The Iridescent Messiah: In the hinterlands of the FeyWild, in a place where the starry night never gives way to a sun and is never encumbered by a moon, there is a massive tangle of trees, briars, and vines all covered with fungi releasing choking spores.
The plants themselves have blossoms whose scents bring hysteria, despair, and mad visions. There are hundreds upon hundreds of hags, eladrin, gnomes, goblins, fairie dragons, lycantrhopes, formians, cyclopses and sentient animals that are hacking away at this regenerative tangle. There seems to be some kind of glinting, multi-faceted crystal whose radius equals the height of the mortal world's tallest mountain, a crystal that this growth has completely covered.
While you can't see clearly through the deep-azure quartz, there is some kind of argent light piercing through. The light carries with it the sense of power and authority, and the longer you look the more you are likely to swear that this place, so removed from the courts of formian and fey alike, is the Center of the Feywild. There is, you become convinced, a silver girl-child sleeping inside the faceted dome. She is sleeping on an altar, on her back, and she has four beautiful dragonfly wings...
Those seeking to break through the crystal claim that the One to unite all fey is within the aboreal prison, the true heir of Fey. The Summer Queen, as of yet, seems undisturbed and even laughs off any mention of the place.
It should be pointed out that Time is very strange around this place, and mortals especially risk returning to a world that has passed time by centuries. The first visit can shift you by a day, the second by a month, the third by decades, and by the fourth at least one druid claimed to have come from millennia long past...
Long ago a foreign enemy invaded and cut a bloody swathe across the land. In desperation, the defending alliance gathered up the foulest practicioners of black and infernal magics. As a last line of defense, the defenders opened a gate to a foul and unknowable plane and the destruction destroyed both the invading army and much of the land they had occupied. Now the land is a scorched desert of glass and blood red dust, where creatures twisted by the ancient destruction still roam and hunt those foolish enough to enter the lands purged by abyssal fire.
(Basically I used Dark Sun campaign themes and creatures within my own more traditional campaign).
The Maze of Golden Roses: A hedge maze in the Fey Wild made of organic golden roses. Incredibly soft, the pure gold is easily cut through but the walls of the maze are thick enough that trying to slice through the regenerative maze leaves many trapped within the confines of the twisting plants. The gold roses also exude a powerful narcotic that leaves many addicts in the shifting paths of the ever changing structure, who starve themselves to death while smelling the roses that they claim aid them in the hatching of dream worlds seeded in their skulls and blossoming in the distant reaches of the Astral.
In the center of the maze is a half-dragon, half-eladrin city made of gold. The city contains many portals to important locations in the Fey Wild.
The Dawn Spear: A spear as large as a tower stuck into the earth. The spear leans at an angle, and its head is stained in a yellow-brown ichor. The land around the spear is a blighted forest that extends for miles, the swollen soft fleshed trees bearing beautiful flowers that bear the yellow and brown spots of overripe bananas. The blossoms smell like dust, a smell that grows stronger as one approaches the spearhead. The ichor of the spearhead shares this dust smell, but also exudes a strong smell of embalming chemcials. A tribe of gnolls has taken residence in the wooden shaft of the spear, and their eyes and teeth now bear the silvery nacre cast of the spearhead.
The gnolls are disturbingly friendly, intelligent, and charismatic. They've built a religion around their transformation, though even they have no idea whose spear this is. They've found themselves raised up by the spear and seek to know both the god or primordial who hurled it and the god or primordial whose blood stains it. They have some clues from the filigree on the spearhead, depicting flocks of sparrows, and the runes that spiral around the shaft that they made a point not to damage when they hollowed out the inside.
Adventurers willing to aid the gnolls by scouring the planes for more information are handsomely paid.
The Crystal Flock: A flock of green crystals whirls around the Elemental Chaos, entrapping varied creatures such as slaad and githzerai. The actions of the flock seem random but magic and psionics have both detected a definite sentience and possible hivemind at work.
Ashen Field: Cataclysmic events involving fire (Forest fires, volcanic eruptions, red dragon swarm) can leave entire areas bereft of almost anything but layers of ash interspersed with broken, charred ruins. Within these places there is sometimes a new connection to the Shadowfell (due to the mass death) and a prior, now tainted connection to the Fey Wild. These Ashen Fields attract undead fey who have been banished to the Shadowfell, spectral creatures who can now form bodies from the ash and prey on the living. These fey hate mortals, though the exact reason is unclear. They seem to only want to drain the life of mortals after they'v gotten them to betray and harm each other, and cannot seem to hurt any mortal until this has occurred no matter how threatening they may appear...though I will say that usually their appearance catches at the heart but not the sake of any ugliness...
The Grinning Trees: This forest contains rail thin, incredibly tall swaying trees that have sets of perfect whtie teeth smiling rictus grins held in the pale grey-white of their bark. Any who enter will find the trees moving, rearranging themselves to ensure visitors are lost and stumbling into bogs and pits if not running into the dire predators of this place. As night falls, it seems the forest is much thicker than it was in the day time, and the trees seem to be thicker and breathing, if not panting, through the clamped teeth. The trees never attack anyone until they are completely separated from all their companions, and are aided in this by all the animals that dwell amongst their trunks and branches. There is a single seven story cottage wherein lives an gnarled half-orc druid who has been appointed the keeper of this place and thus prevents it from spreading. Around the cottage the trees are stunted and have no grins. The druid sadly has gone a bit insane while using the bulk of his power to prevent these trees from expanding.
The Pile of Rot: Cultists determined to incarnate Jubliex the Faceless Lord have worked to make a body worthy of the Abyssal Lord. As such, they have taken to murdering all sorts of living things and throwing them into a pile that is now as big as a decent sized hill that could overlook a forest of middle-aged oak trees. They have made circles of glyphs around their altar-idol, and shoved various magic items into it as well. The nights are filled with estatic chanting as they dance around the revolting thing they hope will serve as their god's vessel. The days of many cultists consist of pouring libations of blood and other bodily fluids onto the thing to keep it from drying out. There is a siege tower next to the pile with a bronze cauldron for this very purpose. Having convinced themselves that the body has reached some kind of measure of quality, they now seek to afix eyes to it, preferably those of beholders, medusae, and other creatures known for their magical gazes.
The Fallen Arcanum: Amidst the ruins of a magical university from the days of antiquity, a collection of chaos imps are dormant until they sense the presence of sentients. At that point they begin to animate the shattered stonework of the place, or jump into the items of the PCs. Somewhere in the ruins is a portal to a swirling vortex of chaos matter, a planet swallowing hurricane that borders the Abyss. One might find demons wandering the ruins as well, seeking some artifact hidden from their eyes in these ruins.
The Iron Heart: A heart made of iron sits in a fountain in a courtyard abandoned to the ravages of time, the buildings around it ground down to their foundations. Some kind of black liquid dribbles from the varied holes, and the plantlife around the fountain is twisted and grotesque, trees whose bark resembles blistered flesh and grass that makes one think of eyelashes. The soil under one's feet seems to be a thin layer of dirt over a membrane but digging reveals nothing but soil soaked with the black liquid. The heart, in truth, is possessed by a sibirex obyrith who escaped the ancient war between the Queen of Chaos and the Wind Dukes of Aquaa.
The Cerulean Lake: A massive, miles-wide lake in a temperate climate that is perpetualy frozen and shrouded with mist. Someone has chipped grooves, lines, and indented regions into the ice which glow faintly with cerulean light. Under the surface of the lake one sees frozen aboleths staring up at you, some part of their consciousness free from their imprisonment. If one were to clear away the mist and see the lake from above, one would see a massive etching of the Cerulean Sign (from the 3.5 book Lords of Madness).
The Needle Storm: A forest smelling gaggingly strong of pine, where the branches are almost bare because the needles are flailing in a perpetual hurricane. Once the needles dry out they fall to the ground, but any full grown needle on a branch takes to the air and quickly replaces the dead ones. The trees are cracked and leaking, making the ground a sticky mess of dead pine needles. It is said that there is a fey child of great power driven mad with rage and grief in the center of the forest, but to examine the veracity of this claim means entering the needle swarm that is so thick it blocks the vision within a foot from your person. Not to mention that the trees, having absorbed so much hate from the soil, will strike out when you are not looking, or subtly herd those creatures strong enough to survive in this mad place toward your location. The last adventuring group to brave the forest, for example, was overrun by a herd of rhino skinned dire elks...
Storm Plinths: From the floating thunderheads above, apparently caught perpetually in a doldrum of wind, bolts of lightning struck the ground and now thunderously crackle in place as electric plinths. There are patches of vegetation and trees between the bolts, though the radius around each pillar of wild blue-white energy is charred and rent from the storm's power conducting through moisture in the soil - these currents flow through the ground whenver the downpour begins again.
Here and there are the bones and rusted, charred, and/or melted armor of storm giants and the spirit of a powerful storm titan is actually split between the pillars. The ghosts of storm giants have soaked into the water that cycles from cloud to ground. In the sky above, Tiamat has appointed blue dragon wyrms to watch over this place from spiraling towers of cloud. Her reasoning for this is unknown to all but a few ancient liches and the eldest of the blue dragon wardens.
One of the points of light from my campaign, a world where imperial nations from a renaissance styled continent were kicked off a fantasy styled americas continent by rebels, native tribes, and elemental magic.
The Port of White Haven
History-A young spirited bustling port town on the tropic coasts of the New World, White Haven stands a hopeful beacon of the adventuring spirit that the New World is known for. Majestic knights in gold, white and blue armor ride forth into bright rainforests fight tribal championships as adventurers spread the name of White Haven as far as they can with great feats and heroics. A New World awaits! Make a name for yourself!
Over 200 years ago an imperialistic Old World Nation built a single tower on a cliff overlooking a white sand bay. After that it was taken over by a new power every 5-10 year, being steadily fortified over the years until when it was the small castle the young Lord of White Haven came with his elvish wife to act as Lord Governer for the Starry Realm of Bretton, the Old World Nation he represented. His respectful treatment of the natives and the eagerness of Lord White Haven and his knights to help the natives with any problem they might have quickly opened the way for exploration deeper in the jungles and increased trade.
White Haven's prosperity brought greater taxes and a greater control from the Old World with all it's bigotry and cruelty towards both native and colonists. Unwilling to accept or obey the demands coming from Bretton Lord White Haven was forced to flee the castle with his knights in the night when Bretton sent a military expedition to siege the castle. Within weeks several of the local tribes allied themselves with Lord White Haven and helped him retake the port.
In a momentic battle Lord White Haven laid siege to his own castle, rescued his wife, and killed the new Lord Governor. The next morning the sun rose over the newly forged Kingdom of White Haven!
This kingdom would be comprised of both freed colonists and local tribes of shifters, humans, and elves. Roads were established, schooles opened, and a general period of trade and growth was enjoyed until the beggining of what later became known as the Great Rebellion or the Old World's Shame. White Haven sided with the other rebels and natives in their fight to overthrow the rulership of the Old World Empires and came out of the war as one of the few settlements left standing after the war.
But in the ensuing chaos as the empires were forced to withdraw their forces from the New World pirates and marauding hordes of lizardfolk, goliaths (olmec and aztec style) and humans forced the newly kingdom into an all out war of defense. Village after village was burned, whole tribes lost as they fled into the jungle until the horde's siege of White Haven Castle itself was broken when the teacher/monk Von Lichten killed the human warlord with his bare hands.
White Haven Now-Years later White Haven is still struggling to re-establish itself. Many of the tribes fled, hopelessly lost in the rainforests, and while efforts are being made to resettle the villages burnt out in the raids there simply aren't enough settlers to fill them all.
Now White Haven sends bards and messengers to every port city in the New and Old World calling for settlers. Those with neccesary trades or who can pay their way recieve lands on their arrival, while the best, the most adventerous, and the most honest of the poverty stricken refugee families (from the great Sundering or the subsequent wars) have their passage paid for them but receive no lands. The message to all? WORK! AND MAKE A NAME FOR YOURSELF!
While the work of resettlement is underway White Haven has called all ambitious and chivalrous adventurers. Their task? To spread the name of White Haven abroad as they win tournaments, retake towns, and improve the relationships with the local tribes by performing any heroic deed presented to them. White Haven will be known again, first in the rainforest mountains of their coast and then the world!
The Monastery of Saint Caerthmndh (a point of light)
This Trappist monastery is located in the midst of the Enchanted Forest ( which connects to the Feywild) beside a narrow but deep river which flows towards civilization. Nota bene that when I refer to monks here, I mean mediaeval European monks, not Oriental martial artists.
The monastery is a moderately large complex of buildings surrounded by a stout wall. There is a church, a watchtower, a gatehouse, a library, a dormitory, an office, a storehouse, a barn, a stable, a cellar, and various other smaller buildings and rooms all connected by cloisters and tunnels. The monks pray, heal, lodge travelers, brew beer and write manuscripts.
There are also outlying buildings and the dwellings of ordinary folk. There is an orchard, a graveyard, a mill, a smaller watchtower and some sheds. There are several fields for crops and livestock.
There is an aged and wise abbot, an ancient hermit in the woods, a pragmatic and brusque cellarer, a learned and cautious librarian, an evil magic-dabbling Brother, a ghost from olden days, a huge and strong former soldier and now penitent monk, an idiot, a half-insane mystic, a simple craftsman Brother, a fanatically pious and suspicious Brother, and many others.
Travelers and merchants on the single relatively safe road through the Enchanted Forest can rest and provision here. Adventurers can find much useful information and receive errands and quests from the various more motivated monks.
Astu Fides (point of light) History Lying at the head of a valley sheltered by two rivers, it stands in the only opening to the Aurean Vale, at the edge of what is known as Where Angels Fear to Tread. Three hundred years ago when a King sought a deal with The Dark God Orcus for immortality, he beckoned the Nine Hells themselves into what had been a land united under a Kingdom ordained by Bahamut himself. When the god saw his Kingdom on Earth burn in the fires of the Nine Hells, he withdrew his blessing, in wait of a worthier Heir to the throne he had made.
Astu Fides is a part of the 'Kingdom' which survives in the North, along the river Des where the advance of the armies of the Nine Hells was finally stopped. It is more a collection of states forced together than an actual Kingdom, and Astu Fides is one of the few cities actually bordering the River. From afar it's walls seem to emerge from the mighty cliff face that serves to seal off most of the veil, geography which has allowed Astu Fides to survive the darkness which lashes out from the Blasted Heath that it looks over. Its white stonework serves as a mighty bullwhark to seal off the opening at the top of the steep ascent in the opening of the cliff face, and from outside the city walls is visible not a palace, but the Luminary, a Temple of Bahamut.
When the former line of Kings failed, Bahamut did not entirely abandon Caelum. At Astu Fides and other places, those who would raise a sword against evil still wield true power. The city is governed by The Lunarch, and as servants of Bahamut, they seek to not merely survive, but to strike back, and scar the darkness. The Aureum Crusaders is the name of the military force, and clad in gilded armor, broad shields, and keen blades, they are symbols of what Caelum once was; and hope for what it will be again. They are often joined in battle by Angels of Valor, proof of fact that no matter the darkness, the Heavens have not abandoned them.
Here, the word of the Lunarch is law. Adventurers are allowed to pass through, so long as they do not bear the symbols of Evil Gods or have earned notoriety as an evil-doer. For all their Divine Purpose and military prowess by grace of the gods, they stand on the brink of an all consuming darkness. Beyond the cities walls lies every dark machination it is possible to imagine, and though the adventurers will not be treated as equals to the Crusaders, all manner of quests can be obtained in order to ease the pressure on the already over-extended crusaders.
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