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[Glass]

Avernus

In times long past, one of the myriad empires of history decided that they needed better soldiers. The specifics of their reasoning are long forgotten, though they can be guessed at; their solution, however, lives to this day.

That solution was the city of Avernus.

Avernus is situated within the depths of a wilderness long believed to be cursed, due to the vast quantity and variety of monsters that have arisen from its depths (cross-referencing with records of the twenty-second Sciro-Annelid war suggests it is more likely one of the many homes of feral druidry, albeit one much nearer the surface than is typical). What remains of the Avernite Charter of Founding indicates that the hope was that living in this environment would produce superlative military units, and history has shown the project to be a massive success, if one that clearly never benefitted those who desired it. It may well have failed, it is claimed, if not for the efforts of the most popular figure of Avernite ancestor worship, Governor-Marshall Rotbart.

As the stories go, Rotbart was never meant to take up any real leadership position in the city. He was merely an aide to the intended ruler (whose name and specific title changes between each telling), but after a sudden raid by the wildlife a few days in, Rotbart (and those who deferred to his judgement during the attack) were the only members of the barely-existent city’s leadership to survive, and so the burden of leading the colonists was thrust upon him. Contrary to all prior expectations, Rotbart proved to be an unrecognized military genius, and he is credited with ensuring that Avernus survived not only its founding, but also the collapse of the empire that founded it.

But if the culprit of the beasts of the region Avernite is situated in is feral druidry, what might it do - what might it have done - to the people of Avernus? After all, the city still stands, despite the centuries since its founding and the perpetual cycling of new governors. The answer is actually a curious one: the bodies of the people of Avernus have been changed, but their minds and souls have not. Their bones and muscles have been re-tuned to grant superlative endurance and strength, their eyes and ears have been reshaped to enhance their senses, and their overall shape has been shifted in tiny ways to grant them an agility and sleekness unnatural to the mortal form. Their hands, however - those greatest tools of mortality, in that they grant us the ability to work all others - have been left untouched by the druidry. I postulate that the druidry in the area has developed a rudimentary “mind” - as much of one as free-standing wild magic might have - and that it has recognized the settlers as the top of its food chain, therefore modifying them only in ways that they do not already excel above the monsters they daily hunt.

And what if Avernite culture? Well, in a land where death might come at any moment, yet may at any moment be too denied, it is one of perpetual vigilance, as well as one of trust in their fellows: at no time is any Avernite ever alone or unguarded, for at any time, danger may strike. This is not to say that Avernites are fearful of the danger they surround themselves in; after so long, and with as efficient a healing system as has been established, few deaths still occur from ambushes, but every so often, somebody ends up without a companion, and then people are reminded why their practices are so important. However, despite the overhanging specter of death (only occasionally literal), the people of Avernus are happy with their lives; with a society so intertwined with their military that the economy is more often thought of as a matter of logistics, civilian morale is considered just as important as military morale, and no expense should be spared to ensure that the people remain happy and effective.

Outside their home, the Avernites are most renowned for their mercenaries; although even a kingdom can rarely afford to hire more than a dozen Avernite soldiers, even that many is typically enough, as their sheer skill renders them capable of breaking through fortified lines of opposing soldiers and otherwise produce effects on the battlefield that would typically require a far larger group of soldiers. However, these mercenaries serve a second purpose for Avernus: despite their dangerous lives, Avernites do not actually wish to see conflict embroil the world beyond their territory, and so their mercenary corps are frequently occupied with removing growing threats from the lands that surround them, be they great monsters that terrorize the towns or a rising power that seeks new conquests in the region. For this reason, despite the Avernites not officially holding any power over their numerous neighbors, it is nearly universally accepted within the realm both that Avernus is the undisputed ruling state of their region, and that for those who cannot find anywhere else, the Avernite sphere of influence is a safe place to settle.

[chubby2man]

Level Up 2:

With a wealth of options it can be hard to pick! I’ll give some combos that I think can work well, but also any of the Greater Gifts are available individually of course.

-A: Fist of the Grave and Illimitable Darkness
Darkness all encompassing, where to enter it’s blackest shade means certain death
This is a quite a combo here. I know I haven’t explained damage, combat, or any and all of that, but ignore that for the fact that you upgrade from a regular dagger to a magical ranged or melee attack (1d6 to a 1d10), allowing you to attack enemies that would otherwise be immune to your pointy charms.

And on top of that, the range of your darkness right now is equal to your attack range! While your foes are stumbling in the dark you can pick them off with ease! This makes you a terror to mortal armies, and even divine foes would have to take a pause.


B- Bonefather and Suffocating Terror
Fall in terror before the True King
Woah I know I didn’t include Suffocating Terror in the list of gifts you could choose. My mistake:
“Commit Effort for the scene and target a single visible creature or up to a Large Mob of lesser foes. Targets must save versus Spirit or
be blinded and overcome with a terrifying sense of suffocating en-trapment. Affected creatures are unable to perform any actions, and can take a Spirit save at the end of each of their rounds to break the effect. Lesser foes automatically take your character level in hit points of emotional damage whether or not they save; if reduced to zero hit points, they collapse in helpless panic for the rest of the scene before regaining 1 hit point.”
In the meantime, you got either your skeleton friends you can summon in a pinch to act as “meat”-shields, or you can work on a greater undead to act as your bodyguard. While your foes are cowering in rightful terror, you can either move along or order your skeletons to make a few more bodies for you. A great combo for our Lich King!

C-Purity of the Brilliant Truth and Fist of the Grave
The Truth strips away the lie, that you can stand opposed to the True King
Purity is brilliant, it really is. Someone thinks a divine shield of light can save them from your wrath? Strip it away. Someone tries to crush you in a deluge of water? Reduce it to mist in the light of the Truth.
This combo gives you a great defensive/offensive option, either able to reduce the enemies defensive, or stop an attack of their own while increasing your own available firepower. Take away their shield, then hammer them with your magical attack. It’s hard to beat this combo!

[Glass]

Oooooor we could start this fight with only the Gifts we have right now (specifically by sticking Altain in rock up to his waist) and then decide if we actually need combat Gifts yet, or if we can safely take Keeper of All Beneath and can just nab some weapon from the underground for temporary use.

After all, the game doesn’t require that you spend your Gift points upon receiving them.

[Maximum Spin]

A

[Kilojoule Proton]

A: Fist of the Grave and Illimitable Darkness

[Glass]

The Work

"Never leave a golem without orders." It's an order that every long-term golem-owner knows by heart, as do any workers tasked to tend to the lumbering automatons. A simple "stay here" will suffice; any instruction that can be completed must have an attached instruction for what should be done afterward. Any who forget soon find themselves bereft of a golem. Perhaps not immediately, and they can be tracked down for return if their absence is noted swiftly enough, but it remains a disturbing behavior for entities that shouldn't have any behaviors.

So what is behind it? What draws idle golem away from the homes of those who have rightfully purchased or even constructed them?

Our best hint to this lies in the locations from which recaptured golems have been found - almost universally north of their homes, with most countercases being due to either vast obstacles or the disappearances being the result of theft rather than wanderings. The golems do not simply leave, they are going somewhere - and considering how many golems have disappeared over not only the years or decades, but the centuries, it is doubtless that many have reached that somewhere. What they may be doing there, however, is unknown.


To every horizon, the world is white. Frost rules this land, so far north; even at the height of summer, things are merely slightly less cold, rather than ever the slightest bit warm.

Cresting a hill, a dark spot appears in the distance. It is a golem, trudging slowly through the snow, just as it has for the past week, without cessation. Such is the capability of these tireless constructs, that they may travel twice as far as any mortal may simply because they need not rest.

But this golem is not important. Not anymore. They will reach their goal; civilization is too far to lay any claim upon them anymore. No, look at the direction it walks, and then look ahead. Further, further. It cannot be seen from here; it will take the golem another day to reach. Keep going.

There.

Here, the white ends. At the edge, it turns to grey slush, where movement is frequent enough to dirty the snow but not enough so as to sweep it away entirely. Further in, the snow is pushed away, leaving earth infused with permafrost - stiff, compacted by an endless cycle of working golems.

And then, as the white ended, so too does the earth. For this is the work of the lost golems, come from the whole of the realm. A vast pit - nay, a vast excavation, in progress for hundreds of years. Not even the world below has stories of this place; a few isolated tribes tell tales of that place where the earth groans and shakes, but they dare not approach such a cursed domain, and the tangle and length of the cave systems mean that those from elsewhere simply have never had cause or inclination to come here. But somebody was here once, for the golems are not searching for nothing.

There is something here that calls them. Something that touches the whole of the world. It has resonated forever, before even one golem could hear it.

One day, they will find it. It might even be today.

This is the Work.

[King Zultan]

A

[chubby2man]

With a snap of your fingers an utter darkness falls over the tavern as you exerted your will. It is pitch black, swallowing all light. It was the darkness of the tomb, all encompassing and suffocating in its embrace. Your vision, however is unimpeded. You see the rebels cry out and stumble to their feet, Sir Thaddington freezes behind you and Sir Altain roars in anger.

In the Darkness of Death, only the dead can see.

Even outside of the tavern your darkness fell, and the knight’s company begins to scatter in disarray.

Both attackers and your beleaguered fellow inn patrons are in chaos from your otherworldly darkness. You have a choice here.


What do you do?
Note: will also partly determine future approach to foes.



A- Miracle up Blindsight for Thaddington and his Men, allowing them to share your ability to see in the Dark  The King of Truth, blessing your allies and hindering your foes. Mortals have such a limited span, it would be a shame for you to shorten it unnecessarily.  Though you don’t mind dabbling in lengthening your friends lives, while making it easier to shorten that of your foes.  You reserve your deadliest abilities for your most terrible of foes, or if necessary to save another’s life.

B- Take down the leading Knight, giving a chance for his minions to surrender or flee. The True King, you wield both Judgement and Mercy. Mercy for the common man, who only follow their lords. Mercy for those who recognize the folly of raising arms against you. For those who persist in their folly, and those who lead them, Judgement awaits. Focus your powers on bringing down enemy leaders, and do your best to route lesser foes. But if they continue to stand against you they will meet the same fate as their masters.

C-Kill all the foes, Raise their Dead You are the Lich King. All of Creation lies against you, you who seized the very Truth to your inner being. You are the best of friends, and the most terrible of foes. Entomb them, strike them down with dark magic, and raise them to fight for you anew. Make your enemies tremble at the thought of marching against you.

D-Something else?

[Glass]

D1: Both A and B. Removing Altain swiftly and empowering our allies-to-be ensures that the traitor and most dangerous foe is removed post-haste, the rebels are able to see that we are willing to allow them to work without wresting away too much control, and the rebels - capable of sight - will be able to much more effectively restrain and capture the remaining soldiers, permitting us the greatest chance to spare lives.

And it doesn’t cost any more Effort than A alone!

[Sudurandom]

D1: Both A and B. Removing Altain swiftly and empowering our allies-to-be ensures that the traitor and most dangerous foe is removed post-haste, the rebels are able to see that we are willing to allow them to work without wresting away too much control, and the rebels - capable of sight - will be able to much more effectively restrain and capture the remaining soldiers, permitting us the greatest chance to spare lives.

And it doesn’t cost any more Effort than A alone!

+1 Sounds good to me.

[Kilojoule Proton]

D1: Both A and B. Removing Altain swiftly and empowering our allies-to-be ensures that the traitor and most dangerous foe is removed post-haste, the rebels are able to see that we are willing to allow them to work without wresting away too much control, and the rebels - capable of sight - will be able to much more effectively restrain and capture the remaining soldiers, permitting us the greatest chance to spare lives.

And it doesn’t cost any more Effort than A alone!

+1 Sounds good to me.

+1

[killerhellhound]

D1: Both A and B. Removing Altain swiftly and empowering our allies-to-be ensures that the traitor and most dangerous foe is removed post-haste, the rebels are able to see that we are willing to allow them to work without wresting away too much control, and the rebels - capable of sight - will be able to much more effectively restrain and capture the remaining soldiers, permitting us the greatest chance to spare lives.

And it doesn’t cost any more Effort than A alone!

+1 Sounds good to me.

+1

+1

[Glass]

Children of the Stone

Nobody has ever seen an adult kobold. Oh, they certainly believe they have; would they fight them if they knew the small reptilians to be children? Perhaps they would, but certainly not all. But that is not the point.

Nobody has ever seen an adult kobold. So where are they, and why do their children go unsupervised?

Kobold warrens go deeper than any outsider would think. Further, too, for "down" is not the most-protected direction when the stygian races can mine in from anywhere. This is for one reason, and one reason only, for there is little else that could truly be done with so much space: protecting the centralmost chambers, where the elders reside.

The kobolds that others know... may as well be scaly goblins, for all that they care. There are differences, of course - they care less for straight combat, most prominently - but generally, they are simply considered to be nuisances and chaff, diminutive primitives easily defended against by any competent military force. Get some adventurers together - including someone to defuse traps - and you can clean out a nest to make sure they don't come back for a long while. Knock down a few fake walls, clear the escape tunnels they reveal, you're good, right? They bleed, and they die, just like everything else - and easier than most.

That is how the kobolds would like to be thought of. But to see an adult would be to know the depths of the deception, for kobolds are children of the stone.

Kobolds do not bleed blood; rust-filled water fills their rivulets. Kobolds do not bear scales; they are covered in flakes of jade, obsidian, granite. Kobold escape tunnels cannot be found by simply knocking down a wall, for stone is no barrier to their escape. And at their core - not their heart, their core - lies a simple, small stone, filled with crystal.

Adult kobolds bear none of the deceptive traits of their youths. They grow, for the stone lining their narrow tunnels cannot contain them. Their limbs shrink, for the stone shall bend for them. They are stone, and stone is them. And all the while, their core grows and grows, until it yawns open, liquid rust flowing through a jagged crystal maw - sightless, yet needless of sight, for stone knows its own. And like the stone, they slumber until it is time to wake.

Deep within the warrens, the great beasts of earth slumber, their overgrowing maws disgorging new cores, new children of the stone. For kobolds are the great elementals of the world below, keepers of stygian wealth and things lost to history. And it is written in bones of the earth that should they be discovered - should the Stoneweavers be witnessed - then all shall be lost.

For what has happened before may always yet happen again.

[King Zultan]

D1: Both A and B. Removing Altain swiftly and empowering our allies-to-be ensures that the traitor and most dangerous foe is removed post-haste, the rebels are able to see that we are willing to allow them to work without wresting away too much control, and the rebels - capable of sight - will be able to much more effectively restrain and capture the remaining soldiers, permitting us the greatest chance to spare lives.

And it doesn’t cost any more Effort than A alone!

+1 Sounds good to me.

+1

+1

+1

[Glass]

Home for a castaway

"Yer awake!"

Quentel groaned as his eyes fluttered, trying to adjust to the light. The ground was rocking - that made sense, on the shi-

The storm, the waves, the rocks

Quentel's eyes shot open, and he bolted up - or, he tried to, at least.

"Woah! Tak it easy, big fella, yer all fahn, ah promise!"

There was a weight on him, which his now-open eyes were able to identify as a... child? No, they had stubble. Not a dwarf, either, or that'd be a beard. A... small person, of some variety. They quickly backed up and off of him, and he groaned again as he sat up properly this time. "What ar-"
His attempt at a question devolved into coughs, but the little one - his rescuer? - seemed to grasp the question.

"Whoy, mistah, ahm just a loifgahd. Saw ya floatin out theh, ah hadta go outin' getcha, yeah?"

Well, part of the way, anyway. Quentel got the last of his coughs out of his system, before shaking his head to get the grogginess out. At the same time, he noticed his clothing hanging in a corner of the room. Deciding that could be handled later, he turned toward the... lifeguard? He hoped he'd parsed their accent properly. "Er, thank you, but I, ah. I meant, what are you? Like, I'm human, the captain was an elf, that sort of thing."

The little lifeguard grinned. "Ah, that's simple! Ahm a squall! Guess ah coul be mistahken fer a gnom, er mahbe a kendah - possibleh a-"

The, ah, "squall" kept going on about races that he apparently resembled; Quentel had only ever heard of gnomes, and they certainly didn't act like this. He had a headache - probably not from the lifeguard squall, but the little guy wasn't really helping. Or, well. Not with their voice.
He took the opportunity to check under the sheet of the bed he'd awoken in. His underpants were there, but nothing else. Oh well; what wasn't hanging up in the corner was probably either too torn up to reuse or sunken to the bottom of the ocean. His eyes swept over the room again, noticing a window up near the ceiling for the first time; he couldn't see much from his vantage point, but he thought he saw the roof of a different building.

Which brought him to his next question. "E-excuse me," he said, the squall's rant coming to a stop. "Where actually are we?"

"Ah guess ya wodden' know." They were stroking their beard. They barely even had a beard. "Well, yer awake now, sos ah ken do this proppaly! Welcome ta Drift'om! We's ecshly jus koinda a wee etpost, but we del wit foranahs frequenly enuff. It ain't offen we's gotta do loifgahden, but somtems ya get a wreck out 'ere."

Quentel's brain was boggling. This was... Drift'om? Drifthome? Something? Would saying it wrong offend them? And it was an... outpost, maybe? He thought he was getting this right. An outpost of what? They retrieved people from wrecks? And they did this often enough to have a job for it... to have a bed large enough for people like him, it suddenly occurred to him.

What?

Quentel only realized he'd spoken that part out loud when the squall laughed. "Ah, doncha worry yaself 'bout all thah yet! Ya just gottere, all tired-loik, is foin! Ah ken show ya aboot the refttown when ya's readya wolk aboot again."

He wasn't sure when that'd be... but he wasn't planning to stay in this bed any longer than he had to.


(Sudorandom requested aquatic hobbits. Behold: hobbits squalls who have an entire civilization built on raft-towns and raft-cities in the middle of the ocean, and who rescue people from shipwrecks. They probably have tons upon tons of ways to cook seafood and gathering materials from the sea for adding flavors. Maybe not the atlanteans you were hoping for, but I like how this came out.)