Level Up (A5E) Sins of the Scorpion Age, Sword and Sorcery Campaign Setting
Oh, probably. Different groups will probably ride vastly different animals because of necessity.
Fun note: Horses are 100% American. Only totally not anymore. Horses evolved in America but were getting hunted to extinction, so they took the land-bridge to Asia via Alaska, spread way the heck out, then got reintroduced to America by European Settlers.
Yes. Absolutely.
Representational Magic. Magic where the spell itself, or magic itself, is reflected by the world. Common in things like Wicca or Voodoun traditions, it also has "Old World" traits as well. A couple of movies that made great use of representational magic are Warlock, the 1989 Julian Sands time traveling horror movie, and Conan the Destroyer, the 1984 schlocky cash-in on the success of the original (And best) Conan film.
In this scene Kassandra (Played by Lori Singer) has had her youth stolen by the Warlock through a bracelet he took from her. To get her youth back she must reclaim the bracelet. Simple enough. But she's also now an old woman chasing after a powerful warlock and needs a little magic of her own. Turns out, Cold Iron Nails work wonders when hammered into prints in sand.
The key to defeating Thoth-Amon's mirror-monster eludes Conan at first. But when fighting an evil reflection the best course is to break the mirror it is reflected in.
I love representational magic. And I think it should be a strong conceit within the setting, most likely for Ritual magics, but also things like simple superstitions.
In this scene Kassandra (Played by Lori Singer) has had her youth stolen by the Warlock through a bracelet he took from her. To get her youth back she must reclaim the bracelet. Simple enough. But she's also now an old woman chasing after a powerful warlock and needs a little magic of her own. Turns out, Cold Iron Nails work wonders when hammered into prints in sand.
The key to defeating Thoth-Amon's mirror-monster eludes Conan at first. But when fighting an evil reflection the best course is to break the mirror it is reflected in.
I love representational magic. And I think it should be a strong conceit within the setting, most likely for Ritual magics, but also things like simple superstitions.
GuyBoy
Hero
She was exhausted, bleeding, in pain. Teerka staggered back as the revenant thing that had once been Xrione stalked forward, dead eyes fixed on the beaten hunter, clawed hands reaching for her throat. There was nowhere to flee and Teerka’s blade had done little to the horror that her sister had become under the dark wizardry of Jzostaarg.
The necromancer’s foul voice spoke from the dry lips of Teerka’s once-vibrant, once-loving sister, “I give you my gift of death, girl who thought to challenge me!” The talon-like hand neared her neck.
“And I give you the gift of life!”, Teerka screamed, pushing Xrion’s Starsilver ring, engraved with Sarga blooms, onto the revenant finger.
She heard Jzostaarg scream in an agony of suffering as pale blue light infused her sister’s animated corpse, suffusing, immolating with the energy of life.
Her sister crumpled to the floor. Dead, even so, but restored in her essence of beauty, her skin soft, her hair lustrous. Teerka would be able to lay Xrione to rest.
Teerka felt certain that the dark mage had been sorely hurt by the life magic of the ring, and as her tears fell on her sister’s body, she whispered, “ I’m hunting you now, wizard”
The necromancer’s foul voice spoke from the dry lips of Teerka’s once-vibrant, once-loving sister, “I give you my gift of death, girl who thought to challenge me!” The talon-like hand neared her neck.
“And I give you the gift of life!”, Teerka screamed, pushing Xrion’s Starsilver ring, engraved with Sarga blooms, onto the revenant finger.
She heard Jzostaarg scream in an agony of suffering as pale blue light infused her sister’s animated corpse, suffusing, immolating with the energy of life.
Her sister crumpled to the floor. Dead, even so, but restored in her essence of beauty, her skin soft, her hair lustrous. Teerka would be able to lay Xrione to rest.
Teerka felt certain that the dark mage had been sorely hurt by the life magic of the ring, and as her tears fell on her sister’s body, she whispered, “ I’m hunting you now, wizard”
Potential history for Achelb, City of Thieves:
Achelb is known as the City of Thieves, but not for the thieves that live there, yet. No. For Buvalu the Giant-King. Buvalu was born into banditry, a member of a Raider Tribe in antiquity, among the steppes between the two rivers. He was a great giant of a man, bold and strong, wild and free. It is said he stood nine feet if he was an inch, and could tear a man's head from his shoulders with one mighty hand. A trick he performed, once, upon a rival against whom he had no claim or cause. Banished from the tribe, left to be killed by the others that wandered the steppe, he fled to the mountains to the north.
There, it is said, he found the pass to the Green Valley. Where wheat grew as grass, waters pure as diamond flowed, and orchards of fruit trees blossomed in hidden peace. He made his home, there, and told no one of what he found. But Buvalu needed iron. Worked wood. Aid to build his place in the world. So he raided from the mountain. A giant coming down to quash villages and take what he could in violence and death. There were calls for armies to kill him, but there were also those who sought his company.
Ever he would venture out on some errand, quest, or deal, and return victorious. He gained followers. Friends. A company of thieves two hundred strong and more to help defend against the forces who would rise to him... And they returned with him to the Green Valley. And saw it's wonder. The city was founded by those thieves with Buvalu as their king. He named the city after his son, who had perished in battle against Grisians to the East.
And in time Banditry was traded for Taxation. Piracy for Law. Wild nights on open steppes for Order. Buvalu died well fed and fat, surrounded by wives and sons and daughters and friends. And his blood took up the crown for two centuries after that. Now, the bloodline of Buvalu and the Crown are lost to time, and new dynasties have risen and fallen. Achelb still honors it's founder, though, by naming it's ruler the King of Thieves.
-The Chronicler-
Achelb is known as the City of Thieves, but not for the thieves that live there, yet. No. For Buvalu the Giant-King. Buvalu was born into banditry, a member of a Raider Tribe in antiquity, among the steppes between the two rivers. He was a great giant of a man, bold and strong, wild and free. It is said he stood nine feet if he was an inch, and could tear a man's head from his shoulders with one mighty hand. A trick he performed, once, upon a rival against whom he had no claim or cause. Banished from the tribe, left to be killed by the others that wandered the steppe, he fled to the mountains to the north.
There, it is said, he found the pass to the Green Valley. Where wheat grew as grass, waters pure as diamond flowed, and orchards of fruit trees blossomed in hidden peace. He made his home, there, and told no one of what he found. But Buvalu needed iron. Worked wood. Aid to build his place in the world. So he raided from the mountain. A giant coming down to quash villages and take what he could in violence and death. There were calls for armies to kill him, but there were also those who sought his company.
Ever he would venture out on some errand, quest, or deal, and return victorious. He gained followers. Friends. A company of thieves two hundred strong and more to help defend against the forces who would rise to him... And they returned with him to the Green Valley. And saw it's wonder. The city was founded by those thieves with Buvalu as their king. He named the city after his son, who had perished in battle against Grisians to the East.
And in time Banditry was traded for Taxation. Piracy for Law. Wild nights on open steppes for Order. Buvalu died well fed and fat, surrounded by wives and sons and daughters and friends. And his blood took up the crown for two centuries after that. Now, the bloodline of Buvalu and the Crown are lost to time, and new dynasties have risen and fallen. Achelb still honors it's founder, though, by naming it's ruler the King of Thieves.
-The Chronicler-
Tales and Chronicles
Jewel of the North, formerly know as vincegetorix
Magic Item
Crowned cowl of Buvalu
Unique, Magical Headgear
This large linen cowl is toped with a tattered, almost ironically small crown made of copper. No gems nor engraved precious metals adorn the crown. Yet, it is the lost crown of the first dynast-king of Achelb, the mighty thief Buvalu. While coiffed and attuned to the crown, you gain the following benefits:
* I dont recall exactly how retainers work in LU so it could be something like advantage on Moral test or extra starting Loyalty.
Crowned cowl of Buvalu
Unique, Magical Headgear
This large linen cowl is toped with a tattered, almost ironically small crown made of copper. No gems nor engraved precious metals adorn the crown. Yet, it is the lost crown of the first dynast-king of Achelb, the mighty thief Buvalu. While coiffed and attuned to the crown, you gain the following benefits:
- You have Advantage on all History or Investigation checks made to find or identify valuables worth more than 150 gp.
- You are considered Large sized for the purpose of carrying load.
- Any retainers of yours can use their special ability one more time per day.*
* I dont recall exactly how retainers work in LU so it could be something like advantage on Moral test or extra starting Loyalty.
I'm sold. This is now a canonical magic item.
... once again, I put this thing in the wrong place.
sigh
sigh
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Tales and Chronicles
Jewel of the North, formerly know as vincegetorix
(I'm sorry I cant write like you in English, but I'd like to offer a concept)
'' Set on the invisible lines where the grassy plains meet the ravenous sands east of Il'sha-ah, the Eternal Machine looks over the quickly disappearing fertile lands as mother look at her son being eaten by the Usular Fever. Built in eons past (or eons yet-to-come), the temple made of sandstones and cyclopean stones houses this world most intricate mystery. The innards of this seemingly living construct are made of stony cogs, kept alive by a intricate systems of levers and rotating platforms, as if it was a mad atelier operated by the unnamed ghost for unspeakable motives. The feverish cavalcade of the stone pieces stops not for the presence of any would-be explorers nor any damage can be inflicted upon the rock slabs from outer time.
The few who made it inside and sane enough to recall what happened speak of a maddening light as if the fabric of Time had been ripped from the hands of the Spider and quickly woven into an invisible thread around the wheels and pillars of the temple. Survivors say that in the terrible place, they met their silent image of themselves, both young and frail of of ages, at the same time being birthed to the world and returning to nameless dust in the desert of Time.
Some say the unstopping stone machine might have been built by a now disappeared god whishing to create its own Fate, far from the ceaseless weaving of the Spider. Or maybe it was created by makers eons unphatomable before or even after the gods. ''
'' Set on the invisible lines where the grassy plains meet the ravenous sands east of Il'sha-ah, the Eternal Machine looks over the quickly disappearing fertile lands as mother look at her son being eaten by the Usular Fever. Built in eons past (or eons yet-to-come), the temple made of sandstones and cyclopean stones houses this world most intricate mystery. The innards of this seemingly living construct are made of stony cogs, kept alive by a intricate systems of levers and rotating platforms, as if it was a mad atelier operated by the unnamed ghost for unspeakable motives. The feverish cavalcade of the stone pieces stops not for the presence of any would-be explorers nor any damage can be inflicted upon the rock slabs from outer time.
The few who made it inside and sane enough to recall what happened speak of a maddening light as if the fabric of Time had been ripped from the hands of the Spider and quickly woven into an invisible thread around the wheels and pillars of the temple. Survivors say that in the terrible place, they met their silent image of themselves, both young and frail of of ages, at the same time being birthed to the world and returning to nameless dust in the desert of Time.
Some say the unstopping stone machine might have been built by a now disappeared god whishing to create its own Fate, far from the ceaseless weaving of the Spider. Or maybe it was created by makers eons unphatomable before or even after the gods. ''
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