Lands of Adventure.

[Hussar]

This was a thread that I participated in on another board that went really well. Every time you post, add a new place for the players to adventure in. At the end of your post, give a name for a new area to be described. Since this is a general forum, you need not keep your locations limited to any particular genre. It's amazing how genre bending can lead to really fun ideas.

I guess I might as well go first:

The Shard Swamp

The Shard Swamp is a large, noxious fen some distance from any habitation. It gets its name from a particularly nasty form of flora known as Shard Ferns. The Shard Fern is a large, leafy fern with very sharp spines running the length of each plant. The shards are barbed and slightly poisonous and making contact with skin cause a very irritating rash that lasts for several days. The lizard folk inhabitants of the swamp are immune to the effects of the ferns due to their tough scales and use the ferns as fences to block off areas and channel invaders into various traps and ambushes.

Next up: The Bridge of Glass.

[Shadowdragon]

The Bridge Of Glass

Really a misnomer as the bridge is actually made of a natural crystalline substance similar to highly polished quartz. The underside of the bridge is the favored nesting grounds of the Hapax Hawk, which is a very territorial bird and will attack any invader despite it's small size (only 1 ft from wingtip to wingtip) The birds attack in swarms of up to 50 individuals in defense of their home. The bridge leads from the swamp to...

The Forest Of Night

[Shura]

An incredibly dense, gnarled and twisted wood where the sky is barely visible once the adventurers are deep inside.

As soon as the PC's apporah the forest wit hintent to enter, dusk begins. The PC's will fidn this suspicious if they planned to enter at midday! It is in fact part a a powerful dweomer cast over the area which make sit a place of endless night. A dim sort of light is always present though the moon is never seen from inside the forest.

Inside the forest are the ruined lairs of two old, forgotten, but once-powerful beings. A vampire and a shade (formerly 9th level magic user) each have a lair in the forest. They were driven here by past war against evil where they were allies and muhc stronger. The forces of good, fearing to deal iwth them personally, wove a powerful spell around the forest of night. Inside it would be forever night, but as soon as you escaped to within a hundred metres of the forest, dawn would come and swiftly bring the day. The vampire and the shade lord, both unable to survive in daylight ahve grown bitter and frustrated and now wage war on each other using undead and shaodw creatures. Any adventurers encountered would be coerced into fighting for one side or another, or perhaps be attacked and their bodies/essenses raised to fight for the evil ones.

However, it is rumoured that deep inside the forest, unkown to both it's saquabbling rulers, lies a place of local ledgend known as:

The ruins of Dabr-Nasik

[Wyrmfire]

The ancient city of Dabr-Nasik was inhabited by an intelligent race of spider-people, but was exterminated aeons ago by a band of paladins. In their dying moments, the arachnids called down a horrifying curse. No one knows what that curse was, because not one soul lived to tell the tale. Legend says that the curse lit the night sky with a demonic glow.

At the center of the ruins, flickering weirdly, is a glowing red portal that leads to the Outlands.

[JSUN]

The Outlands

Nestled far beyond the realms of "civilized" fold lay the sprawling expanse of the outlands. Consisting of lazy meadows and fields of wild grass and flowers the outlands are rarely a destination of most adventurers or city folk.
Breaking up the bleak, endless plain are ancient, windswept bluffs of craggy broken granite and limestone in which are embedded ancient caves and tunnels where the Vanir, wandering nomads and merchants hole up during the frequently voilent rainstorms that often sneak up like silent Assassins.

It is said that the Vanir alone know the secerets of the 'Strelien lights', stars in the nights sky, that they use to navigate. Perhaps there is wisdom in this for many a brave soul has died lost in the wilderness there, killed by the elements, the beasts, or by the "Vistling Wildmen" who, by most accounts are savage cannibals who grow fat on interlopers.

As one heads east, past the heart of the lands, strange pillars and columns can be seen rising from the grasses as a foreign testament to ancient times. Entitled the "Monaliths of Oor" these strange, intricately carved pillars call out to the inquisitive. No logic explains their placement and none can profess knowledge of thier mysterious origns, whether they stand as a solemn reminder of old battles, dedications to the elder gods, or as a final memory of an ancient race, none can say.

From the horizon, growing ever closer, are the mighty, white stoned ridges of the mountain range that ends the Outlands. The ominious and forboding.....

Dragon Bone Mountains......

[Shura]

Legend has it that when the greatest of red dragons, Charxis, favoured son of Tiamat, challenged the power of the Gods of humanity, he was defeated in a heavenly battle, petrified, and then cast down to earth, where his form shattered and formed the mountain range known as Dragon Bone.

As it is a powerful symbol of evil dragonkind, the Cult of the Dragon has it's main strongold built around a mountain which resembles a cracked reptilian skull. These human worshippers of Tiamat have allied themselves with evil dragons in seach of the Heart of Charxis, a great gem of potent magic over Dragonkind.

Should one climb to the highest pinnacle of the Horn (the tallest of the mountains), one will find a free standing portal, rippling silver, which transports those who enter to:

The Citadel of the Forgotten Gods

[Hussar]

The Citadel of Forgotten Gods rests atop a windswept plateau. The winds constantly batter this small keep and the howling sounds almost intelligent.
When a god is worshipped he becomes stronger. When more worship him, he becomes stronger still. But, all things must end and the rituals become stagnant and the faith turns to myth. When that happens, the god is pushed out of his lands by other, stronger gods. Unable to force his way back, the god dwindles until he reaches this place. Here, those gods too weak to hold their flock gather in hate and spite, constantly trying to escape and find another who will give them faith and restore them to glory.
Any poor mortal luckless enough to find his way to this cursed place will find all sorts of miracles and wishes granted to him, if only he would believe in one of these gods. But, the other forgotten gods are jealous and will fight over the mortal in order to gain the life giving faith. This fighting invariably drives the mortal insane as miracles and curses are heaped upon him one after another.

Next Stop: The Pookaboos.

[Shura]

Should a lcuky individual somehow escape the citadel of the forgotten Gods, he may discover the Pookaboos on the plateau.

This is in fact the name of the lairs which the Pooka Gnomes dewll in. Small inns on the highest of mountains. For the nomadic pooka gnomes spend most of their time travelling-in small caravans of ragtag airships!

Balloons, propelled craft, gliders and even primitive gyrocopters, these creatures defy conventional gnomedom by plying their trade accorss the clouds.

One of their pookaboo lairs lies just on the edge of the plateau where the Citadel is built. A survivor could hitch a ride on the next caravan out, which happens to be on a pilgrimage to:

The Temple of the Four Winds

[cryptangel]

The Temple of the Four Winds is a place of truly magnificence for it is a huge white palace in the top of a mountain not named in the tongues of mortal men.
This beautiful palace is entirely built of white marmol, and it's many walls are skillfully carved with images of many past battles fighted for long-forgotten heroes. The temple itself is built at the plain top of the mountain, which cannot be reached but by air, and among those few who knows it's existance are the Pooka Gnomes, who can reach the temple with their strange flying machines. The temple has four doors, made of solid gold, each one pointing to a corner of the world. In the temple lives those faithful to the Four Great Wind Spirits, which give their workshippers white feathered wings as proof of their faith. The believers are isolated by choice for they can drop the magic that keeps the visitors in the wrong path whenever they want, and live dedicated to their faith and to the creation of some of the most wonderful works of mundane and magical art ever known by the people of this world or any else. However, inside the temple is actually a magical passage that leades to a city that has been allied to the Masters of the Temple against the forces of evil since immemorial times.....

.....The City of Menariel.

[Merkuri]

The City of Menariel

Also known as the "Crystal City", Menariel is made up of entirely of crystals and gems. The streets are paved with emerald and sapphire stones. Tall, graceful structures stretch into the sky, seemingly carved of quartz and ruby. However, the Crystal City is not truly a city, for only a single being lives within it. Menariel itself is sentient. It is a single giant creature made of crystal. It communicates with visitors via telepathy and aids them with weapons and equipment made of its own magical gems. It defends itself by actually growing over its attackers, encasing them with living crystal. Menariel's walls seem to be made of pink quartz, but when it feels threatened, the walls turn diamond-clear and the old enemies encased within become visible. It is a terrifying sight, and so Menariel is rarely subject to attack. The Crystal City is nestled inside a mountain pass, preventing the unworthy from reaching the other side. The pass leads to...

...The Therian Glades.

[Hussar]

C'mon people ,don't let a good thread die.

[GeneT]

Menariel was not always sentient. Its people, its children, living amid the grand city they had begun by toil and hardship in the Shalikan mountians, prospered and developed with little outside influence. Protected by the inhospitable terrain and deadly cold of winter, the Akus, as they called themselves, thrived in the highland's thin air, climbing amidst the peaks with their brothers, balancing thier life with that of the land around them. Menariel soared. The tops of its building reaching like the fingers of an open hand into the pale blue sky in supplication and glory. The tale of their songs and wealth traveled by wild wonder through the teeth of lost wanderers into the pastures below, riddling the hordes of lesser men with the propect of gold. The chance at domination. The wish to rule.

Upon these lower lands coalesced the meanness of men; the greed of desire for another man's house, all of his possessions, and the want to put him beneath their boots to shout and proclaim superiority by dismantling his wonders and destroying his happiness. Through the Red River Hills they rose. The cloud of dust blotting out the sun. Locusts in fertile fields, they ravaged to the cold lands of the Aku. Burned families in smaller settlements leading up mountain to Menariel, flooding the Therian Plain outside the Pass of the Condor beneath the city. Their fires in the night sparkling like a thousand stars upon the land.

Inside Menariel, its people shuddered as the death of their culture gasped outside the great gates. Despondant, the remnants huddled at the feet of the Council of Three, who led them outside the city brandishing shinning blades until trampled beneath the hordes of barbarians. The screams of their torture by flame and steel on the Therian Plain echoed through the silent angry city until Menariel awakened as those pitiless men raped her doorways and began to burn her face. She, he, they that became Menariel lulled the lowlanders with pillage until they slept fat and drunk in Menariel's shelter, until they dreamt of riches and glory, until the city swallowed them in sorrow.

A few staggered southward. Telling tales of singing voices and a jeweled city. Of ghosts and walking bones, of tangles and sudden hollows, ripping winds and tripping tangles of the Therian Plain. Of beckoning false fires winking in that plain beneath a marvelous city that let no southman leave and return home to the Red River Hills. But so long have the years wandered that the city itself has become myth and the reason of its making forgotten through purpose or shame. Paths are overgrown and dangerous. The Therian Plain and its ghosts dismissed as mere fantasy. Life is harsh enough amid the Red River Hills in which lingers the blood of lesser men.

Red River Hills.......

[Shura]

Among the many superficially similar places in the world, the Red River Hills has a distinuishing feature which has earned it's legend across the lands. A red river runs from the highest cave before forming a great waterfall off the cliff of Wailing Doom. The legend goes that in ages past the hills were a peaceful area populated by several small hamlets which coexisted in harmony, until they were caught up in the slaughter that was the culmination of the Jyhad of the Ten Thousand Martyrs, a holy war raging between two forgotten empires. It is said that such was the frenzied carnage that demons escaped ino the world and joined the warriors, claiming the souls of the fallen. However, a benevolent Power took pity on the mortal soldiers, driven to fight for their corrupt masters against their fellow man, and so it materialsed in the form of a pale, white woman whose beauty and aura of tranquility clamed the battle, causing many of the human warriors to drown themselves in the river or throw themselves of the cliffs in remorse, or having repented to the extent that they took their own loves rather than use violence against the marauding demons. The demons vanished when the bloodshed did, no longer able to feed on the evil emotion. Thr river ran red from the blood of the warriors, and remains so to this day as a reminder of the futility of war

Now no one inhabits this place except for a monastic order of clerics who maintain a shrine to the Lady of Peace. These priests give sanctuary to refugees and the oppressed provided that the cast all weapons over the Cliff of Wailing Death, where the death screams of the ancient soldiers cans till be heard. The priests maintain that hsould anyone attept to remove their charges with violence the Lady will rise once more. No one has called their bluff yet. It is said that anyone who drinks from the Red River is healed of all wounds and ailments, but is bound by a geas not to attept any violence for the rest of their lives, or their blood will drain from their bodies.

Should the enterprising traveller decide not to linger here, he could follow the river, turn west at it's source, perhaps stopping to perhcase a mount at one of the villages that lie past the hills, for it is several days as the crow flies to the nearest place of civilisation, an unusual location whose name is somewhat of a puzzling oxymoron.

The City of the Slave Kings:

[CosmicHorror]

While the name: City of the Slave Kings may be misleading, it is not entierly false. The name is given by the inhabitants, a race of creatures that are slaves to unknown greater powers. These creatures, known as Venir, make up for their slavery by enslaving others. The Vanir, however, are a peaceful race, it takes great misdeeds to rouse them. It was said that when the great demon Beloranzax was rampaging across the land, he attacked the City of the Slave Kings. The Vanir fought back, driving him off. They could have killed him, but killing is not in their nature. One may wonder how there exists peaceful slavers. The answer lies in their abilties. All Vanir are possesed of enthralling beauty, to look on one is to look into prefection. The Vanir actually have no natural form, instead taking on the apearance of the viewer's idea of peerless beauty. The Vanir do not intentonally make slaves of their visitors, and many try to avoid visitors for this reason, but some see willing slaves as, not only usefull, but also, a reflection of what they wish they were. The Vanir are bound to an unknown being, and no living being knows who or why, or for what use. The only outward signs of the Vanir being slaves is the fact that they cannot leave the outer walls of their city. Walls made from an unknown black stone.

Should visitors either pass the city by, or receave directions from the friendly Vanir, they can find their way to the Grove of Eternal Starlight...

[Trickshot]

The Grove of Eternal Starlight sits in that curious spot of the world's surface that never passes under a sun. Being close to the Northen lands, its evergreen grasses and spruces are sprinkled with a white powder snow. Densly supressing any sound vibrations, this snow keeps the grove at the level of peace that only silence can bring. In a clearing at the centre is the spirit lake, its surface frozen solid. This icey shell reflects the thousands of twinkling stars that granulate the inky black sky; yet underneath the opaque covering there is rumoured to be a ghostly village of frost daemons, who passed on to the etheral world millenia ago. A full moon rises and sets across the void as regularly as the sun on an equatorial plain.

The only creatures who know of the existence of this majestic land are the black gnolls, furred and warm blooded creatures who burrow into the hard, frosty soil and live underground; only emerging to gnaw on the indgenous vegetation. If you were ever to stumble upon the grove, you would most likely see their red eyes behind some distant shrubbery, piercing the darkness with their unblinking gaze.

If a traveller were to continue north, he would find himself in The Glacier Fields of Nomanfur.