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Post by DMC on Feb 27, 2015 16:57:06 GMT
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Post by friartook on Feb 27, 2015 17:22:33 GMT
Thank you for this post. You just caused some real inspiration for flavor text to be included in a Worldbuilding project I'm working on.
And when the Wrath of the Stars struck, the world shuddered and heaved. The explosion boiled the oceans and shattered the mountains. It flung dust and debris to the howling winds and caused great cracks in the world from which the world bled its firey substance.
The arcane energies released caused the mountains themselves to rise up and walk, and the winds screamed into great living storms, and seas rose up to feast hungrily on the land walkers it could never reach, and everywhere, fires raged and consumed.
Many of the Giants and Genesai were crushed, burned or drowned along with we Children of the World. Many died, and many fled in terror, and many fell to their knees in despair. But the Genesai and Giants were born of the elements themselves, and counted themselves great shapers and workers of elemental power. Some few thought to fight these horrors with their own elemental magics. But the magics of the stars were alien, and in the mingling of the two energies the Genesai and Giants were changed, so that few still remain in their original form today.
All races were equal that day, and all knew sorrow and grief. Somehow, some survived the years of upheaval, as the very face and shape of the world changed, and the great Moon Face appeared in the sky, and the beasts of the world changed, and the horrors from beyond walked unchallenged through tears in the weave to feed on the weak. Those few who survived this time are our fathers and mothers. We owe our very lives to their bravery, prudence and luck, and remember them every hundred years, at the Mourning Festival.
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Post by joatmoniac on Mar 2, 2015 23:54:51 GMT
Amazing work Friartook! I think you scared everyone else off of this DM-nastics, haha. I can't help but think of them all as "Well, you shouldn't piss off the DM, and these kinds of things won't happen!"
I love the idea of a post apocalyptic world in terms of D&D. A world plagued by true forces of nature with a small amount of the population left that is willing to fight it. The top picture, the mobile mountain, screams to become a dungeon of some sort. The only way to kill it is from deep within it's body. You could have any number of things inside or the actual "heart of the mountain" that would need to be dealt with. You could have regular checks to see if you lose balance, but eventually the players could gain their mountain legs.
The other pictures are amazing to look at, but sadly I haven't had much experience with higher level campaigns, but have always thought to just start high level and go from there. These bad boys would definitely make the cut when looking at adversaries for the PCs to face.
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Post by dm_mainprize on Mar 10, 2015 13:02:11 GMT
I will take a stab at this, Based of the Tornado picture.
The idea/campaign would be based around a giant tornado who is in fact a man. This man was a the master of a small village and a very gluttonous man and would always take from others whatever he desired. Wether that be food, or goods, livestock or money. One day an enchantress came to the town disguised as a old woman. She was selling candies and treats to the children of the village and the man loved nothing more than candies and treats. He pushed the children aside and started to take and consume the goods the enchantress had brought. In a flash of lightning she transformed into her true form a beautiful enchantress and placed a curse on the man. He would be transformed into a giant elemental terror who would consume and consume for all of time. Thus he changed into the great terror of the land.
The players goal would be to either destroy this thing, or find the enchantress to have the magic undone.
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Post by DMC on Mar 20, 2015 13:55:53 GMT
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Post by DMC on Mar 20, 2015 13:56:42 GMT
Dang, they came out a "little" smaller than I'd hoped for. Hmmmm......
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Post by insightfulhedgehog on Mar 24, 2015 14:21:34 GMT
Okay, so even though this is a bit of a late response here goes. Looking at the last picture makes me think of a massive hydra terrorizing an expansive plains. No one is powerful enough to stop it. Previously it only had 3 heads but a group of great warriors attacked it and went all out. Sadly, they all perished and only managed to cut off two of the heads making it stronger. Your adventurers are travelling through these parts and you explain "Ahead of you the road stops as it runs into a large cliff that marks the sart of one of 5 massive mountains." If they attempt to scale the cliff the monster awakes. "You feel the ground beneath you begin to rumble as the mountains begin to stir and lift upwards" im the end they have to figure out how to defeat or escape from a hydra whose heads look like mountains who is blocking their path. Could definetly be interesting.
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Post by catcharlie on Sept 5, 2015 22:26:36 GMT
Picture number 3 'Lightning hands, Tornado toes'
The druid is said to be the guardians of nature, able to command the very earth to help them in times of need. An angered Druid can call down a bolt of lightning or make the earth at you feet crumble away and swallow you, but very few will ever lose control and let the anger consume them; but let me tell you of one such Druid, who was so consumed by rage that he became the incarnate of natures rage.
A good natured, if a little eccentric, druid lived a little way out of the large city, he would travel into the city every day to sell little items to passers by, good luck charms made of wood and leaves, decorative items, bracelets with beautiful stones in, and more. He would also help around the city, cleaning it up, planting flowers, teaching the youngsters how to live in the woods, he was generally well liked by the people who knew him. after many years of a happy life, things started to go downhill.
The city management changed, the new mayor and councillors didn't like him and stopped him from planting the beautiful plants he grew, they built the city up, massive stone buildings crowded the once bright and happy wide streets. So he moved his little shop to the outskirts of the city to catch the travellers who were going in and out; however on the outskirts, around the town, a huge menacing double layered wall had been constructed so he set up just out side of it.
Soon the people changed as well, the Guards who patrolled the perimeter were always grumpy and rude, some the Druid recognised, but their faces reflected less of the smiles and happy sparkles that he was used to and more of the anger and sadness he didn't want to see. The people who travelled in and out of the City became more gloomy as well, no one wanted the things he was selling, or the lessons he could teach. Soon the travellers stopped travelling and bandits became the only foot traffic past his little shop; so he moved back, further into the woods, closer to his cabin, departing from the city and people he had once loved.
He had tried to stay as positive as he had always been, but the negativity had rubbed off on him and he was not as happy as he once was, sad for what had become of city he always enjoyed visiting and the people who now exist there.
It wasn't long before the city expanded, tearing up the woods, killing the creatures for food and clothing, or even just for sport, polluting the rivers and streams that ran and trickled through he woods. This was the thing that killed that old druid, he died and in his place was born hate and anger. The old Druid, filled with negativity, cast spell upon spell upon spell, until he became what he is today; the physical incarnation of his rage in natures form. The clouds of his body are as black as his once golden heart, his arms and hands crackle with the malice and energy of lightning, he steps with the destruction of the ferocious speeds of whirl winds and tornadoes and his laugh is that of thunder, and he rampages across the world destroying anything that blights the beautiful nature in front of him. From the height that he stands he can see multiple man made stains on the earth that need to be destroyed, but in his single minded blind rage he will never see the destruction that he had lain behind him, for he destroys his beloved nature between the specks of disdain that he sees on the horizon.
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Post by kjmagle on Sept 9, 2015 17:17:16 GMT
Kazad Vengryn After a humiliating defeat at the Battle of Iron Falls, the dwarven king Farof Mulamek vowed vengeance on the human King Trahorn Dryadson and all his land. The dwarves that survived the battle retreated with their king into the Rolling Mountains never to be heard or seen from again. 4 decades later reports of earthquakes were sent to new King Tromaros Dryadson, son of Trahorn. Lord Tromaros sent scouts out to evaluate the damage that the quakes are causing and the source. Upon reaching outside the small village of Whitebridge, the scouts had stopped to the sight they were not prepared for. A walking mountain. A walking mountain that was closing on Whitebridge. A walking mountain that had mouth that glowed yellow and red as it got closer and closer. Then a walking mountain that that shot out hot lava onto the village, burning, destroying, and incinerating the would town in mere minutes. The scouts hurried back to the King to tell them what they had saw and it was heading direction of his Kingdom. The king turned pale "It seems that Farof will have his revenge."  I am calling the walking mountain Kazad Vengryn (Fortress Revenge) The Dwarven King overcome with hate loathing of the outcome of the battle settled into the mountain with his surviving dwarf army. After Many years of barely surviving the hate grew more and more until he was visited one night by a Demon that promised him he could help destroy the humans he was battling. Farof with out second thought agreed on the demons terms, his and his dwarf armies souls. Once the scroll was signed all the dwarves died. Their souls were then infused into the mountain they were living in. 30 years later the mountain awoke with only one purpose... To destroy all humankind. |
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Post by dmsarah on Jan 21, 2017 18:58:34 GMT
Well I can't get the picture to paste in, but I'm doing the first one in the second batch -- the ship under attack.
The large vessel rocked with the motion of the waves as the winds blew violently and the salty spray of the dark waters coated the old man's beard. He shouted orders which were quickly passed down the deck by his faithful crew. He had brought them through many a storm and imagined he would many more.
The ship fought forward, further out to water as the waves threatened to crash her back upon the icy cliff wall. He lived for this: man versus nature. The sea may be strong, but he vowed it would take none of his crew today.
A moment later, the abrupt jostling of the ship to one side and the splintering of wood told him the sea may not be the only concern. Mortified, the captain watched large, slippery tentacles wind their way over the deck. It wasn't the mere fact that an ungodly creature of the depths was threatening his life and that of the crew; it was the sword stuck deep into one tentacle that froze the captain in his orders. Rusted and warped though the sword may have been, the blazing star-shaped emerald laid into the handle could not be mistaken. It was the sword his mother once carried, before her ship was lost at sea years earlier.
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