It was a normal day like any other, before the air raid sirens echoed across the still afternoon air, and the bustling crowds changed from causal movement to frenzied panic.
This is a different spin on a post apocalypse setting (Such as Darwin's, World Dead lands, Rifts, etc..) in that the apocalypse is happening NOW not years ago in the past.
This allows Gm's to present the "ancient history" that most of the players characters have heard about in a dramatic fashion that will leave more of an impact on the group.
-The characters could be virtually any Jane/Joe average working stiff caught up in events beyond their control, or perhaps a soldier on shore leave. Maybe even a child on their way home from school.
The main focus of the game would be to survive the initial riots/panic and immediate effects of which ever brand of Armageddon you prefer, and eventually reach a place of safety. (underground fallout shelter, mountain refuge, remote island etc..)
A enterprising GM could even let players play as their main characters great, great, grandmothers/grandfathers, or relatives of them to add a more personal touch to the adventure.
-Where exactly is the closest (or best) "safe area?" and How will the pc's go about getting to it?
-Unless the PC's are orphans with the personalities of dead fish, they'll likely have family and friends they're worried about. Do they try to make contact with and rescue them? Or count on them to find their own way to safety? (Especially if they're dozens or hundreds miles away in another city, or even country.)
-Do the PC's have any powerful enemies who will try to take this opportunity of social chaos to get revenge upon them? (perhaps fatally?)
-While fleeing for their lives the PC's will no doubt run across numerous others who look to them for guidance or rescue. How many will they try to save?
-Some of the people they do wind up traveling with will no doubt be more concerned with their own safety then that of the group as a whole, how will they handle these individuals without resorting to drastic measures?
-The player group is no doubt not the only band of "survivors" how will other bands take to them heading for "their rightful sanctuary," or trying to loot the same store for needed supplies?
-Once they do reach this "Safe zone" it may very well have a limited capacity, (such as a fallout shelter with only enough supplies for X amount of people) what will the PC's do about any extras in their group there simply isn't room for?
-What if this safe zone is already occupied by other (unsavory) types that aren't willing to let the group join them, despite their being enough room/supplies? Go to Comment
Heather had always had a love for dragons bordering on an obsession. Almost everything about them fascinated her, if only she could speak to one first hand. Perhaps now that she had volunteered to be the dragons yearly sacrifice she would at last get her chance.
This adventure is better suited for a single player looking for more of an far out interaction/role playing adventure rather than a hack and slash one. (Thanks Cheka man for the inspiration behind this idea.)
They are playing a woman (or possibly man?) that after having been fascinated by dragons for all their life to the extend of dreaming as one for a mate; finally decided to get a closer look or die trying at one by volunteering to be the yearly sacrifice for a small village to placate a dragon in the near by mountains.
Given the dragon is more used to sacrifices screaming and kicking rather than greeting it and asking questions it's interested long enough to post pone its meal out of curiosity.
This dragon is also lonely, have grown tired of prospective mates being more interested in it's treasure, or magical power than in it's personality, perhaps this mere mortal could unwittingly endear the beast into a life long love?
-How do you convince a dragon you'd rather talk to it than be eaten? What about all those burning questions everyones had about dragons but never dared ask?
-If the dragon finds the sacrifice more interesting than palatable what next? Are they to remain in the dragons lair forever after? (most dragon lairs aren't suitable for human habitation especially in the winter.)
-If the dragon falls in love with the sacrifice will they turn themselves into human and seek a life among the small folk? (Using it's riches to acquire land and perhaps become a king?) Or perhaps polymorph the sacrifice into a dragon themselves so they may share the lair together?
-What of the valiant knight riding to slay the dragon? Will he listen to the delusional damsel pleas to leave the lair and not attempt to slay the fearsome beast? Go to Comment
There are still more explanations possible. One I came up with just now, are the local spirits/elements/whatever, that are canceling their alliance (or non-attacking treaty) with the locals, by returning the offerings from before. What, you didn't know? Is half a millennium really that hard to remember for humans? Go to Comment
Or it just continues. Each night becoming more and more ubiquitous.
Soon gold is soon covering the street. Everyone has more than they know what to do with.
Money loses all value. Bartering must be done instead. Social collapse is a possibility here, as the entire social hierarchy would be upset.
As time goes on if the source is not stopped it could be a down right curse. What started off as a single statute, could end up being feet of gold coin piling up in the street across the town. Becoming a hassle and in some cases even dangerous to people. People getting trapped indoors. Roofs collapsing, if the gold starts appearing there.
Issues with people from less 'gifted' towns raiding for their piece of the pie.
Hopefully the players figure out what is going on before it gets really bad.
Of course this might be game altering, so when the players find the source or cause, the produced treasure should probably disappear. Go to Comment
There may indeed be such a legend (and who knows, it might have inspired Odolan in the first place!). If there is, it could be the cape of the Winter Lord, or another personification of winter. He or she came upon a village hit hard by the cold season... and showing mercy, he would cover it with the Shroud. And so they were saved for the winter, without even noticing that it has passed.
Thanks a lot! I wanted to create some 'classical' winter item, and it didn't work until I connected it to the Elves in all their old-fashioned glory. Now, you could detach them from the item and it would stay usable.
So I have to thank the elves (and random scientific articles) for the inspiration. Go to Comment
"The process takes up to a few hours, to some discontent of its creator. He hoped to save lives of those, who are seriously ill, or wounded. But even at this rate it is useful"
love that little detail ^
Also, "....impregnated with the resin of several trees, and with water of a winter's first icicles"
Very nice! ^
A nice, romantic, clan-of-the-cave-bear type of opening, and wonderfully subtle item!
Healing hibernation. I like it. The "Bear-Lord's Favor" could be another colloquial name for this shroud.
Finally, I cant help but put forth the idea, that perhaps another legend exists out there somewhere amidst the tundra and arboreal forests. A semi-mythic Winter Shroud of giant proportions! One that could gently envelop entire tribes and communities, and protect them from the harshest winters. It could have the added power of cloaking villages in snowy camouflage. One could pass by an entire tribe hidden beneath the Winter Shroud and never know it. Go to Comment
If anything happened, it wouldn't be his fault. He could use the money, poor business and all. Well maybe, it wasn't just the money. It was long since he could this the last time. It was a tiring, draining process, but so rewarding. Very few could create now a Hero's Sword. And it was all the fault of those stinkin' wizards. They spread the rumors.
But the lad seems alright. He worked hard to get all the ingredients. Dragged here a large trunk by himself, from a tree a century old. Then he cut it all apart, and made the coal. That is what the tradition called for.
A sword of this kind, it has magic. Not powerful, not flashy. It will grow to aid its wielder. What he does, the sword will do, and it will preserve the power. Great heroes walked with these swords. Great weapons they made.
But that was what the wizards whined about. The magic is unstable, they said. Sometimes a fresh sword falls into wrong hands. And then it grows bad. It helps whatever bandit lays hands on it first. Slaughtering people quietly and stuff. Creating, "evil weapons", as if they knew what it is. They got it banned everywhere. And now they are the only ones to make magical weapons. Bastards.
Melenmar pounded some more. It has the color, the heat is right, the iron is ready. Soon. He placed the blade an inch under the coals. Letting the lazy apprentice push the bellows instead, he called the young hero to rest for a while. He placed a tiny bowl before him.
- "It will soon be done, young master. There is only one more thing I need."
- "Whatever you say, old man. But know I don't have enough spittle after a day in your forge."
The blacksmith laughed grimly.
- "The magic does not call for that. It has to be blood, sire. Blood of the one who who will carry it first."Go to Comment