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Post by doublejig2 on Jul 27, 2021 18:09:37 GMT -6
“Vampires were abroad that night, witches rode naked on the wind, and werewolves howled across the wilderness.” I just like that sentence.
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Post by doublejig2 on Aug 9, 2021 9:12:02 GMT -6
The Prison at Mir Sa The Shemite settlement of Mir Sa (lit. shadow anger) began as a criminal colony. Located north of the starlight Meadow city of Jerun, which is both north and west of fabled Eruk, Mir Sa was carved into the back of a vale in the towering mountains of fire and spring fed there by a tributary of the Asgulan River. From the outset, a cabal of crime families from Jerun was granted the colony’s government. This was a fortuitous move, because shortly thereafter a terrible earthquake flattened the mother city. In the aftermath of the trembler, survivors of destroyed Jerun poured into the colony. They brought with them their various crafts and skill sets. Paying homage to one or more of Mir Sa’s ruling crime families, the newcomers greatly expanded the settlement, which then grew from a prison complex into a small town. In good times trade routes were established between the burgeoning colony and the coin rich cities of western Shem, bringing vast wealth to the crime families. And the small town grew into a small city. It was at this evolutionary juncture in Mir Sa’s history that fractures appear. Endless bickering between the city’s crime families brought destruction to the colony and its populace. To replace the slain, prisoners were released from the prison to join one side or the other in the internecine fighting. More importantly, before the feuds and battles were finally over, nearly all young men in the city had been killed. With no capacity for future native population growth, the settlement lost its confidence as a trading hub. More importantly, with no protection from without, the remaining old men, women, and children of the settlement were soon enslaved or murdered by pillaging raiders. These ruins still impress. Originally built as a hexagon shaped cell block, interlaced with interlocking circular walls, fully blooming Mir Sa was without streets but had instead myriad interconnected courtyards and dwelling places. With natural cliffs on three sides, the ruins feature the southern outward defensive wall, which is crumbling in places and in various states of disrepair. It connects the eastern cliffs with the western cliffs with the city then extending from the southern wall northward to the back of the valley. At the southern wall’s center was the strong gate into the settlement. Having grown from just a prison to become a small city, the resultant ruin is large in spread. Many of its white stone structures are toppled or collapsed; others are strangely intact. Hidden in the ruins at the back of the valley are burial mounds said to hold the wealth of the crime lords. More sinister, bored directly into the northern cliffs are far older, weather worn tombs, said to date back to ancient times when Stygia ruled Shem. No surprise, according to sages, some shadow or curse is associated with these older vaults. Last, above all, an unwholesome acrid odor secretes from the rubble, mounds, and tombs. Today, Mir Sa is a leper colony, situated in the still standing structures by the southern wall and gate. Forgotten by most, the bulk of the ruins are now covered in the encroaching tall grass of Shem’s great western plain. The only question is what wealth and dangers lie hidden in the weeds and crumbling blocks of the ruins?
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Post by doublejig2 on Aug 11, 2021 17:22:33 GMT -6
Scholars Conclave at IxiokThe Acheronian settlement of Ixiok began as an academic outpost. Founded by famed Acheronian scholar, Zeteholt, the enclave sought to glean the secrets of the elder race, the Zhemi, who built a surrounding carved stone city. Located near the combined border of what is now Aquilonia, Argos, Koth, Ophir, and Shem, respectively, Ixiok built upon the intact walled remnant of this much larger, ancient city, now in ruins. Flashing a brilliant golden hue in the noon day sun and made resplendent by applied rope motifs of pure platinum, the evil ruins were ideal for research into the ancient sorcery of an elder race. With the discovery of rare pre-cataclysmic scrolls concerning demonology, this potential waxed, and Ixiok soared to importance in the realm of Acheron, receiving rare acclamation from that depraved empire’s capital at purple towered Python. With ancient knowledge newly in tow, all manner of Outsider summonings were practiced in Ixiok. These ancient demons were bound by name and pentagram in accordance with the demands of ancient hell bound acumen. And, hideous sacrifices of hapless captives from the surrounding regions were made to these beings at terrible smoking altars. With the passage of time, scholars traveled to Ixiok from as far away as Mu. The most important was a Khitan sorcerer, who arrived one midnight, seeking scholarly training at the conclave. This easterner, Ki Sut San, brought masterwork musical instruments, coins, and gems to serve as tuition for his training. He sought for the linkage of queer accursed instrumentals to certain tasks in demon summoning developed at Ixiok, so as to surpass even the sorcerer-kings at Python. Indeed, the application of bizarre musical scales to demon summoning became Ixiok’s forte. But at a price. Little did Zeteholt and his inner circle realize that the scales were really meant to erode away the great strength of the grim spells, used to bind the demons. For Ki Sut San was on a suicide mission sent from jealous Paikang in Khitai to destroy the conclave. On the day that the binding spells finally failed, Zeteholt perceived Ki Sut San’s treachery, and slew him in a vat of hot flesh. But too late, for the fate of the conclave was sealed. In superlative horror, a great and powerful demon prince now walked the meandering streets of Ixiok’s wizard quarter, unrestrained. This fiend lustfully gated in its minions. And, these devils slew all present. . Today, Ixiok is utterly abandoned and strangely, utterly silent whether in the day or night. The toppled ruins are blanketed in a permanent thick fog, which seems to sweat off the building remnants and various grinding slabs. Much hideous wisdom resides hidden in the ruins. And, in unceasing deathless vigil, so too does its demonic ruler and his minion slaves.
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Post by doublejig2 on Aug 16, 2021 22:13:30 GMT -6
Thieves Fortress of Re Sin’lThe Shemite settlement of Re Sin’l began as a thieving colony, situated atop a prior ruin. Located, a few days ride from the Shemite nomadic city of Talib, the original city consisted of concentric walled rings atop several hills. And, these ruins of yellow stone were old when Stygia ruled Shem long ago. A medium sized, topographical city with meandering streets and great outer walls, Re Sin’l bleached under the harsh Shemite sun for centuries undisturbed. Then, thieves from Shumir began to use the ruin as a base for brigandry, exploration, and terror, preying on caravans passing through Shem on their way to Khoraja, Turin, and Stygia. Though never as famous for thieves as Shumir to the east, nonetheless Re Sin’l recorded an expansionary period punctuated by the striking exploits of its thieves in tomb robbing and highway banditry. With largess from these activities, the thieves outfitted the ruins with new dwelling structures, renewed the old wells, founded a great walled fortress, and built a temple to Bel, God of Thieves. That output all changed with the wretched arrival of the black plague. And, as elsewhere the prosperity of the thieves fortress came to an abrupt halt. Like many surrounding Shemite towns and cities, Re Sin’l was stricken down. But what finally destroyed the populace in total was no contagion but rather the introduction by the guild masters of an alien technology, discovered in the haunted catacombs of the earlier ruins. Cubes of Qubiq they were called. And they were lethal to their activators. For once a man began working the cube, he entered into a continuous state of sexual tension, which culminated in a continuous climax more intense than any woman could manage out of him. Such a man soon sought no other activity. And, so it was onanism that destroyed the thieves of the fortress. And, while the thief fortress has been picked clean by explorers, a few of the strange cubes might still be found somewhere in the under fortress. What other treasure are buried there? Today in Re Sin’l much of what was in place when the thieves were active is decrepit. The massive pillars, pointed arches, and parallel mullions of the old city crumble under the empty stone dwellings and fortress of ruined thief industry. And the ruin remains strange. A recent expedition there complains of unexplained appearances, actions, and scents, which bedazzle the weak-willed. Let these be just an inkling of the horror that awaits future explorers. For a powerful dragon has burst the bounds of the under city. It now rules Re Sin’l, which sits thus doubly accursed under the sun.
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Post by doublejig2 on Aug 29, 2021 10:43:42 GMT -6
Ophir Ruins of Hedonist KerdingoLong ago a decadent throng of groupies out of chivalrous Ophir followed the mad poet, Kerdingo to the site of a hot spring, where they established a hedonistic community, which they named after the poet. As the settlement of Kerdingo grew, the fame of its debaucheries brought both pilgrims and coin into the budding town. With this acquired wealth, builders and craftsmen were recruited, and the main oval of an urban expansion was built. Yet, overtime this very prosperity proved wearisome to the depraved leadership, and a call was made to return the community to the profligate ways of its founder. The resultant renaissance of unabated self-indulgence brought all manner of pleasure seekers to what was now rapidly becoming an impressive small city. Sadly for the inhabitants, it was about at that time that insanely angry barbarians from Hyperborea swept down from the far north. They were led by a witch doctor of grim capacities. He cursed the people and city of Kerdingo. And, as if water turned off at a muddy faucet, so too did the lifeblood of Kerdingo gel and solidify, leaving only the dead and the dying in a rapidly disintegrating urban center. Today, the remaining ruins are but a small remnant of prior glory. The green walls of many structures lay toppled and wasted in the hard ground. This wreckage is what’s left of the original oval shaped main city with its meandering streets. The city never had a wall as its founder craved attention from anyone who cared to give it, even invaders with this pathetic submissiveness earning the enraged disgust of the fierce blooded barbarians. Such craving for eternal delight even unto masochism, even unto death, also led to the construction of a great cemetery. It featured colossal mausoleums for the original poet and his line. Under the hot sun, these tombs, which survived the superstitious barbarians, are now encrusted with mold and lichen. Some are missing whole sections, while the largest has obviously been moved by some cunning method from its original location; the drag marks of the enormous edifice are plainly visible. Architecturally, in the ruins, cunningly carved vertical bars of stone are common on the few extant structures as are yoni designs of all shapes and sizes in bas relief, mainly on the tombs. These motifs are all that’s left of the poet city’s degenerate artistry. As things presently stand, the current residences, a group descendent from Kerdingo's last hold outs, dwell in squalor and fear in the remains of the oval city, finding shelter in the few building, which remain standing. Their leader is also an insane poet, said to have mastered an evil sorcery. His blindly following supporters attack all trespassers. Nonetheless, even such activity can’t account for strange and sudden, ghostly appearances of the old partiers at queer conjunctions of the moon, planets, and stars. Then, it is whispered by midnight riders that deathless Kerdingo the mad poet rises up to hold court over the hapless still living and the grateful dead. Reever, is it time to take out what’s left of this pitiful haunted colony and pillage its treasure laden tombs?
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 2, 2021 5:40:59 GMT -6
Zamora Warrior Cult at SholajZamora is famous for its thieves. To the contrary, the Warrior Cult of Sholaj preferred skill at arms. From the beginning the cult of slayers was pariah in the larger cities of the shadowy realm, managing legitimacy only after a migration of disgruntled puissant nobles founded a new city upon a lineage of steel and death at the edge of a marsh, rich in flora, fauna, and herbs. From the beginning the city prospered. Using the great wealth of participating nobles and their connection to other Zamorian cities and estates, Sholaj quickly developed favorable trade associations across the spider haunted kingdom. And as rumor of the city’s new prosperity grew, workers, artisans, and peasants flocked to its opportunities. To set itself apart, the city brought in sword masters from the east to train a new breed of Zamorian destroyer. The result was a crucible of fervent martial learning, and with the eventual, truly effective blending of Vendhya and Khitain warrior traditions, Sholaj’s reputation for combat superiority spread far across the land. Yet it was only after the rise of Zortora the Slayer that the cult reached its pinnacle. Zortora was a singular consummate combat specialist. The victor of 100 duels and master of small unit warfare, Zortora’s rise corresponded with that of fame for the city. Fighters from throughout Zamora and also the neighboring Hyborian kingdoms and fabled Turan made pilgrimage to Sholaj to train with this master. And their combat arts were greatly improved. Yet this blisteringly effective bliss could not last. For it is said that you can take the man out of Zamora but not Zamora out of the man, and the imported Eastern introspection soon enough brought Zamoran decadence and mass corruption to Sholaj. As usual it was the nobles who next best expressed their innate racial depravities. The end of the warrior city thus could be called the result of greed, degeneracy, and stupidity. Not content with wealth, reputation, and martial wizardry, Sholaj nobles increasingly asserted its independence from Zamora at large. Extorting trading partners beyond the pale even for Zamorian appetites, Sholaj one day found itself at the receiving end of a coalition army from a dozen city states. This was no small unit combat, and the city, once the proudest in all of Zamora, was sacked to utter destitution in the war, which followed. The sprawling ruins of Sholaj with its meandering streets are extant in only remnant of its once greater glory. Most of the city at large has simply sunk into the encroaching wetlands of the marsh. Yet golden in the spectral sunlight are the stone structures still standing. Artefacts of prior glory can still be found in the ruin. The great throne of Zortora, carved from a single block of Lapis Lazuli, sits erect under the sky in a roofless palace. Brilliant pottery vessels, a specialty of the craftsmen of the city, given the fine mud of the marshy surrounding land, can also be found, propped up in various dark corners of structures both dilapidated and intact. Most evident are fountains and broken plazas of gargantuan size. These stand erect or open or totter with mismatched pieces in places where the destroyers of the city left them. Everywhere the city’s famed megaliths, marking the ground where warriors trained, and clustered slender columns, marking the glory of the mansions of the nobles, point to disturbed lost glory. Yet elsewhere, in the terrible destruction of the city’s sacking, whole sections of the city have collapsed. Today, as said the ruin is much decayed. Overgrown with hypnotic orchids from the encroaching swamp, one might forgive the rumors of strange and unexplained sighting amidst the fallen stones and hollowed structures. And, all is not well here. For it is said, that Zortora himself presides over the sight as restless wraith lord. That he commands many skeletal servants follows on this report. That they can fight like demons, slaying all trespassing wealth seekers, is also fundamentally Sholaj Zamorian.
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 4, 2021 7:15:11 GMT -6
Nemedia Grain Stores of Ancient Valsuth
Valsuth was old even in Acheron times. Strategically located in what is today central Nemedia, in its heydey the settlement coordinated the grain production of the land. When the barbarians sacked the hub, such was its beneficial location that it was rebuilt by young Nemedia to coordinate that realms food production. From early on, the center prospered for a period of peace and contentment, which led to gains in agriculture in the central plains of the presiding realm. That changed with the coming of the plague to Nemedia. 80% of the population succumbed to a particularly virulent strain. Only later would sages conclude that the pestilence arrived at the command of an ancient demon, taking revenge for the fall of Acheron and the cessation of sacrifices to the Outsider, which had been made once a century. Adventurers take note. The ruins of a sprawling city are located at this site. Most impressive, the remains of an enormous network of aqueducts was built to water the surrounding regions. Yet the ancient walls of the urban center now lay crumbled, green in the sunlight, and only a small remnant of the once much larger municipality are extant. Of the ramshackle ruin, the most intact feature are the tottering headstones of an ancient cemetery, it’s sanctity long ago violated, toppled, and broken. For only the most powerful of the living lords of Valsuth built vaults that survived their death, erecting great stone halls above the grave markers. And a prize is there. For trapped in the tombs beneath the cemetery is the Hall of Clay Tablets, said to record in almanac the history of the place, with the location of many sites from Acheron and early Nemedia demarked in the terracotta, if they could be recovered and translated. Truly, such a find would fulfill the dreams of a sage, explorer, or adventuring plunderer. Today, the spiraling minerats are lost to overgrowth. Occasional stone walls testify to arabesque vine scrolls, which testify in turn to the once glorious agricultural might of the site. But weirdness permeates this haunted location with unexplained smells and sights said to beguile those that would seek shelter in the shadow of the broken stone water ways. And that’s not all. Madness afflicts those who remain at this place for too long. This blight, along with whispers of horrid winged snake apes, are enough to dissuade most explorations to the ruin. Nevertheless the rumor of the tablets and their atlas of the ancient realms haunts both sage halls and adventurers drinking holes. Who will seek them out? Who will brave the monster rife Grain Stores of Ancient Valsuth?
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 5, 2021 17:11:45 GMT -6
Hyperborean Commune at ShugolaFor a small community of a half dozen structures and less than 10 residence, the Hyperborean commune at Shugola manages to impress. The d**n place, cold and dreary, is walled in thick black stone and moated. Behind such protections loom a grain house, 3 cottages, a shack, and a well. The people here are tall, moody, and brooding. Most are escaped slaves. They exist today to distill whiskey and harvest rye, punctuating drunken ceremonies then with obeyance to their rather terrifying death god. And perhaps to some effect. It is true that harvests have been bountiful of late. But offsetting, today strangely timed disappearances lend gloom to the settlement. And, another holy day is rapidly arriving, so the cultists are on edge. The truth is strange indeed. For a former member, believed slain, now hunts the members of the community, personifying in fell acts of horrific violence the dire implications of their morbid worship. In any event, visitors to the commune are rare and rarely tolerated for long. Icy wind and overcast skies mark time here. Sullen agriculture and distillery find their subsistence niche.
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 9, 2021 17:30:27 GMT -6
Acheron Village of AnumaTucked away in an isolated vale on the Nemedian side of the rugged Karpash Mountains, the ancient village of Anuma is a throwback agricultural center, which dates back to Acheronian times. Currently, 110 somber men and women live and work in the dreary village, which features two dilapidated grain houses, a blacksmith forge, a barter house, and a chapel. Most residents are soil laborers. The majority of Anuma’s families live in cabins or small homes, surrounding an open central green. The village’s two titular mayors live in adjacent larger estates, while a dormitory houses the village's established cult, which is dedicated to Uthak R’al, the withering god of the black harvest. Apt, the small chapel serves the cult’s weekly services. Today, the dour village is expanding. Devoutly religious and suppressed by harsh Kothar, the cult priest of Uthak R’al, verily every thought in the village comes under the scrutiny of the cult. The same is true for any visitors to the village. And danger lurks here. For the black harvest is a human sacrifice, and the entire village will work to secure a victim, whether local or from without. In return, as preached by Kothar, Uthak R’al shall bring satiation to the villagers, which suits them, for the grain harvests at least for now and for whatever reason have been particularly good. Tellingly, few outsiders spend the night here.
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 12, 2021 15:53:38 GMT -6
Turan Mining Works at XalhmetLocated inwards of a canyon creek, since time immemorial, there have been mines at Xalhmet. The latest foragers of mineral wealth were the Turanians. They built a massive industrial complex at the site. Such was its production that in security the noble rulers there expanded their families, which led as well to a general expansion of the mighty mining operation. It is said that a beautiful sorceress temptress from the Turanian royal court brought the downfall of the site. Her name was Vaya, after the river to the north, and being something of a harbinger, she was at least initially fanatically zealous of the Turanian royal court’s interests in all things. Vaya arrived to Xalhmet from the capital. Stunned by the sheer wealth of the enclave, its gold, silver, palladium, and especially fist sized gemstones, she played on the ambitions of Xalhmet’s leaders, binding them to her various sorcerous accouterments. Under her influence, the complex erected countless obelisks, each set with grinning skulls. Quickly enough, so enhanced the enclave continued its impressive mining output until its nobles grew in strength to surpass the threshold of even imperial decorum. Mad with power and capable of fielding a terrific mercenary force, at suddenly provincial Vaya's behest, Xalhmet declared the mines for themselves, and unilaterally refused to honor the Great King’s full allotments. And, all for a woman, but what a woman she was, and such was said ruefully on the day the king’s armies flooded into the canyon entrance slaying all they encountered. Vaya was skinned alive under the naked sun but not before issuing a terrible curse, which would make the site untenable to men. Thus when the carnage was over and the surface wealth looted, Xalhmet was no more. So, what do sages report? In its heyday, Xalhmet was a rectangular shaped settlement protected by huge walls and entirely roofed. Its interior zigzag streets split smallish yellow buildings into geometric quarters. While, in modern times and after the site’s roof collapsed, the ruins are buried fully with just the tops of decaying, badly weathered structures exposed to the mountain air. Only these walls remain intact. And, there are strange happenings at the site. For it is said that visitors are gripped by some force inherent this place. They then devote themselves to the restoration of its buildings and operations. Many times, adventurers have perished under this execration, spending their lives in fruitless passion in the hard labor required to reassert the mining operations. None have succeeded, and only the strange smell of rotting desert orchids, which are somehow not present at the mines, marks their passage. Nevertheless, sooner or later, the story of vast piles of precious metals and gems brings about new advocates. Today, as in all things Turanian, the past is in the present. And, occupying the cruel location is yet another hapless gang of would-be pillagers. These men labor night and day to restore the enclave to its prior industry. Their leader is a resolute strongman from the Eastern Desert. He will slay those who would interfere with the work. On the other hand, new arrivals can always be put to work, either compelled by the sword or by the queer sentience of the site itself. For as in the time of Vaya, a kingdom could be built on the recovered wealth of the mines. Or, so Turan’s licentious bards and minstrels entice, whether at the tavern, square, or court.
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 17, 2021 18:22:04 GMT -6
Zingara Religious Shrine of VercurioNot all of Zingara is Hyborian. The remains of the Mitra Shrine at Vercurio layer over a much older twisted ruin, the depraved industry of a long forgotten people. And, yet none would deny Vercuiro’s own antiquity. The shrine was founded during an early renaissance period in Zingara as a whole. It weathered the internecine wars, which followed in that century. And then it enjoyed an expansionary period after the wars had sorted themselves out. From the beginning, the shrine developed an ominous reputation. For it served Zingara as that nation's center for inquisitions. Through peacetime and war, the zealous priests of Vercurio passed judgment on a variety of sins, the most fundamental being charges of heresy followed by that of witchcraft. Some say pride led to the Vercurio’s downfall. It is true that the shrine’s most notorious leader, El Torrola, brought charges of indecency against merchants, nobles, and the royals alike, and even other priests. In doing so, he made many enemies. But it was his own increasingly infernal house keeping that finally ended activity at the site. When all indulgences were counted, Vercurio simply had condemned itself. The ruin is not so large. It takes the form of a small, walled octagonal structure, built around several courtyards, a mill house, the grinding stones of which have sunk into the ground, and a large black kiln, still intact and made sinister in the lore about the shrine, because it was here that the condemned were fed into the fire. A series of obelisks marks the road to Vercurio. And a set of pylons pronounce the entrance to the place. These too are the stuff of pilgrim tales of terror, but the insanely zealous excess of El Torrola is no mere child’s tale. That priest fed countless Zingaran into the black kiln of Vercurio. Today, Vercurio is avoided by all travelers. To come into sight of the obelisks leading up to the shrine is considered extremely bad luck. And so it is. For horror and madness are found in this place. And ghasts; some sages report that these hideous creatures were always kept at the site, and that El Torrolo trafficked with or even transformed himself into the ghast king, but this report remains vaporous. And so, the grim temple keeps its d**ning secrets. And though persistent rumors of a secret store of coin and gems at Vercurio flitter around taverns in the coastal cities of Zingara and Argos, equally so tales of insanity and death haunt its vicinity. Many a Zingaran child and some adults suffer the nightmare of El Torrolo and the black kiln of Vercurio.
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Post by doublejig2 on Sept 29, 2021 21:21:21 GMT -6
Aquilonia City of ParasulA day’s ride north of the city of Galparan and located on a tributary to the Shirkl River, you find yourself at the gate of the city of Parasul, which sprawls over a hillside above the waterway. Noone gives you a second look as you enter the city. Taking the main thorough fair, you pass several shops: a jeweler, a blacksmith, and a potter and a stable on your right. Up ahead is the market place with several stands and stalls and an adjacent general store and barter house. To the left of the market place, you notice large structures that might be warehouses or cool storage. To the right, you find a pair of lively taverns, both raucous in the early evening. Next to these drinking establishments are two larger structure. A passerby tells you tersely that they are a gambling den and a dancehall. Moving past the bazaar, you find yourself in the residential district. Here, are large lodges, longhouses, and dormitories. There are no individual residences. At the top of the hill is an impressive stone temple. To its left is a ring of great stones. There is a hint of sadness about these places. The city’s population seems stretched too thin, given its apparent industry. That may be because of what you know to be a recent prophecy though none in the city will comment. All are on edge. A crazed druid has threatened to salt the fields to the west of the city. Without their good production the city could not function and its denizens would starve. They might pay good coin for deliverance from this evil, but hammering out a contract might proof difficult given the taciturn nature of the inhabitants.
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Post by doublejig2 on Oct 1, 2021 7:58:37 GMT -6
Darfar Lost Capital at Se EmonThe lost Defari capital at Se Emon is the stuff of legends. Beginning as an outpost for Stygia to manage inroads into the Black Kingdoms, the settlement quickly outgrew this initial task. Instead, the construction of a grand ziggurat at Se Emon ushered in a golden age in the city, and its provincial ways were discarded in favor of wider governance over the surrounding plains and south into steaming jungles. It thereby became the capital of Darfar, lording over the trade to and from Stygia and the Black Kingdoms to the south. Much wealth and arcane knowledge came to the city. The fortunes of the city brought many immigrants. With the arrival of the priest, Hushiak, out of the Yanyoga to the far south, further change transpired. Hushiak was charismatic and touched with the notion of racial superiority over even the Stygian families that ruled the city. His preaching struck a chord with black skinned warriors of the city. Why shouldn’t Darfar natives rule Se Emon? Why shouldn’t the city celebrate its grandeur? These were questions the increasingly militant preacher push backed with against the city rulers. But it was his lust that most endeared him to the native population. For Hushiak lusted after the power of the Stygian overlords, even as he turned them out, slaying some and enslaving the rest. Without the oversight of merciless Stygian officials, mass corruption of the government followed. In the midst of this depravity, the ziggurat at Se Emon was re-committed to the worship of Xog, a dark god, whose priests favored cannibalism. Xog’s appetite knew no bounds it turned out, and after cleaning out the surrounding lands of victims, the men of Se Amon, now famed for filed teeth, began devouring each other. This matter ultimately led to the abandonment of the site. The ruin at Se Emon, a formerly sprawling, walled city with many fountains and plazas, is now barely intact. Yes, the ziggurat still stands, towering over the Plaza of Blood, which is still delineable. But the famed domes of the city are no more, lost like the gemstone inlaid animal design, which once declared the might of the place. Today, few even among sages recall that Se Emon once captured the wealth of empires, serving as the broker between Stygia and the Black Kingdoms. From the far south at Yanyoga to Daramish in Koth, westward unto Zingara and eastward to Yota Pong in Kosala, legends of this wealth haunts the talk of lore mongers and touched in the head adventurers who should know better. Among the Stygians, the matter is treated differently. Recently, a conclave of sorcerers out of old Sukhmet has taken up residence within the ruins, questing for eldritch scrolls lost to antiquity. Only they have the charms required to explore the site without suffering the foaming madness, which lurks in the trampled rubble of fallen walls and domes. But will the cannibals of Darfar tolerate these interlopers? The drums in the night offer a clue.
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Post by doublejig2 on Oct 16, 2021 22:20:54 GMT -6
Pre Human Sign of the MountainYou survived a shipwreck by making it to the shore of the island of Trallibes. Now it’s time to escape. Several of your compatriots agree. Yet after the immense earthquake revealed a mountainous pre human ruin on the island, carved out of living stone in the shape of a hideous sigil, a mad monk argues that there can be no escape from this place. He’s not alone, orchestrating his soothsaying to his captive audience is an additional cunning madman bent on looting the stunningly ancient site of its reported eldritch weaponry. But that’s not all. What the monk doesn’t report is that human sacrifices must be made to the gods of the original builders. Only then will the sign of the mountain be appeased. Can the party survive this horrifying island?
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2021 6:30:41 GMT -6
So when are you gonna run this campaign for us? I'm sold already.
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Post by doublejig2 on Jul 26, 2022 13:45:17 GMT -6
From Dice or Die:
Nonetheless, darker swords & sorcery examples abound. Consider, of one great palace is the recluse and obscene city, Xuthul of the Dusk. Opulent in both ancient perversions and a brilliant science of degenerate lucid dream dalliance, it is presided over in terrifying deep well stochastics by the hideous, denizen devouring, slithering shadow, Thog.
Or, of insane internecine depredations and deadly black sorceries of decaying races is the twisted, nightmarish montage, which compels the hands behind the hammers, driving the red nails death tallies into the wretched, four-story city of shameless Xuchotl.
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