5E design might be a worthwhile compromise by way of Legendary creatures, which are given some "cheat" mechanics that fall outside the normal scope of gameplay. Namely, they have a finite number of times per day when they can just flat out succeed on a saving throw they've failed (Legendary Resistance, usually 3/day). They also get Legendary Actions, which allow them to act at the end of a player's turn (usually a total of 3 of these out-of-turn actions are allowed, but different actions can have a higher cost depending on it's potency--for example: teleporting 120 feet away might cost one action, while a negative burst dealing 10d10 damage to everyone in a 60 foot radius might consume all 3 actions).
Food for thought. There are also Lair Actions, which take place at a fixed point on any given initiative order each round. They can help spice up the encounter dynamic by giving everyone something to contend with beyond one sack of hit points.
Captain Embergloom proves implacably squirmy in fielding the various questions aimed his direction, albeit with a thick veneer of practiced debonair posturing to go with it. He seizes upon Arlk's curiosity about marine wildlife initially, rambling off a list of creatures both timid and fearsome, but offers assurances that there is nothing The Destiny can't outrun on open waters (an answer itself to Tzacol's inquiry about the Captain's preferred method for dealing with threats). Ooduls knows better, however, having fared the seas professionally as a plunderer and chaser of horizons. While incredibly (and thankfully) uncommon, there are things that bubble up from the deepest depths of the ocean that cannot be explained away as anything other than terror made manifest. Stories abound among the turtle-folk of disjointed, shapeless horrors that surface to sink entire Bedoolan fleets before disappearing again.
All told, despite his frustratingly evasive nature, his claims of relying on ship speed to put problems well behind rings true. The only trouble therein lies with the fact that speed is always enough until it isn't.
You are still deep in idle conversation with the Captain when his nose spontaneously wrinkles up in an exaggerated scowl, preceding an incredulous tone to the question: "Aurusfont Above, what is that stench?" It is faint enough at first, but something akin to the scent of rotten tomatoes overtakes the deck of the ship. With each passing second, the smell grows stronger. Judging by the confused and nauseated expressions of the rest of the crew on deck, it is a widespread and uniformly acknowledged situation.
Go ahead and couch some Perception checks in your posts.
His smile deepening, Linvas Embergloom shrugs somewhat coyly as he reclines lazily along the aft-castle's railing. Tzacol easily picks up on the fact that there is likely one or many answers to her specific query. The Captain, however, settles on a predictably vague admission.
"The Destiny is a bit of a sticking point for most ne'er-do-wells, I'm afraid. Most Bedool, especially the pirates, are a little too prideful to admit that an Auroran ship can outrun anything they throw at her. The more who try—and fail—the more tempting a target The Destiny becomes for some turtle-pirate with designs on being named Volskwoo." The Captain leans a bit closer to Tzacol's towering form and flirtatiously traces a crooked finger along the contour of her left shoulder. "As to specific enemies? None that would pose a threat to so magnificent a specimen as yourself, darling."
"While few stray from ports of call during the long night, such superstitions provide a prime opportunity," Captain Embergloom says to Tzacol with a practiced smile. "Pirates are the most superstitious sort to sail on these waters, so this long night is often the best opportunity to traverse unfriendly waters with no fear of ambush."
While most of the occupants aboard Mirael's Destiny remain with eyes glued to the somewhat ominous glow of active volcanoes yet miles away, Ooduls—perhaps owing to a bout of paranoia and unease at present circumstances—allows a worried gaze to wander elsewhere along the waterline. He's not sure what he's looking at even as he beholds it: a pair of orange orbs, barely pin-points at such a great distance, rise up out of the water and hold position for a brief moment before disappearing into the ocean. Under cover of so much darkness it is difficult for Ooduls to guess at how far away the motes of fiery light truly were, but it strikes him as an immense distance (perhaps nearly as far as the volcanic isles).
Captain Embergloom, though decidedly reticent, relents under Tzacol's persistence and recounts a few tales of he and his crew's daring-dos while plying their trade on the open waters. Most of his stories seem exaggerated and painfully rehearsed, though the latter can be safely attributed to the hangover's effects. A great deal of his tales tend to deal with outrunning entire fleets of Bedool pirates, while the tallest tale involves outwitting a sea dragon in a game of riddles to save his crew from being made morsels by the creature. Within each telling is a sliver of truth, though what those truths might be is well hidden by Embergloom's grandiose wit.
Much of the crew take some effort to warm to Lo'tan with his enigmatic presence. His theatrics do most of the heavy lifting in that regard, and he is at least greeted with friendly nods or waves in passing instead of averted or downcast eyes.
Arlk is mostly left to his own devices, even by the Bedoolan ship's crew. His shattered and scarred visage paint a picture of past horrors they can scarce imagine. Nevertheless, they are pointedly not rude to him, so much as politely wary. In stark contrast, Ooduls makes friends with the rest of the crew easily, with the exception of First-Mate Cinderwake, whose stoic reservedness remains utterly insurmountable. He is able to confirm what he's already suspected: none of the crew have dabbled in the same colored past as he has, but there is still a common bond enough among those who make a life upon the water that makes forming social bonds easier for him than others.
Reep's budding friendship with Abrupt Forgiveness proves to be a bit of a handful. His mind flits from subject to subject wildly with no apparent rhyme or reason, and the remainder of the voyage evolves into a situation where the Lowan becomes a nuisance with a constant barrage of asinine questions and light-hearted pranks.
By the time a week has passed, uneventfully, the excitement of the crew and their new, temporary shipmates has worn down to something a little more rote. The archaeology crew seldom leave their bunk for much of anything, instead furiously poring over notes and maps from the safety of their bunk room. This decline in joviality also coincides with a somber shift in attitudes as a stretch of short days culminate in a permanent nightfall...
...the planetary eclipse has arrived. Bleak darkness stretches out in all directions, save for a scant few stars that dot the horizon that is not blotted out by the sister-planet's presence. Bleak darkness, except for a barely visible spot of glowing orange and red to the Northwest—a chain of volcanic isles.
I am called Reep'Tchk'Tchk, but you may call me Reep. Everyone does. How did you come by your name? it seems like there is a story there. thinks Reep with an audible chuckle.
'I liked the sound of it, so I chose it for myself. Friends become enemies become friends. Funny, no?'
Abrupt Forgiveness alights on the boom next to Reep, almost uncomfortably close, and stares directly at the Meerk with his huge, insectoid eyes. 'What does Reep mean?'
Lowans are fey-touched and take on whimsical names, but they are able to communicate an entire range of sensory information when they are communicating with other Lowans, so "Abrupt Forgiveness" would entail an entire tapestry of sights, sounds, tastes, smells, feels, and emotions. They can only convey words to non-Lowans, however, so the names seem a bit bizarre to outsiders.
I'll probably shift to doing more shortform responses to try to keep things from stagnating. Trying to hold myself to longer posts is resulting in kicking the can too far down the street lately. Wrapping up a long 5e game this weekend, fingers crossed, with a table full of PCs on the cusp of 17th level that has been giving me fits trying to balance meaningful encounters around. Hopefully taking that off the plate will give me more mindspace to work with here, too.
"Why you so tense, honey? Shore leave usually takes care of that. Unless you've got some predators on the ship." The pirate Bedool finishes with a swig of his rum, citrus grog.
"Best pair of eyes for seeing things lurking in the dark," Cinderwake responds curtly. At the other remarks, her rigid demeanor evaporates into something a little closer to rage. Her jaw clenches nearly as tightly as the grip on her sword's hilt.
"Our... crew maintain respectful and professional boundaries both on and offboard. Emulating that behavior might make this trip a little more hospitable for... all parties."
Servius Acinon Venator wrote:
Sitting at the offered spot, Servius inclines his head to both of the women. "Greetings Second-Mate Kolweth and Third-Mate Kelweth. I thank you both for letting me join your game. I know that many other races have issues interacting with my own, so I appreciate that you two did turn me away. As for the stakes, I was not looking to make a profit off of the cards anyway. Now, what game is it that you two have been playing?"
They're playing something that would amount to a variation on Texas Hold'em Poker.
Kolweth smiles sympathetically, but faintly. "True enough. I won't say the Empire hasn't done plenty to justify the animosity of other peoples, but it's true that no one chooses their birthplace. There's also the fact that the Auruspire has had nothing beyond beneficial trade agreements with Makhoran parties."
After shuffling the deck and dealing cards around the table, she says, "Less about heavy topics, yeah? Let others wax philosophic about the Empire's soul. Tends to spoil a night of light drinking and cards, in my experience."
Still amused by this captain's ways, she continues, with genuine curiosity entering her voice.
"I would know of you, Captain Embergloom. Who are you? And how did you come by this vessel?"
"An upstart son who was not fortunate enough to be born first that has chosen to squander his family's fortunes on the open sea instead of buried in a library in the shadow of the Auruspire. That's Captain Embergloom. More than that would spoil the enigma, I think. And besides, the throbbing in my head from consuming my weight in cider leaves me decidedly less interested in grand histories." His words are straightforward and somewhat disinterested, if not outright blunt. Tzacol notes that his skin is not quite so pale as it initially appeared. The captain seems to be made up in a white powder, even beneath his clothes, though some bouts of ample sweating (likely the night and day prior) have resulted in the makeup caking slightly near to his scalp and about his neck.
Reep'Tchk'Tchk wrote:
So where did you learn to mindspeak, or was it something that you were born with?
Reep briefly calls to mind fetid air and a chorus of laughter. It is immediately replaced by the cooing voice once more: 'Others learn with tongues, but my kind learns with mind. All others speak slow, slow, so slow.'
The Lowan above takes flight to approach Reep more closely. He bobs up and down awkwardly in the air some five feet away from the Meerk's position. He seems a little plumper than what few Lowans Reep has encountered in his years, with enormous black orbs for eyes emerging from a veritable bush of grey fur. His wings are a vibrant pattern of blacks, purples, and greys that trail small wisps of dust with each beat. His thorax and abdomen are covered in leathers and straps, a pair of knives and light crossbow visible dangling from various places.
'I am called Abrupt Forgiveness. What is your name, friend-Meerk?'
After darkness falls, Ooduls approaches Cinderwake, "Hey Mate, what's with the speed? How are you going to detect approaching threats from below during nightfall at this rate?"
Despite being off duty, and despite gripping an iron tin full of—presumably—the same rum and citrus the rest of the crew are consuming, Cinderwake tenses at Ooduls' approach like a coiled viper ready to strike. Seeing the somewhat familiar face of the recently boarded Bedool, she relaxes a bit to her usual rigid posture.
"You turtlefolk are the best hands available for navigating the seas, I'll grant you, but our captain has clued onto something that gives Mirael's Destiny the advantage on travel times--" Cinderwake doesn't use words to explain what that advantage might be, instead allowing a small grin as she looks up and points to the crow's nest. Barely visible from the main deck is the head of a Lowan peeking out over the edge of the nest, peering down at Reep who in turn is peering back up at the peculiar lookout.
Servius Acinon Venator wrote:
Approaching one of the nearby tables of card-players, he will lower himself down slightly as he addresses them. "Greetings. May I perhaps join you?"
It is often difficult for the Makhor to tell some of the furless races apart (and vice versa), and the two Auroran women engaged in a game of cards seem impossible to distinguish between. They do seem receptive enough to Servius' request, at least. One nods and makes to reach for a nearby barrel, but stops halfway as she realizes who—or more specifically, what—she is dealing with. Instead, she simply nods again and gestures to an empty space near to their makeshift table.
"I'm Kolweth. Second-Mate Kolweth," states the elf who offered you a spot. She inclines her head towards the other Auroran woman sitting across from her and says, "This is Kelweth. Third-Mate Kelweth. We're playing small stakes here, I'm afraid. It's just a friendly game, but you're welcome to join in."
Tzacol has trouble gauging the captain's reaction to her hail. Having approached to a much closer vantage, she is nearly overpowered by a waft of some fruit-based aroma that reminds her of cranberries. He seems unwilling to relinquish his position at the railing, savoring a few more moments of the wind's caress before finally opening his eyes and lazily turning his gaze to meet that of the Togani. Behind him, the parted curtains leading to his cabin reveal a sort of patio just beyond the doors to his quarters. A comfortable looking bench lines the exterior of the cabin, atop which three Auroran minstrels are reclined in excessively languid positions. Even from this distance, it's plain to Tzacol that the musicians are in the grips of some form of opiate.
"Well, you're not one of mine," he says, matter-of-factly. "With the team of diggers, I take it? One of the strongarms, judging by the looks of you." His lack of rehearsed courtesy don't quite fit the dressed-down, foppish demeanor he carries himself with as he sizes up Tzacol like a farmer inspecting a horse.
"Linvas Embergloom..." he says abruptly. "...who has the pleasure of owning this seaworthy tub!"
The Captain isn't doing a terribly great job of hiding a hangover, but he initially strikes Tzacol as a painfully laidback sort of man.
Meanwhile, atop his lonely perch, Reep continues to hear a voice not his own within his mind: 'Captain lives in the captain's cabin. I live in the pleasant shade. I am Captain only of the nest for crows.'
The statement draws Reep's eyes upward to the crow's nest itself, where the presumed speaker is barely evident from his own hidden perch. Fuzzy antennae and large, reflective eyes peer out from over the lip of the crow's nest. While it isn't the first Lowan Reep has seen, it is certainly the first he's seen since being this far south. Reep also notes that there is a sizable, hidden compartment on the undercarriage of the crow's nest with a small hatch.
Just a reminder, Lowans are the small moth people.
I'll get refocused here and continue on. Some questions, invitation to dialogue before that, however: Arlk or Severius still around?
And general feelings on delving into interactions with the crew of the ship? I get the sense that there's not a lot of interest (with a couple of noted exceptions) in hashing out much in the way of socializing there, but just want to get a verdict before I move past it. There can be as much or as little depth to that as people prefer, but it would certainly be more direct to just ask in here if that's something you all are interested in. Or, we can kinda skim over most of that in favor of getting to the combat-heavy leg of the trip.
Mirael's Destiny continues her southward voyage at a rapid clip with favorable winds, even as the sun begins to vanish behind the increasingly massive presence of Aurus' sister-planet. Temperatures retreat rapidly from sticky mugginess to a more tolerable warmth that is still mitigated by the rush of wind afforded a ship at full sail. Ooduls is surprised to see that the ship maintains it's course at full speed despite the approaching darkness. While navigating is no difficult prospect with the looming presence of Aurus II dominating the southern horizon, it's difficult to detect approaching threats from beneath during nightfall, and a vessel in motion often serves as a tantalizing bit of prey for some of the less savory things that lurk below.
Reep is startled from his perch in the rigging by an unsettlingly smooth and calm voice that echoes within his mind. Perhaps owing to his own experience with mysticism, the Meerk can almost—but not quite—clue into a more exhaustive communication, as if the words themselves were engaging all senses. In the end, however, it is still only the words that Reep can understand clearly, the voice almost seeming to coo, 'How does it find my perch, guest? A pleasant breeze, yes?'
On deck, there is a notable shift in deckhands and crew, with new faces coming up from below to go about their duties. Those sailors who had been crewing the ship up this point, however, seem to show no interest in retiring to their bunks. Instead, they begin dragging tables and chairs onto The Destiny's deck, some more makeshift than others. A ration of rum and a bevy of citrus are distributed to all of the ship's actual crew, who begin to engage in what could only be construed as a night of light drinking and gambling.
It is not until a rowdy cheer washes over the deck like a wave, vessels raised and heads turned towards the Captain's cabin, that everyone realizes the ship's captain has finally emerged from his alleged stupor. He is a dainty fellow, even for an Auroran, with faded kohl smeared around his eyelids and a long mane of silver hair drawn back in a loose bundle at the nape of his neck. His pale skin borders on anemic, while his garb resembles that of a half-dressed swashbuckler just stumbled out of bed: a white, frilled tunic is unbuttoned all the way down to his navel, disappearing beneath a belt and rapier frog tied around a sturdy pair of leather breeches. He gives a mock flourish of a bow to return the gesture of his crew, but otherwise leans forward on the ship rail just beyond his cabin. With his head tilted back and eyes closed, it's a fair bet he is enjoying the cool breeze.
Tzacol:
Cinderwake seems pretty straightforward. Maybe dangerously so. She doesn't strike Tzacol as the sort of person who knows what a poker face is.
The crew at large are mostly gambling—dice, cards, and various other games of skill or chance (competitive knife-throwing, races to the crow's nest, five-finger-fillet, etc.) and might be open to some outsider money being added to the pot. The stakes are relatively small fry, however, mostly coppers with silver being the big spenders)
Cinderwake finally shows a brief crack in the façade of ruthless ringleader at Tzacol's appraisal, if only for the briefest of moments. Her chin raises slightly and a smirk attempts to curve the corner of her mouth, before she stifles it an returns to her ordinary, rigidly stoic demeanor. She clears her throat before answering the Togani's question, "By my estimation, you would be hard pressed to find a more competent captain between the port behind and the Auruspire—a captain that doesn't have a turtle shell, at least. Any concerns about his ability to run this crew or get the ship to it's destination are dreadfully unfounded..." She allows a brief silence to follow her explanation, but eventually adds after a somewhat exasperated sigh, "...excepting when we make landfall at any port with anything even approaching a vibrant night life. Regardless, once the stupor from his excesses abates, you'll see the truth of it. For the interim, I'll keep this vessel running at an acceptable clip and in the right direction."
Ooduls makes friends quickly, especially with the Bedoolan sailors who can share in conversation with one of their kind, with whom subtleties of language, humor, and slang are not utterly lost. The ex-pirate is quickly able to piece together that the crew can not count among their number a single pirate, both former or otherwise. This is an uncommon enough occurrence among ship crews that Ooduls would note it, at the very least, speaks to a keen and appraising eye among whoever selects the ship crew to deliberately avoid hiring on people of that persuasion.
Apart from the odd island or reef formation Mirael's Destiny passes, Reep spies little that would amount to any sort of concern. It is a stunning view, to say the least, staring out onto a softly roiling expanse of sapphire waters and swooping, billowing clouds. He is aware, however, that the point along the horizon that the sun's spiral follows indicates that a planetary eclipse is due in the near future. From the ship's current position, the sister-planet Aurus II appears as little more than a grey and brown bulge creeping up over the southern horizon. As the ship progresses towards it's destination, however, it will begin to dominate more and more of the sky. The result will, ultimately, be shorter days and longer nights, culminating in a day where there is no sun at all. (This occurs roughly once a month in the southern hemisphere)
Will update more over the weekend, and hopefully roll on to the next scene.
It is several hours yet before the crew of Mirael's Destiny finish making their preparations and finally embark. Those remaining below-deck in cramped quarters are subjected to what has devolved largely into an uncomfortable silence owing to Izluth's previous outbursts. Above deck, Ooduls is surprised to see no sign of the captain, despite the vessel having shoved off. Even as the port-city and the jungle bay fades out of view behind them, First Mate Cinderwake remains the singular point of authority barking out orders from the ship's wheel. Any misgivings one might have harbored against the disparate crew are quickly laid to rest over the course of the afternoon. All hands move efficiently and with practiced grace from one task to another. Cinderwake runs a tight ship.
Meanwhile, the sapphire waters of the Auran Ocean sprawl out in every direction, the horizon only interrupted occasionally by islands of varying shapes and sizes. Winds are favorable for the time being, the skies cloaked in billowing white clouds. The steady breeze afforded by the ship's movements are a welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat that still clings to the air.
Much of the evening is spent in such unremarkable conditions, with the crew moving busily between their tasks, the captain remaining unseen, and the skies promising no tumult—at least where weather is concerned. Occasionally, from behind the curtains that conceal the entrance to the captain's cabin, a few half-hearted melodies escape from a trio of instruments (fiddle, fife, and lute). By and large, everyone seems content to work around you while you have free run of the ship.
Go ahead and let me know what each of your characters are getting up to for the first day out to sea. You can safely assume you've got about 8 hours of time to work with for now, which will end up being right around sundown.
This site has been in maintenance every time I've checked for a couple weeks now. Assuming paizo is out of the weeds (finally), I'll get an update in this week—hopefully tomorrow night, but Thursday at the latest.
Kadlitz opens his mouth briefly and hesitates, eyes sweeping to the only remaining Bedool in the room. It is in that lurch in the conversation that Izluth breaks the silence, his voice a cavernous boom of gravel and grumpiness to match the perpetually bitter scowl affixed to his visage, "Volskwoo is what the shell-men," his eyes land on Arlk once more, measuring the effect of an insult, "call other shell-men that managed to do something worthwhile in their days. They lay the dead f~~~ers in grand tombs and monuments, surrounded by what spoils they coveted in life, then declare them posthumous Gods. It's what the rest of us might call utter nonsense that live somewhere with more than a handful of mud to call home."
Nearby, Kadlitz has long since buried his face in the palm of his hand. The rest of their entourage exchange silent, wide-eyed glances, waiting to see how their disgruntled associate's tirade lands with their recently hired mercenary band. Unfortunately, Izluth has not exhausted his venom.
Turning to Tzacol, his scowl somehow manages to deepen, and he says "Not a damn clue what's on that rock besides a volcano. But I can promise you here, now, that the Bedool aren't frightened of sailing anywhere in this wide blue puddle of water—except to this island. Volskwoo, pirates, ghosts, or giant f@+$ing squid monsters... doesn't matter what the culprit. I reckon we're about to add another shipwreck to the briny depths if we're fool enough to go anywhere near that place."
Current and former Warcraft junkie here, and the latest expansion for that just launched this week. I'll be even slower than usual, but will sneak in another update over this weekend. Feel free to go wild with some inter-party conversatin' in the immediate future.
Kadlitz steeples his hands on the table before him at Arlk's question, his eyes focusing still on the map rather than the scarred Bedool. "We have no specifics about Culbdoon's Roil—only ominous warnings and accounts of ships in olden times that vanished from the world when they strayed too close to the island. No Bedoolan vessels have dared the approach for decades, so far as we're aware, and they certainly refused to accept our coin to ferry us there. The most likely explanation is that the isle perhaps served as a central cove for some vast pirate operation. What I'm hoping, however..." Kadlitz turns to look directly at Arlk, his voice lowered and approaching that of a conspiratorial tone, "...is that we've discovered a forgotten location of one of your kind's forgotten Volskwoo. If I am right about this, and the isle's reputation extends beyond living memory, this Volskwoo would likely have embodied some element of terror or death. One can only imagine what sort of labyrinth such a figure might construct to honor their passing from the world, no?"
Insight (DC 15):
Stern-faced Izluth's face remains unreadable, but something in his eyes belies a tinge of doubt about Kadlitz's theory.
Meanwhile, Ooduls finds that his evaluation of the dockworker loads above told a truthful story about what was concealed below. Racks that look like they once held an impressive volume of wine casks stand mostly empty. What the ship is not short on is food, drinking water, and half a hold full of curios ranging from tableware to abstract paintings. It is not terribly unlike some hauls of booty Ooduls has witnessed in his days of piracy, though it seems unlikely these gains were ill-gotten. Instead, you're left with the distinct impression that someone on this ship, or perhaps back at the Auruspire, has an appetite for materialistic samplings of continental cultures.
Mirael's Destiny is a narrower vessel than Ooduls would prefer, especially the below-deck passageways. In terms of sea worthiness, she is undoubtedly a fast ship fit for covering long distances. Despite boasting two decks with thirty guns, all told, the Destiny likely wouldn't require much firepower to sink. Crew discipline seems to be kept on a short leash by First Mate Cinderwake and a handful of her subordinates, but there are definitely cliques aboard the vessel that seem to be largely divided along racial lines. A good rule of thumb, Ooduls is able to learn quickly, is that the lower the deck, the more likely you are to encounter human and Meerk crew.
At the head of the table, the clean-shaven human with graying hair nods at those who chose to introduce themselves in turn. He rises to his feet and inclines his head slightly with an air of formality.
"Glad you all could make it onboard. I'm the chief-explorer of this little merry band, but you can call me Kadlitz. We'll be sharing this cabin for the foreseeable future, so go ahead and make yourselves comfortable. We've a little time yet until the ship hoists anchor, I believe." Kadlitz begins tidying up the collection of notes and maps on the table before him, then continues, "Our destination is going to be Culbdoon's Roil—a volcanic isle at the furthest reach of the Ashing Way. If I'm speaking frankly, we're not sure what to expect. But the island is notoriously undocumented in any worthwhile measure, and even the Bedool give the place a wide berth. Perhaps remnants of ancient civilizations remain on the isle? And no shortage of wildlife, I'm sure, for which your mercenary acumen will be a valuable commodity."
"Ah, but I forget myself," Kadlitz apologizes, then turns to regard his own entourage. He gestures towards the auburn-haired rotund woman in a sleeveless dress and says, "This is geologist Islanna." This elicits a friendly smile and a nod from the woman.
"Here we have quartermaster Izluth," Kadlitz continues, indicating the barrel-bodied man with oily, black hair and a handlebar mustache. Izluth's stern face deepens into the beginnings of a scowl as he is introduced, adding myriad wrinkles to a face already dominated by creases.
"And last, but certainly not least, my old friend Klaudio." Kadlitz steps to the side to allow a view of the diminutive Makhor (at least, by Makhoran standards) behind him. Klaudio bobs his head up and down several times in an awkward bow, anxiety written plainly on his face. Kadlitz concludes with, "I'd recommend getting settled in—pick any open bunk you'd like—and then you'll have a little time to yourselves before the ship embarks."
Seemingly satisfied with the forthcoming introductions, First Mate Cinderwake rolls up the parchment and places it in a satchel that hangs on her right hip beneath her sturdy coat. Her attention has returned to the work on the docks before she orders, "Grumblegrin, get them below and to the guest's cabin, then get back to your duties. Step lively!"
Looking every bit the part of a beat dog, Grumblegrin nods an acknowledgement to the First Mate and motions for your contingent to follow him. He closes the short distance to a diminutive door that sits dead center between the two grand stairs that ascend towards the captain's cabin. After yanking the door open, he hobbles down a brief stair that descends into the guts of the ship itself. Your guide immediately turns and begins leading you down the length of this deck towards the fore of the ship, passing along several bunk nearer to the ends and an impressive arsenal of cannons that comprise the gun-deck along the interior. Eventually, Grumblegrin comes to a stop before a door leading to the guest's quarters at the front of the ship.
"Here ye be, and be ye here, one an' all! Now, if ye please, I'm like to get hide-tannin' if I don't get back above." His uneven gait clops and creaks down the deck back the way you just came, leaving only the door ahead and, hopefully, those who've hired you.
Stepping through the doorway, you're pleased to see a deceptively large living quarters, walls lined bunks while the floor itself is dominated by a rectangular table that accommodates ten seats in total. At present, four figures crowd around the far end of the table, various maps and other papers arrayed haphazardly before them. A middle-aged human man with salt-and-pepper hair, clean-shaven, and simple (but expensive) leathers occupies the head of the table. To his right and left are another pair of humans, a young rotund woman with auburn hair in a sleeveless dress and a jaw-clenched, solid barrel of a man with curvy, oily black hair and a handlebar mustache well suited to his creased and severe looking face. Looming behind this gathering is a Lyncurian (Lynx) Makhor with grey and silver fur swaddled in green and gold robes. He holds open a journal in his hands, scrawling at a fierce pace and only stopping occasionally to command a view of the maps upon the table's surface.
A moment of silence hangs in the air as all heads swivel to regard your entrance, faces awash in a look somewhere between curiosity and expectancy.
"Capta...?" she begins to mouth slowly. Her brows wrinkle, accompanied by a dumbfounded look. Her dazzling eyes scan each of your faces briefly before she dispels the look and leans over the rail with both hands. "First Mate Cinderwake, at your service. If you seek an audience with the captain, you'll find him terribly indisposed for the moment. He's come down with a dreadful case of the too much wine."
Another deckhand, an unkempt human with a bushy grey beard and few teeth, makes to descend the gangplank, but First Mate Cinderwake halts him with an abrupt palm to the sternum that half knocks the wind out of the fellow. "As it happens, your associates are already onboard and settling in below deck. I've orders to process you, however, so let's go ahead and get this nonsense over with. I'll be needing your names to make sure you are who you claim to be, then old Grumblegrin here will show you where your geologists are bunked."
She awaits your ascent, an unraveled scroll in one hand while her other has returned to its perch on the rapier hilt. As you rise to the main deck of the ship, a lazy melody rises to greet you from the direction of the captain's quarters. Two curving grand stairs breach the distance from the deck to the aft-castle, the banisters for each displaying an impressive level of detailed filigree and finished in gold. The source of the music is obscured from sight by thick curtains of silk sheets that hang before what is—in all likelihood—the entrance to the captain's cabin. It sounds more an absent-minded plucking of a lute than anything formal, though the performer clearly possesses some skill.
Ooduls: Most of the cargo being offloaded is wine and gunpowder. What they're bringing on looks more like provisions for the trip home, as well as a few curiosities that don't seem to have anything in common to hint at some unique purpose. It's not uncommon for non-Bedoolan ships to be crewed by a wide variety of races—at best, it simply means the crew is not being provided by any state-sponsored entity. First Mate Cinderwake looks to be an uptight whip-cracking sort. That the Captain is too boozed to be awake this early is not a reassuring thought.
The Ashing Way Archipelago is a large line of (mostly) volcanic islands that mark the southernmost noteworthy bodies of land to be found in the Auran Ocean (excepting the Auruspire at the south pole, of course). They are largely uninhabited due to the volatile nature of active volcanoes. Expeditions thereabouts typically return empty-handed or don't return at all. As such, it enjoys a little bit of a Bermuda Triangle mystique.
Your trip to the docks is not an overlong jaunt. The same walkways and boardwalks that constitute the exterior city neighborhoods link up with the much more solidly constructed docks of Port Demalis proper. The sun has managed to surmount the jungle canopy on the east horizon, a blinding burst of bright light that has already begun to drive the temperature into the ballpark of miserable. What reprieve the morning granted from the oppressive, energy-sapping humidity is quickly vanishing.
Port Demalis itself is not quite the bustle of activity that all of you have come to expect. Many of the streets and causeways are bereft of any souls other than your contingent itself. Even as the impregnable city walls halt at the bay and your field of view is unobstructed enough to command a view of the larger bay—and docks—this unusual vacancy remains. Farther out to sea, an ever-present fleet of Makhoran Man of Wars remain oppressively visible, but the docks of the port-city seem to be relatively empty of vessels compared to the standard fare. Most of the jetties jut out into the waters with no vessels crowded alongside. It is a strange and unusual sight to behold, but it makes spying your own destination all the easier to navigate.
Isolated along the eastern docks is an Auroran three-mast galleon. Mirael's Destiny has a narrow hull of deep red and burnished silver, triangular sails depicting—in cerulean blue—a feminine hand gripping the hilt of a broken cutlass. Matching this ensemble is a silver-cast figurehead of an elven princess, broken cutlass raised as if preparing for a final glorious charge into the fray. It is a vessel equipped for speed on the open sea, a quality made all the more fitting when one considers the swan-like, feathered details that dominate the ship's aft portions. A gangplank meets the jetty from the Destiny's deck, which is seeing current and frequent use from a disparate array of crewmen. At the top of the ramp stands a stern-faced Auroran lass wearing a thick sailor's coat, despite the heat, and resting a hand casually on the brass basket-hilt of an expensive looking rapier. Her hair is concealed by a red tricorn hat, but her radiant blue eyes are visible even from this distance.
Ruloo's gullet jiggles noticeably as he shakes his head in what might approximate a gesture of disappointment. His chosen seat continues to creak with every movement, no matter how small, as if the stool itself were crying out for mercy.
"Signin' on fer The Wake be a good start, but there be more to this fellowship than coin an' personal gain. Sooner ye figure that out fer yerselves, the sooner ye'll be called on to somethin' worth yer mettle, savvy?" Ruloo relinquishes his perch and rises once more to his feet, slowly, and with an audible groan that accompanies one of advanced age undertaking a labor so grand as standing.
"Meantime, get yer asses to the docks an' aboard Mirael's Destiny. She be an Auroran galleon what looks like a bird. Ye'll be escortin' a clutch of... uh, geologians, I think they were—diggers. Four of em altogether, set on plumbin' some isle somewheres off the Ashing Way Archipelago." He turns and makes his way towards the booze, stopping after a few steps and turning to add, "Best see that yer grog stores be full. Drinkin' be a good way to pass the time on a s+%!e mission."
With that he departs your company fully, busying himself with seeing to his own, ample, breakfast needs.
What the Azure Wake passes off as a tavern is a far cry from what one expects from a locale with modern amenities. Nestled within the hold of the defunct vessel that serves as the guild's headquarters, this watering hole is very much a throwback to a bygone era, albeit with a notable absence of hearths. A rudimentary cooking station occupies the center of the hold, consisting of little more than a cauldron, spit, table, and chopping block. Simple herbs are festooned in a haphazard manner around the equally haphazard assembly, but the cauldron itself still contains the remnants of meals from the night prior (More or less, it's just an ongoing broth to which meat and vegetables are added whenever it threatens to run out. At present, the contents include mostly crab, potatoes, and onions). The aft quarter of the tavern-hold itself is packed with barrels, casks, and kegs of exceptionally cheap swill.
An ominous creak of floorboards overhead gives away the approach of a figure far before they darken the doorway and begin plodding their way down the steps into the tavern. Ruloo the Gullet pauses briefly at the foot of the stairs to regard the motley assemblage of guildmembers before him. Ruloo is easily the fattest Bedool any of you have ever laid eyes on, and a permanent fixture hereabouts in the tavern-hold. His dull, red scales billow out in fatty folds where his extremities emerge from beneath his shell. Old scars criss-cross his face and arms, while his dorsal shell is a veritable tapestry of chinks, notches, grooves, and scores. Ooduls and Arlk note that he is rather advanced in age, easily over two hundred years judging from a glance. With his one good mirthful eye—the other glazed over by a cataract—he continues his mute appraisal of all of you while his worn, scaly hands secure a low-sitting stool that sounds near to splintering when he eases his considerable girth onto it.
"There be few what weren't called away fer a grand sortie, and you lot be sittin' here left behind, rattlin' yer chatterboxes in me tavern by yer lonesomes," Ruloo grates out in a voice all gravel and phlegm. "As fortune do ordain, I'll be givin' yer assignments for the immediate future. Afore I be doin' that, I may be ruminatin' a bit about why ye lot were left behind while all hands were beckoned elsewhere. Ye be thinkin' there's a reason fer that, landbales(*)?"
* landbale being a mild pejorative inferring that someone (or multiple someones) are wet behind the ears, new to something, etc. Specifically, it refers to a Bedool youth that has yet to meet the sea.
The first telltale signs of morning creep into the sky from the east, from beyond a horizon obfuscated by an impenetrable tangle of jungle wilderness that stands wild and untamed even in the shadow of the mighty Port Demalis. Cast in a pall of blues, greys, and deep shadows at the approaching dawn, the massive port-city looks a far cry lonelier on the whole than the bustle of activity along the docks—workers, sailors, and "sailors" going about their business—would indicate. Within the broad and resolute walls of Port Demalis, the reach of the Makhoran Empire is evident: squat, sprawling stone buildings with an excess of courtyards crowded together along a grid of streets that ascend a low bluff. Atop this bluff towers Severo Fortress, a marvel of architecture built to withstand a naval siege from even the Bedool.
Beyond the thick, interior walls of Port Demalis stands a far more haphazard bundle of distinct communities—mostly Bedool—that press against the city's walls from all directions. Narrow, winding streets often turn into a tangle of boardwalks and stilt-borne huts that reach out into the bay itself. At the end of one such boardwalk rests a permanently beached vessel of decidedly human origins—an old galley regarded as primitive by modern maritime standards. Massive, wooden beams act as buttresses to secure the decommissioned ship in place, and wooden "expansions" crowd what once served as the deck. This awkward and gangly boat house now serves as home and headquarters to the relatively small, but respectable merchant guild known as Azure Wake Enterprises.
Stripped and repurposed into a massive tavern, the lower deck of Azure Wake's base of operations is the de facto meeting place for both expectant expeditions and leisurely time-passing in between assignments. It is here that you have all gathered at the behest of Signus Havilar (Signus meaning, roughly, a non-Makhoran landholder in the Empire), one of the partners who actually own Azure Wake Enterprises and the owner of the headquarters you currently sit in. The tavern is entirely bereft of other guild members at present apart from yourselves. Some massive naval undertaking has been the buzz around camp of late, and the absence of company in what would be an otherwise bustling tavern hall certainly indicates that most available hands have since embarked on said undertaking.
Instead, you are left with the tavern to yourselves, silent save for your own voices and the steady lap of water against the exterior hull...
Feel free to enjoy some banter or generally kill time hereabouts until you're given some more pertinent details about what your PCs will actually be doing.
Servius: There's a phenomenon that very rarely occurs when a person or creature dies during moments where emotions are running high. Perhaps unknown to Servius, such a thing occurred when he delivered a merciful blow to his friend Tiberius. As a result, Tiberius' soul left a lasting imprint on the sword used to carry out the deed. While the blade bears no sentience, it is now an enchanted weapon. It now grants a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls, and so long as the sword is on your person you gain a +1 bonus to all saving throws.
Tzacol: I imagine that the Trials are physically taxing in the extreme. As such, I'd also imagine that it weeds out the weak of body in short order. Though admittedly more generic as character boons go, I'll reflect Tzacol's GM gifts by way of static Ability Score Increases. Specifically, you'll gain an additional 4 points to spend across your Str, Dex, or Con however you see fit. I only ask that you increase nothing beyond 18 in this way.
As a brief reminder, these character boons are intended as a counter-measure to help elevate those players who rolled poorly during character creation. Those who receive nothing extra can safely assume the dice Gods were gentle enough that I didn't feel it warranted anything additional.
Finally, I'll be opening the Gameplay Thread tonight for a brief pre-game scene while I come up with some questions to ask regarding backstories. For the interim, I will divulge that all of you will be starting out as a mercenary unit in the services of a merchant guild known as Azure Wakes Enterprises. How long you've been a member of this unit/guild I leave up to you, but all of you will have at least been on one mission together (so you are all at least known to one another). If you'd like to collectively come up with a name for your specific mercenary unit, feel free to do so.
Azure Wakes Enterprises deals primarily with sea-based ventures, especially with regards to their mercenaries. As far as merchant guilds go, it's a small company, but it's an old company. It is primarily operated by Humans, though it is firmly an entity that exists under the purview of the Makhoran Empire. The city where it is based out of (and where you'll begin) is Port Demalis, which is the closest thing the Makhor have to a standing navy. It's a large city with bustling trade and a diverse culture (by Makhoran standards), so encountering a healthy mix of different races is standard fare.
Arlk: Proficiency Bonus is +2 for third level. I mentioned some boons based on backstory elements in the recruitment to help offset abysmal rolls. I think for Arlk I'll go with the following:
1.) Owing to decades of pain and torture, Arlk gains the Toughness feat.
2.) While wielding your pact weapon, you can treat your Charisma as 18 for the purposes of using warlock class features. That mostly means spell attack/spell DC, but will apply to the Hexblade feature that substitutes Cha for attack and damage rolls as well.
Finally, we'll need to flesh out some details about your patron to adequately attach some strings to these gifts.
Ooduls: The AC bonus from Mariner only applies if you're not using a shield. You might be better off going with a different style altogether given you already start with a swim speed.
Everyone go ahead and take 500gp. That'll reflect any earnings over the course of 1st through 3rd level. You'll be better off spending as much of that as possible instead of holding onto it.
Welcome aboard, folks. First order of business is going to settle on some final versions for all of the player characters. We had a bit of overlap in the character classes, which is totally fine, but if someone is a stickler for class balance you can feel free to make any alterations you deem fit. I think the final score was 2 Fighters, 2 Rangers, a Mystic, and a Warlock. Again, I'm totally fine with that lineup if you guys are, so don't feel compelled to alter anything on my account.
Hit Points: I didn't outline this in the recruitment thread with the intention of settling it here. Each of you can choose to either roll for hit points at each level or take the average (max hit points at 1st level, however). This is a permanent decision: whichever method you choose, you'll be locked into that for the remainder of the game. For those who elect to roll, you can always reroll any 1s on a hit point result.
Player Bonds: If any one is interested in doing so, feel free to link character histories together. You will all know one another going into this adventure, if only barely, but I encourage anyone interested in having further-reaching ties to other PCs to go for it.
After that, I'll go down the roster on a more individual basis to hammer out things what need hammering out.
Servius, re: Makhor: Any of their limbs can qualify for claw damage. I'd say their upper arms are utilized for conventional fighting, forelegs for pouncing, back legs for raking (perhaps in a grapple). But feel free to disregard all of that and go with what jives for you personally.
On the afterlife, they would largely follow the concept of an afterlife reflecting their deeds in life, with a Makhoran twist. A cheetah based Makhor would likely envision a just and faithful life granting them passage into a divine prairie where they roam with their ancestors and kin, for example.
I'll tally up all completed submissions tomorrow and figure out who all I'm taking, then we'll do some Session Zero stuff in the discussion tab.
Unless there's an unlikely explosion of interest over the next few days, I'll probably go ahead and wrap up recruitment in a week and begin reviewing submissions and finalizing a group of PCs for the game.
There isn't a static pantheon of Gods for Aurus, with the exception of the Makhor. Lowans have fey origins, so faith-based classes would most often emulate the ways of specific, powerful entities within the Hidden Weald (which can best be approximated as the Aurus version of Seelie/Unseelie Courts, or 5E's Feywild). It's a realm that can be accessed from the "real world" by those in the know—passing backwards through a natural archway of tree roots in a certain hidden glade during a solstice twilight (that sort of thing).
As to looking at a list of entities/Gods and picking one, you're out of luck. What we can do, however, is just have you outline what sort of personality and suite of domains you would like reflected in your deific focus, and I'll come up with an entity to embody all of that.
Your swim speed would remain 30 ft, but you'd gain the climb speed and AC bonus, yes.
On Favored Enemies, you'd be more likely to encounter Aurorans, Makhor, and Humans, speaking purely in terms of seafaring propensity. Any given crew on any given ship could have a mix of all sorts of races, however. Having said that, I might note that other Bedool are the most likely encounter on open waters, and would certainly be what you interacted with (be it friendly or hostile) the most during any seafaring stints.
I didn't touch on this above, but I'll include a brief note on my expectations regarding alignment. I'm not restricting alignment choices, but keep in mind your character needs to be able to function in a group working towards some common purpose. Murderface the Lone Wolf is likely not a great idea as a concept. Beyond that, I mostly use alignment as a loose framework for what sort of morale compass your characters have. I'll not use it as a cudgel to punish you or shift alignment for playing CG different than I envision it.
Most importantly: party conflict is fine so long as it remains in the realm of roleplay/drama/narrative. No PC-Bane episodes will be allowed to occur, however.
Obviously you're not restricted to playing Belbajak, but if you're more interested in trying to port him over than come up with an entirely new concept, I'd say the Ghostwalker Meerk or Lowan are your best race options for getting anywhere close to a gnome.
I'll be accepting character submissions for a 5th Edition D&D Play-by-Post that will take place in an original world setting (more specific information below). Race options in this setting are almost entirely different than the standard 5e options. Beyond that, it's still (mostly) a mid-to-high fantasy setting with a few bizarre or unusual elements sprinkled in for seasoning. I'll go ahead and outline some of the more technical expectations of the game, like character creation guidelines and whatnot, before I get too deep into outlining the setting information.
Posting Frequency & Expectations:
This is going to be a relatively short, slow-burn PbP. I'll only be asking for 2-4 posts in any given week from participants, though this posting clip might be nudged forward a bit during combat scenes, since 5E as a system offers a relatively brisk combat pace. While these posting requirements are likely a fair deal lower than the average game, I would like to stress that I also expect posts to be more descriptive and introspective (from a character's perspective) in general. One of the strength's of PbPs compared to live play at the table, virtual or otherwise, is the window it offers into a character's thoughts and motivations—take advantage of this.
My intention for the game's narrative is to set it up in self-contained increments/arcs that will make it easier to resolve, pause, or continue. This game will not be an epic sprawl of Adventure Path proportions—chiefly, because I don't have that kind of commitment in me, but also because there are interesting enough stories to be told without world threatening events. In part, by running this game I will also be able to help flesh out my setting for myself and future instances/tables. If we reach the end of any given arc and find that myself and everyone else is eager to continue, we can continue on in another chapter. If not, we'll just wrap up the story and do a brief epilogue scene at the end of the arc in question.
Character Generation:
Characters will be starting at 3rd level. I expect this adventure to take everyone to 5th level at the very least. I am okay with any WotC-published content (though I will ultimately reserve the right of refusal) including Unearthed Arcana articles.
Ability Score Generation: We'll be rolling 4d6 and dropping the lowest. If you get a hopelessly awful array I might come up with some sort of incentive or boon to help keep your character relevant, but that'll be reserved until after a final roster is chosen and likely farmed from backstory info.
Background: I'm not going to be overly demanding this time around on character backgrounds. Since it's a somewhat undefined and unknown homebrew setting, specifics are going to necessarily be hard to come by (and even harder to expect from players). Give me a few general paragraphs explaining broad strokes about your character and a personality profile, and that will be plenty.
Launching Point: This game will begin in a large port city, but only briefly. Expect your players to soon leave port aboard a seafaring vessel of some sort, likely to include at least a few high sea, daring-do adventures. That does not mean your characters need to have sea legs, of course.
Now, with that out of the way, here comes a massive info dump on the setting itself.
Aurus:
Aurus is the name of the setting and the planet on which the game will take place. Aurus is one of two twins in a tidally locked, binary planet system. Between the two sister-planets, an immense comet perpetually awash in crimson energy is caught in the gravitational pull of either planet. From it's fixed point between the south pole of Aurus I and the north pole of Aurus II, it slowly spins, occasionally showering either planet with a stream of red sparks.
The unique nature of the twin planetary system has resulted in a gradient of moisture levels ranging from the south to the north pole. As such, most of the bottom half of Aurus I is covered in an ocean—the only ocean on the surface. From the coasts of the continental mass northward, the planet is covered in what are essentially bands of increasingly dry biomes. This progression generally follows from coasts/jungles -> swamps -> forests -> plains/prairies -> wastes/deserts.
On the southern pole of Aurus I, the planet where the game takes place, there is an island-nation dominated by a single, huge mountain peak that stretches towards the comet—the Aurusfont—like a great, ice-capped spire. The "red elves" that make their home on this isle—Aurorans—have developed an inborn gift for drinking of the comet's power. As a result, their entire civilization and culture is centered around the comet and the power it provides them.
Setting History:
Prehistory: This is not information known to any who actually live on Aurus (save for one entity that will remain unnamed here), but the beginnings of some of the planets denizens actually began in the stars. Galactic fleets belonging to the Xeidoran and Togani races waged war across the galaxy against a corruptive malignance. The nature of this enemy was such that true victory could never be achieved, but the most gifted minds among the Xeidoran and Togani peoples devised a means to seal away their enemy. However, it was a gambit that would cost them nearly everything. Even as they succeeded in sealing away this primeval force on Aurus II, their fleets were destroyed and scattered to the cosmic winds. The Togani and Xeidoran that walk the surface of Aurus I today—little more than primitives compared to their spacefaring days—are all that remain of their once great civilizations.
Ancient History: Much of the continent of Aurus rests firmly within the iron grasp of the Makhoran Empire—a varied race of cat-like centaurs that have dominated and held territories across the known world for over a millennium. Most of Aurus' recorded history is underpinned by a conquest of blood and shackles of the Makhoran Empire's making. Bitter rivals of the Togani, the first Makhoran Tribes banded together against these invaders and brought the Togani to the brink of extinction. Even today, only two great Togani cities remain within the shadow of the Makhor.
Modern Era: The march of time has finally seen a decline in the age of Makhoran aggression. While their vast empire still dominates the world, cracks have begun to form in the foundation. Bureaucracy and debauchery rot Makhoran civilization from the inside, while just a decade past the last living Makhoran Empress abdicated her throne in favor of empowering the senate—an occasion marked by the renouncement of slavery as a practice. Humans were granted, for the first time ever, their own ancestral lands within the Makhoran Empire. For most intents and purposes, slavery does still exist, though in a far less brutal fashion—"servants" now have a path towards citizenship within the Empire, and must be compensated for their labor.
RACES(Racial entries are not entirely complete as it stands with regards to descriptive writeups, but the mechanics/crunch are all there. Xeidoran Reclaimers will likely get a lot more options for their devices, but the current armor/weapon charts will suffice for immediacy's sake. If someone has any questions about a race, feel free to direct some questions and I can answer as needed)
Faith:
There is no default pantheon of deities on Aurus. Instead, religion is arrayed along racial/cultural lines. Speaking more frankly, deities are a mostly blank slate at the moment in terms of specific names/portfolios/domains/dogmas. Fortunately, the nature of this game is not such that it's a topic we'll explore in great detail, but for any one interested in playing a faith-based class, it provides the opportunity to create a deity/entity/power/thing tailored to the character.
The Imperial Pantheon: Makhoran gods are certainly a sacrosanct part of their culture. Outside faiths are not tolerated, though they're more than happy to have non-Makhorans worship their pantheon.
The Aurusfont: Auroran Elves live in the "shadow" of the comet, bathed in its power, and wield tangible benefits for their devotion. Their society tends to revere it as divine in a sense, though they have not assigned any specific likeness or sentience to it. It is a source of power and beauty that keeps and protects them, providing far more than any deity or spirit.
Bedoolan Volskwoo: The term "Volskwoo" refers to entities within the culture's history that lived normal lives in the past, but achieved such great feats in life that they gained divinity. In short, Bedool worship heroic (and sometimes not-so-heroic) ancestors. These Volskwoo are usually revered in accordance to the sort of lives they lived while mortal.
Xeidoran Magitech: Wreckage of their old technology are the closest thing to divinity Xeidorans can ever hope to look upon. Their entire society is built upon these holy relics.
Spirits of the Wild: There is a time beyond memory in which the comet, the Aurusfont, did not exist, and the elves did not depend on it to sustain them. A minority of the elves chose to continue this life, and long ago departed from the Auruspire to live as their ancestors did in the wilds of the continent. These elves draw power from guardian spirits, the seldom glimpsed feywild, or nature itself. Lowans and Meerks are of similar dispositions, with the former being fey entities and the latter building tribes around great guardian spirits that watch over the wilds.
Chronomancy and Astrology—the Togani: The City of the Sun and the City of the Night were established to track the movements of heavenly bodies (particularly, the sun) that the Togani worship. It has empowered them to stand, if only barely, against the overwhelming press of Makhoran aggression for over a thousand years. Within their seats of power, the Keepers of the Sun and Stars (rulers of their respective cities) command a mastery over Time Magic that renders them virtually untouchable.
Technology:
Firepower: Aurorans discovered gunpowder, and have traded heavily with the Bedool in the years that followed, usually for gems and precious stones integral to elaborate arcane rituals. Cannons are commonplace among the Bedool, and becoming increasingly prevalent among the other races as well, though they are largely limited to coastal forts and seafaring vessels. Firearms exist in the form of matchlock pistols and rifles.
Maritime Advancements: There is no naval force that can reckon with the Bedool on the open seas, but sailing ships are common, usually featuring multiple decks and two or more masts. Bedool ships range from the common variety to massive behemoths that are downright infeasible.
Xeidoran Relics: Only encountered among the Xeidorans typically, but capable of producing effects that everyone (including the Xeidorans) regard as magic/spellcraft. Such things are sometimes traded on black markets, but trading in these devices is a perilous enterprise. The Xeidorans are fanatical about recovering such relics, and display a frightening capacity for said recoveries (often by any means necessary).
Magic on Aurus:
Spellcasters are commonplace enough, but truly powerful casters are not. Magic items are exceptionally rare. The art of enchanting something requires the use of living souls (willing or not) to realize, so the practice is predictably outlawed in general, or at the very least a societal taboo of the worst order (along the lines of creating undead). As it turns out, even the most miniscule oversight or misstep in the creation of magical gear can imprint the soul in question into the object, which is a horrifying prospect for most. Even for those few that sought to gain some measure of immortality by such a transformation, the passage of time warps the sentience residing within, and not for the better. Trading in magic goods is not forbidden, typically, but creating them is (again, typically). Also, consumable items are not bound by the same restrictions. Potions, scrolls, charms, etc. do not require living souls to create.
Acknowledging that 5E's system is at least somewhat built upon the notion of magic gear existing, I'll be introducing Item Quality Tiers to stand in for armor/weapon bonuses (+1, +2, +3). They'll be represented as fine, masterwork, and legendary respectively.
Creatures of Aurus:
A lot of common creatures from the D&D mythos will not "appear" in Aurus, though some might. That's not to say I won't borrow a monster's statblock and reskin it for my own purposes, of course. Conventional humanoids (orcs, goblins, etc.) will not be found on Aurus. Rivalries between existing races will be played up more rather than using monstrous tribes of creatures.
I'll be brief on this one: expect horribly corrupted to be a constant theme.
Creatures of titanic proportions will be difficult to wound or injure. That is to say, your sword is going to be about as threatening to an ancient dragon as a feather duster. If you want to bring down the big boys, you'll need a lot of siege weapons or a lot of magical firepower.
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Hopefully that's everything, or at the very least enough to get the ball rolling. Previous experience with 5E is not required, though is a plus. It's a pretty easy game to pick up in my experience: familiar enough to grasp the rules quickly, but different enough to offer a unique (or at least focused) style of play.
Well, taking a night to mull it over, I'm going to go ahead and fold this game. Instead, I'll be shifting gears to a different homebrew I've been tinkering with more recently and doing an open recruitment run. Part of the goal with this game was emphasizing the communal worldbuilding, weaving the char creation together, etc. Rather than bring in some new faces that missed that stretch of development, I'll just go with where most of my creative juices are currently flowing. There are no hard feelings involved, though. Truth be told, this other homebrew is more appealing to me overall--it is certainly the more unique take on 5e.
To Jelani and Jubal, if you guys want to migrate over to the new game as I get it set up, you're guaranteed a spot. If you'd rather not, that's okay too. The new setting features almost entirely unique racial options, so directly porting over your current characters would require a lot of repurposing.
