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Fuum Bango
2007-07-30, 04:01 PM
For a small, simple game I'm setting up. I wanted to make a self contained place that is easy for new players to understand and enjoy.

The Hidden Staircase

In a seemingly normal field covered in wild flowers is The Staircase, an immense hole filled with small granite steps that leads to a secretive hallway. Traversing the many steps is a feat in itself. The air is dry and the stone floor is unforgiving cold The walls are covered in engravings of great, fearless miners braving the lightless depths, of tricksters stealing gold from devils unscathed and of a meeting of elders, standing as equals in a world with ever increasing dangers. Two small doors complete the hall.
The first is made of bronze and iron, its design simple but effective.
The second is marble with an emerald door knob, glowing runes are imprinted across it; it is elegant, if not more than a little eccentric.

The Dwarven Bastion Way

Wide strip-mined roads escort company to the looming and sentinel twin churches of Glory and Justice. Only those that impress the God of Glory through tales of personal triumph to her priests, or by gaining the Mark of Enfeeblement, I am assured is a non-arcane in nature, from the Justice priests that disallows all acts of violence from the visitor.

Unconquerable Bastion

Hard and outwardly rigid, The Bastion tries it’s damnest to appear utterly lawful and warful. Ornamental swords and shields hang from the rocky ceiling. Guards line the single, straight road that leads to the barracks-come-forge district that is this settlement of dwarves way of life. The heat of this place is bearable, but hardly enjoyable. None of the metalwork and finely crafted items are for sale, not in the traditional sense, but they can be borrowed to finish some endeavor in return for giving the smith master a item of great worth to the client. Past the forge is a river, a blessing from the Gods they say, beside it is a farm that is constantly being worked on, great mushrooms the size of horses grow alongside rare albino wheat and potatoes.

A dwarf that is not busy with some task is unheard of, but they do so with a smile and a bottle of powerful alcohol in his or her pocket. Though stoic and grim, Bastion folk are optimistic about the years ahead, they have faith in there church and leaders and wake up each day to work not just for pay, but to improve the lives of their children and children’s children.
The dwarves are governed by the ministers of the Low Gods, the “Talkers-To-Rock” a guild of miners that are held in high regard when the people need to know where to find more iron ore or where not to excavate and the Grey Watch, a form of very brutal police. This makes for many, many laws, which have more than enough loop-holes for the odd dwarven career criminal to live a very pleasant life, if he or she has the cunning for it.

Rumors persist that far along the swift underground river, slick, dark pools exist peculiarly still beside the raging river. Within them are said to be shy, voiceless mermaids with bottomless, black eyes and soft, silver hair. They are said to see into the souls of visitors and bless or curse them consequently and can vanish at a moments notice.


The Gnomish Warren Path

It’s hard to believe deep within the twisting corridors and damp, abruptly steep passageways rests the Warren; it’s even harder to reach than it is believe it, for the locals are masters of illusion. Many unwelcome guests have become lost in the maze of tunnels, subtly magic charms laid years ago creating false walls, fleeting phantom shapes and viciously whispering wrong directions.

Uncontrollable Warren

The Warren itself is unreasonably hectic; the sheer number of gnomes is incredible. The roads are worn and in areas the ceiling of the Warren only reaching four foot. Houses are built on houses, homes shared by grandparents, parents, children, way would nephew-scoundrels, aunties with minds spoiled by centuries of magic and youthful bards of no relation.
Shops line the streets, with some houses acting as bakeries and hotels. Everyone in Warren has something to sell, for the right price.
Gnomes are famous for their sense of humor, and the Warren community is no different, but what they consider amusing is not human in nature. There are no kings or clerics in the Warren, the people govern themselves, but they have laws, unwritten and changing. If they are broken, truly broken, the criminal face the wrath of all within the Warren.

On strong, lean legs, travels a pale cottage. A strange place wherein a even stranger creature, pardon my tongue, a interesting woman, of dragon blood, makes her living telling fantastic tales of the worlds history, and to the lucky customer, tomes and jewelry of magical power. In times of battle, she is said to know spells long since lost in history.

Fuum Bango
2007-07-30, 04:03 PM
Monsta's be here tomorrow.

Matthew
2007-08-01, 05:08 PM
Interesting stuff. This Forum needs more adventure locales. Look forward to the update.