The_Fae - The way I imagine it, the Library hires people from all walks of life. Librarians do all sorts of things - searching through the Library itself for new card catalogues, tracking down people who haven't returned books, expanding the knowledge of the almanac. Librarians can be of any class - it's a job, and certain skills may make you better at parts of it. For example, a warlock may develop his skills independently, then become a Librarian, just as one would become an adventurer. Is that helpful?
First of all, as a librarian I must admit that I like your setting, and also encourage you to read those books others already suggested (China Melville, in particular, may be "the" author whose works are very similar in "mood" and "feel" to your ideas).
Still, to be a "full-fledged", professional librarian D&D you need certain key (Knowledge) skills and INT, so I'm not sure how I feel about fighters, barbarians or paladins being 'Librarians' (certain routine tasks might be done by anyone even in our contemporary libraries).
However, having said that, one of my teachers was a tiny but highly charismatic and authoritative woman who could silence an auditorium full of people with a mere scowl or shushing. I often imagined that she could do well as a security guard or a drill sergeant -- no to mention that most of the time she seemed to be in a foul mood (I always felt that she signaling "If you disagree or interrupt me again, I regrettably have to break your arm" ). Once she told me of a fight between students (not library and information science students, though ) she had to break up. I asked her, jokingly: "Um, you didn't have to use Krav Maga or anything like it to break it up?". She replied: "No, my attitude and using angry voice was enough... although I *do* know Krav Maga and some other combat sports." (NOTE: we had often joked, among students, that she knew 50 different ways to kill a man in an eyeblink). I was so taken aback, that I promised never to skip her classes again.
So, my point was that in some cases it would be too far-fetched to stat a librarian as a monk, assassin or warlord (my teacher's a living proof of that). Some PCs could also be "hired hands" who are simply supposed to work as "muscle" to those rogues, bards, wizards, warlocks and clerics (i.e. the "true" librarians).
Probably one of the most important duties would be locating and collecting rare books (folios, grimoires, codexes etc.) or even whole collections, and I think you could build a whole campaign just around that theme.
See I thought that was an eladrin talking, like how the dragonkin had their one person to talk I figured the eladrin would get one as well. Maybe they are a human cult with Ghostly's feelings towards the demis.
Also I thought when the paragraph said Leviathans it meant things floating between the Islands, as I suspect there are more than just the 5 that Day rests on.
Ahhh I didn't know he had an apartment, I figured he was just squatting somewhere as to avoid people noticing him.
I wouldn't even have a clue as to were to start for other gods in this setting. I could see most of them being aspects of the Inebriated One, similar in a way to Brahma, I think thats the name, in Hindu beliefs. Which for those that don't know, Brahma is the force that is within everything and it is what Hindu followers try and get to, to commune with that force. All of the Hindu gods are aspects of Brahma and are supposed to represent different ways to get to the same point. Some Inebriated followers might not drink while others act like it is water. Some might think that living in a monastery, practicing martial arts while drunk and making alcohol of all types is the way to Him. Whatever gets your airplane in the air.
Ghostly, have you read Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman? It might have a couple of good examples for the Labyrinth.
Gyah... totally beat me to it. I was just about to make the same suggestion.
The_Fae wrote:
The Inebriated one doesn't need to eat souls! He distills them into spirits of course. Possibly quite literally too. This could be an explanation for ghosts: Those people who somehow escaped the Great Distillery in the Sky but were in the process of being turned into god-alcohol.
Really cool idea. Clever little plays on word can really give a lot of feeling to a world like this.
The_Fae wrote:
I wouldn't even have a clue as to were to start for other gods in this setting. I could see most of them being aspects of the Inebriated One, similar in a way to Brahma, I think thats the name, in Hindu beliefs. Which for those that don't know, Brahma is the force that is within everything and it is what Hindu followers try and get to, to commune with that force. All of the Hindu gods are aspects of Brahma and are supposed to represent different ways to get to the same point. Some Inebriated followers might not drink while others act like it is water. Some might think that living in a monastery, practicing martial arts while drunk and making alcohol of all types is the way to Him. Whatever gets your airplane in the air.
I really like this idea better than trying to shoehorn other gods into the setting. Maybe there are extremely powerful beings (archdevils, archons, archangels, Baba Yaga, whatever), but trying to force a whole pantheon into the mix might be a little much. For those who feel like digging through my somewhat neglected Gleemax blog, you'll find an article I did about monotheistic campaign settings. Might be useful for you. Regardless, I don't think overly active gods or "pantheon wars" would be of any great benefit to the story. Leave it detailed enough to be interesting and ambiguous enough to not distract.
Mistress_of_Mockery wrote:
Depending on how humans were created, the 'demi-humans' (isn't that a 2e term? I don't think I've used that since) could be a simply 'flavoured' version of humans (literally). Say, when a human dies the Inebriated One eats his soul (or whatever, thats probably not a great idea), he'd probably get tired of the same-tasting humans every day. So he spiced things up by making dwarves, elves, halflings, etc.
I like this. However, again I would advise you to take the course of ambiguity. This is the type of setting that can just be. No one is going to expect it to make sense, as long as it is internally consistent. That said, I think that within the realm of campaign building unless you have a very good reason not to include something, then you should try to include it. The reason is that if you don't, you're going to irk a significant fraction of people before you've even left the gate. "What, can't play my favorite race? Meh, I'll try Eberron."
There are times when leaving out a race can help the overall composition of a setting. In an intentional mishmash like this, you just need to find the right flavor for them. Maybe halflings are sewer dwellers. Maybe dwarves live on the underside of the island. Maybe elves are the pirates that have left the islands for the open skies and live in airships and zeppelins. In a setting like this, as long as they're cool no one will ask questions.
This is similar in a lot of respects to a campaign setting I had been working on that incorporated a lot of Grimm's tales, and I really like where this is going. I'm going to read through it a bit more thoroughly and see if I can't make a few suggestions as well. Additionally, the tone and tech seem to match up *fairly* well with what I have planned, which means the stuff I will be putting out for my setting could make the transition easily.
If anyone is interested, I have been working on putting together a website to publish material for 4th Edition. I am currently working on a more generic campaign setting (working title "Dark Renaissance" though that is likely to change) that I was going to use as the basis for my adventure series, but I am actually really digging this as well. If Ghostly is interested, I would have no problems working with you all to really put the spit-shine on this and get it published alongside my own campaign and distributed as a professional looking PDF (without cost) through my website. My original intention was to release all campaign specific material free of cost anyways, so this wouldn't be changing anything at all... just adding a bit more work to my plate.
Ahhh I didn't know he had an apartment, I figured he was just squatting somewhere as to avoid people noticing him.
You are correct, I meant ‘apartment’ only to indicate it as his current place of habitation.
What I really appreciate about this setting is that it takes the emphasis off needing to know everything. For instance: what does the third mill in Day grind? Initially I wished to quantify it but then I realized that, no, I don’t need to know this. It’s a mystery, a plot tool; it enriches the story simply by being an enigma. In fact, with it deliberately left open to interpretation a DM could use it for his own story without stepping on any toes.
A similar approach could be taken with the Gods. So far we assume their existence from the powers of their clerics, but in truth we don’t know, and nor does anyone on The Islands (unless maybe they are really-really drunk). We have the Inebriated One, perhaps a smattering of other, relatively minor, recognized faiths (storm-born, Junkers etc.) but it’s really just a matter of personal belief.
I like concentrating on the Inebriated One as the chief deity, but I can’t imagine one or two powerful entities existing in the minds of the populous would be bad thing. A rich song of belief, with a few major melodies running through, clear and deep, like the song of a dragon.
Also good to meet you Tao, I'll be sure to take a look at your blog.
edit:
Just read it, makes good sense
So, the storm born might believe the ancient gods that tore the world asunder are distinct for the inebriated one, while His Drunkenness’ clerics insist the storm born’s deity is simply an aspect of their god
And either way they are both occasionally harassed by the atheist flotilla.
Don't drink the holy-water; we don't like it when you drink the holy-water.
Maybe there are alternate stories, other myths, and other Religions, but the followers of the Inebriated One simply see the other Gods as aspects of theirs.
Some other ideas:
Sometimes, if a person is caught outside when a storm passes, they will be changed. They will no longer simply be the person they were, though they will have all of that person's memories: they will carry with them a piece of the storm that altered them. These people are known as the storm-born, composite entities of both elemental power and human mind. They know the languages of humans, but when they speak, they speak in a voice of thunder, and lightning lives behind their eyes.
Of the above: Maybe the Storm-born could be the equivalent of Eladrin, what with the similar "a part of two worlds" flavor?
The Tieflings sometimes speak of "The God Between the Walls" in tones of equal reverence and terror. It seems that they speak of something in the place they left, but perhaps not. Perhaps it creeps between our walls, scuttling under the floorboards of the world and watching the people of Nifflas, biding its time...
The books of the library are alive. They whisper to each other, and the more powerful can even move. Once, a Librarian wandering the stacks late at night thought he heard the books begin to whisper with one voice, to speak in a voice of power. He called this being "Sussurrus", and has spent his life wandering the stacks, plumbing the depths of the Library, trying to find it again.
What if Clerics, or perhaps just a small group of weirdos, worked in the same way Avatars do in Unknown Armies? That is, rather than "worshipping" a God, per se, they simply acted like the God. Rather than asking the Inebriated One for power, they drink, they make weird little things, they imitate the God and so gain a fraction of its power. I'm really not sure how this would fit, but I like the idea, as it works very well in UA, and makes the source of the power ore enigmatic. Does the power actually come from the God? Or does the worshipper generate it himself? Does the God even exist?
Also, I like your ideas about demis, Tao, but, it still seems that they would still be better represented by unique human cultures, not separate species. It's just always seemed odd and rather wrong to me to impose a single culture on an entire species. Traditional elves, for example, are essentially humans with unique culture and habitat, but because they are described as a race, it shoehorns an entire species into a very small box. It seems much more believable to create a distinct culture of sky-pirates or sewer dwellers made up of several races than to create one "sewer-dwelling race" or one "sky-pirate race". These are just my personal feelings, however.
So it would seem, by some peculiar turn of events, that everyone came independently and simultaneously to the same conclusion about the religious structure of Nifflas.
By golly that might be a sign.
Don't drink the holy-water; we don't like it when you drink the holy-water.
Maybe there are alternate stories, other myths, and other Religions, but the followers of the Inebriated One simply see the other Gods as aspects of theirs.
Yeah, definitely. As long as he gods aren't actively manifesting, anyone can claim anything and there's no way to prove what is "true" and what is "false" concerning the gods. In a setting like this, that kind of flexibility can lead to a more interesting type of interaction.
Mostly_Ghostly wrote:
Sometimes, if a person is caught outside when a storm passes, they will be changed. They will no longer simply be the person they were, though they will have all of that person's memories: they will carry with them a piece of the storm that altered them. These people are known as the storm-born, composite entities of both elemental power and human mind. They know the languages of humans, but when they speak, they speak in a voice of thunder, and lightning lives behind their eyes.
Of the above: Maybe the Storm-born could be the equivalent of Eladrin, what with the similar "a part of two worlds" flavor?
Love it. Exactly the kind of thing I was thinking about when I said, "Take the race, add a new flavor".
Mostly_Ghostly wrote:
Also, I like your ideas about demis, Tao, but, it still seems that they would still be better represented by unique human cultures, not separate species. It's just always seemed odd and rather wrong to me to impose a single culture on an entire species. Traditional elves, for example, are essentially humans with unique culture and habitat, but because they are described as a race, it shoehorns an entire species into a very small box. It seems much more believable to create a distinct culture of sky-pirates or sewer dwellers made up of several races than to create one "sewer-dwelling race" or one "sky-pirate race". These are just my personal feelings, however.
Oh yeah. There's no reason that they have to be genetically distinct. Cultural distinction is often sufficient (and is, in large part, what I myself am using for my campaign setting). There may be some races that end up deserving a greater degree of separation, but for the most part it shouldn't even have to be explained in any concrete manner. That's part of the beauty of a setting this fantastical. You can just say "The elves live in the canopy of a giant tree that floats through the sky. They have pointy ears and like to hunt the giant flying whales that swim through the skies between the islands." and you don't even need to go into the why. Sometimes things are fantastic, just because they are.
The books of the library are alive. They whisper to each other, and the more powerful can even move. Once, a Librarian wandering the stacks late at night thought he heard the books begin to whisper with one voice, to speak in a voice of power. He called this being "Sussurrus", and has spent his life wandering the stacks, plumbing the depths of the Library, trying to find it again.
To me, this conjures up evocative images of a scary, exciting X-Files-type adventure set in the Library. Great idea! (The name Sussurrus is brilliant, too!)
"You mean to say you can't even understand the books?"
John Grottle's face wrinkled up under his crow-helmet; through the netting around the eyes, the Librarian could see disgust tinged with fear. "Blimey, no!", he said. "S'too dangerous. Who ever 'eard of such a thing -- an Unkindly that could *read*."
"I can read. Read my whole life."
Grottle's head bobbed in acknowledgment. "But you ain't read none of the good books, right? The ones wot it's illegal to make copies of." He tapped his crow-helmet, making a metallic ping. "I mean copies in the 'ead."
"Aren't you even interested?" The Librarian's cheeks went pink, and he leaned forward. "By the Inebriate, man. You *kill* people over what they say."
Grottle paused. Shook his head. "Can't say as I've ever been much interested in what the books say. 'Sides, they used to use Unkindlies wot could read. Used to put their eyes out, they did -- so's they couldn't read the books wot they ain't supposed to. Now I see you's got red robes on. You got access to all the books? All of 'em, roots to branches?"
The Librarian wasn't used to being interrogated. And not by an Unkindly, born and bred to be as incurious as a stump. The experience was unnerving. "Roots to branches, yes," he repeated -- more an echo than a confirmation.
"But there's books wot you still ain't supposed to read," Grottle said.
"And I haven't," the Librarian protested. It was a lie.
"T'ain't true," Grottle drawled. One hand disappeared under his feather cloak. "Now, I ain't never had much of a talent for reading books. Brains, on the other hand -- now, there's an interesting subject."
The Librarian had just read the title. Read it off the spine. Read it in passing. It was something like, "An Entirely Infallible Directory of the Stars, and a Complete Census of the Inestimable Gulfs Between Them." And by the Inebriate, he was sure he didn't even remember it right.
He thought: I should blubber something; come up with some excuse, some defense. But he was always better at thinking than at action (the reason he became a Librarian to begin with), and the time had already passed, and it would never have worked regardless. Unkindlies weren't interested in excuses.
Grottle withdrew, face screwing up in disapproval. "Oh, don't go and *think* about what you ain't supposed to know," he said. "You'll make me have to get me own box cleaned out." A pause. "You know what comes next."
The Librarian could only say, "Yes."
"And it ain't pleasant," Grottle said. "But I'll make it as pleasant as it gets, for a tip."
The Librarian found it a surprising that he could still become indignant. "Are you asking me for a *bribe*? To kill me quick?"
"A bribe would be for me to not do my job, which would be something I ain't going to do," Grottle explained. The hand beneath the feather cloak emerged, holding a dagger with a peculiar, hooked hilt. "A tip is for me to do a little job for you on the way. Th'sharp end's for paying customers. Hook end's for the impolite."
When he arrived at the Inebriate's gate, would he be given a new name? The Librarian decided he wouldn't need it anywhere.
"Bartolemeo Hoof," the Librarian said, but then paused, considered. Then begging: "But please don't take my family name. For the Inebriate's sake, I've got a sister. She needs it too."
Grottle hooked the name out of the air with the tip of his finger, inpected it, and deposited it in his belt-pouch. "Hoof? S'a little short name, and ugly. Barely worth an apricot. Suppose as I could leave it." A pause; through the mesh eyes of the crow-mask, he watched a short flicker of relief dawn on the Librarian's narrow features. "You ready?"
"No," the Librarian said, truthfully, and touched his throat. Why were his fingers wet and red?
"Bit of advice for you," Grottle said, though the Librarian wouldn't be needing it for long. "You're never ready, when it gets there."
"That's crazy. You know what happened last time they tried that?"
"Died horribly. All of them. But we won't, since we know better."
"Know better than what? The mill works, sure, but you'll never be able to use it. It ruins you, Bottleby."
"Ah, yes! But I know the trick to it, now." Pause. "I hope it won't!"
"But it'll eat that out of you. Give it a day, two days, and you won't hope it won't anymore."
"And there's the trick: I hope fervently that I'll keep hoping it won't."
"You're mad, Bottleby. I hope you know that."
"And there's the trick. I've got all these mad hopes. An infinite chain of them, all the way back to first causes; all the way back to the center of the universe. I'll never run out, because I hope for things that aren't even vaguely possible."
"Like making your fortune off of a mill that eats hope and makes -- well, what does it make, Bottleby?"
). Once she told me of a fight between students (not library and information science students, though 
