Ancient, I agree with you (from 2006). It's sort of romanticized high fantasy, yes. Sometimes I want a grittier, more realistic cabal of thieves in my game, and then I wouldn't use this post. But when I want dashing, magical, psuedo-honorable thieves, then this sub is exactly what I'm looking for.
That's sort of how I try to judge subs. The 'Would I use this if I was running the type of campaign this sub was designed for?" question.
Just my two cents. The greatest strength (and weakness) of the Citadel is that everyone judges subs according to a different set of criteria. Go to Comment
Oh, this is fun. I liked how you went the extra mile by adding a bunch of sample guilds into the mix, and especially liked the descriptions of the various events. It could stand another revision for awkward phrasing and clarity, but this is still an excellent piece. Would love to throw the party into the situation, even as undercover city guard or as spies for the authorities (if not playing a thief-centric game). Well done! Go to Comment
I like it... I might change some things about it (might make the frogs something a bit more sinister :D), but I like it.
Perhaps, given the right conditions, Awan might be reborn... AS A HORRIBLE TENTACLED MONSTROSITY Go to Comment
True, a very gentle feeling of something Lovecraftian has guided me while reading the post. It is not a hidden evil that waits lurking on its future victims, it is quite benign. (And after the years, who knows if the god was really one of lunacy and madness?) Maybe it is only the sadness of his (its?) passing away that eats on the sanity of those residing around.
Also the custom of every villager being named Awan is interesting. Should anyone start to worship the god again, will he/it awake? The fact they are all carrying his name should give him quite an influence over them. Go to Comment
This is wonderful. I love the semi-Lovecraftian overtones. Kind of like the Jim Henson version of Dunwich or Innsmouth. As far as I can tell, the inborn madness isn't something overtly malevolent; this could easily be played as a kooky, yet overly harmless place (kind of like the Addams family), or the home of the sinister reborn cult of Awan. Or possibly both. I think, right now, the only reason that the populace is fairly harmless is that they don't know about Awan. Or do they... Plus, I'm just a big fan of hereditary, environmentally caused insanity. Go to Comment
I like this. It has the kind of feel that makes villages something others than Place-To-Barter-Loot. The underground lake, in particular, is a good thing, with the eyeless frogs and their madness-inducing secretions. It does have a vaguely Lovecraftian feel, in that it has echoes of things Man Was Never Meant To Know - in this case, the fate of the god Awan.
Random things that occur to me...
Perhaps the actual physical remnants of Awan, beyond the frogs, lie in the depths of the lake. Possibly this is even the true source of the seemingly endless water in the lake, and why the frogs prefer to simply hop around it and pay homage to Awan.
Or perhaps the site is of a sunken temple to Awan, in the depths of the water there might be the sole surviving (or ruined-but-semi-intact) temple or shrine of Awan, possibly with quasi-functional holy relics, or maybe even a way to revive Awan from his fate and restore him to power. It could be that someone else, finding this out, is trying to revive Awan right underneath the villagers who bear his name.
Or maybe the subtle changes being wrought by the frogs go beyond madness, and children begin developing a more amphibious appearance. bulging eyes, damp, clammy skin, webbed extremities, and the like begin to appear among the newborns as the villagers begin to further resemble the frogs and the god from whom they come... (Shadows of the Deep Ones!) Go to Comment
Rustic serenity mingled with gentle maloveance and the wistful reminders of a time long gone by. Charming and sinister at the same time. Very interesting.I take it that Awan is not an innately sinister deity though? Go to Comment
Fedolf, the notorious headsman of Iddland, is known as much for his beheadings as for his operatic arias of doom. A tower of power, standing nearly seven feet tall, and weighing in at almost four hundred pounds, Fedolf strikes fear in all onlookers, especially when he dons his executioner's hood, and goes shirtless, wielding his gigantic double-bladed pole-axe, on his way to the headsman's block. He possesses a beautiful singing voice, and will often send off his charges into the next life, while belting out baritone dirges and antiquated arias, usually involving death, destiny, and duty, in heavy doses.