# Boojum's Shattered Skies campaign (background and plans so far--story coming soon)



## Boojum (Oct 23, 2004)

Preface

Hello and welcome to my brand new story hour!  I’ve enjoyed several other story hours over the time I’ve been frequenting (mostly lurking at) ENWorld, and decided to try my hand at writing my own, in the hope that it will provide some entertainment to the community and hopefully help me keep better records and keep my ideas more organized.  The campaign that it is based on has been running for a little over a year, and takes place as part of the RPG club at UC Irvine.  We started at first level and have reached 8th at the time of writing.  I started it up to have fun, test out the rules in Steam-trains & Sorcery, and develop my homebrew world of Shattered Skies.  The tone of the campaign is fairly light and action-oriented, but with a moderate (much increased since the beginning) focus on overall story and atmosphere.  If you want to launch directly into the story, you'll have to wait a little while because it's not written yet  , but I hope the background material is at least a somewhat interesting read.  I'll change the thread title as soon as an actual story installment is written.

My notes are fairly sketchy for the first year of the campaign, so I will be posting a relatively undetailed summary of events for that time, and hopefully transitioning to fuller reports once I get caught up, or nearly so.  I am doing this for the sake of completeness, but if you want to skip ahead to point when I actually start writing something resembling fiction, I will put a link to it in this post when I get to that point.  This is my first attempt at a story hour, and the world it takes place in is still very much in development, so I welcome any comments or suggestions on how I can improve either one of them.  Hope you enjoy it.

Here are my plans, pretty much in order, for what I will be posting as part of this story hour.  Again, if you want to skip to the part where the “story” starts, feel free to do so.  Naturally, all documents that I post in this thread are copyright Gareth Hughes.

World Background:  A few documents that I have put together detailing the world, and which I hope are at least somewhat entertaining to read.  I’m not entirely sure whether they should go in this thread or on a website somewhere, but it seems easier to just post them here for anyone who’s interested and have a link in the first post to allow skipping them.    
Brief Description of Shattered Skies.   This will be kind of the minimum necessary to not be confused by some of the stuff that happens.  Points of interest bullet-pointed for quick consumption.  This will be excerpted and greatly condensed from the Shattered Skies Primer, so if you plan to read that, this is unnecessary.
Shattered Skies Primer   The document I created at the beginning of this school year to give to the players as a one-stop shop for all the basic game information about the world, as well as enough background to get a general sense of what’s going on.  The original document had lots of character creation information, racial stats, and so on, but those have been cut out.
Origin of the Elder Races   A myth detailing an important chunk of the prehistory of the world, primarily regarding the creation of the elves and dwarves.
Origin of Dragons.   Another myth following the last one, explaining the origin of dragons in the world.  Hopefully funny.
Origin of the Con Beo   The origin of another race, following the last two.  I feel a sense of triumph about this one because it was written by one of my players with absolutely no prodding or suggestion from me, and is of a race that he created on his own, so it shows that he is engaged in the world.

Character BiosA set of brief descriptions of the characters that have taken part in the game at one time or another.

_-Fast-Forward Summary of the First Five Months or so._  When the game first started up, I had only a pretty vague high-concept idea of the world, and didn’t spend much time prepping, so the first few levels were somewhat disjointed story-wise with a lots of random encounters, small dungeons, and wandering in the wilderness.  It was fun to play through, but would be fairly repetitive to write or read.  Also, there was a fair amount of player turnover during this period, with the group only stabilizing later on, so characters came and went with great regularity.
_-Detailed Summary of month 6-9._  At this point I had a better feel for the world and the characters, the player base had mostly stabilized, and a more coherent story began to emerge.  However, I’m working from fairly sketchy notes and memory, so it won’t be entirely fleshed out to the extent of the recent sessions.
_-Individual Session Reports._  After a hiatus for the summer, we started back up again about a month ago, and have had four sessions at the time of writing.  We play every Thursday for about 3-4 hours, and I have a relatively complete idea of what happened in these sessions, so I should be able to write about them in some detail once I get to that point in the project.


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## Boojum (Oct 23, 2004)

*Mini-primer*

Here is the basic, minimalist background about the world of Shattered Skies, describing the largest points of difference from the standard fantasy tropes.  I’ve tried to keep it to the absolute minimum necessary to have a handle on what’s going on in the story.

-Civilization is entirely on airborne landmasses held aloft by the power of mages who sacrificed their lives and bound themselves into crystals to raise the land and keep it aloft.  These crystals are known as magesouls.

-This was done because of the creation of a force of unimaginable chaos and entropy known as the Devourer, which was drawn to consume any order, and threatened to destroy all civilized life.

-During the Sundering, the gods were locked away within the earth while the fiends that had been imprisoned there were released, warped by the energy of the Devourer, and now serve it.

-The dominant religion is a form of elementalism following the perceived virtues of nine elements, each connected (in orthodox thinking) with one of the alignments.  Pantheism, ancestor-worship, and deity-worship are also somewhat common.

-Steam-age technology is fairly common and several nations are in the process of an industrial revolution.  Zeppelins fly the skies along with magical airships.


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## Boojum (Oct 23, 2004)

*Shattered Skies Primer*

Shattered Skies Primer

_Yenner looked up from his control panel long enough for a harried glance behind him.  Cursing under his breath, he turned back to his task.  His agile fingers deftly flew over the array of switches and knobs.  A crewman shouted something to him, but the words were lost in the cacophony of clanks and hisses as the already overworked engines strained to push the zeppelin to speeds it was never intended for.  Spinning the wheel, Yenner dove his craft, the Purple Raven, into a cloudbank and swung it in a tight arc, attempting to elude his pursuer, but it reemerged out of the cloud right on his tail as he burst once more into clear air.  _

	Welcome to Shattered Skies, a D&D campaign world that blends fantasy steam-age technology, aerial swashbuckling, and Lovecraftian horror with the traditional hunting of monsters and exploration of dungeons for glory, justice, and loot.  This document is intended to provide a taste of the campaign world along with the basic information necessary to make a character to play in it, but doesn’t go into much depth on any subject; it is intended as a primer rather than an exhaustive source of information.  

I. The World of Shattered Skies

_A sudden blast cut through the racket and the airship lurched as a piece of machinery exploded in a shower of sparks, sending a gear whirring past Yenner’s outstretched arm with the force of a bullet to bury itself in the wooden railing.  With a muttered oath, he throttled the engines back to a more rational level and tilted the craft upward, gaining altitude rather than speed as he began to jockey for better position.  This was one fight they wouldn’t be able to outrun, and any mortal foe was surely better than they unspeakable horrors they would face if forced to the surface by an engine failure._

	Nearly 500 years ago, a cabal of mages, manipulated by the demon prince Abaddon and threatened by the rise of industrial technology, called into being an unimaginable force of pure entropy, the Devourer.  In the ensuing struggle for survival and some way to fight back, hordes of fiends were released from their prison in the center of the planet and infused with the horrific energy of the Devourer, and the gods which had for so long watched over the humanoid races were bound there in their stead.  When all mortal life was on the brink of extinction, a last-ditch plan was hatched, in which many of the few remaining mages sacrificed their lives in powerful rituals, binding their essence into gems known as magesouls, ripping whole chunks of land out of the surface of the earth and suspending them high in the air, out of reach of the Devourer and its minions.  
On these fragile and isolated islands, the mortal races were able to cling to existence.  In the intervening time, civilizations have rebuilt themselves from their near-annihilation and new ones have sprung up.  For most of that time, each island was utterly isolated, with contact among them possible only through powerful magics.  Recently, however, the rebuilding of society, with its attendant magic and technology, at last reached a point that allowed the development and construction of vessels capable of bridging the gap between islands.  These airships take a wide variety of forms—some looking like the sailing ships of old and powered by magic, others giant gasbags driven by steam engines.  Both types proliferated rapidly as contact with the outside world stimulated an explosion of trade and exchange of ideas, leading to a widespread Renaissance.  But all is not well among the islands.  Vicious monsters and evil races prowl the skies, renewed contact has brought opportunities for war as well as for trade, and always the Devourer lurks far below, its maw open to consume all that fall to the surface.

What You Should Know About Shattered Skies
•	It’s D&D.  The standard assumptions of heroic fantasy are here, used as a baseline to build on.  Any monster, spell, or magic item from other sources can have a place here.  In fact, the fragmented nature of the land makes it easy to find a place for just about any element—just say it was on an island that has just recently drifted close.
•	It’s industrial fantasy.  Steam-age technology pervades much of the world.  However, it is a fantasized version of that technology, more powerful and versatile than the real thing, in order to make it a viable alternative to magic.  Additionally, actual physical laws are glossed over if not ignored completely—the cinematic feel and mechanical balance of steam-tech is far more important than what is or is not really possible.  Note that it is not steampunk as such, which suggests a dystopian view of technology and generally draws from Victorian society.  By contrast, here the steam-age is dropped into a heroic fantasy mold.
•	Magic and technology tend to clash.  Although it is by no means universal, practitioners of these two paths often don’t see eye to eye.  Science is a methodical approach to utilize the natural laws of the world to one’s advantage, while magic is a way to break or ignore those laws.  In many cases, as with airships, the two approaches compete to solve problems in the best or most efficient manner.  This is not a hard and fast rule, however.  Some characters and societies are quite willing to combine the two in a mix called magitech, with each part accomplishing the tasks it is best suited for.
•	Flying islands are the basic building block of civilization.  This fact has immense ramifications on how the world works.  Because of the prolonged time of isolation, cultures on different islands are very different from each other.  All travel among islands is done through airships, and most people never leave the island they are born on.  Without land travel, transporting large amounts of goods or people from one island to another is very difficult.  Islands are constantly drifting in relation to each other, so standard trade routes can’t be established, and prolonged contact with a specific island is rare, making the establishment of solid alliances or enmities rarer and more difficult.  
•	Heroes take to the air.  In addition to defending against monstrous threats and delving into forgotten tombs, heroes tend to spend a substantial amount of time aboard airships.  This leads to great opportunities to come into contact with new places, experiences, and challenges, not to mention swashbuckling, ship-to-ship battles.
•	Unspeakable horror lurks on the surface.  Whispered tales of the Devourer keep children lying awake at night.  The twisted and corrupted realm of the Undersky, as the surface is known, is a source of vast, primal terror for all.  The few who have returned from expeditions to the surface report sanity-sapping monstrosities, strange nightmares that snapped the minds of their companions, and a faint gibbering constantly echoing in their minds, just short of intelligibility.
•	Religion is a contentious issue.  With the banishment of the gods at the time of the Sundering, a massive void was opened up in the lives of the people.  A plethora of faiths sprang up in the vacuum of the gods’ silence, but a few have survived and prospered.  The majority of people follow the ways of Elementalism, Pantheism, or Ancestor-worship, with a few stubbornly clinging to the old gods or following any of a thousand other faiths.  The three main faiths have come to an uneasy truce in most areas, though when one gains local dominance it tends to oppress the others.  God-worshippers are alternately pitied, mocked, or scorned, depending on the individual and region.  
•	The inhabitants are a bit different than you might expect.  Most of the standard races have been tweaked to provide a fresh experience compared to playing them in other campaign worlds.  Additionally, several new races are available, such as the chaos-infused entropon and the insectoid myrmidus.


III:  Races
_Reaching an optimal point, Yenner shut off the engines to wait for the arrival of the other ship.  An unnatural hush descended over the flight deck as everyone strained for a better look at their pursuers, then a swelling of groans, whispers, and curses as they hove into view.  The ship was of a strange design; a black, crystalline deck with sails suspended in a ring all the way around it.  The sails were of a shimmering silver color, and they bowed with wind, tearing the ship along at a rapid clip, although it was a calm day.  Yenner raised a spyglass to his eye for a better view.  No doubt about it, they were dealing with myrmida.  Beetle-like creatures with massive fluid sacs on their backs lined the sides of the deck, ready to spit globs of corrosive poison at anything in range.  Creatures looking like three-foot tall ants scuttled around, adjusting lines, staying out of each others’ way with an eerily clockwork-like precision.  In the center of the deck, on a raised platform, sat a monstrosity that looked too ungainly to move.  Its bulbous head was nearly as big as the rest of its body, and it constantly pulsed, small tendrils of brain matter writhing out of openings in the cranium.  Larger versions of the ant-like creatures, these ones with jagged, chitinous weapons and armor, lay supine around it, seeming to twitch every time the brain pulsed.
Shuddering, Yenner lay down the spyglass and looked around at his companions as they prepared to meet the onslaught.  Khavtar was emitting a gravelly hum as he traced a sigil on the back of his hand, making it glow with an arcane light.  Nearly naked except for a loincloth, every inch of the dwarf’s deep red skin was covered in indecipherable glyphs. Clirixa’s eyes glowed with a disturbingly eager light as the enemy ship came closer.  The tiny blade elf had drawn her twin kukris and was moving in a dance-like pattern, slashing at the air with blinding speed.  Jazlyn, the halfling sharpshooter, stood next to the railing, loading her rifle while the large bat next to her stretched its wings, preparing to carry its mistress into battle.  Grigmak, the most recent addition to their band, stood with arms outstretched to the sky, intoning strange syllables.  The clouds above the myrmida ship seemed to darken in response to the kobold’s plea, and electrical discharges played around the edges.  Yenner himself handed the helm over to a crewman and snatched up his satchel, trying to decide which of his gadgets would be the most effective. _ 


IV:  Classes
_The myrmidus ship bore down on the Purple Raven.  As they came into range, the crew began firing cannons and ballistae, scoring a few hits, but none causing major damage.  The bugs along the railings began spitting globs of acidic spittle, and several men fell to the ground with bubbling holes burning in their chests.  One even collapsed backward over the railing, falling to certain death.  A few bolts of lightning blasted into the enemy ship, scorching and scattering a few clusters of the disgusting creatures.  As the enemy ship reached them, the creature with the grotesque cranium seemed to shake itself from a trance.  As it did so, the sails suddenly went slack and the creatures sprawled around it scrabbled to their feet, snatching up jagged, chitinous weapons.  
Jazlyn launched her bat into the air, swooping around the far side of the ship and raining bullets down on the beasts, but she was soon beset by ghastly monstrosities with membranous wings flying out to bite at her.  The rain of lightning came to an abrupt end as a torrent of force lashed out from the giant brain to slash at Grigmak, sending him reeling and collapsing to the deck.  The ships thudded together with a sound of rending wood, and both sides staggered.  With a ululating war cry, Clirixa launched herself into a leaping somersault, landing in a crowd of bugs and scattering them as she began to slash them, spilling green ichor over the deck.  Khavtar, his body glowing with arcane runes, grabbed a rope and swung down to the black deck.  His feet thudded into one of the warriors, catapulting it backwards and off the ship to its doom.  Yenner’s steam-powered construct chugged to life, the buzz saw on its arm whirring as it clanked over to join the melee.  
The insectoid warriors, however, had recovered from the initial onslaught and moved with terrifying precision to surround the combatants.  A webbed conduit of energy formed going from the brain among all the warriors, and it seemed to force them to new heights of speed and ferocity.  The spitters continued their deadly attack, bringing down more crewmembers and beginning to damage the Purple Raven itself.  Jazlyn had fought off the winged beasts, and began concentrating her fire on the brain, but her bullets seemed to strike an energy field and veer off.  Surrounded and bleeding from several wounds, Clirixa and Khavtar followed her lead and began trying to fight their way through, but the warriors closed ranks, blocking their path.  The construct, enmeshed in a mob of warriors, clattered to the deck in a heap, though several insectoid corpses lay near it.  Yenner leaned over the railing and raised a device, sending a gout of flame washing over the bugs near the disabled hulk of his creation.  Grigmak seemed to come back to his senses, but remained on the deck, calling on the spirits of the air to heal his wounds.  The mass of jet-black warrior bugs threatened to overwhelm Khavtar and Clirixa as they stood back to back.  Carefully gauging his throw, Yenner tossed a small metal sphere a ways beyond them, into the press of bugs protecting the brain.  With a thunderous report, it erupted in a blast of flame and smoke, and for an instant, the way was almost clear.  Seizing on the opportunity, Khavtar grabbed the nearest warrior and pushed it away, clearing the path completely.  Clirixa ran forward, sustaining several grievous parting blows from the warriors around her, but she nimbly leapt atop the brain.  The energy web shattered and the energy began to coalesce into a hammer that swung at her, but before it reached her she had plunged her kukri into a gap in the cranium.  The creature emitted a horrid gurgling shriek as it began to thrash around, and the warriors seemed to stagger under a backlash of mental energy.  They stood there stunned as several were quickly dispatched, and those that came out of it were too few to fight back effectively soon falling under the rain of blades, fists, and bullets._

V:  Religion
There are a number of different religions found within the realms of the Shattered Skies.  Each religion has a particular class that tends to the spiritual needs of followers of that religion.  Members of that class must be a follower of the religion, and if they cease to be, they lose all class powers and abilities.  Apart from that restriction, characters can belong to any of the religions.

Animism:  Spirits are everywhere, inhabiting all parts of the natural world.  A believer might beseech a cloud for rain, a nearby rock for strength, or a tree for fortitude.  They believe that the spirits hear them, and will offer aid if properly appeased.
Practitioner:  Greenbond (Arcana Unearthed)

Ancestor Worship:  The souls of the dead remain able to affect the world, if we only listen to them.  Those ancestors who are particularly worthy are powerful in the spirit world, and want to help their descendants succeed.  As well as their ancestors, shamans can call on the spirits of animals, plants and the natural world in a similar manner as animists, although the ancestor serves as an intermediary.  Despite this similarity, however, followers of both religions see each other as totally wrong and misguided.
Practitioner:  Shaman (Shaman’s Handbook)

Deity Worship:  The old gods of the world were somehow separated from their mortal worshippers during the Sundering.  In the wake of this, many churches disbanded, and worshippers deserted in droves, as they saw the clerics unable to perform the simplest tasks.  Some, however, saw it as a test, and persevered.  Recently, the actions of a group of these believers forged a conduit for divine power to the mortal realm.  However, it is incomplete, and some of the power for spells is always drawn from the caster.  The pantheon used is that found in the Book of the Righteous.
Practitioner:  Cleric.

Elementalism:  The way to the divine is found in the materials that make up the world.  Elementalists strive to emulate what they see as the virtues of these materials and concepts, and may venerate one of the elements, or all of them as a whole.  The six material elements are air, earth, fire, iron, water, and wood, and they are bound together by the three mental elements of glass (representing light), thunder (representing sound), and thought.
Practitioner:  Witch (Arcana Unearthed)


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## Boojum (Oct 23, 2004)

*History of the Elder Races*

The History of the Elder Races
_To his highness, the duke of Umberland:
	Your highness, in my travels, I came upon a fragment of a book describing the origin of the elder races.  Knowing your great interest in the events of history, I have spared no effort in translating its contents for your pleasure and edification.  I hope that you may enjoy the unique perspective on these events accorded by the identity of the fragment’s author.  I ask only that if my humble work meets with your approval, I might have the pleasure of knowing that I am well regarded by such an august personage.
	-Goffroy of Monham_

When the world was young, the gods walked its surface alone, leaping from mountain peak to peak, dashing through the virgin woodlands, and engaging in sporting contests with each other.  Each god possessed a holding of land that stretched from one horizon to the other, and whose climate and wildlife reflected the tastes of the god.  All was good, right, and pleasant.  After millennia, however, even the gods with their immortal patience began to weary of this life, for the world changed but little, and the other gods not at all.  Each time they walked their lands, they saw nothing they had not seen a thousand times before, and each time they met, they said nothing that they had not said a thousand times before.

	Soon, the gods all assembled before the throne of their king and father, addressing him “O king, this world is beautiful and perfect, but there is nothing new under the sun. How can we end this monotony and once more take joy in life?”

	The all-father had pondered this much, and he responded “This weighs also upon my mind.  I have deliberated long about it, and concluded that we may choose to give life to a race of lesser beings.  They will live, and give birth, and die, so that new beings will always walk upon the earth.  They will change far more rapidly than we, and they will provide us never-ending delight as we watch them go about their lives, building cities and realms.  They will revere us as their fathers, and will bring us offerings of songs and beautiful objects for us to adorn ourselves.”

	When the king’s voice had fallen silent, the other gods spoke among themselves, praising the idea and resolving to begin the creation at once. 

	Their speech was cut short as the king raised his hand once more.  “But,” he said “I have foreseen this also.  If we give life to races of lesser beings as our children, it will come to pass that one day we must depart this world, which we love, and cede it wholly to them.”

	Although the gods were troubled by this pronouncement, they saw no other choice, and they began to discuss how best to create these new beings.  Each god had his own ideas of how the creatures would best be able to entertain him, some desiring them to possess pure voices for songs of praise, some wanting skillful hands and minds to fashion beautiful items, some wishing for skill in battle or athletics to compete in sporting events and gladiatorial combats.  None of the gods could agree amongst themselves as to the best form for the new race, and the discussion soon spawned heated words, and very nearly came to blows.  

	Before this could happen, however, the king of gods, who had stayed aloof from the argument, spoke again, saying “This is no cause for strife.  We shall create a race that embodies all that you all desire.  Each of you shall have the children that you wish.  The race shall be one whole, but composed of parts, and each part will receive different gifts from us, their fathers.”

	With the conflict resolved, the gods quickly agreed on the shapes that the race would take, and began to work to create them, each in their own way.  Some carved bodies for their children from stone or wood, others from clay or water, others from rare metals and every other material at hand.  They made many beautiful carvings, and attempted to bring them to life with their breath and with words of power, but all remained still and lifeless.  At this, the gods wrung their hands and despaired, for they could not give life to their children.

	The all-father then spoke once again; chiding the other gods “These efforts of yours shall always fail.  You cannot give life to children made from these crude materials.  Children must stem from the flesh of their parents.”  So saying, he grasped his mighty sword, raised it high, and brought it down once more, severing his left hand entirely.  Despite the pain, he raised the sword again and again, severing each finger from the hand, saying “Use these as your materials as you carve the bodies, and soon shall our children enter into the world we have prepared for them.”  With this, he retired, for he was sorely fatigued and pained by his wound.

	The goddess of craft took up the index finger, full of the skill and ability of the king, who had formed the world and many great and beautiful things within it.  She was enamored by things of beauty, and carved the flesh and bone into Maliara, a woman possessed of such skill that she created buildings, jewelry, clothing, and all else that can be crafted, all light as spun silk, sturdy as the bones of the earth, and of such surpassing beauty that their equal has never again been seen.

	Quickly snatching up the largest, middle, finger, the god of strength fashioned a man who was named Garodan, nearly eight feet tall, well-muscled and hardy, for the god loved to see feats of strength and athleticism performed.  Garodan performed many great deeds, scaling the tallest mountains and swimming to the depths of the sea.  When the time came to build a city, Garodan wrestled a river out of its bed to bring a water supply to it, and pushed a mountain to the site to provide building stone.

	The third finger, still bearing a ring which had been set with the light of a star, was picked up by the goddess of music and beauty, who formed it into a radiantly handsome man who bore the name of Argentrell.  Argentrell was gifted with magnificent musical ability and a voice so pure and smooth that as he sang, thousands of wild beasts would gather around him to hear.  Hundreds of musical instruments had their birth as Argentrell thought of a beautiful sound that he would like to use, and described it to Maliara, leaving her to find a way to create it.

	Angered and jealous that all of the larger fingers had been already taken, the god of war snatched up the last and smallest finger, shaping it into a woman, small and light, but agile as the wind.  Her name was Kuvasha, and her skill in arms was unparalleled.  She could use any weapon as easily as a part of her body, and she fought with lightning speed and mobility, slashing her foes with a thousand cuts before they could react.  She took great pride in all she did, seeking out the most dangerous creatures in the world and combating them, dedicating each kill to the god of war.

	Finally, the goddess of wisdom saw what had been wrought by the others; each god making what would please and amuse them most.  She saw that the personalities of their children were diverse and fractious, and would lead to conflict and a lack of unity.  She picked up the thumb, which sits apart from the other fingers, guiding and directing them to grasp objects between them, and formed a woman bearing the perception to see the world as it is, the wisdom to know the right course, and the leadership to convince others to follow it.  She bore the name Wamura, and she guided the others in all of their actions.  Under her rule, the pronouncement of the king did indeed come true, for the disparate parts became a complete and whole race.

	When all of the other gods had taken their children forth into the outer world, the goddess of prophecy, who had but little status in the divine hierarchy, was left alone in the great hall.  Alone, she stepped forward and gathered up the fingerless palm that lay on the tile before the throne; for she foresaw that it would be needed, though she knew not for what. 

_Here follows a span of 23 pages describing the great deeds accomplished by each of the 5 progenitors during their lifetimes.  Because of its great length, I have omitted it here, summarizing a few of the feats in the passages above.  If you would like me to translate the section in full, I am, as always, your servant._

	These five were the progenitors of the race that would come to be known as the elves.  They each had a life spanning millennia before their time came, and a few even now say that they never died, but went into hiding, to return when the world had need of them.  Each had children beyond number, and soon the race expanded greatly, filling the land with their graceful structures and the air with the sound of their voices.  No matter how the descendants of the progenitors intermingled, each child born bore the mark and traits of one of his parents, hearkening back to one of the progenitors in his talents.  

The gods saw this, and were well pleased, for their children did not forget to bestow praise upon their sires, each in their own way.  Those with the skills of Maliara made beautiful temples, jewelry, and all other objects, all for the glory of the gods.  They also discovered the art of magic, seeing it as the supreme form of skillfulness in craft.  Those who resembled the mighty Garodan competed in great athletic contests, races, and wrestling matches, dedicating their victory to their makers.  The descendants of Argentrell composed hymns and ballads honoring the gods, and told stories so that knowledge would never be forgotten.  The lithe spirit-heirs of Kuvasha contended with each other in duels, their lightning-fast movement and swordplay turning the gladiatorial matches almost into a form of dance, which they performed to entertain their creators.  The elven respect for life was such that these combats only resulted in serious injury or death in the case of great accidents.  Those descended from Wamura, always the least numerous, guided the others in their daily life, and also led them in prayers.  Each of these bloodlines was known by the ancient elven word for the finger from which they had been formed, and they paid proper homage to their progenitor.

The ages that followed were a time of peace and prosperity for both the elves and the gods.  The elves rapidly spread all across the world, building a civilization that has never seen its equal in size, glory, or justice.  All spheres of interest and knowledge were tapped by them, and many beautiful and wondrous articles were created by them, of which but few have passed down the ages unharmed.  The gods lived a joyful existence among their children, speaking with them, feasting with them, blessing and attending their festivals.  

Alas, all that is good must one day end.  The pride of the elves grew greater and greater with their works, but their devotion and gratitude to the gods grew less and less.  More and more of the songs, contests, and items created were done for their own glory, not that of the gods.  Soon, the rulers of the elves began to call themselves king or queen, exalting themselves and not displaying proper humility and respect for the king of gods.  The gods were excluded from the lives of their children, becoming more distant and no longer living among them.  In their insatiable desire to learn all that could be learned, and to expand the boundaries of their craft, the power of the elven mages escaped their control, and formed a rift to the nether planes.  Demons and devils began to pour through, ravaging the fair land and killing all who stood in their path.  

The elves reacted to this threat with panic and division.  The descendants of Maliara were blamed by the others for their part in opening the rift.  Those of Kuvasha’s bloodline, most of whom had only known the ritualized, dance-like duels which involved no real risk, feared to imperil their lives in a full-scale war, for which they were charged with cowardice. Those of Garodan, although they possessed great strength and fortitude, had never yet trained with weapons, preferring to race and wrestle, and thus they were unprepared to defend themselves.  The heirs of Argentrell were now derided by the others, who had always praised their gifts, as weak and passive.  The few descendants of Wamura who counseled unity and swift reaction were drowned out in the rancorous argumentation and strife, each part of the race blaming the others for the calamity.  

Seeing that the elves were fractious, divided, and ineffectual, and that the world would soon be overrun without his action, the king of gods strode forth to meet the fiends and stem the tide, his mighty sword in hand as he gathered all the other gods to his side.  He sent a missive to Solethas, the king of the elves, saying “We go forth to do battle with a mighty foe to protect the world for thy sake.  I ask that all elves who would show their loyalty to their fathers come to fight at our side.”  The message was distributed, but only few came to answer the call.  The elves had never faced a foe more dangerous than occasional monsters on the outskirts of their civilization, for they had always been united, and no other races of beings were yet in the world.  They had never known war, and feared it greatly.  They would show their loyalty with praises and offerings, but not with their lives.  The battle raged for months, now one side seeming the stronger, now the other.  As more and more fiends passed through the rift, the tide gradually turned against the forces of the gods, and the all-father sent another message, saying “We are sorely pressed in this war which we have undertaken for thy sake.  I bid all elves rally to my side to remedy your part in unleashing this plague upon the world.”  Solethas encouraged his subjects to fight with his words, but his example said otherwise, for he moved his court as far away from the battle as he could.  

Again, only a small portion of the elves arrived to take part in the battle, all others fled far away from the rampaging hordes.  The forces of the gods were slowly pushed back and back, until they defended only the great hall, home of the gods.  The king once more sent to the elves, saying “This once-fair world is greatly spoiled, but there is yet hope.  I command every elf able to hold a blade, by the allegiance that is due me, for thy creation out of my flesh and bone, to appear before me and join my ranks.”  Solethas responded in words to the command, promising all the forces he could muster.  However, he feared too much for his own safety, spent many months gathering forces before marching, and arrived far too late.  Yet again, only a trickle of the elves came of their own accord to bolster the king’s forces, so that only a tenth part of the elven population took part in the war.

With so few, the all-father despaired of eradicating the hordes or driving them back through the portal whence they came, as he had hoped to do.  Instead, he conceived a plan to create mighty artifacts known as prison-stones, capable of binding any creature within them, and he descended to the forges in the cellars of the great hall to create the stones, directing the others not to disturb him.  The gods and the elves fought valiantly defending the great hall for seven days and seven nights as the king of gods labored, but each day they lost more and more ground against the hordes until they defended only the entrance to the cellars.  

All of the defenders were fatigued beyond measure, but they held their ground bravely until they saw such a swarm of fiends pour through the gates that they knew they would be overrun.  Knowing that the situation was dire, and the need would never be greater, the goddess of prophecy knew that the moment she had foreseen had finally come.  She rose from the pallet on which she had been lying, injured, and strode to the base of the throne, which contained mighty magics.  She sustained many blows from the attackers as she walked through their ranks, but seemed heedless to her grievous wounds.  Calling upon all of her will and desperation, she drew forth the fingerless palm of the all-father, which she had preserved for millennia, and raised it high above her.  Surrounded by twisted and horrible creatures that rent her flesh, she channeled all of her divine essence into the palm as she squeezed it between her hands high over her head.  As she squeezed, drops of blood flew forth from the palm in all directions, and as each drop struck the ground, it instantaneously grew into a strong, hardy person.  These blood-born people were naked and did not know who, or even what they were, but they felt an affinity and bond to the goddess and instantly snatched up whatever was at hand and fell upon the demonic beasts tearing at her body.  Alas, they were too late, for even as the last drop was wrung from the palm and the blood-born struck down the last of the fiends surrounding the goddess, she fell to the floor, her body mangled almost beyond recognition by the wounds she had sustained.  Filled with righteous zeal, the blood-born, along with the elves and gods, fell upon their attackers in a wave, tearing them apart and forcing them back, until the entirety of the great hall was theirs once again.

For another seven days and seven nights, the forces of the gods, with much help from the hardy warriors of this new race, which would come to be called the dwarves, held the diabolic hordes at bay.  At last, the all-father emerged from the cellars, bearing the prison-stones that he had forged.  Through a series of daring raids, in which many courageous dwarves, elves, and gods met their doom, the greatest and most powerful of the fiends were trapped and imprisoned.  Without their leaders and champions, the forces of hell wavered, and the battle turned against them.  Soon, all were destroyed, scattered, or forced back through the portal.  The portal itself was sealed with mighty magics.  Though evil could still seep through it in trickles, it would never again pour through as a torrent.

_The above account of the war with the fiends is much abbreviated.  In the original, it occupies 31 pages, including several illustrations of pivotal scenes, though my poor artistic skill is far too humble to allow for their reproduction.  Most of the text offers a detailed description of each of the battles, and names many heroes of the elven and dwarven races, describing the great deeds done by each.  Because of its long and somewhat repetitive nature, I have greatly condensed it, though again, if you would like to read the full text, I would be only too happy to oblige._

Despite this victory, the heart of the king was heavy, for he knew that the greatest fiends could now never be banished from the world he loved, for the magic of the prison-stones would dissolve if taken from the world.  Even then, he could sense the fiends testing their bonds, looking for a way to escape the stones, and knew that they could not be held thus forever.  This worried him, but those dwarves who had fought most valiantly in the war, slaying foes by the hundreds, stepped forward, for they bore an undying hatred for all of demonkind in their breast for the death of the goddess who had formed them.  

These peerless warriors volunteered to enter the stones to do eternal battle with the fiends and prevent them from finding an escape, for the magic of the stone would not allow either one of them to die in their combat.  They would remain eternally in the prison-stones, but the fiends’ malignant will would seep through, corrupting those around them.  Without vigilant guardians, the prison might even be opened, allowing them freedom to work their evil once again.  These champions were exalted for their sacrifice as the greatest heroes of the newborn dwarven race.  All other dwarves took a solemn oath to take the prison-stones to the far corners of the earth, where they would build the greatest fortresses the world had ever known, secure both from the inside and out, so that the fiends would remain imprisoned forever.  

Although it pained the king of gods to do so, he was forced to pronounce justice on those children who had turned away from him.  He thought long and hard to find a just punishment that fit the crime, and decided in his infinite wisdom that the elves too must experience the torment of betrayal by their children. He assembled all the faithless elves, led by the cowardly king Solethas, before his throne, and uttered the following edict, which has become known as the “Curse of the All-father”:

	“As ye have denied me what is my due
	So too are thy children sundered from you.”

	None of those assembled knew the meaning of the curse, for they felt no ill effect from it.  They returned to their homes and lives, but soon found the meaning becoming clear.  Reports began to abound of elves giving birth to ugly, misshapen creatures--crude, violent, and aggressive.  There was much weeping in the elven cities, as the joy of new mothers turned to despair. Only a tenth part, the same amount as the elves who obeyed the call to arms, of the children born to the elves now resembled their parents.  All of the rest were creatures of this new type, which were given the name of “orc”, after the strongest oath in the elven language.  

	To those elves who had fought in the battles, the king presented an option, saying “You have served me loyally and well, and are my true children.  I give you now a choice.  You may return to your brethren and share in their fate, or remain with me and be exalted to become my trusted servitors and those of my fellow gods.”  Almost none of the elves chose to return to their society, for they were disgusted by the cowardice shown by their kin.  Those who stayed were rewarded as the king had promised, bathed in holy light and transformed, becoming the different types of celestials that act as servants to the gods.

	The once-great elven civilization degenerated in the aftermath of the war.  The population declined, as more and more women couldn’t bear to go through the hardships of pregnancy only to birth a monster.  The elven respect for life forbade them from killing the infant orcs they gave birth to, but those that remained in elven society soon became a destructive force, constantly fighting both elves and each other, destroying property, and murdering the young, old, and sick whenever left unwatched.  They shared none of the elven love for beauty and peace, wanting only to take what they could for themselves, and destroy all else.  Soon, the custom arose of taking each orc child on its seventh birthday to the borders of the elven lands, and abandoning it there.  This gave some reprieve, but soon vicious tribes of orcs formed along the border areas, raiding into elven territory, killing and plundering wherever they could.  Thus were the elves forced to take up arms and defend themselves against the aggressors.  This was all as the all-father had planned, for he wished his children to be forced to defend themselves and to know war, so they would never again be craven when called on to fight.

	Solethas, having brought ruination upon his people by his rule, was filled with overwhelming remorse, and abdicated the throne, retiring into the wilderness as a hermit to pray to the gods for mercy upon his people.  For the rest of his days, he ate only berries and lizards, wore only a hair shirt, and spent his days in supplication to the gods.  In his absence, the elven people abolished the kingship altogether, and in its stead instituted a council, wherein the foremost citizen chosen from each bloodline had an equal voice.  Alas, the elves remained proud, and did not change their ways.  Rather than displaying humility, learning from their mistakes, and humbly praying to the all-father to ask for release from his justly deserved punishment, they turned their backs on him, blaming him, rather than themselves, for all their woes.  Soon, the worship of the gods was all but abandoned in elven society, and new religions sprang up everywhere.  Ancestor-worship, Elementalism, and Animism were all conceived during this time by elves turning away from the gods.  Factions devoted to each of these, as well as other religions, fought among themselves for control of society, fracturing it further and contributing to its downfall.  Furthermore, the orcs continued to strike at their cities.  While the elves soon became accomplished warriors, they were always outnumbered by the orcs, leading to an ongoing war that fostered an eternal hatred between the two races.  Many elven communities at this time abandoned their principles in the face of the death of too many of their kin at orcish hands, simply slaying all orc children born to them, but the orc warbands were already established.  Most dangerous, however, were the few elves born into the orc tribes and raised to share their dark values, for the curse worked both ways.  These elves could pass the borders without being recognized as a threat, reporting to their orcish masters when and where to strike.  Soon, all elven borders were tightly sealed, and their distrust and hatred for all outsiders grew and grew.  Finally, there was almost no communication from one elven enclave to the next, and each went about their own business, allowing no contact with the outside world.

	In contrast to the degeneration of the elven civilization, the newborn race of dwarves grew and thrived.  True to their vows, they divided themselves into tribes and carried the prison-stones binding the fiends and their greatest heroes to the far corners of the earth, so that even should the fiends ever escape their prisons, they would never reunite.  There, they dug deep into the earth, building fortresses with impenetrable walls of stone so that nothing could get in or out without passing innumerable gates and layers of defenses.  They called these fortresses Holdfasts, each one taking its name from the dwarven champion imprisoned within the stone.  There, they spent their days training for war, honing their skill at arms and hatred of fiends, so that they would be ready when called on to fight.  They always retained their love for the gods, but honored the goddess of prophecy above all others, for she had given her life in their creation.  They held a day of mourning each year on the anniversary of her death, filling their stony homes with echoing dirges.  Because she had poured her divine essence into the race of dwarves, some few of them manifested that essence as the gift of foresight.  These rare seers were honored above all others for their special link with the mother of their race.

	Although it only rarely came to armed conflict, there was no love lost between the races of elves and dwarves.  Dwarves rightly saw elves as weaklings and cowards, and blamed their refusal to fight against the fiends for the death of the goddess of prophecy, never forgiving them for this.  Elves saw dwarves as late-coming usurpers, taking the position of honor with the gods that had been theirs as the firstborn.  They also saw them as crude and unrefined, and could not recognize their gifts of steadfastness, hardiness, and unwavering piety.  This animosity continued to grow, and the two races had as little to do with each other as they could.

	So it came to pass, as the years after the war turned to decades, then centuries, that the elven civilization gradually fractured and deteriorated, the dwarves prospered and remained vigilant against their charges, and an age of the world came to an end.

	I have recorded all this because the end of my accursed days at long last approaches.  Though I have prayed to the gods to forgive my people for their and my sin, and have beseeched my kin to turn humbly once more to the gods, my pleas have fallen upon deaf ears.  Thus, I end my life in shame and despair.  I hope and pray that those who come to inhabit the earth in the times to come will read this account and learn from the mistakes of the elves so that they do not repeat them and suffer the same fate.  Honor the gods always and with your whole heart, and never allow yourself to become prideful, as the elves did, and are still.  Here I, Solethas, last king of the elves, end my tale.


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## Boojum (Oct 23, 2004)

*Document Found in the Draconic Lore section of the College of Morritton library*

Altair El-Raza
473 Scarlet Wand Lane, Apartment 12C
College of Arcane Studies
Morritton

	Hey there Alty old buddy!  It’s your old pal Wilby Mukrikkle.  How’ve things been going since you retired?  We sure had a lot of good times, didn’t we?  Shame about what happened to the rest of the party, though.  I still feel bad about not noticing that trap.  How’d’you like being a professor these days?  Anyway, the reason I’m sending this is cause I heard something I thought you might be interested in, seeing as you were always reading those old books in funny languages while the rest of us were having a good time in the tavern.  

	So anyway, last week I was in the lair of this big old copper dragon named Scerathor doing . . . well, never mind why I was there.  Anyway, he came home earlier than I thought he would, and he wasn’t too happy to find me there, let me tell you.  So he was just about to eat me, but I guess he decided to be nice, cause he said he’d let me go if I could beat him in a story-telling contest.  So I thought, no problem, nobody tells better stories than a kobold.  He decided to go first, and tell me the story of where dragons came from, which is why I thought I should tell you.

	So anyway, Scerathor said that all this happened a real long time ago, back before there were any kobolds at all, if you can believe that.  So evidently, there was this mangled hand lying around that used to belong to one of those old-timey gods people used to worship back before they got civilized.  It was all crushed and didn’t have any fingers left, so I don’t know why they didn’t just throw it away like any normal person would have, but they kept it in some sort of shrine.  Anyway, some big orc shaman got wind of it, and snuck into the shrine and stole the hand.  Kind of shows how pathetic those gods must have been, letting an orc steal from them, huh?  I mean, I can hear an orc coming two miles away.  Everybody knows if you want stealth, you need a kobold.

	Well, anyway, the shaman took the hand and he put it on this spot where there used to be a portal that demons came through, and even though it was closed, there was evil energy still leaking through it.  People tried to find it, but it was too close to the portal, so the magics interfered with each other or something.  I guess the hand sat there for a really long time.  Scerathor said that the shaman left it by the portal for Millennia, but I don’t think she ever came to pick it up.  So anyway, while the hand sat there and soaked up the evil energy, it turned black, and got bigger and bigger, and grew this hard crust over it.  Then wings started coming out of the spot where the hand used to be attached to the wrist.  After a while, these things started to grow from the stumps where the fingers used to be, and they kept growing until they were really long and then a head grew on the end of each of them, and they were all different colors.  So now the thing didn’t even look like a hand anymore, but a big, scary dragon, and she just lay there in the cave with the portal and slept, and kept absorbing the evil and growing bigger and bigger.

	One day, after the dragon laid there for a long time, these two dwarf boys went exploring and got lost in the hills.  They found the cave where the portal was, and decided to sleep there for the night.  Then, when they went in, they saw the dragon sleeping there, and they had never seen anything like it and didn’t even know if it was alive or not, so they started poking it with sticks.  Well, that was a big mistake, cause the dragon woke up and ate them both.  After that, the dragon was still hungry, so she left the cave and went out to look for food.  She started eating animals, and any people that went wandering in the wilderness, but she stayed away from the cities cause she wasn’t that strong yet.  But she kept eating and getting bigger and stronger, and she had a lot of kids too.  Scerathor said that all the evil dragons and a whole cartload of other monsters are descended from her, so I guess she must have slept with anything that moved.  But he made a big deal about how kobolds aren’t descended from dragons, as if I would want to be.

	Well, after a long time like that, she was feeling really strong, so she and all her kids started attacking elf and dwarf cities, and killing the people in them and taking their stuff.  If you think about it, it’s kind of like what we used to do to dragons back when we were adventuring together.  Well, naturally, the elves and the dwarves didn’t like that, so they started fighting her, but she was too strong for them.  So the gods started fighting her too, but I guess they couldn’t hurt her cause she was made out of one of their hands, so they were useless.  

	So anyway, the elves and dwarves were both fighting the dragons and losing, but they didn’t work together cause they didn’t like each other, just like now.  After it went on for a while, they decided that they needed to talk to each other and try to figure out a plan, even though they didn’t trust each other.  So they had a big parley in a big empty field somewhere, and started talking.  After a while, the dwarf prophets came out, cause they could see into the future real well, and they said that the only hope for them was in the future.  Apparently the creation of a really powerful, nasty, evil dragon near the beginning of time caused the creation of a really powerful, nice, good dragon near the end of time.  I think Scerathor said it was called “an inkwell and a quasit reaction”, but I’m not sure what he meant.  Maybe the quasit was dipping his tail-stinger in the ink and using it to write something, but I don’t know what that has to do with anything.  Well, anyway, the dwarves thought they needed to talk to this dragon, but they couldn’t get to the future, because their wizards weren’t all that good at wizarding.  But the elves had really good wizards, so they said they would take care of it.

	So all the best elf wizards got together, and they all helped cast this spell that shot one of them way into the future, when the world was about to be destroyed.  Then the wizard in the future wandered around for a while until he found this giant platinum dragon, and he said, Hey Mr. Dragon, we need your help to save us from this other big dragon.  So the dragon said OK, and they went back in time, and the dragon brought all his friends, which were a bunch of good dragons and some other things, and all the elves were real happy to see them.

	So anyway, then there was a giant battle, and lots of people died, and there was a humongous fight between the dragon with five heads and the platinum one, but when the bad guy dragons saw that they were fighting the elves and the dwarves and the gods and the good guy dragons all at once, they knew they couldn’t win, so they ran away and hid.  Then all the good dragons decided to stay there, instead of going back to their own time, so they could fight the evil dragons if they tried anything again, plus the world was about to end in their time, so it wouldn’t have been that smart to go back to it anyway.

	So anyway, Alty, that’s the story Scerathor told me about where dragons came from.  I hope you like it.  Anyway, after he was done, I told him that story, you know the one, about me and Birny.  And the beehive.  And the mayor’s daughter.  And the herd of pigs and the mudpuddle.  Anyway, when he heard it, he started laughing so hard I thought he was going to explode, so I slipped out while he was still laughing and not paying attention.  But it’s OK, cause my story was obviously better anyway, so I won the contest.  I mean, who really wants to hear about a bunch of old battles and dragons and stuff?

Your friend,

Wilby


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## Boojum (Oct 23, 2004)

*Story told by an elder of the Con Beo*

Long ago The Con cua Chua had a war, it was called a great war, but many of the Con cua Chứa did not help, for they are all cowards, And so the Chứa seeing they had made a mistake gave the Con cua Chứa a great gift. They gave them the gift of our great ancestors, Strong and brave, unafraid of death. But the Con cua Chứa did not like the gods gift and so, they shunned there own children, they banished them taking them to the endless forest and abandoning them there. But the children did not die. Instead they thrived, under the leadership of the first Bắc-sỉ, He brought together the numerous small tribes and joined them in the first great liện-bang, Together we bastard Con đễ haong fought to destroy the weakling race of Con cua Chứa. We would have succeeded in our task but there were others who came to aid the con chứa a small people, but not a week people. They fought almost as well as our people did, and combined with the might of the Con cua Chứa, these Con Quả Nứi were enough drive our people back into the forests and plains. Together they scattered the tribes and slew our great leader Rồng first of the Bắc-sỉ, but all was not lost for our kind. Before Rồngs death, he confided in his pupils that there was a way two defeat Con cua Chứa and Con Quả Nứi he spoke of the hand of a great Chứa and of a place of much power, little else is known of his final instructions. 

	With Rồngs death the tribes had fallen again to strife, many could not believe that they had been defeated by such weak fools and blamed the other tribes for the failure of our goal. Of course no tribe could bare such a black mark upon its honor and so the period of warring tribes began. For a long time little cub did our people fight and with each victory we became more arrogant and each defeat made us more savage. Soon honor was a forgotten trait among us, and then blacker days came. The great dragon that slumbered for eons awoke; at first she made war only with Con Quả Nứi. Then the mountain folk sent word to the Con Chứa and cowards though they are they recognized that the dragon would destroy them with out the aide of others. Then from the one dragon came many, and again our people came together. The second great Bắc-sỉ came to us and told our “people now is the time to battle again against the weaker races.” So seeing that our time was at hand we laid siege to the Con Chứa. The great dragon seeing that we had come to aid her and her children did not make war on our people for a time the Bắc-sỉ even chose her children as mounts for battle. Again as we approached the dawn of our victory the tides of war shifted. The mighty Chứa came down from there stars in the sky and fought against the great dragon. 

	Here Young Gấu con is where our histories split, of all the tribes only we came to the side of the Chứa. Our leader a Chiếnsỹ, but also a wise man went to the Chứa with one hand and pledged our service to him. From that day onward we fought the other tribes and the great dragon, but we were not enough to turn the tide of war, only to slow it. The great dragon was far too strong for our people even with the help of all the weaker races. Our lives seemed forfeit. But through some miracle another great dragon was called and with his help we knew victory. Tired and few our people were, slowly we came to realize that the lands of our ancestors could not be returned too. We were no longer welcome in the midst of the Con đễ haong, nor were we welcome amongst the Con cua Chứa and Con Quả Nứi. We set our feet too wandering never living in one place to long lest one or the other of our enemies come to finish us off. It was during this time that the Chứa with one hand came to our leader, as we had been loyal even unto what seemed like certain death he offered our people a place far from others and he gave unto us a guild so that we may find the hidden way, and he gave us yet another boon, though we know not what it was. The guild was the spirit of land in which we were to live; to us it took the shape of a Giant bear with strength unequaled, and fangs as long as trees. We knew from the shape of the spirit of our land that it was a harsh place but that its strength would in turn make us stronger. Knowing this we moved forward fallowing our guild. For four years we followed the Giant Bear only staying in one place for one night fighting new terrors and conquering new heights. After our long journey we found our home, a great valley hidden in the clutch of tall mountains. At first we did not understand that the land before us was to be ours but our Spirit guild slowly faded away leaving us to fend for ourselves. Only then did we come to understand the nature of the valley. Here cut off from the Con cua Chứa behemoths still roamed the land. Monsters the size of great buildings walked freely, devouring all lesser things in there path. 

	It was a worthy home a challenge worth undertaking for our people and in order to show our gratitude we built a Shrine to Giant Bear, by hallowing out a mountain. It was the custom them for our chiếnsỹ to leave the first kill of any hunt to the Giant Bear or to take it back to the shrine. Many years passed in this manner until one day a strange child was born Kỹ Mỹ. She was a head shorter than even the shortest of our people and her skin was tinged with pink, for all the world they say she looked much like the Con cua Chứa, but despite this she was an excellent chiếnsỹ and soon she rose to become a Bắc-sỉ. What’s more she attracted the attention of the Giant Bear; he was smitten with her and came before the tribe as a Con đễ haong to ask for her hand in marriage. But the leaders of the tribe could not see his true nature, and so they rejected his proposal unless he could best the greatest warrior of the tribe. Of course the greatest warrior was Kỹ Mỹ, the Giant bear accepted the challenge and maintained his ruse. For 2 days Kỹ Mỹ and the Bear battled, neither willing to give in to fatigue, finaly though Kỹ Mỹ slowed by the days of combat was caught off guard and forced to concede the challenge. It was then that the Giant Bear revealed himself, alleviating the shame on his new bride. With the blessing of the tribe the two sped off. Ten years later Kỹ Mỹ returned to the tribe though she had not aged a day and gave to the tribe leader her two daughters, twins. From them she said we would learn the ways of nature and strength this would prepare us for that which was to come.


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## Herremann the Wise (Oct 25, 2004)

Hi Boojum,

Thought I'd just register my interest in the background history you have provided for the campaign and thus a small amount of feedback so painfully missing thus far. I've just started writing my first story hour so I know how much one cherishes and appreciates even the smallest flicker of interest.

Your homebrew is an interesting melange of sources and ideas; some of the concepts presented are fascinating. Looking forward to more as you start relaying the characters and story.

Best Regards
Herremann the Wise


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## Boojum (Oct 25, 2004)

Thank you very much for the reply and the feedback, Herremann.  It was definitely frustrating to check back every few hours and see the view count rise to 50 without a response appearing.   I hope you continue to enjoy it as I get into the actual story section.

Also, I finished typing up the bios for the characters that have appeared in the campaign since its inception, and hope to have the fast-forward summary done by tomorrow or the next day.  The first four were the initial players, and the rest are arranged in rough chronological order of entry into the campaign, at least as well as my memory allows.

Sakura (Female Half-elf (Sha’quaftha) Greenbond):  Very quiet and reserved, Sakura was content to remain in the background most of the time.  She never spoke of her background, and was usually noticed only when she called upon the spirits to grant her companions healing, or exercised an innate knack for fire magics.  She seemed never to make friends within the group, and was thrown together with them only through necessity.  Shortly after arriving in the environs of Morritton, a fairly large city, Sakura bid farewell to the group and went off to find her own path.

Seth (Male Human Unfettered):  A devil-may-care swashbuckler with a penchant for getting himself (and the party) into trouble, Seth had more of an emotional bond with his two small pistols than he ever did with another living being.  He spent the entirety of his short adventuring career drooling over the idea of a revolver.  He spurred the group to leave the relative safety of Morritton for adventure primarily by getting roaring drunk and beaten up in bar-fights, making everyone else want to get him as far away from civilization as possible.  When the party decided to undertake a humanitarian rescue mission with no real promise of reward, he parted ways with them, deciding that he had earned enough money to go commission a revolver.

Tyaphani Jones (Female Half-elf (Sha’vashirri) Medic):  The accidental result of a drunken liaison between two members of a mercenary company, Tyaphani grew up on horseback following the army around.  She was adored by the members of the company and learned a wide range of weapon skills from them, as well as becoming the apprentice of the band’s medic.  She was practical and calculating, focused on a driving goal of survival, with a harsh strength of character that some interpreted as callous.  She was snarky, sarcastic, and slightly paranoid, but could still be surprisingly kind and considerate when it suited her.  When peeved by her erstwhile compatriots (which was often) she could be heard expounding on her plans to dismember all their bodies for spare parts in her experiments.  She had a great belief in rationality, always trying to find the logic in everything, and was quite inventive in using the environment and nearby objects against her enemies.  She had a distaste for leadership, but ended up pulling the disparate group together by sheer force of personality when nobody else was getting anything done.  She met her effective end when her soul was harvested by a demon, leaving her still-living body with no driving force or volition.

Muradin Bronzebeard (Male? Dwarf Gadgeteer):  An expert with explosives and gunpowder, Muradin was broken out of a respectable career as a machinist when his wife was kidnapped and eaten by goblins.  Becoming a dour and taciturn recluse, he refused to leave his laboratory for nearly five years, perfecting implements of destruction.  Since then, he has come forth into the world to test out his shiny new inventions, preferably on goblins.  Muradin is physically weak and rather antisocial, but very intelligent and quite agile (an ability gained over a decade of avoiding exploding experiments).  Some argue that his deep-seated hatreds and years of isolation have made him somewhat irrational and unwise, making him an incalculable risk in any emotionally charged situation.  There is some level of doubt among the party as to whether Muradin is a man or a woman, based on his comparative lack of smell when compared to Talix.  Among his more notable accomplishments is the cooking of a giant omelette on a rock covered in guano.  He said it gave it a little extra spice.  Recently slain by a wyvern’s venom (especially shameful for a dwarf), he has been reincarnated as a poncy elf and is currently contemplating leaping off the side of the zeppelin.

Talix (Male Dwarf Fighter/Barbarian):  A very traditional big dumb fighter, Talix’s brain started to overload whenever he contemplated any action more complicated than hitting things with his axe.  This isn’t to say he didn’t know stuff.  He had quite a few useful pieces of knowledge stored away in his head.  For example, when his path was blocked by a fire, he remembered that the best way to get rid of fire is to smother it.  So, thinking quickly, he put that knowledge to good use by lying down on top of the fire.  Talix met his unfortunate end in the belly of a remorhaz.

Drexel (Male Human Sorcerer):  Drexel loved good drink, showing off, and anything to do with dragons.  He was obsessed with tracking down a dragon that would take him in and teach him the ways of draconic lore.  His inability to acquire a familiar became legendary after four straight attempts were foiled by disruptions during the required meditation period.  Finally, he succeeded in calling a lynx, just prior to trustingly surrendering his weapons and walking into a guard shack with guards who turned out to be shapeshifting demons who slaughtered him before the party could break in to help.

Gwendolyn Laurelseeds (Female Elf (Sha’nukayli) Ranger):  Gwendolyn loves two things in life: the cold steel of her rifle (much as she wishes it was a bazooka instead) and her penguin animal companion.  She considers the rest of the party lesser beings, put up with only for convenience sake.  She has no patience for complicated plans, and on more than one occasion, when the party deliberated too long over a detailed plot, she just kicked down the door and shot whatever was inside.  She comes and goes, apparently at random, from the party.  

Lanky (Male Human Rogue):  An adventurer out to line his own pockets, Lanky was always jumpy and paranoid, mistrusting everyone he met.  However, that didn’t save him from an unceremonious end to his adventuring career.  Shortly after joining the party, Lanky fell to his doom when he followed a rainbow pattern off a cliff.

Kydran Jerrittail (Male Feral Halfling originally nomad, now wilder):  Kydran was “rescued” from the life of his tribe on the surface when he went to investigate an expedition to the surface that had landed near his village.  They took him with him when they went up, and he soon discovered that his mental powers were unknown among the island civilizations.  Tired of being treated as a curiosity and studied for his powers, he left the city of Morritton to join a group of adventurers that happened to be passing through, and has become a critical part of the group.  He is strong-willed, patient, and willing to solve problems through diplomacy rather than violence, which means that he is usually the one to try to keep the more violent members in line when necessary.  Because of his way with people, he is also usually the front-man of the party.  However, he can also be quite dangerous, as he has recently discovered a knack for making his enemies heads explode with thrusts of mental power.

Nightwatch (Male Automaton Medic):  Created by an elderly dwarven gadgeteer as the crowning glory of his career, Nightwatch was built to protect and serve the goodly races.  His creator sent him out into the world with orders to find a group working toward good goals and to aid them, and after only a couple of days travel he fell in with the others.  As might be expected from a steam-powered construct, he had a very practical personality, but little sense of humor.  He was a valuable member of the party for a short period, but his existence was cut short when he heroically ignored the mace blows raining down on him from a demonic guardian to push over a cauldron swirling with souls.  His sacrifice disrupted a ritual just moments from completion that would have called a powerful demon to the site.

Takus (Male Con Beo Druid):  Impassive and stony-faced, Takus always seems to be sitting in judgment on his surroundings.  He is physically imposing due to his size, and seems to cooperate with the party because they are working against demons, which he hates.

Tycho (Male Human Medic):  Tycho is generally cheerful and willing to take life as it comes, patching up the wounds of his comrades without a word of complaint.  He also acts as a stabilizing force within the party, staying neutral when conflict arises.  Despite his personality, he has ended up with a rather sinister pair of primary weapons due to the luck of salvage in battle.  When forced to fight at a distance, he wields the sniper rifle of the silent killer, an ideal tool of assassination, and in melee he strikes with the halberd of the damned legion, a jagged obsidian halberd that shrieks like the souls of the damned when it strikes.

Topo Poto (Male Neo-Colobus Monkey Rogue):  Topo, along with his companion Cain, joined the party out of necessity, as they were being pursued by a wave of undead and reached the safety of the party’s zeppelin just in time before it left the hangar.  He is a happy-go-lucky monkey, using his apparent status as a mere pet to gain the advantage of surprise or to steal when the opportunity arises.  He is easily distracted, with his attention always wandering whenever a shiny object or an interesting event presents itself.  He seems to lead a charmed life, having narrowly survived several close brushes with death in the short time since he has joined the party.

Cain (Male elf (Sha’ayuge) Fighter/Barbarian):  The first thing anyone notices about Cain is the truly immense sword that is always in his hand because it is too big to strap comfortably across his back.  Longer than he is tall, it looks like it would fit more easily in the hand of a titan than those of an elf (albeit a very large one).  He loves battle with a passion, and tends to have little interest in diplomacy, looking only for the next chance to put his blade to use.


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## ledded (Oct 25, 2004)

Great stuff.  I'm impressed with all of your background work.  My group has been considering a game that is similar in several respects, and I'm curious to see what you come up with.   Keep up the good work, it's fascinating and well-written so far.


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## Boojum (Oct 27, 2004)

*Brief Race Write-ups*

Thanks for the kind words, Ledded.  I'm very glad you're enjoying it and hope you continue to do so.

I'm still working on the summary, but in the meantime, I realized that I didn't have a specific listing of the races in the game in this thread.  The version of the primer that I gave to my players had about 15 pages of game rule information that I cut out when I posted it here to avoid bogging down in crunchy bits, but that also meant that I excised the racial descriptions, which might make the characters a bit easier to visualize.  Therefore, I'm putting the short descriptions of each race in this post, but cutting out the game stats.

Con Beo:  The Con Beo, or children of the bear, are a tribe of orcs that redeemed themselves by their valor in the Dragonwar.  They were taken in by the father of the gods, who removed the taint from their blood and led them far away to a secluded homeland.  They have strong animistic beliefs, but are also very loyal to the all-father, who they visualize as a giant bear.  In appearance, they combine the size and ruggedness of orcs with some of the smoothness and pleasant appearance of elves.  When the taint was removed from the Con Beo, they were stabilized as their own race, and their children are their own, neither orcs nor elves.  Recently, however, this changed with the birth of an elf to the Con Beo.  Named Ky My, she earned the position of chieftain within the tribe and married a manifestation of the great bear, bearing twins.  What all of this means for the Con Beo is unknown, although outside scholars scoff at the idea that one of the gods could come to them, since they are known to be imprisoned.  Many Con Beo shun the use of weapons and armor, preferring to emulate the bear.  Their skins are often covered with elaborate tattoos and runes.

Zokh-Dre (Dwarf):  The race of dwarves was created from the blood of the all-father by the goddess of prophecy, who sacrificed herself to do so, as a last-ditch effort to fight off hordes of demons during the Godswar.  Because of this, all dwarves have blood-red skin, and the race possesses the gift of prophecy and a hatred of infernal creatures.  They refer to themselves as Zokh-Dre, which means “bloodborn” in their tongue, and members of other races would be well-advised to use this term, or at least simply “bloodborn” rather than “dwarf”, if they don’t want to cause offense.  Dwarven society is organized around holdfasts—underground citadels built to guard prisonstones, where great heroes of the Godswar are locked in eternal combat with demon princes and archdevils to prevent them ever again escaping.  Alone of the major races, Dwarven society adheres to the worship of the old gods, despite the fact that they no longer answer prayers and are imprisoned inside the center of the world.  

Sha (Elf):  The elves were the first race created by the gods.  When they were created, each of the five severed fingers of the all-father was taken up by one of the gods and formed into an individual to that god’s taste.  The elves were afraid to fight in the Godswar, sending only a small contingent of troops, and for this cowardice the all-father cursed them, so that their children would be hideous and aggressive monsters.  9 out of 10 elven pregnancies result in the birth of an orc, with the remainder split evenly among the 5 bloodlines.  Ritual infanticide is common among elven communities.  The bloodlines of the five progenitors remain distinct, and the bloodline of a newborn child appears to be random, often not matching that of either of their parents.  
Sha’ayuge (might elf, spirit-heir of Garodan):  Sha’ayuge are physically the largest of the elves, averaging nearly 7 feet tall with a fairly robust build.  They tend to be jovial and well-liked, but lack subtlety, tending toward the simplest method of dealing with any problem.  
Sha’nukayli (blade elf, spirit-heir of Kuvasha):  Although they are the smallest of the elves, averaging just over four feet and slightly built, few people underestimate a blade elf more than once.  They tend to have very intense, somewhat paranoid personalities, always eagerly watching their surroundings for potential foes.  They often go through life alone, since they make few friends, and their enemies usually don’t live long.  
Sha’quaftha (counsel elf, spirit-heir of Wamura).  Sha’quaftha average around 4 ¾ feet tall, with a sturdier build than sha’nukayli.  They usually have calm, relaxed personalities, wanting to look at all sides of an issue before making a decision, and generally acting as a peacekeeper when conflict starts to arise.  
Sha’raman (maker elf, spirit-heir of Maliara).  Sha’raman tend to be about 5 ½ feet tall.  They tend to have studious, intent personalities, focused on accomplishing the task at hand in the most efficient manner possible. 
Sha’vashirri (song elf, spirit-heir of Argentrell).  Sha’vashirri are typically about 5 ½ feet tall, with relatively slender builds and classically beautiful features.  They are usually out to enjoy life to the fullest, and tend to have somewhat flighty personalities.

Entropon:  An entropon is a being that has had a close brush with the pure chaos and entropic force of the Devourer, and somehow survived, albeit forever infused with that energy.  Some entropons were warped while on the surface, escaping from the Devourer’s minions at the last possible moment before death, while others were deliberately exposed to the energy by cults such as the Children of Oblivion.  A few mad souls even expose themselves to it deliberately for the power they believe it grants them.  Regardless of their origin, they are shunned in most societies, especially since the “taint” always breeds true.  
Change is the only constant for an entropon.  Their bodies and minds are forever warped by the power of chaos and are forever dissolving and reforming themselves into new patterns.  An entropon retains the size and general appearance of whatever race he originally belonged to, but all other racial traits are lost.  The height, weight, voice, and one distinctive facial feature remain stable, allowing others to recognize an individual, but all other aspects of appearance are constantly flickering among all the possibilities for an individual of the character’s original race, clearly marking him as an entropon.

Feytouched:  Believed to derive from crossbreeding between humans and a variety of fey creatures, such as dryads, nymphs, pixies, and satyrs, the feytouched have emerged relatively recently as a stable race in their own right.  They appear much like humans, but with somewhat lighter, more angular features, and with traces of their ancestry visible, depending on the individual.  A feytouched descended from a satyr might have hooves, horns, or furry legs while one descended from a pixie could have vestigial wings.  Their personalities vary nearly as widely as those of humans do, though they are colored by their closer connection with nature, additional patience resulting both from their longer lifespan and from their understanding of the long time scale of the natural world, and the predilections of the type of fey they are descended from.  For the most part, the feytouched live peacefully in small villages in wilderness areas, sometimes trading with travelers or nearby settlements of other races, but they have also produced some great adventurers, as well as a number of fanatical crusaders against the excesses of civilization and technology when they encroach too much on nature.  Note that although several types of fey are exclusively of one sex, the same is not true of feytouched, and all of the subtypes are found in both sexes.  Feytouched tend toward Chaotic Good alignment, but all alignments are found among them.  The following traits are common to all feytouched, with additional abilities dependent on the type of fey that the individual most closely resembles.
Dryadtouched:  Dryadtouched tend to have thin, elfin features.  Their skin and hair sometimes bear a slight visual resemblance to the bark and leaves of a tree.  They usually have very patient personalities, but can be roused to great wrath when large sections of woodlands are destroyed.
Nymphtouched:  Nymphtouched inherit an echo of the unearthly beauty of their ancestors.  They often have gentle, playful personalities, but their moods can change suddenly and unpredictably.
Pixietouched:  The smallest of the feytouched, pixietouched often have thin, elfin features and mischievous personalities.
Satyrtouched:  Satyrtouched often have horns, hooves, or fur showing their descent.  They usually love wine and music, wanting simply to enjoy life, but have also been forced to learn to protect themselves and their people.

Gnome:  In the days before the Sundering, the gnomes had built a great civilization with steam-powered marvels improving all aspects of their lives.  When the Devourer, the embodiment of entropy, was formed, it was drawn first to the greatest concentrations of order and technology, the gnomish cities.  The vast majority of gnomes perished in the first few weeks, with only the few that were away from the cities spared.  After the Sundering, these survivors were too few and too scattered to replenish their race, and they slowly lapsed into extinction.

Half-elf:  Half-elves are relatively similar to those on other worlds, with the only differences being that they can result from either human-elf or human-orc pairings, with either one having about a 10% chance of producing a half-elf, and that they possess some minor knacks related to one of the elven bloodlines.  As well as most of the standard abilities described in the Player’s Handbook, half-elves in Shattered Skies have the following additional ability.

Half-orc:  Half-orcs are mechanically the same as those on other worlds.  The only difference to note is that they can arise from either human-elf or human-orc pairings, with either one having a 90% chance to produce a half-orc.

Halfling:  Most halflings live in fairly small, self-sufficient nomadic bands, either following herds of animals or driving their own herds.  More than any of the other races, halflings live in and among animals of all sorts, depending on them for most of the necessities of life, and this has given them an easy rapport with creatures of all sorts.  Combined with their small stature, which allows the easy use of a wide variety of mounts, this has led to them developing a reputation as the best breeders of animals, as well as fearsome light cavalry.  Although most tribes are peaceful, the sight of a band of halflings swooping in on large birds, bats, or merely unnaturally fast horses for deadly hit-and-run raids is justly dreaded.  Halfling society is built around the clan, and halflings are slow to trust outsiders, but loyal to the death to those who they have accepted as their clanmates.   Halflings tend to have lean, weathered features, and both sexes wear their hair in elaborately braided topknots, the patterns of which serve as clan identification marks.

Halfling, Feral:  Although significant populations of all the major races were left behind on the surface at the time of the Sundering, and isolated groups of each of them has managed to eke out a bare-existence living by avoiding the notice of the Devourer, only the halflings truly adapted themselves and their way of life to thrive in the harsh environment.  Forced to abandon all products of order or technology, including all but the simplest tools and weapons, the isolated halflings relied on their talent for animal husbandry for food, and turned inward to their minds for defense, awakening their latent psionic abilities as a way to survive in the face of overwhelming adversity.  In recent times, some of these feral halflings have been “rescued” by airship expeditions to the surface, and brought into the skies, where they struggled to adapt to a very different way of life.  Some of these few have taught their mental powers to members of other races, and they have begun to spread through the rest of society.  Feral halflings dress in barely worked skins and let their hair grow wild.  They speak a rough dialect of the halfling language.

Human:  The most widespread and adaptable of races, humans range widely in traits, outlook, and skills.  Despite being a relatively young race, they have produced some of the greatest heroes and most dastardly villains of the world.  They have all the normal racial traits described in the Player’s Handbook.

Kobold:  Approximately 800 years before the Sundering, a large confederation of kobold tribes was afflicted by a horrific disease known as scale rot, which threatened to wipe them out.  In desperation, their chieftain turned to a nearby human kingdom for medical aid.  The humans agreed, but only on the condition that the kobolds agree to serve them.  The chieftain, with no other option, agreed to the terms, selling his people into slavery to save their lives.  Since then, kobolds have spread rapidly and become all but ubiquitous throughout human society.  A few lands have abolished the practice of slavery, but most still practice it, and everywhere kobolds occupy the bottom rung of society, performing all the tasks that are beneath the other races.  Although there are some kobolds that agitate for a mass uprising to “throw off the yoke of tyranny”, most are fairly content with their station.  They are safer, better housed, and better fed in most lands than they were in their tribal days, and although they do not occupy public positions of leadership, some kobolds can wield quite a bit of behind-the-scenes influence.  Enslaved kobolds are generally a bit less scrawny and paranoid than their wild cousins, and their scale color varies from dark green to tan, with rare albino kobolds considered touched by the spirits and accorded great respect.

Myrmidus:  When Abaddon was released from his imprisonment, he knew that he would need mortal servitors in addition to the demons that served him.  He disappeared into the dark places of the earth and out of mortal thought for millennia, biding his time while slowly consolidating his position, building his power, and subtly spreading chaos and destruction through his agents.  During this time, one of his greatest accomplishments was the creation of the myrmida from a race of peaceful ant-like people dwelling in a cavern system and barely approaching sentience.  When he was done with them, they had been physically and mentally advanced, split into several specialized subraces, and given a telepathic hive-mind, but had also been given a taste for blood and a hatred of other living things.  Although the vast majority of myrmida are implacable foes of all other races, a few have broken free from the control of the hive mind and rejected the teachings of Abaddon.  These rare rebels face a difficult existence, as they are feared, distrusted, and sometimes attacked on sight in most lands, and are hunted by their own people as aberrations.  Nearly all of these rogues are of the soldier subrace, as they have been given enough intelligence to function reasonably effective on their own without being utterly steeped in unholy energies as those of higher subraces are.  A typical myrmidus is about 5 feet tall, standing on four of its six limbs while using the other two as hands.  They appear as large insects in nearly all aspects of their body, and their coloration is black with occasional tinges of red.  It is almost impossible for members of other races to tell individual myrmida apart by sight.  They have are unable to use their speech organs for languages other than their own, which consists of clicks and whistles, but can communicate telepathically when desired (which is often very unnerving for those meeting them for the first time).

In addition to these, the three races from Steam-trains & Sorcery are allowed as standard options.  These are:  automaton (steam-powered construct), neo-colobus monkey (monkeys given basic sentience through breeding, surgery, and drugs), and scrapling (beings stitched together from dead body parts and given life).


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