Gartheia is one of the more secure pirate islands in the south sea. It's shape is similar to an immense flower pot - there are no decent ports or harbors around the circumference of the island as the stone cliffs overhang the waters lower then mast-height. In order to gain access to the higher parts of the island requires similar strategies to scaling a castle wall, with the disadvantages of having to do it from a rocking ship.
The pirates of the island have built, at great difficulty, a set of hoists and derricks to load and unload their ships. There are even plans to build one large enough to lift smaller ships completely out of the water, but these are still just plans.
Once on the upper portion of the island, it appears similar to many other islands in the region, albeit rocky.
The island itself is a massive block of sandstone which is gradually rising from the ocean due to geological forces. The actions of tides and normal waves are eroding the sides of the island as it rises.
See the Hopewell Rocks on Wikipedia. It has an illustration of the idea - the real rocks are much smaller then what I'm putting forth here. Yes this is a shameless plug of my home province.
Even the power of the weakened pantheon was unable to destroy this storm, now termed Nethernimbus by the few survivors, but they were able to direct the storm to an isolated island several days sail west of the devastated Ku! coastline. There the storm was bound by the gods, held in place by a set of powerfully enchanted ward-stones. The storm remains there still - a manifestation of hate and of man's inhumanity to man. None who have approached the island have returned, for the winds have lost none of their power, and these winds have the touch of wraiths!
This island is surrounded by an invisible magical barrier, placed by the gods of a near-dead people, and held up through the handful of priests who still live. The barrier blocks Nethernimbus from escaping, but does not stop the reckless from attempting to land upon it. Only the truely suicidal would try, since the yellow-black raging winds can easily be seen whipping around the island.
Should the remaining priests all meet their end, then this lethal storm of undead power would be unleashed to again bring death to kingdoms! Go to Comment
This is a great horse submission, but I would have liked just a
_bit_ more to tie it into fantasy. What differentiates it from a Wikipedia entry about an existing breed of horse to decidedly non experts such as myself? Go to Comment
Such an odd item, though logical in its own way. It falls into the problem of being simply too useful - why would they not make dozens of these with such a useful effect? Anyone with mangled limbs due to accident (or otherwise) would gladly deal with the pain to get back a fully functional limb.
I think the simple adjustment of adding 'realistic' regeneration rates - months as opposed to days, as well as losing significant dexterity, agility and strength as your body restore the nerves and brain connections would help balance it - especially for PC use/abuse.
They were criminals being punished for a reason? Why should convenience be a consideration? Better they not have use of their fingers until their 'sentance' is up. Teach them dependency on others :) Go to Comment
How used? Simple - your party finds the ruins in some out of the way place. Perhaps some spirits or things drawn to chaos and insanity if you need the ruins to be a little less lifeless. I think the odd ruins sitting silently by themselves works.
It brings to mind the speculative cities the Chinese have been building, well before anyone is ready to occupy them, and now sit largely abandoned. Go to Comment
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.