D&D General Let's Workshop Some Setting Elements

[Alzrius]

I've been wanting to tinker with the stereotypical depiction of cults dedicated to the worship of Lovecraftian monstrosities.

The idea is largely based on Monte Cook's old product Chaositech (affiliate link). The idea of [insert Cthulhu-like entity here] worshipers having their own quasi-magical not-science weapons, apart and distinct from the basic assumptions of D&D magic, makes them much more compelling to me. It gives them a basis for doing away with the whole "pretending to be a normal small town, but everyone gathers in the basement at midnight to chant dark rites" thing. Throw in stuff like Pathfinder's corruption rules, maybe with some deliberate fleshcrafting to round it out.

The idea here is to give these characters something mechanically distinct, underpinning the change from the usual way that chaos-cults are presented. These guys aren't hiding because they don't need to hide; they've got powerful stuff that your PCs won't want to use, even if they theoretically can, and so can afford to be much more bold in their actions.

It's still a half-formed idea, since it's hard to see this operating on, say, the level of an entire kingdom, but an enclave of fleshwarped, corrupted chaositech-users seems more compelling to me than another Innsmouth with the serial numbers filed off.

 

[Reynard]

Here is a large scale idea that I always wanted to try:

Many fantasy settings have a back-story involving an ancient war/cataclysm that resulted in the creation and loss of magic items, powerful monsters, and dungeons.

But what if the apocalypse was last month?

Example: A group of PCs are on a long sea voyage and discover that most of their magic no longer works. When they reach their destination, local clerics can tell them that the Gods have made a decree: non-clerical magic is now banned. This is because of the GODSWAR that recently took place in the PC's homeland. However, the God of Magic (who was on the losing side) was able to ensure that magic WILL work in the PC's native country (at least for a few decades). As a consequence, mages, sorcerers, and all sorts of magical creatures are frantically trying to get into the PC's homeland - before they cease to exist in a world without magic.

Obviously, refugees are also fleeing in the opposite direction...

Big events have all kinds of fallout. You could explore it at whatever scale you like, including how Inns and Shops respond to people of different nationalities, and what kinds of things adventurers get hired for. If there is a disruption in magical items, maybe magical creatures can be used as a proxy? Time to start trapping instead of slaying!

 

[Reynard]

I've been wanting to tinker with the stereotypical depiction of cults dedicated to the worship of Lovecraftian monstrosities.

The idea is largely based on Monte Cook's old product Chaositech (affiliate link). The idea of [insert Cthulhu-like entity here] worshipers having their own quasi-magical not-science weapons, apart and distinct from the basic assumptions of D&D magic, makes them much more compelling to me. It gives them a basis for doing away with the whole "pretending to be a normal small town, but everyone gathers in the basement at midnight to chant dark rites" thing. Throw in stuff like Pathfinder's corruption rules, maybe with some deliberate fleshcrafting to round it out.

The idea here is to give these characters something mechanically distinct, underpinning the change from the usual way that chaos-cults are presented. These guys aren't hiding because they don't need to hide; they've got powerful stuff that your PCs won't want to use, even if they theoretically can, and so can afford to be much more bold in their actions.

It's still a half-formed idea, since it's hard to see this operating on, say, the level of an entire kingdom, but an enclave of fleshwarped, corrupted chaositech-users seems more compelling to me than another Innsmouth with the serial numbers filed off.

Cults often hide because it is advantageous. They can insinuate themselves into the structures of power more easily that way.

What if the chaositech weapons cause corruption and the way the conspiracy is planning on taking control of the nation is by way of a coup? A powerful member of the cult is in charge of military supply and arms dealing and so starts to convert the traditional medievalesque military into "chaos dragoons" or whatever. As the soldiers use the weapons in training and war, they grow more susceptible to the influence of the cult leaders. So when the cult is ready to reveal itself, it already has an army -- and it can even play the "patriotic" role if it so desires.

Plus, some fun can be had with showing the way the world is changing as "guns" replace more traditional weapons of war.

 

[Andrew Anderson]

Kobolds are not natural creatures. They are formed of a mix of earth and dragon's blood. Dragons create them as servants, shaping them into various forms and giving them various powers to suit their wills.
Possible effects:

• Not all kobolds are evil: metallic dragons need servants too.
• Kobolds can be all sorts of NPC's now...again, depending on the dragon: they can be diplomats, warriors, artisans, spies, arcane agents...
• Kobolds get a lot more respect from other races now...even the simplest SRD Kobold has a dragon behind it now. Killing a kobold might be tolerable to a dragon, but killing a colony or party of them? That's like destroying a corporate office of a Fortune 500 corporation....if the CEO of the Fortune 500 corporation had a breath weapon and 10+ hit dice. They might take that personally.

Other thoughts are appreciated.

 

[Mind of tempest]

I have been considering have dragons being the fading great empire as the dragons are literally leaving the world for more magic full places.

 

[Fenris-77]

Kobolds are not natural creatures. They are formed of a mix of earth and dragon's blood. Dragons create them as servants, shaping them into various forms and giving them various powers to suit their wills.
Possible effects:

• Not all kobolds are evil: metallic dragons need servants too.
• Kobolds can be all sorts of NPC's now...again, depending on the dragon: they can be diplomats, warriors, artisans, spies, arcane agents...
• Kobolds get a lot more respect from other races now...even the simplest SRD Kobold has a dragon behind it now. Killing a kobold might be tolerable to a dragon, but killing a colony or party of them? That's like destroying a corporate office of a Fortune 500 corporation....if the CEO of the Fortune 500 corporation had a breath weapon and 10+ hit dice. They might take that personally.

Other thoughts are appreciated.

I like this idea, especially if there aren't matching varieties of Kobolds. PCs wouldn't immediately know what kind of master a particular Kobold was serving. If the dragons create the Kobolds themselves it could be possible that a connection remains between the dragon and the kobolds she created, which could be taken in a couple of ways. There could be a telepathic connection of some sort, with the dragon being able to to see or even speak through their servants. Another option is that the connection is less direct, but a dragon can feel when one of her servants dies, so the Kobold colony acts almost as a biological alarm system for a dragon lair. I like both of those options enough to use them I think.

 

[GlassJaw]

I've been wanting to tinker with the stereotypical depiction of cults dedicated to the worship of Lovecraftian monstrosities.

The idea is largely based on Monte Cook's old product Chaositech (affiliate link). The idea of [insert Cthulhu-like entity here] worshipers having their own quasi-magical not-science weapons, apart and distinct from the basic assumptions of D&D magic, makes them much more compelling to me. It gives them a basis for doing away with the whole "pretending to be a normal small town, but everyone gathers in the basement at midnight to chant dark rites" thing. Throw in stuff like Pathfinder's corruption rules, maybe with some deliberate fleshcrafting to round it out.

The idea here is to give these characters something mechanically distinct, underpinning the change from the usual way that chaos-cults are presented. These guys aren't hiding because they don't need to hide; they've got powerful stuff that your PCs won't want to use, even if they theoretically can, and so can afford to be much more bold in their actions.

It's still a half-formed idea, since it's hard to see this operating on, say, the level of an entire kingdom, but an enclave of fleshwarped, corrupted chaositech-users seems more compelling to me than another Innsmouth with the serial numbers filed off.

I love anything that mentions Chaositech so you have my attention.

This is a great idea. Trust me, I'm a huge fan of Innsmouth-esque secret cults but something a larger scale is incredibly frightening. Immediately though of something like Thay or the Necromongers from Chronicles of Riddick.

If they are so powerful and out in the open, I would at least want to explain in broad strokes how (or why they were allowed) to get so powerful. It would take time. Were they on the winning side in a war? Did a demagogue discover ancient tech that fueled his rise to power? Is the leader an actual elder thing (in disguise or otherwise)?

Their motivation I assume is some variation on the "destroy the world" theme. But I would also want to answer how they are accomplishing that goal if it's not in secret. And if they are such a threat, why haven't other organizations/nations allied to stop them?

Anyway, just spitballing but it's great concept. Definitely a different take on the doom/Cthulhu cult!

 

[Reynard]

I like this idea, especially if there aren't matching varieties of Kobolds. PCs wouldn't immediately know what kind of master a particular Kobold was serving. If the dragons create the Kobolds themselves it could be possible that a connection remains between the dragon and the kobolds she created, which could be taken in a couple of ways. There could be a telepathic connection of some sort, with the dragon being able to to see or even speak through their servants. Another option is that the connection is less direct, but a dragon can feel when one of her servants dies, so the Kobold colony acts almost as a biological alarm system for a dragon lair. I like both of those options enough to use them I think.

I like the idea that kobolds are humunculi of the dragons: technically independent creatures but essentially little imperfect copies so they carry their masters' traits.

 

[GlassJaw]

But what if the apocalypse was last month?

Post-apocalyptic survival and low-magic: I'm SOLD!!!

I've always wanted to run a campaign where you could throw LOTS of dragons at the players. Not just the typical dragons from the MM either - lots of variants and varying levels of power.

I've had a campaign concept for a while that actually borrows from a few ideas in this thread: what if dragons were/became very plentiful? Wars with the dragons led to the destruction of most cities and the survivors have gone into hiding. The remaining stronghold is a dwarven city that now houses refugees from all races.

Basically the fantasy version of Reign of Fire (top 10 greatest movies of all time). Oh, and there are extremely powerful dracoliches that can create undead with their breath weapon. These dracoliches seek out battlefields to raise armies of undead.

So the land has been ravaged and undead and dragons roam about freely. Fun stuff!

 

[nogray]

I've started worldbuilding some ideas for my next (high fantasy) campaign, and I've come up with a couple fantastic sites/features. These aren't large-scale features of the world, but rather small mysteries about which an adventure or two could be planned. Or they could be just bits of fantastical color to sprinkle in.

The Dreaming Lady

Spoiler

In the city of Brindenshale, near the center of the town’s public square under a sturdy pavilion, lies a beautiful young lady in a state of apparent sleep. She is exotic in appearance; though definitely seeming to be human, her ethnicity is tantalizingly elusive. The Dreaming Lady, as she is called by the local townsfolk, has lain in the town square nearly 400 years without showing any signs of being touched by the march of years. Open flames in the town square are drawn towards the Dreaming Lady, and the square is suffused with a subtle, enticing perfume. A small contingent of guards is posted around the Lady, and the membership in the Dreamer’s Guard is highly sought after among the city watch.

The Dreaming Lady has become the subject of worship recently; many healings are attributed to her touch, and the city’s prosperity and peacefulness are attributed to the presence of the Lady. The cult that has formed around her is regarded as something of a heresy by most established religions in the area, a fact that contributes to the necessity of the Lady’s guards.

Most days, the Lady lies immobile, but she occasionally moves slightly, twitching a finger or breathing a slight sigh. The most common movement is the Lady’s eyes. They will, occasionally, move as those of a person having dreams. This is often of only brief duration, but around the time of the closest encroachment of a hostile army, the Dreamer’s eyes moved rapidly for close to three days straight. Cataloguing the movements of the Dreaming Lady is another part of the duties of the Lady’s guards.

Legends say the Lady appeared in the midst of a disaster. The town was ablaze, and a young guard, Delmar Brighteyes (later called Delmar the True), was evacuating residents from a boarding house when he noticed the fire closing in on what seemed an unconscious ragamuffin clothed in dirty rags. Drawing closer, Delmar noted her clean, nearly glowing skin and long, dark hair worthy of any noblewoman. Delmar fought forward towards the heat, but as he gathered her up in his arms, the hallway behind him, and through which he’d planned his egress, collapsed, trapping the pair and surrounding them with flames. The fire inexorably approached Delmar and his newly-rescued charge. As the flames drew closer, the apparently-still-unconscious young lady weakly raised her hand and the blaze surged forwards as if beckoned. In the instant the fires touched her outstretched hand, each and every flame in the town was ripped towards her and vanished, leaving only smoldering scorch marks where an inferno had raged just moments before.

Thanks to Delmar’s tale, the Dreaming Lady was credited with saving the town. For several years, the town dedicated resources to trying to awaken or communicate with the Lady. Eventually, the townsfolk resigned themselves to being unable to help the Lady regain consciousness and enshrined her in the town square. Late in his long life, Delmar formed the Dreamer’s Guard from within the ranks of the town’s guard and militia, and he and the guard have been credited with many acts of heroism. Though a human, Delmar lived hale and hearty for nearly 150 years after finding the Dreaming Lady. On the day he passed, the Lady is said to have shed a single tear.

The Still Falls

Spoiler

High in the Granitespine Mountains (?), there is a unique tributary to the mighty Maiden’s Tears River known as the Still River. From the point the spring issues from a split in a granite outcropping to the spot it merges with the larger tributaries, the water of the Still River exhibits peculiar properties.

No fish swim in the waters of the Still River, an alarming fact to several circles of druids, but more peculiarly, the river’s waters are deathly quiet. No babbling or lapping of water can be heard, and the river’s current could not be guessed at by looking at its mirror-still surface. About halfway up the mountain, there is a waterfall, above which is a treacherous stretch of rocky bed that would, in any other river, cause tempestuous white-water rapids. In the Still River, however, the water seems to be calm on the surface, despite the strong current. Where the water plunges over the precipice and falls to a small lake, it remains, to all appearances, a smooth, calm flow. The water does not splash or raise mist, and the sound is not the deafening roar one would expect, but rather an eerie stillness, nigh unto silence.

The rocks beneath the Still River’s surface are sharp and hazardous, as they do not seem subject to the erosion that other rivers cause. Swimming in the river’s waters is difficult; it is no more difficult to float; in fact, it seems slightly easier, as the river’s water is heavier than normal by a slight fraction. What seems difficult is to move forwards. The waters of the Still River seem to offer no purchase and little resistance to the swimmers strokes, and thus there is nothing that pushes the swimmer towards their goal. For similar reasons, navigation by boat must either be by sail, pole, or rope; oars do not seem to impel vessels as they would in other bodies of water.

The waters of the Still River are sought after for various alchemical processes. Though it is poor for cooking or brewing, as neither sugar nor salt dissolves in the water and teas and coffees do not seem to brew properly, this lends itself to the value of the waters. They are remarkably pure, if peculiar, form of water. (It should be noted that attempting to quench thirst by drinking just water from the Still River is futile and is not recommended. Tales tell of people who have died of seeming dehydration despite drinking their fill from the Still’s waters.) There is an alchemical distillation process that preserves the purity while removing some of the other peculiarities of the water. Even the Still River’s undistilled water has its uses in alchemy and other arcane pursuits.