Warriors of the Black Sun: intro

Above is the title to what has, up until now, been called the dwarf thing. All tolled, there are like 200 keyed areas. Most of them are done, but my disire to provide unique monsters and magic items is definitely slowing things down. Imma blow my xmas deadline, I think. Apologies. Right now without graphics the document is 40 pages single spaced and around 13k words.

I am very much committed to infusing a fairy tale vibe into this thing, hopefully that will evident in the short piece below, so opinions in regards to the same (or anything else, really) are very welcome. I also welcome name calling and profanity.

 

Introduction:

 

Warriors of the Black Sun is a B/X fantasy adventure/campaign supplement. Adventure material is presented first, as it is assumed that the referee will place the regions detailed herein into the context of their own campaign. Referees who choose to do so should encounter no difficulty utilizing whichever version of the classic game they prefer.

 

Part two of the document, however, includes some detail on the Wide World and related material. The Wide World can easily be used as a campaign setting on its own; but it is likely small enough that it could be placed into an existing campaign world in its entirety. A short section on house rules has been provided, which lists character generation options specific to the Wide World. More specific detail regarding the races of the Wide World, especially in regards to dwarfs, can be found in this section as well.

 

 

 

Character Details

No specific range is suggested, but characters should probably be of at least 4th level before entering the ruins beneath Urux. Although much of the setting material is slanted towards dwarfs, any and all classes and races are suitable for play.

 

 

 

Start:

 

 

The Bird of Omens is a magical peacock that can answer one question about anything, once a year, at midnight on Midsummer's Eve.

 

Three days ago, a band of gnolls acting as agents of Riktus, the Hex-King, stole the magic bird from the Elfs of Glistendome Castle. The bird has lived at the castle for centuries. Over that time, the elfs there have bonded with the enchanted creature on an elemental level; as a result, in the days since the theft, excepting the royal family, all the elfs of Glistendome have fallen into a cursed magical slumber. As time goes on, the sleepers seem to become transparent. The king's scholars believe that if the bird is not recovered by Midsummer's Eve' five months hence, the elfs of the castle will sleep until they fade to nothing.

 

The band of gnolls, who call themselves the Warriors of the Black Sun, have been tracked as far the front door of Zimon's Gate, a subterranean complex thought to date from imperial times. It is thought the place may contain a magical passage to another part of the world.

 

Fully equipped by the elf king, Theopolis, the player characters stand now in front of that door themselves, about to set off on a quest to retrieve the Bird of Omens. It is up to the individual players to determine why they have joined the expedition.

Concept sketches:

Concept sketches:

 

 

Dwarf project status report

 

Aside from a map I'm fucking up for Trey over at the Sorcerer's Skull, this is all I am working on until it's done. I am committed to completion before X-mass. Currently, I am typing, augmenting and refining the key to big dungeon (pic below). There are two more adventures that are each about 75% done. The Under-Vale and the Vale are both mostly keyed, less stats and encounter tables. All the maps are done, but I have only done like one piece of non-cartographic art. How much more art gets done will depend entirely on when the text gets finshed. I'm thinking all tolled we're looking at like fifty pages, maybe 100.

This will be a free product, but if it isn't completely comprised of suck and the demand is there, I will put a version up on lulu or something, the proceeds of which will go to some charity involving kids and food and junk.

Yeah.

See you on the other side.

 

Beyond the Leaning City Chapter XVI

Well, I'm behind on rooms for the dwarf thing and I'm behind on fixing tags, and I have accepted an outside cartography gig, because otherwise I might catch up.

So anyway, chapter XVI, possibly.

 

XVI

Voyage in the Underboat.

He was overwhelmed immediately, made helpless by the pressing weight of the onslaught. A scuffling, struggling moment ended with a blunt impact and he went down.

Thront hovered on the edge of senselessness for several moments; the greenskins hauled him around; he was trussed up and carried across the decks. The jellyhead he had killed was being carried in much the same fashion; black ichor dripped from the remaining portion of its ruined head.

Imagine, heads made of jelly, Thront thought. How very stupid- especially to go out without a helmet.

The greenskins' heads also had a gelatinous portion, but it was much smaller and looked like a large, juicy blister on their brow ridge.

They talked in a buzzing dialect; Thront caught a word here and there: Sacrifice- something about a priest, submersion, but their enunciation was rough and inarticulate; he found himself unable to make any real sense of their speech.

He suspected he'd killed the one that could talk.

After walking for about a quarter hour, they came to the edge of a ship, just another in a long series, this one a half sunken power-galley. The party came to an unexpected halt.

Thront grew more nervous.

The greenskins dropped him onto the deck; a throng of them closed around him. For a terrifying instant, he feared they would toss him over the side, into the icy sea- but their only task was to affix a makeshift harness of rope around his chest and arms. Gently, the greenskins lowered him over the side, and into the hands of some of their fellows, who stood in a waiting boat. The corpse of the jelly head followed.

Six of the greenskins manned the long boat; those who remained above disappeared from sight.

Someone took up the sculling oar, and the boat slid noiselessly through a crevice of wood and ice. Thront scrutinized every turn and twist of the waterway, committing each element of their course to memory.

Mist drifted through the weird canal, and vibrals took to their quivering flight within it.

The longboat coasted around a sharp corner, entering onto a long and misty corridor. The Greenskin in the prow of the craft mad a noise of excited surprise; his fellow at the oar commenced immediately to back water. The four greenskins in between them drew needle slender swords.

The dark green water in front of the boat exploded into white froth; something huge and gleaming, four or five times the size of The Siren, broke the surface. Thront thought it at first to be a gargantuan fish, but the top of it popped open and a jellyhead climbed out.

It was an underwater ship! How extraordinary.

The jellyhead stepped down onto the stylized hull of the underwater vessel. Several greenskins clambered out the hatch behind him.

The greenskin in the bow of the longboat stood; he raised his arms and began to speak.

More greenskins were coming out the underboat's hatch; there were more than twice as many standing on the hull of the underwater boat as there were in the longboat.

Thront shifted in his place.

The jellyhead turned his back on the speaking greenskin.

No one moved.

One of the greenskins standing on the hull of the underwater boat bared his teeth and howled; he drew a knife and leapt into the long boat. His companions followed immediately.

A short and bloody altercation ensued. The greenskins fought with knives, savaging each other with a frightening, blood-spattering zeal.

The battle was excelled in savagery only by its brevity.

When it was over, ten bodies lay in the water. The crew of the Underboat was victorious.

The jellyhead crossed over to the longboat he studied Thront intently for several minutes before moving on to the body of his dead counterpart.

He made a low and gurgling sound in his throat-stem. Thront took it to be laughter.

Another team of greenskins hauled Thront aboard the underwater boat. After being lowered through the hatch, he was placed in the center of a high-ceilinged cabin. The circular space was both baroque and precise. Several bookshelves clustered along the rear walls, volumes locked in place with gleaming brass bars; a finely crafted sculpture of a strangely proportioned fish sat atop a marble pedestal. Complex looking wheels and levers were spaced about the room; a great many of them clustered with tube-like nodes and bubbles a-flash with green and yellow light.

The bridge?

He continued his examination: a circular window allowed for one hundred and eighty degrees of vision to the front. The water beyond the glass churned and frothed. The corpse of the jellyhead plunged past dragging bubbles in its wake; the longboat followed immediately after.

Something clanged behind and above- a hatch perhaps? the leader entered. He walked directly to the dense and ridiculously complicated wheel, light, lever array and began making adjustments.

Thront watched him closely. A moment later he felt the sensation of descent.

Dark water washed over the window.

 

 

But for a gentle hum originating somewhere towards the rear of the vessel, the underboat ran without noise. Thront gazed out the window, rapt by the undreamt of spectacle before him; damaged, breached hulls (the underside of the Ship's Boneyard, he realized) rolled past overhead, like a sky of inverted, jagged and gray dunes. Occasional shifts in angle and direction afforded him brief glimpses of the sea floor and the greenskin farmers at work there. Light punctured the gray/green darkness at random intervals, filtering through hull-breaks and spaces between the hulks; glittering and hypnotic, fish of all shapes and sizes and colors darted in and out of the luminous shafts.

A large shadow drifted past. Some of the greenskin sailors made uncomfortable noises, but the tension dissolved before Thront could discern its source.

The jellyhead pushed a lever; a bell rang.

Several more greenskins carried in, and set up an array of lamps against one wall.

When the multi-colored lamps had been lit the other lights on the bridge were dimmed.

Thront was fascinated.

The jellyhead stepped between Thront and the lamps; he began to move, thrashing his arms above his head.

"Welcome most honored one." He said.

"Me?" Thront pointed at his own chest.

"You. Welcome among us, oh blessed sacrifice; know that I am Vissel Hroof." The arm motion caused the light to refract through Hroof's gelatinous head in a shimmering coalescing way.

"Sacrifice?"

Thront had erroneously supposed that he could not become any more apprehensive about his situation.

"Yes, you will be our offering to the Icyarch on the first night of dark concordance; I will make the offer and your lifeblood will be the river whose current my people will follow into the next epoch."

"What makes me the sacrifice?" Thront said. "Why not somebody else?"

"Because you bear the Lurr, our precious and holy seed, born out into the world by good Vissel Droon and now brought back to us by your consecrated hand and by the divine will of the Icyarch."

"Seed. Hmm. Silver thing shaped like an egg?" Thront squirmed in his bonds.

"Yes that is our seed; please allow us to take possession of it once again."

"Interestingly enough, I don't have your seed; I'm not even sure who does anymore." Thront said. "Could be at the bottom of the sea for all I know."

No sound but a gentle hum from somewhere in the vessel's rear.

Shortly afterward, and for the remainder of the undersea journey Thront was confined to a tiny oblong room without a port. He wasn't exactly certain he had been demoted from holy sacrifice to regular prisoner, but he knew his status was in question. He suspected, though, that in the long run it would make precious little difference into which category he was placed.

 

Place of Skulls: Area 8

 

 

8. The Drawing Room

Door: North: Stone x 2. both are immensely heavy (6d6 STR check, up to three characters may add in their strength to the effort/check) to shift each one.

South: Locked.

Smell: Nothing remarkable

Light: Warm lamplight emanating from overhead chandelier.

Inhabitants: hostile furniture.1 Settee; 2 chairs; 1 coffee table; 2 bookshelves.

Furniture all has the same combat stats.

AC: 4(15) HD 2 HP 10 Attack 1d6* Morale: 12

 

*bookshelves attacks by hurling books. Each shelf hurls 2/round and has a total "magazine" of 20.

 

Aside from the strange looking and remarkably well preserved furniture (seeming value 1000gp total) the room has two paintings, one on the west wall and another on the east. The former depicts a sinister looking black galleon upon a rough sea beneath a slate grey sky; the latter shows the interior of a torture chamber, as seen, perhaps, through the blood smeared vision of one of its unhappy occupants: foreboding shapes loom over humanoids of indistinct aspect. Both paintings seem almost to move and breath with life. Looking at either engenders an unease.

 

The furniture will attack when the south door is attempted or if someone molests either of the paintings. Unless someone is watching it specifically, the furniture will have surprise. Once the room is vacated it automatically reassembles itself.

 

Beyond the Leaning City part?

I still haven't fixed the tags, and I'm sick so it's not happening today.

 

XV

Mouths to feed

 

Meafle food was disgusting.

Kal ate as he walked, spitting out half of what he put in his mouth. Some kind of seafood, or a vegetable; whatever it was it tasted nasty. Is it rotten, or do meafles like to eat crap?

The deck he was crossing was crusted with ice and very slippery. The ice formed odd formations: spikes and pillars, glistening fins and thin walls. Kal paused and examined the unnatural seeming arrangements. What could cause such shapes? It's almost as if there's some kind of aesthetic...

He continued to walk, eyeing the effulgent walls and nodes of ice. He ran his fingers along the surface of one; some of it melted onto his fingertip; greasy and sticky, it was definitely not frozen water.

Kal stopped in his tracks. He heard a clicking noise. It cut out abruptly.

He turned around and began walking briskly the way he had come. He took ten steps and walked into a thin wall of ice made invisible by the failing light.

Something slid across the air above him.

Kal whirled around, and looked up; he caught a slight glimpse of something white and furry. He dug around in his pocket and was happy to find his rubber glove. He put it on and cranked up the static caster.

He made another attempt to return in the direction he had come, but it soon became apparent that the way had changed; there were walls of ice now that had not existed before, and he quickly became turned around.

He heard the clicking noise again, and something moved at the edge of his vision. A writhing, white shape dropped from above; Kal rolled out from underneath the falling thing, and flipped the static caster's toggle. Light arched in the corridor of ice; its brightness refracted in planes and angles all around him, defining the labyrinth of frost he'd wandered into.

A white and round-bodied creature, about the size of a large melon, stood before him for an instant, pinned by the caster's bolt. A clenching, spiny cone of flesh protruded from its back, and a wattle of greasy looking skin hung from its underside.

It exploded. The caster bolt winked out of existence.

Before the light vanished Kal saw ten or twelve more of the creatures headed directly for him. Icenids, he had read about them in Kleema's Codified Natural Index.

Clikclickclikclikclcikck. They came over and through the ice.

Losing no time, Kal, turned about and ran, banging and bouncing off invisible walls. Another of the loathsome things barred his way; slashing wildly his knife; he pinned it to the deck, and won free of the swarm for a moment.

He breathed and tried to think; one thing was for certain: If he attempted to find his way out of this maze the Icenids would run him down.

Clickclickclcik-

They were coming again, from every direction. Kal cranked up the caster and fired at the deck; a small and smoldering gap formed in the planking. Kal knifed another icenid, and cranked the caster again; and once more; his third shot left the hole large enough. He jumped.

He fell into cold darkness. Several heartbeats in the air and-

He splashed into water, plunging deep. Cold.

He pulled himself up to the surface. Cold and soaked.

He had escaped; he laughed and looked up; round, falling silhouettes came between himself and the light.

"Bowels," he said and started to swim. A patch of dim light shone to his left; he splashed and floundered towards it. He came the source of the illumination: a breach in the hull, and pulled himself onto its ragged lip.

A wide spar poked through the break- had perhaps been the original cause of it- Kal shimmied up it and through the jagged opening and came out into the misted night. He heard splashing in the darkness behind him.

The moons were up, and the fog was less copious than usual, snow fell in large, slow flakes. The spar led Kal out over a wide patch of open water; he could see the shadowed outline of the Boneyard's continued presence bordering the lagoon like expanse he was climbing over.

The spar came to an end; he hung inches above the frosty water.

Clickclcikclcikclik-

Kal pushed himself up on his hands and swiveled around. Icenids clambered down the pole: ten or more. Facing them, he dropped into a crouch and balanced on the beam, drew his knife. Clickclikcclikcclik they swarmed towards him.

The air shifted, and there was a great noise off to the left, in the center of the 'lagoon'. Everything else stopped: Kal turned his head.

A huge black shape exploded up out of the sea; runnels and streams of night dark water coursed down its flanks; over its scales. It opened a mouth large enough to have swallowed The Siren in one neat bite; teeth lined back in rows, disappearing into a black gullet.

It roared and pushed across the water. The Icenids clacked and scurried back through the breach.

Laughing, Kal raised his knife and held it up between himself and the onrushing leviathan.

 

Place of Skulls, area 7

7. Dragon Skull

Door: All locked.

Smell: Dust.

Light: Dull red glow, emanating from the dragon skull

 

The center of this room is dominated by a 20' long dragon skull. The snout of the skull points east. It gives off a bit of heat and is warm to the touch.

A large chair made out of humanoid seeming bones resides within the skull, a seated figure looks out through the eye sockets. If a character sits in the chair they will heal all damage, and gain a permanent +1 to all their attributes- even if it mans pushing them above 18. If this occurs the skull will instantly cease to glow and no one else sitting in the chair will gain any benefit at all.

 

The Wide World Gazetteer

A slightly revised version of very old post, presented by request.
This is for the world of the dwarf thing. I did not key everything, and likely I fucked some stuff up, but I'll be putting in a bit more time on this at the close of the project. For the sake of convenience I have reposted the map.

The Wide World:

The region known (to the dwarfs at least) as The Wide World lies just north of the Imperial Sea. Once, long ago, the area existed as province of the Grall (or Unified) Empire, but in the present, the region is contested territory with many groups fighting for control and survival. Locals look back on the ill-remembered Grall past as a sort of golden age in the same way they look back on the more recently departed Dwarf Empire as a the absolute worst of times. Neither is accurate, but that has little bearing on the day-to-day lives of most. This is not the case, however, for every one; adventurers spend their lives delving into the ruins of the Grall, the Dwarfs and the civilization that existed between the two, seeking glory, riches, or perhaps the power granted by forgotten relics of these lost ages. Dwarfs bear the further burden of the pervasive persecution, which,,aside from the gnolls, is the most enduring legacy of Hex-King Wound's Necro Empire.


The Black Spire is a massive and fortified tower, built of black basalt. One of only a few intact Grall era fortifications in the region, the original purpose of the Black spire is unknown; although it is thought that it may have been a temple. Currently it is controlled by the evil human sorcerer, Rictus, who styles himself as Witch King. lthoigh he is clearly less powerful than King Wound, he has managed to gather about him a huge army of gnolls.

Blyx is situated at the eastern edge of Olde Dragon Swamp. Populated by men and dwarves for the most part Blyx conducts trade with everyone from the lizard men of the swamp to the white apes of the Crags. A council of human wizards known as the Silent Society runs Blyx. The city’s trade is prosperous and the Silent Society uses the wealth generated thus to influence affairs far and wide. Blyxian spies are said to infest every city, church and court throughout the land.

Centarus: A wide open grassland, inhabited by megafauna and controlled by the 12 savage centaur nations.

The Crags, a broken, rocky badlands, represent the sad remains of an ancient mountain chain, worn away by time, and shattered by earthly upheaval. Although oases hide among the rocks in a few places, most of the Area is barren and merciless. Outlaws and savage bands of white apes fight over what little there is.


Glistendome. Built long ago by the Grall, Castle Glistendome resides on the Green Isle in The Witch’s Water and is a mighty fortress city. The city has been held by the elves for thousands of years. When they took ownership of the city, the elves assumed stewardship of the Bird of Omens, the Wood Wall and the Wyrd tree. Like many imperial constructions the castle and the city below are riddled with secret passages and hidden chambers. The Old Road, an ancient imperial thoroughfare, runs west from Castle Glistendome to the shattered gates of ruined Moon Keep.

The Gloomy Mountains: Ancient basaltic mountain range. The average peak is about 12,000 feet high at the summit, although Mt. Thorn and several others a much loftier. The extent of the range is unknown and no records exist of anyone visiting the western slope. In the southern expanse of the range some of the deeper valleys contain microclimatic pockets of jungle. Major settlements in the mountains include Urux, located in the Vale of Sorrow, and the Gnollic stronghold at the Black Spire.

The Witch Wood: Ancient home of the elves, the wood continues to the north and east of what is shown on the map. All manner of beasts inhabit the forest. Although there are many elves living at Castle Glistendome, many more live throughout the forest. The elves trade the products of their magical orchards, and handmade treasures of many sorts, with the men of Blyx and the Dwarves of Kurg.

Jungle of Nar: situated at sea level the Jungle of Nar has a much warmer wetter climate than most of the province. Gargantuan, ancient creatures found nowhere else in the province reside in this storybook rain forest. Mysterious ruins of unknown but obviously ancient origin, perhaps predating even the Forgotten Empire, are strewn through out the depths of the forest. The city of Kurg, a dwarfish whaling town resides at the edge of the primeval forest, along the southern coast of the province. It is perhaps one of the only places in the Wide World where the dwarfs live as something other than second class citizens.

Kurg: At the the close of the Second Summer, the dwarves who fled the horror unleashed at Urux (then called Bal-Rindurr) settled far to the south of the catastrophe and took up the hunting of whales and other giant beasts of the sea. Since this initial settlement, the folk of Kurg have prospered, and the settlement has changed but a little. Following long tradition the city minds its own affairs, taking its living from the jungle and the sea.

The Lurch: As a name, “The Lurch” refers both to the large dormant volcano just south of the Screeching Stones and the stunted malformed woodland that surrounds its swollen eminence. The Serpent People made a city here once, deep in pre-imperial times. Over the epochs, successive volcanic events buried and sealed away several iterations of the great city. Each time the volcano erupted the serpent people would return and create another layer. These cities exist now, one piled atop the other, all entombed beneath the flank of the great mountain.

The strange and twisted woodland, which surrounds the volcano, is famous for its carrion stench and populations of giant insects.

The Moon Hills: Fog shrouded, lycanthrope infested and wizard haunted highland region. There are many minor imperial ruins in this region. Warring clans of Halflings reside in cold, ramshackle castles separated from one another by leagues, brought together by hatred and an endless cycle of blood feud.

Moon Keep: Ruined Grall site. An intact funerary complex is situated beneath the remains of main structure.

Stargleam’s Wall: Perhaps the signature relic of the Second Summer. The elvish king Stargleam had this wall built in order to hold back the forces of the first Witch-King, Wound, but something went very wrong. Stargleam’s chief advisor and Wizard, Althon betrayed him by secretly defiling the Wall with forbidden rituals. As a result a presence entered the spaces between the walls within the great wall. Things fell apart. At first, the wall crumbled and resisted repair. Later, over the course of a single night remembered now as the Grief the soldiers manning the great wall went insane and slew one another- down to the last. Mores elves died in that one night then during the entirety of the Summer War up until that point. The elves were effectively undone, the few who remained fled to Camirill. With the elves defeated, the Summer War entered its final phase. Althon raised the thousands of dead soldiers along the wall as mindless revenants of savage aspect. He set them upon the forces of Wound- only to have the Hex-King wrest control away and add the revenants to his already vast armies.

Old Dragon Swamp: roughly 100 years after the Grief, a dragon came down upon the elvish countries. His wrath devastated the land and transformed it. where once there had been a lake now there was a stinking smoking fen. Although, he is rarely seen these days, it is commonly believed that Igor still resides in the swamp. Igor is the most powerful single entity in the province. Many worship him as a god. His agents move in every walk of life, throughout the province.

Urux: At the end of the second summer, the dwarfs who worked and lived at Bal- Rindurr had advanced the arts of mining and metallurgy to new heights. The dwarfs, however, unknowingly crowned a murderous necromancer. The ruinous legacy of this act still lies heavy across the land. (But is covered in more detail elsewhere)

The Witch Wood: ancient haunted forest, long believed to be cursed. The elvish court and people were driven to the witch wood after Igor destroyed Camarill. In exchange for a place within the wood, the forest god Mogu, made the elves bind themselves to the forest through a magical ritual. The ritual made the elves the stewards of the forest. Mogu has remained silent since the time of the great ritual, but it is rumored that he will return if he grows dissatisfied with his chosen stewards.

The Witch Water is a haunted lake which contains Glistendome and the island upon which it was built. At night, shimmering spectral shapes slide to and fro beneath the waves and when the moon is full the ghostly ruins of cities long forgotten can be seen aglow upon the lake floor.