Three box-texts of caves for your game.
Winds howl across the glacier’s top, but can’t reach into its deep channels . In one particularly dark crack, someone has carved foot slots. They descend into the darkness until reaching a corridor which extends out in either direction where purple orbs cast a cold light. Faces and wings flit within the solid ice behind the walls as if they were swimming in water.
At high tide the ocean washes into this cave and rummages around in its numerous tunnels like a man looking for something in a drawer. Then it drags the water back out along with anyone or anything it found. But at low tide, most of the cave remains dry but for the very deepest crevasses where a lake forms. Without waves to break its surface it resembles a sheet of black glass. Peering within, you can see a green cloud that hide its depths like spilled ink. Black branches poke out of the cloud giving a hint to what lies beneath.
Cool air wafts up from hidden chambers bringing with it the smell of wet stone. The sound of dripping water echoes off the walls like a drum. From deep in the cave, a scream tears through this peaceful rhythm followed by the crunch of bone and muscle breaking.
Today we visit the town of Sleepy Ridge which was built out of the stones from a forgotten cemetery.
Although the town of Sleepy Ridge lays less than half a day’s travel from a major trade road, the citizens keep to themselves and the only visitors are those seeking the town’s famous mediums. In fact, houses in Sleepy Ridge all have walled gardens topped with broken glass and the few shops operate on a written-order basis only. A catalogue hangs on a string outside each store along with paper and writing implements for customers to write down their order. Once finished, they place the order through a slot in the wall and within the hour, the order is ready for pick up. However, there is one form of socialization accepted in Sleepy Ridge: the Smokers’ Lounges. Inside these cloudy rooms the mediums of the town set up shop. They’ll see anyone for a price.
Paved streets march between the walled gardens of the residential houses and an eerie quiet lays heavy in the air. Broken glass stuck in the walls’ mortar glints in the moonlight. The corpses of cigarette clog the streets’ gutters and their stink mixes with the city’s general perfume of urine and mildew. The snap of someone lighting a match breaks the silence and the bright flash of light momentarily illuminates a doorway where several figures stand. A pair of gloved fingers lifts the flame to a cigarette squeezed between two painted lips which take a heavy pull and then exhale spirals of smoke. After a moment, the smokers retreats into a doorway. Continue reading “Sleepy Ridge: The Town Built Out of Gravestones”
This week inspiration is a mysterious city under an enchantment that allows its citizens to chose their own age.
No one knows who built Samirchan. The current inhabitants found it as it is today, a grand city under the influence of a powerful time enchantment. No building can be destroyed or built in the City as everything will return to its original state the next morning. This is tolerable because the spell also allows the citizens to choose which age they wish to live as. The city is laid out into three main sections: the beautiful and grandiose Old Town; the practical and leafy Mid Town; and the crowded and shoddy Low Town. With the exception of children, any person who spends the night in the City will wake up the age corresponding to the section of the City they slept in: People who stay in Old Town wake up old, those in Mid Town middle-aged, and those in Low Town as young adults. Oddly, while this enchantment affects the physical body, it does not seem to affect the lifetime of the inhabitants. Chronologically young people have spent decades in Old Town while chronologically old people seeking eternal youth only live for a few years in Low Town.
Government: Samuel Pepper has held the position of Mayor of Samirchan for the past 100 years. As a half-elf who lives exclusively in Mid-Town, no one can tell his true age for sure. Although there are elections held every 10 years, no one has ever run against him and most citizens have a framed picture of his face in their home.
Guild: The Informers – A coalition of high-priced spies who use Samirchan as their HQ.
Population: Steady. Per Mayor Pepper, to prevent over-population, people wishing to move in to Samirchan must wait until a current citizen moves out or dies.
Defenses: Garrison, Walls.
Market: The market in Samirchan is important and highly profitable, but also very exclusive. Shops sell only a handful of items, carefully displayed.
Today’s monster was inspired by the world of Shards of Honor.
They drift through the air like dandelion seeds, their transparent, globular bodies sparkling in the sun. When unexpectedly and with a sudden purpose, the lead jellies dart downward followed by the entire flock. They land with a jabbing sound upon an army of goblins and begin to fill with blood. The soldiers scream and beat at the parasites, but there are too many. One of the goblins, its body covered by the now-red orbs, manages to reach the campfire. Burning stick in hand, it punches one of the jellies. Boom! The creature explodes along with the goblin and anyone near it.
Instinct: To drink blood
3hp, 0 armor
Close, stinging tentacles (d6-2)
- Latch onto a target and drink its blood
- They’re everywhere!
Don’t worry, I haven’t abandoned this blog! This week’s inspiration is inspired by the Elevator Game (a piece of urban folklore) – a mysterious plane where living beings cannot sense each other and mental demons haunt you. Enjoy!
I had heard that if you went into a room with only one door and shuttered windows there was a ritual you could perform to reach another plane. So last week Ryleela and I decided to try it and went down to that old storage hut. Closed the doors, opened the doors. Closed the windows, opened the windows. Each the set number of times. I didn’t think it would actually work, Ryleela was the one who believed. But then, I felt…well the only way to describe it is I felt alone. I looked around for Ryleela, but she wasn’t there anymore. I opened the door and it was the same world, but I was the only one there. Nothing made a sound, not birds, not the wind, not any workers singing from the fields. The silence roared in my ears. I walked around for a bit in the complete stillness until I came across the shadows. They didn’t behave like normal shadows, but moved on their own. Whenever they came near, my head would pound and the feelings of being alone and forgotten dominated my thoughts. In a lucid moment, I ran back to the hut and began to perform the ritual in reverse. At one point the dust on the ground began spelling out a sentence “Are you there?” but at the same time it was done and the world returned. Ryleela wasn’t there either, though. I’ve been to the hut every day, but I fear the only way to save her will be to go back there.
Hidden under our own reality is the Lonely Plane. Only a few have succeeded in traveling there on purpose, the usual way to get there is by accident. Visitors to the realm will find a world tantamount to our own, except they are seemingly the only living or even once living being. Continue reading “Adventure Setting: The Lonley Plane”
This week’s inspiration is based upon a session run by a friend using the Mutants & Masterminds system.
The Museum of Human History has recently acquired the complete collection of Pharaoh Cletokep, a newly discovered pharaoh of ancient Egypt. Famed archaeologist Eugene Bullstein found the tomb in the remote Sahara far beyond where people previously believed the ancients lived. Scholars believe the pharaoh may be the person referred to in later Egyptian writings as “the enemy” or “the blasphemer.” Unknown to anyone, the sarcophagus serves as a portal to a pocket dimension where the soul of the fallen Pharaoh and her army await the day they will rise again to bring about the Order of the Stars.
Inside the Museum
Hushed voices echo off the polished stone of the museum’s floors and walls. The museum boasts an impressive collection filled with dioramas, interactive displays and multi-media. The curators have even reconstructed rooms from long-gone periods down to pens on desks and tables set for tea. A gilded dog cage, its originally occupant dead for hundreds of years, still sits with pride alongside its dead king’s throne. But few patrons admire these impressive displays and instead flock to see the newly acquired Pharaoh Cletokep Collection.
The Egyptian section
Crowds of people peer through the display cases’ thick glass at the carefully labeled artifacts and sarcophagus. The cases and people fill room after room. School teachers attempt to quiet their charge of students while a curator lectures. In the last room, stone tiles cover the walls. Hieroglyphics and pictures coat each one so that the entire room appears as a giant storybook. Pharaoh Cletokep’s ebony sarcophagus dominates the center, its gold hieroglyphics shimmering as if just painted. Continue reading “The Order of the Stars”
This week, the monster stat block for the Thought Stealers from last week’s adventure, The Splendid Spa of Two Angels
“Hey, do you see that odd haze over there?”
“Well, you can’t see it lying on a lounge chair. Sit up and put down your cocktail. Over there, by the spring.”
“Huh, oh yeah. Probably just a heat mirage. Relax. Order some oysters or something.”
“No, look! It’s coming closer. It’s…it’s…doesn’t it look like a person? No, it is a person…..It looks like…like you? Get up, get up! What’s wrong with you, why aren’t you moving?!”
Thought Stealers leak into our universe from an uncharted plane. No one knows what they appear like in their own dimension, but here they appear as a haze, at least initially. In order to continue to exist, they must steal a person’s thoughts. Imaginative thoughts, such as fear, are the easiest to steal. With each thought they consume they become more solid, until finally they suck all thought from their victim and assume their identity. Yet, a Thought Stealer can never create thoughts of its own, they merely mimic the actions and thoughts of their victims. Hordes of Thought Stealers have taken over towns before, reliving the same year over and over. Continue reading “The Thought Stealers”