raced into those ruins like a swift breeze. I opened doors that crumbled to dust at my touch. I trod on dust that was untouched in uncounted years. I pillaged treasures of inconsequential value to all but myself. And then I found the old temple. It lay at the very heart of the ruin, obscured by the rubble of time and neglect, but it still retained a stately austerity that was clear even to my eyes.

It was also lived in.

The creature was indeed real, and while nothing else of the stories seemed to be true this proved to be the exception that proved the wisdom of the tales. Even now I cannot describe the thing that dwelt there. It seemed without form, or perhaps it was simply shrouded in raiment that disguised its shape.

It reached for me and I evaded it. I slipped from its grasp and yet I could not lay hand on it either. We sparred and traded almost blows. It taunted me silently, and I, hardly one with words, mutely refuted it. We were well matched, and it seemed that perhaps the ferocity of the thing had been exaggerated greatly. I finally devised a plan. I had raced about this ruin and in doing so I could hopefully use it's form to my advantage.

I put forth my best speed, my greatest effort, and I raced the thing through the maze-like temple. I at last began to gain on the creature by using the shortcuts and pathways I had learned as we sparred. Faster I raced, and closer I got, until at last I laid my hands on it, grappled with it and finally subdued it.

As I held the creature, who's form I still could not discern, there was a sudden flare of light. I looked and saw a winged serpent embossed in the air in divine light. I knew it for what it was, my symbol of power. What shocked me was not this sudden awakening to my potential but instead the identity of the creature I grappled with; my own shadow.

Story Seed - Punished One

Image Source: http://sentient-phyton.deviantart.com/art/Keeper-of-the-Key-536456969

For my crimes they chained me here. Tethered to the shattered Earth, locked into a body left to wither and rot. They used magics upon my mind, magics to force me to remain conscious and sane as my body died and then rose again as an abomination. They spared no power to ensure that I would endure an endless torment with the full facilities of my most capable mind. Oh, how I wish that I could simply slip into madness and be done with it all.

Worse still they ensured that my prison of stone and air was within full sight of the glory of my one time home. The shining towers that pierced the sky and glowed with refracted sunlight. The mighty beacon, resting atop the highest tower, spreading peace to all.  All except me.

For me it is nothing. They ensured that. Instead of a source of peace it is just an orb, wrought with sorcery, fueled by primal magics, and as uncaring and unforgiving as its masters. Chained as I am I cannot help but see it. I cannot help but be reminded of my so called crime. I cannot help but be reminded of all that I have lost.

Of my station. Of my power. Of my life. Of peace.

I can think of no punishment worse than this. Except the punishment of knowing that it is just and fair and deserved.

Story Seed - An Ancient Place

Image Source: http://vexod14.deviantart.com/art/SpeedPaint-40-499493841

"What is this place?" Heldor asked as he approached the pool. "Where does the water come from?"

Lebbon followed slowly behind, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "An ancient place. A place of old gods and old magic," he replied in a reedy voice. "None of the three kingdoms has ever claimed this place, and no histories speak of its origin. There are only stories that vary from teller to teller that hint at what this place is ...or was."

Heldor ran across the plaza, or crossroads ... whatever this place had once been, and peered over the low stone that ran across one of the ancient archways. Water flowed out from below and to the cliff-side where it glided almost silently down the narrow waterfall they had seen hours before. "Is it coming from the well? What feeds the well?"

"Boy, these are questions none have answers for. This place is a mystery that even the most learned have failed to puzzle out." Lebbon sat down by the pool with a sigh and dipped a hand in the cool waters, "Perhaps the knowledge of this place is lost to all time. Lost like leaves down a river, or the memories of the dead." Lebbon sighed again regretfully.

Story Seed - Bound Souls

Image Source: http://skaya3000.deviantart.com/art/Living-Wonder-452162407

"Dwagon!" the child cried out, pointing into the distance with a pudgy hand.

"Yes, dear, it's a dragon. That's the great white dragon Denrakhin, and he protects all of this land." The boy's mother bounced him on her hip as the dragon's cry rushed over the grasses and blew their hair about.

"Wanna see dwagon!" the boy said happily. No fear evident in his voice. His hand opened and closed, grasping for the far off creature.

"I know honey, but he's very far away, and ..." his mother's voice trailed off mid-sentence. Denrakhin had turned its great head and was looking in their direction. The creature was miles off, and there seemed no way he could have heard them.

"Come here dwagon!" the boy cried out, delighted. Denrakhin bowed its head and then took to the skies and began to close the distance between them. "Hi dwagon!" the boy happily piped as the gargantuan beast landed before them, dwarfing the pair utterly.

The woman looked up at the creature, truly learning its scale for the first time in her life. Denrakhin's head was easily dwarfed their home, and even managed to make some of the nearby farms look small. It was massive on a scale that made the woman understand how a mouse must feel compared to a person. Though she knew that Denrakhin was a protector of their land the woman felt the creeping of fear.

Denrakhin lowered his great head almost to the ground, canted at an angle, peering at the pair with a great eye as wide as the boy was tall. "Hi, dwagon!" the boy cried again happily and struggled to reach out and touch the creature.

"Be not afraid lady, no harm will come to your boy," the dragon said. "I have been waiting for one such as he to be born for many years."

Story Seed - Lakeside

Image Source: http://frankatt.deviantart.com/art/Lake-Side-525800996

I looked across the water at Lakeside. The town crawled its way out of the lake and up the cliff face like some kind of creature pulling itself out of the water. Gods above I hated Lakeside; it was always damp, always wet and slick. The Falls drenched the town, emitting a constant spray that you could never avoid. You'd think that with so much constant water you could escape the smell of fish, but you'd be wrong. Lakeside was an assault on my senses, and I loathed to go back.

Yet, here I was forced by fate once more.

I'd burn the town to ash if only I could. Can't burn down a town built from stone and perpetually wet; a shame, that. I shook my head and set my jaw; the job wouldn't do itself, and I was in desperate need of coin. I checked the hidden compartment in my staff; a long narrow tube that ran nearly the full length, and was cleverly concealed by the wood's natural rings. Nearly two pounds of dragon bone dust was hidden away in tightly sewn silk pouches.

Get in. Deliver the goods. Get paid. Get the hell out.

It was so easy I'd done it hundreds of times. I'd made my living out of it. Smuggling the most exotic and rare, and illegal and dangerous, goods paid me well.

Well enough to even go back to Lakeside.

Nuts & Bolts #53 - Year of the Demon Lord - Blackstone Ford

Laugh not at my cartography skills!  *sigh* Yeah, ok, it looks pretty rough. Still looks aren't ... everything?

Anyways ... This is Blackstone Ford, a town that features in the novice portion of my Year of the Demon Lord campaign. Depending on how things go maybe I'll throw some money at somebody to make this not look like ... that. For now though the map is a tool only, and it doesn't need to look pretty to be functional in my game. No, it needs to be functional!

At any rate... here's a little detail on Blackstone Ford in case you are equally skill challenged with maps and want to use this ... or if you want to use the town and draw your own, less crappy map. I tried to keep things such that even people playing games other than Shadow of the Demon Lord could use this as well. Let me know if you do, I'd be interested to see what you make of the mysteries I laid into the foundations.

Blackstone Ford
Population: ~275 (95% human)

Notable locations:

The Black Stones
Four jet black monolithic stones jut from the river's banks, two on each side of the river. Together they bracket the shallows of the ford for which the town is named. Almost all of the town's residents agree that the stones are some kind of old magic, but they do not agree on their origin. The stones themselves are roughly 10 feet tall and covered in worn glyphs and runes.

The Guardhouse
On the outskirts of town a stone guardhouse sits on the road between  the town and the forest. Though the town has no palisade or other defenses of note somebody built this structure years before (well before anybody in town remembers) and it still sees use today by the men of the town who take rotating shifts watching the road. The men of the town are not trained as soldiers but many are capably hunters and can easily be deadly with a longbow in the fifty yards between the treeline and the guardhouse.

The Blackstone Inn
This massive sprawling stone and wood structure is the second largest building in town, even dwarfing the temple and the general store by fortune of being four stories high. Though the forest road is no longer a major route of trade there is still enough from the forest to the cities in the south that the inn has a large stable and plenty of rooms for caravans. Honon Dankal and his family run the inn.

The Blacksmith
The blacksmith would make for a large home but instead it makes for a very impressive workspace. Hod Deathmetal is one of the town's few orcs, and any prejudice he may have encountered is long gone, replaced instead with respect for his trade skills. Huge, even for an orc, Hod stands nearly nine feet tall with arms to match. His body is utterly hairless, whether by some quirk of his creation, or simply too much time spent in the hot spark-ridden forge. Despite his fearsome visage Hod is far from the hulking savage most would expect. His smithing skills are quite advanced and he is an intimidating merchant. Hod refuses to forge any swords, but is more than able to produce hammers, picks, mauls, and axes in addition to countless horseshoes and other wrought iron wares.

The Mill
The largest building in town, the mill runs off two massive paddlewheels, and contains a large and irritable steam engine. As often as not the steam engine is broken however (which keeps Kazevim busy with repairs, and Hod busy forging new parts), but when it does it belches black smoke and white steam into the skies and makes enough noise to drown out the saws and even make Hod's hammer and anvil seem tiny. The mill handles mostly wood from the forest, but has a small grinding stone for grain during harvest season.

The General Store
Galmont Devlin runs the general store. A sprawling structure that takes up a great deal of space at town center. Galmont is a pretty woman in her middle years who came into town two years ago and took over the store after the death of Bomont Devlin, her twin brother. Some say that she knew to come because she had sensed his death wherever it was that she was in the world at the time. Galmont doesn't talk about her past, and those who pry into her affairs quickly find that prices at the general store are not always set to market value.

The Temple of the New God
About three-quarters of the population of Blackstone Ford worship the New God at this temple. The town constructed the temple generations back and say that it's location was where Astrid camped for one week while tending the town's sick, and converting many of them to her ways, during a terrible plague. Mother Hepp is the installed officiant. She is helped by Sister Vinda, an orphan of a horrific blaze some twenty years back.

Kazevim's Home
Alchemist, engineer, arcanist, madman; Kazevim is equal parts of each of those things. The white haired gnome inventor lives on the outskirts of town in a ramshackle home that is part workshop, part burrow, and a constant fire hazard. Kazevim is employed at the mill to keep the steam engine working, but when he is not there is is usually tinkering with something in his workshop, or repairing the same after the catastrophic results of his last set of experiments. Nobody in town knows what Kazevim is trying to build in his workshop, and nobody is really certain what will happen if he succeeds.

The Ruins
Nobody in town knows who used to live in the ruins, or from when they date. Scholars from the empire occasionally attempted to delve the underground portions of the ancient structure(s?) but never made it very far. Town legend has it that the Blackstones are related to the ruins in some way but none remember the story well enough to know if it explained how. Being on the other side of the river the ruins are seldom explored by townsfolk, and stories spun by the adults of vengeful ghosts keep most of the children away as well.

Edit 1:
Below is a new map I created with the HexKit program based on the drawing above.

Edit 2:
So it's been a few years and I'm going back to Blackstone Ford for a DCC campaign. It's gotten some tweaks and an updated & expanded map which I figured I would post here. The ruins of Blackstone Fortress are the locale where the first 0-level funnel, Sailor's on the Starless Sea, took place. As it was a TPK the chaos lord was able to fully resurrect. To the east there is a hill with standing stones on it where the 2nd funnel, Portal Under the Stars, will begin.

Story Seed - Last of Her Line

Image Source: http://infinitecog.deviantart.com/art/Corrupted-Princess-423172933

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. The sickness, infection, whatever you call it; it is progressing ever faster."

"There is nothing? Anything, we are a wealthy country, no price is too high!"

"I have already tried all my tricks, my medicines, and my artifacts of power. The corruption is has shown no heed to any of them. Whatever has caused this I can neither say nor lift. I am shamed to admit it lies beyond my knowledge."

The Chancellor's face fell, "Then we are truly lost. Without the princess the bloodline will end and the country can only die."

"That seems a bit apocalyptic doesn't it Chancellor? Surely-"

"No, you misunderstand, the country survives only by the will of the royal blood. Our borders repel invasion through great relics of old, but only those of the blood can maintain the relics."

"Let's me see these relics then; perhaps I cannot save your princess, but mayhap I can save your country..."

Story Seed - Confidence

Image Source: http://reza-afshar-art.deviantart.com/art/Facing-the-Guardian-522465138

The man in red stared up at the massive door. He grappled with the fear within. It was cold and windy here in this broken mountainside. The way was rocky, uneven, tricky. None would fault him for skipping this place, for not going the final steps to that door and doing what he must do.

He gripped his staff in both hands, drawing heat from its enchanted wood to warm his numb fingers as he stared up at that great door. He wasn't sure what lay beyond, but he knew what his duty required of him. His stomach tumbled, his knees wavered, and he leaned heavily on that staff of his as he sought to control the shivering that had become trembling.

The man in red thought back to his training, thought back to his prior efforts. He told himself that he could do this, that what lay behind that door was only his fear, and that he had the power to make his fear rule him, or to rule his fear. He stood upright, grasping whisper-thin strands of confidence and bundling them together. He wove those strands into a great hawser and used it to bind his fear.

The man in red approached the door, his cloak whipping about him as he knocked on the great door. The stone portal opened revealing a massive looming shape in the darkness beyond. Large eyes peered down at the man from an unseen visage. The being's voice boomed out, deep and rasping, like stone sliding on stone, "Who comes to my door?"

"Hello and good day, have you heard the word of the Great Lord?..."

Story Seed - The Road to Hell ...

Image Source: http://mrzarono.deviantart.com/art/Foul-Necromancy-299436848

"Are you sure about this? This is dark magic... it's wrong."

"It's wrong, but our reasons are right. You know the saying 'fight fire with fire' right? Well, we're fighting evil with evil. Those bandits will prey on the town until we're all dead or there's nothing left for them to take from us."

"But raising the dead to fight them? Kresh, this isn't right. There must be some other way."

Kresh looked up from the old scripts and sneered, "Is there? Show it to me! Point me at that 'other way' you think exists, and I'll gladly help you. But there isn't another way, that's why we're here. Now either help or get out of my way. When those bandits arrive in the morning they are going to get more than they bargained for. I'll save the town with you or by myself, but I'm not going to stand by and let those brigands bleed us dry."

Story Seed - On the Origin of Species

Image Source: http://deligaris.deviantart.com/art/Dragon-Rider-372316983

In the years following the Shatter the many broken parts of our world were unable to contact
each other or trade goods. For nearly a hundred years the remains of the bled out and perished. In its place rose new nation-states, secluded from each other by the great gulfs of sky between them. This period lasted for decades or longer until at last the great mage Tol Drian created the drakes.

Although Magus Drian is credited with the creation of the Drakes this is a misunderstanding. The great lizards had in fact existed before the time of the Shattering; in those times they had been Earthbound creatures with less intelligence. Occasionally used as riding animals; they were only common on farms or other places where great strength was needed.

When Magus Drian entered the Temple of the Air he took up the Airstone with the permission of the guardian monks and combined its powers with his own mastery of the occult. Though none can say for sure, or are willing to do so if they can, it is believed that Drian was able to achieve the feat which rendered him into the histories through not just powers arcane and elemental, but also through mastery of alchemy and the healing arts.

Regardless of the techniques, the Magus' spell spread from the Airstone across the world where it met with every one of the great lizards; the magics transformed them, changing their elemental natures from from Earthbound to Airbound. Many grew great leathery wings while others simply learned to fly outside the bounds of nature's animals. Thus the drakes as we know them were born and the Age of the Drakes began.

Excerpted from "The Coming of the Drakes: A History" by Razoul Ironwill in the year 421 A.S.

Nuts & Bolts #46 - Death is but a door...

So, normally I try to keep this blog somewhat system ... neutral? But the fact is that I play a lot of Cypher System, and that's because I really enjoy it, and it is very very capable for the kind of play I like. So while I aim to continue bringing content that is useful for any RPG there will be stuff that is Cypher System specific, and maybe even stuff specific to other RPGs from time to time.

That said, this week I present a new Cypher System descriptor. It's a "racial" descriptor in that it makes some very specific changes to your character that makes them no longer "human" in a very tangible mechanical sense. Could I have approached this as a Focus instead? Yes, and no. The character I created this for is meant to be a spellslinger, that he is dead is color for the Casts Spells focus. Could I make a "Survived Past Death" focus that was all about playing a Ghost who is ghostly? Sure! And maybe I will sometime.

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Spectral

You have died, however your spirit has not left the mortal coil. Instead you, or someone else, has attached your soul to a relic of your former life. With time and effort you have learned how to create a mostly solid form out of ectoplasm that you can inhabit and through it you are able to interact with the world. It's not life, but it's not undeath either.

Beyond Life and Death -  You  are imbued with energy from beyond the grave, you get 4 additional points to divide among your stat Pools, but no pool may gain more than +2.

Earthly Relic - Your spirit is attached to some earthly relic of your former life. This could be a preserved portion of your former body, a phylactery, or some other item of significance to you in life. Regardless of the specifics your soul is bound to that item and returns to it when you “rest”. Your relic has 10 health and an armor rating of 2 if somebody tries to destroy it. Your soul is forever lost if your relic is destroyed while you are resting within it. If your relic is destroyed while you are inhabiting your ectoplasmic form you will feel its loss and need to create a new spirit anchor (a level 5 Intellect task).

Ectoplasmic form - As a spirit you cannot interact with the material realm without first creating an ectoplasmic body to  give you substance. Because you are already dead your ectoplasmic form is immune to poison and disease, and has a natural resistance to damage equal to armor 1. It takes approximately 1 minute to form your ectoplasmic body.

Slowed Recovery - Because you are dead and inhabit a simulacrum of ectoplasm, you do not recover like a living being; your recoveries take longer than normal. Instead of having recovery times of 1 turn, 10 minutes, 1 hour, and ten hours, you recover using the following intervals: 10 minutes, 1 hour, 2 hours, and 10 hours. Ectoplasm recovers more predictably however so you treat any 1s rolled on a recovery roll as a 2.

Feel Nothing - Your ectoplasmic form does not have the physical senses of smell or touch and you have an inability with any tasks that require those senses. However you also do not feel pain as a living creature. Most physical wounds will not pain you unless dealt by spirit bane materials (such as salt, iron, a feline, etc, depending on your setting). While you are impaired on the damage track, you function as if you were hale. When you become debilitated, your ectoplasmic form is immediately destroyed (dropping any equipment it held or carried) and you are banished to your Earthly Relic to recover. Until you recover from being debilitated you can take no actions other than communicating with anybody who is touching your relic.

A Lifetime of Experience - You retain your memories of life, though some have become hazy when viewed through the veil of death. You are trained in one non-combat (attack, defense, or initiative) skill of your choice. 

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Of course not every setting or genre works to have ghostly PCs wandering around. This Descriptor could easily be relabeled as Holographic for a Science-Fiction game with the relic being instead some form of portable projector and CPU. The slowed recovery would work in such a case as a power system limit or possibly a need to accumulate "particles of hard light" or similar quasi-science. This probably wouldn't work in a straight up modern day game, but maybe somebody can think of something I cannot.

Please feel free to provide thoughts, opinions, feedback, and the like. Just keep it constructive and civil. If you like this please let me know and I may post more Descriptors and maybe even some Foci.

Story Seed - Remnants

Image Source: http://luke-man.deviantart.com/art/Sky-Temple-206608607

Before the shattering it is said that our world was one of peace. That the four elements were in balance and a great empire spread across all of the world's lands and people. It is unknown if this is true, or simply an embellishment of the surely easier times that existed before the shattering.

Regardless of the truth any peace this world had was surely ended when a race of warriors from beyond our realm invaded. These infernal creatures were bound to chaos and a great host of their kind poured forth from the nether to lay siege to the Four Temples.

It is said that our world raised four massive armies unlike any seen before or since. Each army dedicated to protecting one of the four temples and the elemental foci within. Our ancestors knew that these creatures sought to destroy the elemental foci and plunge our world into chaos. Each of these great forces was ten time ten thousand warriors strong and entire villages and cities were emptied to their formation. The very young and the very old were brought to the great cities where the huddled behind walls of stone.

At each of the temples our armies clashed with the hosts of the outsiders. For over a month our armies slew beasts and creatures not of our world and never gave an inch that was not paid for by the outsider hosts in blood and death. Though losses were great on both sides the hosts of the invaders were not driven to defend their lands and their loved ones. One by one the Temples were saved; fire, then water, and with time air.

The last and greatest of the hosts seized the Temple of Earth. Here the forces of chaos were led by their greatest general, a demon imbued with the powers of chaos, known as Nerhauk. The battle here lasted over a month with never a stop to the carnage and fighting. Men would fall back from their positions to eat and sleep all with the sound of continuous battle in their ears before they once more joined the fight.

When at last it seemed that the armies of the land were finally poised to push back the invading host the great demon, Nerhauk took to the field himself. The creature was like a warmachine, wielding a great mace in one hand and a massive axe in the other it carved a swath of death and blood through the army that none were able to stop. At last, Nerhauk stormed through the temple gates themsleves and confronted the the disciples within.

These monks were not helpless in the face of the demon however. Having been charged with the guardianship of the temple's most precious treasure, the Earthstone, they were masters of the magic and martial arts of elemental earth.

Nerhauk met the monks in combat where the powers of chaos and fundamental earth clashed. Step by corrupting step Nerhauk invaded the temple and its sanctuary, and though the monks slowed the creature greatly they were no match for it and the demon slew them to the last. Victorious at last the demon took up the Earthstone and bent his infernal energies to rending the stone.

When at last the leader of the army and his retinue entered the temple they saw Nerhauk succeed at his task.  With an explosion like a mountain being split the demon shattered the Earthstone. It was but a pyrrhic victory that the destruction of the stone also slew the beast.

With the focus for all power of elemental earth destroyed the lands began to shudder and quake tearing themselves apart until at last the world that was was gone and the world that is was born. The elements found a new balance with air gaining an unequal dominance while the powers of earth magic waned almost to the point of cessation.

Excerpted from "A History of Our World" by Arcturus Raptick in the year 386 A.S.  (After the Shattering)

Story Seed - Race

Image Source: http://goran-alena.deviantart.com/art/Home-stretch-458501589

Leena let out a whoop of exhilaration as she swooped down and overtook Jelikos. Tali cawed his own goad at Jelikos' mount as he beat his azure and sunset wings to put more distance between them and the competition.  Leena spared a look over her shoulder at the older rider, his stern glower made her laugh with glee.

The Draken Classic was the largest race of its kind and the pot was over a thousand gold scales. With less than a full lap around the aerobatic course Tali could almost feel the weight of all that coin. It would be more money than she had ever had in her entire life, cumulatively. All she had to do was over take Raxaz Freeg and his tan draken Holik.

Leena scowled, and urged Tali forward with all the speed the young draken could muster. Freeg was less than a hundred paces ahead, but that could have been a league considering that Freeg was the eight time champion. Tali had not raced in any of those races however, and neither had Leena.

The pair had stumbled into a lesser circuit race this season when they had been desperate for money. A hasty loan for entrance fees, and enough to place a bet on themselves and Leena had ridden her wild draken to a commanding victory. With both the winnings from the race and those from the bet she'd placed Leena had had more than enough to pay off the loan and enter in another race.

After four months of steady victories or places Leena had been invited to join the champion circuit of races, culminating with the Draken Classic. Unlike the lesser circuits and informal one-off races that allowed draken to compete with other creatures like dactyls and gryfins, the champion circuit was draken only. All of her competition were bred beasts. Creatures who had bloodlines that could be traced back generations. By comparison, Leena had found Tali's egg quite by accident in the wild, and quite by further accident had she been present as Tali had hatched.

The bond formed that day was deeper than words, and Tali put everything he had into his wings. They banked hard right and caught a weak thermal that allowed Tali to gain a few dozen paces of elevation on Freeg even as the draken continued to pull closer to the champ. The finish was a series of large golden rings, each an arms breadth across. They need only grab one before Freeg and his draken and Leena and Tali would be rich beyond her capacity to imagine.

Leena pulled herself low in the saddle and pressed herself tightly to Tali's back as the draken banked sharply around the final turn. The Whipping turn was a sharp right around a large tree whose branches had been stripped away and replaced with long thin ribbons of tough hide. Too close a turn and the ribbons would whip at rider and mount like a great cat-o-nine-tails, too far and a race team would lose precious moments to the finish.

Below them Freeg was expertly riding the turn, the whips barely a foot from beast and rider. Leena hunched forward more and held on for dear life as Tali corkscrewed into the tight turn, snapping tightly around the pole. The snapping sounds of the whips raking Tali's underside were like little cracks of thunder but the draken hardly noticed, his hide was was the tough and armored hide of a wild draken, not the lighter and more supple hide of a bred racing beast.

The maneuver worked and Leena and Tali pulled alongside the current champion as they both strove with every last effort for the golden rings. Both racers tucked in low, streamlining as much as they could and trusting their mounts to grab the victory rings. Leena spared a look to her left and saw Freeg's mount had its mouth shut and was extending a clawed foot.  She smiled as she saw Tali open his mouth as they passed the final few spans.

Story Seed - Damnation

Image Source: http://matthewsellers.deviantart.com/art/Sacred-Ground-528040884

"What does that say I wonder?" Rawrik mused to himself. The woodsman stood over a low rough cut stone partially buried under weeds and entwined with the roots of a tree that was slowly consuming it. Despite its forlorn state the words graven into the stone were oddly clear. The language was something alien to the simple man though and though he was largely illiterate he knew enough words to know that this language was not his own.

The words began to glow, an obvious display of Power that sent the woodsman skittering backwards as we instinctively set an arrow to his bow. The glow soon enveloped the stone and began to bleed out onto the forest floor like heartsblood from a grievous wound. Rawrik wanted to run; his superstitious nature and fear of Power told him to flee. Instead he stood transfixed by deadly curiosity; he was rooted to the spot, unable to cease his short vigil even as an ethereal moan began to rise from the Power soaked ground.

The moan rose as a form broke from the ground, tearing through roots and soil alike. A skeletal hand, wrapped in decay and filth, and the remains of some ancient glove or gauntlet thrust into the world, soaked to dripping with condensed Power.

Rawrik's mind was a fracture and even as he stood rooted in terror he railed at his flesh to flee, or raise its bow, or to do something of some kind. Instead, fixed in place, he was helpless to do more than pay heed to the foul resurrection before him.

A second limb followed the first, and soon they dragged a fleshless skull capped with a tarnished and battered crown. The creature continued to pull itself free, until at last it stood before the helpless peasant, its empty eyes regarding the man with a look both baleful and sorrowful. Compelled by ancient Power the revenant drew forth a rust encrusted blade and stalked forward even as it heard in its damned soul those words graven on the rough stone that marked the place of its damned eternity.

Your grave will be lost to all time, forgotten and alone. And if, by chance, some poor fool should happen upon it you will rise from your restless grave and strike them down. So will it be that your own hand will ensure that your memory and legacy are banished from history!