The Kingdom of the Hand of Victory Also known simply as, The Hand. Centuries ago the seat of a Hobgoblin dynasty reknowned for its cruelty. The Hobgoblins of the area believed that the claw-like mountainous peaks which ring this fertile valley was in fact the remains of a lost goblinoid deity who promised dominion of his people over the material plane; but was betrayed and imprisoned by the deities of the elves. But the betrayal of the original hobgoblin kingdom came from within. The wholesale enslavement of so many people of other races was half from the need for labor, but equally due to that streak of cruelty indulged in by this regime. The Hobgoblins tormented slaves of many races, until at last death in revolt became a far sweeter cup than even one more moment of servitude. The struggle lasted for weeks; but the newfound freedom of the hodge-podge of slaves seemed short-lived. A well-organized hobgoblin legion ten-thousand strong was on the way, determined to quench the flames of freedom beneath their blood-drenched boots. Though terribly outnumbered, the dwarves, humans, tieflings, and elves came together in a coordinated front that used the natural defenses of the ringing mountains to maximum advantage. The peaks, foothills, and valley drank deeply of blood, sweat, pain, and steel as the hobgoblin legion was methodically, completely destroyed. The victory was so total, so overwhelming that the power of the hobgoblins was broken for a generation in the area. Today, the five craggy peaks that ring this fertile valley symbolize a triumph of hope over oppression, the hand of a slave rising up in triumph over his masters. And the tiny, close-knit kingdom has settled into a comfortable equilibrium. The mountain passes are patrolled and fortified by stout dwarf clans that combine their own knowledge of fortification with the natural advantages of the narrow defiles to create a stalwart defense. Human farmers in the valley ensure self-sufficiency with a rich, diverse crop that more than nourishes the population. The city of Victus, at the valley's center is where tiefling merchants add to the kingdom's wealth, and elven artisans carve wonders of living wood that attract admirers from miles around. The people of the Hand consider themselves a separate culture, but welcome peaceable visitors from all races. From within their numbers, each race selects a public official known as a Vox, to speak for their needs. The king is selected from among their ranks. The Hand remains a light of hope amidst a wild, savage territory and is an excellent home-base for many adventurers. But beware its seeming security; within the deepest mountain crevasses there are still hobgoblin tunnels where even the dwarves are wary to tread; the former rulers may still have left trap-guarded bastions of their cruelty nestled deep in the rock to ensnare the unwary.
Alriiiight my first post EVER on these forums (I think >.>). Saw this thread and couldn't pass it up. Here's just one of a myriad different locales in my campaign world that could be used as an adventuring spot!
Blackshard Tower
Blackshard Tower stands as a testament to a long lost age. Towering alone in the Selpin Flats, able to be seen for miles around, the tower's stark black walls contrast the salt plain's bleached white granules. The tower itself sits within a crater, as if the Gods grasped the spire as a lightning bolt and cast it into the ground.
Once, long before the Age of Ash, the tower was the grand estate of the Onyx Order; a magical institution rival to that of the elf run Conservatory or the Magister's Initiative. While the Conservatory sought to find, catalogue, and inevitably hide away the magical secrets of the world, and the Magister's Initiative was to mix the arcane and mundane science together for the betterment of the nations, the Onyx Order pursued magic for magic's sake, to gain knowledge and powers previously forbidden to mortal use. To this end, those of the Onyx Order were seen as wild, power-hungry, and corrupt.
When the great Scouring engulfed the world and rained down its ash, the three academies did not fare well. Moments before the disaster at Mt. Rul, the entire campus of the Conservatory suddenly vanished, leaving a massive pit in the ground where it once stood. The college of the Magister's Initiative was decimated when the mount exploded, and turning the entirety of the college's homeland into the bloodied scar that is now known as the Ashlands. At this time, Blackshard Tower sat further north in the city-state of Orndil. When the ash began to cover the world, the greatest minds of the Onyx Order attempted to shift their tower into the Shadowfell to escape the disaster.
It was 200 years after the coming of the Ash that the world saw the Blackshard Tower again, when it suddenly manifested yards above the Selpin Flats, and plummeted to the Earth. Its impact shuddered the small trading town of Corcoran, located along the flat's edge and making a living farming the salts of the plain (which it then sold to the city-state of Emolund, the only city of recognizable power for hundreds of miles around). Quickly word spread of the return of the Tower, but there was no sign of those belonging to the Order. Soon adventurers out of Emolund set out to explore the Tower, but none ever returned.
Soon Corcoran began noticing a strange taint in the salt, seeming to emanate from the Tower. It had become poisonous to those who ate it, and was an irritant to the skin. Sand storms comprised of the salt would blow through the town; an event that had never happened until the Tower's return. The salt proved very corrosive to the town folk's homes and businesses, and soon the small town fell into disrepair, and its people sickly. Corcoran cried out for help to Emolund, but the city's government suddenly turned a deaf ear to their pleas. The ruling body did, however, continue to send sell-swords to the Tower on a regular basis, regardless of the dangers. Stranger still was the appearance of shady looking individuals walking amongst the nobles of the city, their bodies pierced and marked in painful places.
Why did the Tower suddenly reappear? Where have those of the Onyx Order disappeared to? Just what happened to the Tower while in the Shadowfell? Does that explain the sudden appearance of the Shadar'kai in Emolund? Furthermore, why are Shadar'kai mingling with the ruling nobility of the city? What ailment has befallen Corcoran, and why is Emolund ignoring its pleas? Perhaps the answers to these lie within the many hallways and labratories of the Blackshard Tower itself...
The Ashengrasp desert was once a verdant meadow, but the fertility of the land was a casualty of the powers and hubris of an enigmatic, enchanted empire. The Aash'dow were a race of mysterious origin, possibly Eladrin that were each possessed with sorcerous bloodlines. Their magics grew so potent that they were, as a culture able to transcend death itself. In a great working of eldritch power they transformed their entire race into undead spectral beings able to withstand sunlight; that they might pursue their arts and culture forever. But there was a price to be paid for this extravagance. The nearby lands began to sicken and die, vegetation withered, and animals fell ill, their life-force needed to fuel the undead existence of the Aash'dow. Their empire did not care, since they were freed from the petty creature-needs of mortals. There is an order of priests and a circle of druids who both claim credit for the great meteoric strike that devastated their territory; sent in retaliation by some vengeful god, or nature itself, depending on the legend. The power of the Aash'dow was shattered, seemingly forever. The land did not recover, but the damage was limited. But within the blackened crater lies hope. A great oasis spring appeared at the bottom of the miles-wide depression, and attracted whatever desperate travelers could survive the journey. A mingled, anything-goes civilization emerged in the crater, composed of almost every humanoid race. Newcomers are welcome, but only if they bring a useful skill can they drink from the oasis. A city council has its hands full maintaining a stable social order amongst the dizzying variety of species. And of course, the legendary artifacts of the Aash'dow still litter the desert awaiting the bold....or foolish.
A small zone of wetlands surrounding a particularly sluggish section of the Lanasur river is a feared zone for the nearest settlements. The typical vegetation of the area composed of gigantic grass and many other high and low quagmire plants provide a fun place for children to play, but sadly, some never return. The tales of the returning playmates of the disappeared are always confused and never contain any sign of emotional stress. What's more, they seem way too calm to be stories of such a grim nature. The only recurrent element is the sounds of hisses, which are described as beautiful and soothing. Hence the name of the area given by the locals.
Some adventurers actually managed to see the sources of these sounds: creatures indeed beautiful, but surely as dangerous as the monsters they partly are. They're rarely seen before they're heard. The ones who have the strength of will to resist the bewitching effect of the eerie hisses, manage to see glittering snakes, with scales the colors of the rainbow, big eyes with deep, intelligent glares, and wonderful insect-like wings sprouting from the back of what tries to be the torso of the creature's elongated body. The adventurer's tales however are always different, sometimes speaking of different beasts, sometimes speaking of singing nymphs, other times such nonsensical images and facts that the people simply don't want to listen to the stories anymore, except for using them to scare theyr children so that they won't go to the cursed land.
The tales are all true though: in fact, the mystical creatures are masters of beguilement and illusion and they're all "children" themselves of a mysterious fey entity that inhabits the portion of the river, which is in fact a "thin zone" between the natural world and the feywild, where the scintillating underwater residence of the whimsical aquatic spirit lies. There, the kidnapped children serve the Dweller of the River for completely unknown purposes.
Those who will dare enter the fairy realm of the river, will probably never comprehend what the snarled mind of the spirit is, but they'll surely suffer the terrible whims and caprices of the Dweller of the River... But perhaps nobody will be able to enter the dreamy realm, until they understand it...
Join the Zendikar D&D Campaign Setting group: discover the fantastic world and contribute to make Zendikar a playable setting! - Warning! Spectacular visuals and lore ahead! ... Take a look...
The village has no walls, and this would be surprising to any visitors. "How do these soft, unarmed artisans defend themselves from the numerous dragons and draconic beings that infest these mountains?" Is a question pondered by almost every visitor. In truth, though the surrounding mountains possess honeycombed caverns infested with vicious nests of cruel dragons each eyeing the hoard of the others, none dare draw near this decorated village of expert craftsmen, gold and silversmiths, and enchanters. At the center is a shimmering palace seemingly carved of polished ivory inlaid with gold. The entrances are wide... far too wide than necessary for any humanoid. On a throne of gold-filigreed lapis-lazuli sits what appears to be a bored girl barely in her twenties. But any who stay longer than a day will soon discover that this palace is home to the insane gold dragon known as Glitter; who is protector and tyrant alike to the skilled human craftsmen. Glitter has invested much in magics to adopt a humanoid form, and has developed a bizarre, quasi-familial relationship with her human 'family'. Glitter demands objects and people of surpassing beauty, insists on the most comfortable personal chambers, and dines only on meals prepared by overworked, highly trained professional chefs served on plates of gold-marbled, pearl-studded crystal. She despises the cave-dwelling, horse-devouring habits of other dragons and will do anything to preserve her bubble of civilized luxury. As a consequence, civilized amenities are available to adventurers who stop here amidst the savagery of the dragon-infested mountain range. She will fly into murderous rages at the sight of anything dirty, untidy, or ugly. The men of the village are also her consorts, but she has no permanent favorites, and has produced a considerable brood of half-dragon (or dragonborn at the DM's discretion) offspring over the centuries. The artisans suffer greatly and labor with minimal profits creating objects of beauty for the deranged and conceited dragon, but they would not remove her from power even if they could, for it is fear of Glitter's great might in her draconic form that keeps away other dragons that would torture or devour the people. Her puissance is not a bluff, and only the oldest Great Wyrms would stand a chance of defeating her. Glitter will offer twice the listed price when purchasing magical items from adventurers, but travelers should be wary; Glitter might decide at any time to acquire a new consort should she be presented with handsome male adventurers, a service which none dare refuse, yet not all survive. For most parties, fighting the dragon is all but impossible, and subtler, diplomatic means must be employed should Glitter develop a passing interest for a PC. She has a special fondness for bards. Do business if you wish, but beware of the capricious moods and extravagant demands of this creature.
This small volcanic island in the Sea of Blades is so named for the ancient Dragonbourne ruin that lies on the southern edge of the mountain, abandoned for the need of warriors to fight Bael Turath. In lieu of their nobler cousins, the lizardfolk have taken control of the island, taming the giant reptiles that stalk the jungles, but have always steered clear of the Tyzel Ruins, for fear of 'shadows'. They themselves live on the eastern swamps, in a series of villages that surround a great murky lake.
Unfortunately, in the past years, the Black Queen Alexdragnoxia has come to the island, demanding worship, sacrifice, and consorts of the villages. None of her consorts, the bravest and strongest young men of the lizardfolk tribes, have ever returned from her temple in the center of the lake, but her children have, and the blackscaled, winged lizardfold act as her enforcers inside the lizardfolk community.
Also, recently, a clan of Dragonbourne have grown tired of wandering, and seek to make a new home in the ruins, but find themselves beset by lizardfolk war parties when they leave and plagued by shadows when they stay. A wise group of sellswords might be able to arrange a meeting with the elder druids of the lizardfolk, who would much rather be ousted of their tyrant, but one would still have to get through her children and most importantly, her.
Hundreds or thousands of years ago, the place now known as Dust Falls was a great lake fed my a mighty river. Over time, however, the current of the river and the weight of the lake eroded the bedrock around the mouth of the river of this high-mountain lake, until it crashed down into an undiscovered series of labyrinthine caves below. Over and over again, the rush of water crushed the roofs of the caves below it, eventually carving out a mile-wide, ten-mile deep hole in the world. The river has long since dried up, and now only a small trickle of dust falls down from above, giving the place its name.
Standing at the lip of the hole is a town that takes its name from the place. It acts as a launching-off point for the perilous journey down the chasm by way of a series of branching caves and ledges that winds its way down into the darkness. Thanks to the surrounding mountains, little sunlight ever reaches the town of Dust Falls, and more than a mile or so into the chasm, even that dwindles to a faint glow from above.
Ten miles below the surface, at the bottom of the long trail leading down the chasm, travelers come to the gates of Downtown, a fortress city that guards the opening into a vast cave in the deepest reaches of the pit. Though the road to Downtown -if it can be called a road- is perilous enough, the people of Downtown know that they guard the entrance to something far worse, for the cave they stand at the mouth of is a direct connection to the Underdark and all the horrors it contains.
Both Dust Falls and Downtown are cosmopolitan places, and while neither is a safe place for anyone who doesn't know how to handle a weapon, Downtown is far worse in that regard: its residents fight a constant war against the encroaching darkness from below, and violence between the town's defenders is as common as battle with Downtown's would-be invaders. Downtowners live in a deadly, benighted place forgotten by the light world above, and they know it. Still, the opportunity of finding the ancient, untold riches of the world below attracts enough new blood to keep the city alive.
with your blessing, i am going to use or rework this for my homebrew.
Rifter's Ward is a mining boomtown perched precariously on either side of a seeminly bottomless chasm. A central lift allows access to the maze of ramps, ropes, and bridges leading to the various mining claims in the chasm's cliff faces.
The threats to this PoL are legion. 'Downsiders', as the poorest workers that are forced to live in abandoned mines and tunnels due to the high cost of living space 'Upside' are known, are discontented with the laws passed by the ruling Merchants Table since they only seem to protect the rich. The Brotherhood of the Axe, an organization of increasingly militant Dwarven workers, claim that the Ward was once part of a Dwarven Kingdom, and should therefore be given over to them to rule. Monsters and bandits threaten caravans making the arduous journey through the surrounding wilds to Brightwater, a riverport three days west. And finally, miners have been inexplicably disappearing of late in the deepest mines, perhaps indicating that some evil long forgotten has been awakened.
Punishment in Rifter's Ward is swift and efficient. Fines and/or incarceration in a work camp are rewards for more mundane offenses, but offenders commiting heinous acts such as rape, murder, and stealing company property, depending on the severity of the crime, are given either the Long Walk or the Short Walk. The Long Walk refers to the journey down the town's main street to the city gate, through which the offender will pass into exile and very probable death. The Short Walk is a 20 ft plank leading out over the chasm and a chance to determine if it really is bottomless.
Rifter's Ward is a mining boomtown perched precariously on either side of a seeminlgy bottomless chasm. A central lift allows access to the maze of ramps, ropes, and bridges leading to the various mining claims in the chasm's cliff faces.
The threats to this PoL are legion. 'Downsiders', as the poorest workers that are forced to live in abandoned mines and tunnels due to the high cost of living space 'Upside' are known, are discontented with the laws passed by the ruling Merchants Table since they only seem to protect the rich. The Brotherhood of the Axe, an organization of increasingly militant Dwarven workers, claim that the Ward was once part of a Dwarven Kingdom, and should therefore be given over to them to rule. Monsters and bandits threaten caravans making the arduous journey through the surrounding wilds to Brightwater, a riverport three days west. And finally, miners have been inexplicably disappearing of late in the deepest mines, perhaps indicating that some evil long forgotten has been awakened.
Punishment in Rifter's Ward is swift and efficient. Fines and/or incarceration in a work camp are rewards for more mundane offenses, but offenders commiting heinous acts such as rape, murder, and stealing company property, depending on the severity of the crime, are given either the Long Walk or the Short Walk. The Long Walk refers to the journey down the town's main street to the city gate, through which the offender will pass into exile and very probable death. The Short Walk is a 20 ft plank leading out over the chasm and a chance to determine if it really is bottomless.
At first glance, it would seem to be a well-maintained highway like any other, yet it's not clear what principality first established it. But those who can read the incantations carved into the stone archways at the roadsides will find that the road leads them....elsewhere. It is possible to travel to far-distant parts of the world hundreds, thousands of miles away depending on what incantation is read on which stone archway at the side of the road. One simply walks forward and will find over the next hill a land that would have taken months to reach through normal means. Those that do not read the incantations aloud will eventually come upon an Inn and pleasure-palace run by a wealthy tiefling mistress, known as Laey's Lay. Mistress Laey began her business by offering a simple night's sleep and hearty meal, but has expanded her operation with help of merchants from all over the world and has created almost an enclosed village. One can eat, rest, purchase mounts, buy weapons and armor, or indulge in a variety of sybaristic delights - for the right price. Laey's Lay has copied some of the mystic incantations from the stone arches on her property, apparently allowing all travelers from anywhere in the world that find the LeyWay to end up at her door if they have no other specific destination in mind.
