Wednesday, November 16, 2022

Adventure Locations

Unmoored by time where gravity affects nothing equally. Few have ventured here willingly. Fewer still have returned- babbling of unknown titanic horrors that haunt the great Mystagogues and cities that inhabit the twilight sky. Strange treasures and infectious taint consume the very flesh of adventurers, leaving only madness and horror in it's wake.

An obsidian wound upon the land where reality decays and cries for existence. Ruinous skies rain with the grayish debris of corroding planets and extinguished suns. A foul place, legacy of an Arcane war fought in a distant past or perhaps the near future. Here the senses are distorted and life is poisoned by the remnants of tainted wizardry gone horribly wrong. A landscape suffering dislocation in time and space. Sick and weakening in it's ability to stave off the admittance of cosmic forces that have crept in from the nether voids, whose incursion is forbid by the gods of all proper and ordered lands. But there are no such gods here. Strange Geometric and Insectoid creatures of black obsidian chitin move within the darkest of shadows. This place should not exist, for the horrors' here taint the very dark itself.

It was here during another time and reality that the forbidden book, The Opanatheds Of Thek was first opened causing other world entities to come into contact with this world, their mind shattering geometric matters tearing asunder the very fabric of reality itself. 

*(Past PC's that became corrupted by the Arcadiums Taint.)

A dead world that holds the key to continued existence. It's bone laden surface sits in the shadows of the floats, where petrified titans float endlessly in zero gravity twilight skies- while war is waged upon them between the cannibalistic tribes of the Dar'Corum. Petrified titans utilized as platforms of war. Ships propelled through the skies on skin sails stretched upon masts of bone that ride upon the updrafts issued forth from the surface below. The sky is littered with titanic remains that crumble, killed by time. Dead gods that layer the planets surface with the dust of their bones. Undead Cosmonauts and civilizations buried in ivory ash.

Here a tower of dissolution sits.

City of the Incubation. Home of the Yig (Egg keepers) an Elephant like enslaved alien race from the distant future. Their knowledge carefully implanted into their minds by their Aboleth Overlords who inhabit the star-filled pools far below the dead Planet spanning city. The Yig themselves are a mysterious race with strong Psionic abilities though not nearly as powerful as the Aboleth they serve.

What is it that incubates in the Eggs? Dwarfing the ruins of city skyscrapers that fall in obeisance before them, awaiting the arrival of their prophesized births.

Beyond the White Fangs there are endless steps that descend through the Seven Visions leading to the resting place of Varkruul the White Wyrm, and his sleeping city. Locked within his ancient, alien daymare vaults of hope he awaits. His followers plan and scheme for his return. It is believed that within the Welm sits a vacant throne of ascension.

Beyond the Scrap Sea's lie the lands of the Metal Mages. A ancient and noble machine race that exist in the shadows of Taboom Cog, perfecting the Ordinance of Assemblance. Striving to summon and incarnate PRAXIS the false machine, called forth to be imprisoned into the assembled God Engine. Their failed summoning's resulting in the Glitterdoom also known as the Scrap Sea. It is here in the mountains of living metal that flesh is transmuted into the Immortal substance of Fictional Metal.

It is believed that the most powerful Aghori Blood Gods ascended to the moons, pervading them with their magics. It is here those moons now come to die, their Viridium blood tars dripping endlessly. Viridium is highly sought after for it contains remnants of dead magic.

Strange Monoliths stand sentry before the Estuaries of the lotus eaters, warping the valley around while drawing magic towards them. Beware the Monoliths call, and the use of magic here it lest it be sundered from ones very flesh and bones. Though true wizards are found no more what remains of them can be found here in a variety of forms.

(PC's claimed by Tar'Mahell)

A fog shrouded roaming forest where the spirits of undead children play. Deep within its overgrown lichen embrace, the heart of this forest beats. Powered by the abandoned technology of creation, awaiting discovery. Deep within lie the abandoned laboratory facilities of Zygax Industries, it's ancient cloning chambers still hold monstrosities in suspended embrace.

Beware the Tall Girls, swallowers of fear- for they are children of the Dark Whale, an eldritch entity called down from beyond the stars. And should its you bear witness to the Dark Whale know that your very existence has already been extinguished, but it shall be a fitting ending, perfect in it's beauty.

Residence of the Master skin smith and Favor - the flesh trader. The market is known to appear in various places throughout the land with the new moon. The rarities here are purchased not with silver but by oath, an exchange of services with a high price to pay should an adventurer not uphold the agreement. There are things far worse than death and the Flesh Market favors them all.

An endless sea of rust colored razor sharp metallic sand shards that surrounds the land for as far as the eye can see. Tides that ebb and flow, slowly eating away at the land. Inhabited by giant Kraken Rust monsters. Un-passable.

The metal is highly volatile once removed from the sea and has been know to liquefy, combust, and become highly magnetized while emitting searing light. Removed metal will always seek to recombine with the sea. It will flay skin upon contact.

Three ivory towers activated through the Conjunctions of Fate ritual. They now devour the light of all stars. Attracting the Coyer of Bulse, the World Eater.

They must be found and deactivated if the Womb Realms are to survive.

Here in their slumber beneath the tranquil waters they dream themselves beautiful, great and wanted. It is within the depths of a laboratory below the lakes waters that the first In-Create were made, defying the limitations of flesh through screams of unholy birth.

The endless Dungeon of the Exalted Ones, keepers of the gates and ministers of the Lord of September. Inhabited by the Pipers Of Dawn. A Megadungeon that spans many worlds. The Lord himself a connoisseur and collector of shadows.

The Ministry Of Shadow. Keepers of the Gates.

One could spend their entire life searching for the Zenns only to lay eyes upon them in a final moment before perishing. This would be a worthy life not lived in waste.

Each Ben represents an aspect of the first Ben who's goal was to triumph over the timelines-all. He left as one and returned as two, two left as one and returned as four, on and on until the timelines-all were explored.....

The Zenns Of Benz, also known as the Wall Of Epoch, is a living wall stretching for miles. A blur of connected bodies, identical in appearance. Each staring off into some unseen time, muttering strange incoherent similes in hushed and astonished voices. Many scholars come to sit and listen, spending an entire lifetime decoding and recording the words in hopes of re-discovering the lost secrets of Epoch. The fallen Lords of Time. It is here that clues may be gathered as to uncovering the Opanatheds Of Thek.

The Destroyer. A galaxy spanning world eating ship manned by the No-bodies. Home to a collection of taxidermed worlds that rest upon the shores of its vast and endless decks. Worlds preserved in their last dying days.

Frozen haunted wastes of heavy snowfalls. The cry of sorrowed winds constantly attack the ears in hopes that some may listen. It is here in this haunted tundra that the Duke sits upon his throne extending his reach into the lands beyond. The Duke alone controls the slave trade throughout the world of ALMOST and remains unchallenged. For he possesses the Sword Of Nine Hells, and their are none who can defeat him.

Within it's maelstrom of battering winds and snowstorms lie the ancient colossal bodies of winged serpents, lying buried beneath the snows, frozen in time, shaping the landscape around them while the undead Winter Lord roams shackled amongst the Frost Graves, the long dead city of giants.

The Plains of Roke consist of flat plains covered in tall sharp grasses. The Plains are deemed sacred and the skins and hides of trespassers are staked out in the ground above the grasses to blow like tattered flags in the wind, a warning to all that would enter. The grass itself is thick and tall- rising nearly 8 feet high. It hides many things including forbidden entryways into the bowels of the earth.

For below the Plains an ancient abandoned ritual site lies stretching into darkness. A dungeon deep and dark, now inhabited by the Forsaken, followers of the Wyrm that have not yet been destroyed by the Ba'Roke. This place is forsaken for it is here the Consummation of the White Wolf occurred. No Ba'Roke are allowed to enter. It is forbidden.

This is the Ancestral home of The Ba'Roke. Roaming tribes of shape-shifters that guard their ancestral lands with a devastating ferocity. They are followers of the White Wolf and invoke the old ways ways before the coming of the Wyrm. To travel the plains one needs permission, though it is not granted easily. If the Ba'Roke don't get you the wild boar or deep sink holes just may.

A Dead city summoned by the great song, where the most powerful Ruathain may be scavenged. But beware the Holder of the city who's guidance you will seek. One never knows from which time and place the city shall be beckoned, nor if the world can contain the treasures wrought from it. Only the Veird know the forbidden songs that are able to summon Ocryphia. Should they be sung there are beings beyond horror within the void that certainly shall hear.

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