"I keep my sanity tied to my hip with very thin thread. Somedays when I am pushing through the throngs of people all staring at tiny screens in their heads or in their hands I start feel that thread slipping. On those days I know that my only salvation is docked at the spaceport. My savior is not some luxury liner or high speed transport filled with perfectly balanced environments and a history of 'punctuality'. This man's spaceport messiah is more often than not a century old craft whose airlock is caked with the mud of a hundred worlds, with a computer programed in a dead language and a captain that makes his living looking for the slimmest trade margins in the most distant stars. When I sign on to the crew of such a craft I feel my thread of sanity tighten. I know that when we break through that blue ceiling we will be passing the soul crushing civilized worlds and heading for the fainter stars."
-J. Mitchell Overnantuck, Unlicensed Jump Drive Navigator
The Gold Standard
Seven twisty canyons for the PCs to pass through and explore on their way to carry out their main quest.
The Wastelands of the Cosmic Era
The techno-fortress of the Brotherhood of the Land of Nod, and the heart of their organization
The orcs love bloodsports, everyone knows that. If you go deep enough into their lands, you will find their favorite entertainment is the Talbar, the arena.
A semi mobile fortress placed in the mouths of rivers, bays, and other bodies of water up to several miles off shore
Far, far to the south, where east and west meet and become north, there is a valley, carven not by the slow slide of the world's rocky skin over her firey heart, but rather the wind and water have carven it, deep and narrow, folding away from the sun. Here, at its deepest depths, the Light never reaches. Here, at the top of the bottom of the world, lies the place which Shadow and Darkness have dedicated to themselves.
The first rule of surviving in Leen: Never enter the Old City but in day and with a holy symbol and every talismand you can carry
Places to go in the Cosmic Era solar system
Resource harvesting operations in the clouds of gas giant planets
Designed in 1975, the Stanford Torus is a basic space station layout also known as a wagon wheel
Few know of this place, and far fewer know of its location. This is a good thing, for nothing wholesome comes from here.
Also known as aquastats or hydrostations, the submersible cities of the Eurasian Alliance
In the Cosmic Era, there is one thing that has grown with the advent of arcanotech and hypertech, the gap between the wealthy and destitute. While nations are building space stations and starting terraforming projects on other planets, there are large sections of planet Earth that are still post apoc era.
Perhaps you've heard of Winter's Gem, and of the tragic fate of the Lady Karina. And perhaps not. It is, after all, a tale unspeakably old. Yet the Earth does not forget, and those of us who guard it do not wither...
Nine thousand years she has slumbered, while Winter diminished. So obsessed was He in her care, that He allowed Summer to run unchecked. His power dwindled, and Summer grew. There is a great unbalance in the world, young ones. One that I fear will break the back of the Earth itself, if not addressed. Winter must return. It is the Way.
The road ahead is of the dead
So travelers take heed
And lightly tread o'er those that bled
For lands and kings and greed.
The victor spared no man that dared
To try and take his throne.
So thus he paved a road that's made
Of vanquished soldiers' bones.
The road ahead is full of dread
So travelers beware
And tarry not lest you be caught
By the echoes of despair.
For the road beneath your wandering feet
Of dead men once so brave,
Will clutch and grab and wrench and drag
You to an early grave.
A real-world location fit for filling out your adventure; where norse icelandic fishermen suffered unthinkable conditions throughout frigid winters to harvest the fruits of the ocean.
When you live at the bottom, the only thing you have is to look up. If you're lucky you can see the lights of the great towers and the stars. If you're like most people, you just look at concrete. But the stars and lights are still up there.
The food that eats you back.
Creatures of nightmare, the thankfully rare Mesnoi have unique form and attributes. Only one Mesnoi at a time will ever be "encountered".
In appearance, a Mesnoi resembles a walnut-sized chunk of freshly-roasted red meat from some uncertain yet familiar, edible animal. The insidious creature camouflages itself quite appropriately whenever it can, by slowly making its way amidst feast tables and trays of roasted meats.
Once eaten by the unsuspecting, the Mesnoi sinks down to the stomach, reforming if chewed, and begins to lap up the gastric fluids, digestive juices, and bile that it craves, like a sponge.
The Mesnoi carrier will experience mild to severe stomach pains during this time.
After a few hours of this (this is the only time that the Mesnoi can be purged with magic, or other mundane means), the Mesnoi transforms into its true form inside its victim, that of a miniature, once more walnut-sized, pot-bellied, devil-horned, snake-tailed imp. This horrid little creature then begins to chew and eat its way out of the victim from the inside out with its tiny, razor-sharp teeth, like a rat forced to do so via torture.
The victim almost always dies a slow, agonizing death. That much is certain. The devilish imp then exits its victim and begins its seventy two hour existence of mischief and malevolence, until it once more turns back into a hunk of roasted meat with the movement capabilities of a snail.