There exists, within the interdimensional realm known as "Muir", a most holy city; a city of Gods, a city of Legends, a city with Dark Secrets.
"By the Winter of 182 AR, Emperor Vezimmir's rule in Tiberia was almost complete. With shrewd diplomacy and ruthless military insight, he had decimated the Eturian Empire by first breaking a deal with Rollo, Warlord of the Vesi, to invade Datia. Most of Eturia's armies were off West fighting the Adamantians alongside the Drysians. However, to ensure that Datia never received aid from Eturia, Vezimmir orchestrated with the Reavers of Oskaria to descend upon Eturia's poorly defended coastal cities. It comes as no surprise that, with the fall of the Eturian Empire, her lands were in no shape to deny the Emperor's rule."
"Machine is all
Machine is Mother
Machine is Father
Machine is God'
'Llaewyn the Fair she was in her youth, in all truth a lover of mine. Though that boast is not mine alone, she was the beloved of many. And joyous, most joyous in form and deed. Till the time of her father's death. She alone sat by the auld king's bed and soothed his fevered brow though ever cruel in life was he. Cruel to all but Llaewyn to whom he gave every comfort and protection his world had to offer. The Fair One walked into the chamber of his last breath and the Black Queen walked out.' -Spectre of the Courtier
The great magics of the past have become the great cars of the present.
Cult of EXTREMELY Done
"Machine is all
Machine is Mother
Machine is Father
Machine is God'
There are places, you have to understand, where the dimensions-I'm not talking about that parallel dimension metaphysical stuff, I mean dimensions like length and breadth and time-where they curl into themselves, and begin to fester. Where foul things evolve and spread...
“Top, my name is Brock Figglewater, I knew your aunt. I tap a piece of pillow that belonged to your aunt, and I jump belongs to you now. You see, I just bought this Stimech, and I jump it was stolen by a bruce named Horace. Horace was a pream tattle of mine. Three weeks ago, I let Horace take out my pream stimech to go bounce along the billibong looking for bubblely-bobs to bring to the spitter’s patch. Horace says he ran into some boom sauce and had to hop out of the stimech in just a tater sack. I cannot jump that Hoarace bounced 5 kims across the pillow in a tater sack. I have tapped spitter dops on the Big Under pillow for years, I ain’t no trainer. I ain’t rigged to swallow dry sand, and I washed Hoarace. But I need my stimech back, and I ain’t got the press to go all over the Big Under boiling Hoarce’s peals of truth. I need your help.”
"Few left know these Secrets. And those who do must Be careful. Those in Power will Silence Us if They knew!"
First Keeper Solaron Calo
“A kill within every ten steps,
Not leaving traces within a thousand miles,
Dusting off one’s clothes and leaving after the deed,
Hiding one’s presence and name deep.”
~ Excerpt from Li Bai’s “The Verse of the Wandering Swordsman”
"Riversheart! Center of Civilization, of the Holy Empire! Long may that City reign supreme!"
Jarden Ruthpole, drunk peddler
"Who would expect a commoner from a land that had once rejected the Son of the Light and the Holy Empire to become the next heir to the draconic essence of Traghen?"
William Dashaw, Lord Scribe to the Illyrian Court.
The PCs are in a graveyard, when as they are passing a noble tomb with a certain symbol embossed on the door, the magic user in the party hears a voice from being the tomb door begging to be let out. What do the PCs do?
Dedicated to Scras and his Star Whale sub that was my inspiration for setting
The Stolen world is totally wrapped around Scras' Star Whale sub. As I cast about for a direction to go after I ended my very long running Mysantia game. I took the basic concept of the Star Whale and am using as the basis of all the game logic of the setting. What would a world look like that was subjected to regular apocalypses every 1000 years and why is there no information available to the pc's on how to stop them.
A general overview of the Stolen World and a codex of the submissions so far
"I watched my family burn. I kill men with the tools of my father's trade. He created. I destroy. That is a gift the Light chose me to bear. Think well you before you pray to the Light for gifts."
Chosen of the Essence of Traghen, High Lord of Barbarus, Keeper of Sentinel, Wielder of the Soulhammer.
Stronghold made for the liche Haukagaron. He was betrayed at the last and Castle Kaukenn was pulled into the Abyssal realms.
Beware, beware, the hidden snare.
Where the shadows linger, and fiends do fare.
Go on, run, hide and pray.
For the elder crow feasts,
on our souls' decay.
One bad moment left him permanently destitute. Down on his luck, Mark Greaves learns that necessity sometimes brings you to work you never realized you could be good at.
Freya is very tall and thin, you would know her if you saw her, for her eyes are shining from within. her face beautifully adorned teeth razor sharp; her clothes of the softest silk and her voice as soft as a harp. She sways her head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think she's half asleep, she's really wide awake!
While setting up camp for the night, the PC's are aproached by another group of adventurers who seem nice enough. The road is somewhat dangerous and the other group suggests camping together. The two bands split watches, one adventurer from each group watching at once. The night goes by without incident, the next day the PC's travel with the other group as they are going the same way.
The group consists of Hordel the ranger, who is skilled with the bow. Hordel is a quiet man who speaks little but appears quite skilled. Dremar is a barbarian who is a little excentric, he seems to be an excasive drinker and thiunk that battle is the solution to everything. He appears to be a stout and powerful fighter with his greataxe. Ferrin is the leader of the group, a rouge by trade. He is daft and witty, speaking with the PCs often and asking many questions. He fights with finesse with his rapier. Preminitat as a cleric but he will not say which god he worships. He uses his spells to empower and heal his party and fights with a club. He sticks close to Ferrin. Ferrin is a great talker and tells much of himself and his party, but asks even more about the history and capabilities of the PCs. He tells of some adventures his party has had, and they seem like an interesting group of mercenaries. Hordel is quite and has little interest in speaking with the PCs, he ignores most questions. He spends a lot of time with Dremar and sometimes Ferrin. Dremar seems to not care about any questions ansked to him, nor does he seem to know the answers. He seems battle hardened and is a simple man. Preminitat rarely starts conversations but will speak with the PCs. However, some of his accounts of the party's history seem to condradict those of Ferrin.
The Party spends another night and day with Ferrin's group. One of four things can happen on the third night.
1: While eating dinner around the fire, Ferrin gets into an argument with one of the PCs when he/she mentions the discepincies between Ferrin's stories and Preminitat's.
2: Hordel gets mad after repeated questioning about his life from the PCs.
3. Preminitat gets mad after repeated questioning from the PCs about what god he worships.
4: One of the PCs rejects the offer of a drink from Dremar and he takes it as an insult.
All of these scenarios result in a battle between the parties. If Ferrin's party is defeated and still lives he swears vengance. His party may then cross paths with the adventurers again.