Have a couple of possible campaign briefs written up and was hoping to get some review from folks here. I know that a lot of parts of them refer to things that are outside of the scope of knowledge for folks reading them here. Players have more information, and I don't think that those who might actually look at these here would want to read notes so that they got the full context of everything.
If aspects aren't coming through and it doesn't seem like not knowing what a specific proper noun is about please bring it up. To anyone who bothers to look at these and provide feedback I would like to thank you for giving me a portion of your life.
Stakkar Ravenblood was born in Sparn and studied the Fortresslands’ famous craft of alchemy. Before Stakkar was able to finish his schooling he was cast out of the hard mountains and became a wanderer. During his travels when Stakkar needed for anything he turned to his alchemy to aid him. When good will failed him, he turned to criminal pursuits to supply his demand. It was this proclivity that ended Stakkar on the wrong side of the law in the Hawksmoor.
Stakkar fled from the human kingdom and to the north, escaping pursuit by risking a journey through portions of the Blackened Coast. When Stakkar finally emerged from the swamplands and crossed the river to the elevated west bank he stopped fleeing, convinced that he had lost his pursuit. Stories say that he promised himself that day that he would run no further to escape a sentence. Stakkar settled himself on the spot, convinced that the reminder of his time within the swamp would keep him honest to the end of his days.
Stakkar looked to the ravens that nested in the area around his new residence as a sign from powers that he had long placed no faith in. In his homeland of Sparn, ravens were believed to be the spirits of the dead. He took cohabitation with the birds as a penance, and long after his criminal career had been all but forgotten in the world stories of Stakkar Ravenblood circulated.
Stakkar Ravenblood lived for long years, far beyond the norm for a man of the Fortresslands. The longer that he lived, the more akin to his companions Stakkar became, the farther tales of him spread, and the stranger accounts of him became. As Stakkar continued to age without wearying he aligned more with his winged companions, and both he and his unkindness would wander the lands surrounding his home.
The lands that he had settled in were wild, and unclaimed but not unknown and eventually only the tel’Quessir remembered a time that was without Ravenblood. Many came to seek council with Stakkar Ravenblood, and it is from these pilgrims that a village began to grow. This convergence of settlers in a wild land overlooking the Blackened Coast came to be known as Stakkar’s Rest.
For a time Stakkar helped the settlers that had come to his home. He trained both the young and the old in the ways of the swamp, care of ravens, and regaled them with stories that he remembered from his life before coming here. However, Ravenblood found the growing amount of people in his place of solitude to be stifling, and so he journeyed east, into the swamp and it is said that he even passed back into the Blackened Coast to seek the next chapter of his life.
Long years have passed since that time, and Stakkar’s Rest (also sometimes known as Soggy Bottoms) has grown to a village of around 1,000 individuals from a variety of races. Stakkar’s Rest has grown up on the northeastern bank of the Ravenflow, a river that comes down from the Kithlands and passes into the morass leading to the Blackened Coast beyond Stakkar’s Rest.
The Ravenflow and several miles of marshland separate Stakkar’s Rest from the dangers of the Blackened Coast, but the village has been forced to deal with threats from the east several times during its existence. The village itself supports multiple guardsmen who keep the peace, but more importantly are tasked with protecting the residents from eastern dangers. Beyond this handful of full time protectors, hunters keep wary eyes out when they travel across the Ravenflow for sign of menace stirring within the swamp.
Stakkar’s Rest relies on allies beyond to aid it against any dedicated attacks from the Coast. Men and elves travel within the swamplands. These rovers seek out threats hidden within the swamp before they become a danger. At times they come to Stakkar’s Rest at times to trade, rest, seek news, and hold council with each other.
Ironically, the Hawksmoor also aids Stakkar’s Rest. The two are trading partners, farmers bundle their goods to be carted off to the Hawksmoor twice a year in exchange for a number of the things that the villagers are unable to make for themselves. In addition to this, the Lord of the Hawksmoor has sent out troops to garrison Stakkar’s Rest several times when threats within the Blackened Coast turned to the west.
Beyond these two allies against the threats of the Blackened Coast the village stands primarily alone. The wildlands that Stakkar’s Rest is within provides little hope for allies. The neighbors of Stakkar’s Rest are often too far away.
Hillfolk of the Kithlands rarely travel to distant Stakkar’s Rest, though the tales of Ravenblood are known to these diminutive folk. Here tales of Stakkar are told as a man who desired a family so greatly that he made one with the birds. The hillfolk use it as a cautionary tale on the importance of family, the strangeness of outsiders, and the comforts of home.
The Horse Lords Run opens to the south of Stakkar’s Rest, but these mounted humans rarely come to this village. The journey to Stakkar’s Rest is beyond the borders of the Horse Lords concern and within a land that is ill suited to their noble steeds.
To the north across a great distance lies the fabled Free City of Gnordall. Tucked into the hills, the gnomish city of Gnordall is far beyond the distance that nearly any resident of Stakkar’s Rest would travel. Due to the distance there are no relations between Gnordall and Stakkar’s Rest, though it is the closest neighbor the village has to the north of any strength.
Dark times are on the horizon for the residents of Stakkar’s Rest. It has been over a decade since the last Troll Winter, and the old warriors will tell you that is too long. Darkness seeps throughout the Blackened Coast as summer moves towards autumn.
A land of wildmen, desperadoes, and thieves ruled over by warlords and tribal chieftains. This is a place where the only law that exists is that of the bow and the blade. A rocky badland used by the military might of Dak’Karg for training, and by the rest of the world to distance themselves from the hobgoblin war engine.
For long years this lonely expanse of scrub was shunned by nearly all sentient races due to the hostility of the land and neighbors. While some show common sense, others strike out into these wastes searching for a new home away from some past crime or prejudice; to these poor souls a lawless stretch of land can come to look like sanctuary.
These lands were in this state nearly two-hundred years prior, a combination of deadly warriors, disreputable thieves, and refugees eeking out a living, fearful of the coming day when they would become prey for their neighbors. This is the Alliance of Twelve.
The truth of events believed to have occurred two-hundred years ago are unknown; the reasons behind the changes that have occurred within these barrens are a mystery to scholars. While we may find no answers in the halls of academia homesteaders, ranchers, brigands, and Hobgoblins tell stories of this time. The legends they tell over campfires and hearths tell us tales of a time of great warriors and wizards bringing civilization to this border region.
These tales speak of twelve practitioners of secret crafts arriving within this purgatory separately. The twelve were said to have more differences between each and every one than they had in common with any member. Each of the members of the Twelve held separate beliefs and practices, but all shared one thing that linked these disparate champions into companions.
All twelve looked upon the lands, the oppression, the lawlessness, the fatherless families, the starving children, the pregnant women with bellies slashed open, the smiling face of the tyrant, the cold eyes of the warlord, and the hope of a better future on the victim’s faces and knew that change was needed.
Together the Twelve banded together to drive out the warlord, turn the lash upon the tyrant, and protect the innocent victims. What started among the Twelve as a hopeless quest to change the world brought order to the chaos of this land, but order was short lived.
The Twelve acted as the protectors of the lands after driving back the forces of Dak’Karg; once these allies were no longer presented with a common foe that they had to strive against their differences created rifts between them. Each of these legendary figures envisioned the future of the land in a different way, and so the better future that they dreamed of choked and died as each of them stepped away from their allies and they appraised their future enemies.
In preparation of the coming battles each founded a school dedicated to their art offering to train any who showed promise and would swear allegiance to the master. The schools were successful and many students trained hard to learn the craft of the masters. Each school swelled its ranks with students and the prospect of open war with the lands of the Twelve became more and more dangerous.
The Twelve continued to work together to protect the people of the lands, but often students would end up in competition with each other to prove the validity of their master’s beliefs and the style of their school. Then it is said that the greatest disciple of one of the Twelve left his master to follow a different master.
This action broke the alliance between the Twelve masters once and for all. None of the Twelve felt they could trust their rivals, and so looked upon all others with suspicion. Students continued to work together when needed, but the Twelve only came together again once to turn back an onslaught from Dak’Karg.
The first student to leave their master spawned an entire movement of students that believed their way was better than their master’s. Students did not only leave from one school to join another, but countless schools were founded by enterprising students that wished to become masters in their own right.
The height of arrogance among the newer schools began when one believed that it taught the true form of the master’s art. It was founded on the name of the master, promoting that it would teach one of the original twelve styles as it was meant to be instructed. After this happened, numerous other schools adopted or were founded with similar ideals until the truth of the original Twelve styles was lost.
In modern times the region looks in many ways the same as it did two-hundred years ago. Certainly the desperadoes, thieves, and warlords are still here. What has changed is now there are schools teaching the craft that dot the landscape, offering solace and protection to those who are willing to adhere to the laws that they put down. This is still a land ruled by bow and blade, but some accountability exists.
Most commoners stay close to the lands around the schools, hoping that their proximity will keep brigands away. The truth of the situation though is that the schools of Alliance lands have created an unlanded class of people with magical power at their fingertips. This large amount of practitioners attempting to prove the superiority of their school and themselves would have lead to open war long ago if not for the constant threats surrounding Alliance lands. Despite the threats of Dak’Karg, Vadara’voon, and Fallen God the schools machinate against each other and students frequently move through the lands as if they were beholden to no law.
The Alliance of Twelve is a wild frontier land protected by a few noble students and brought low by most others.
You call this place home.
Amrou rose long ago on the Audran’shee, a fabled place of great faerie power. These Hillfolk emerged from their burrows and began work on a feudal society independent of human influence. Korusha found and became a strong ally of Amrou after it had emerged from the scattered barbarian tribes that formed the basis of that Empire. While the Amrou were older as a nation, the humans looked to the diminutive folk as little brothers, rather than their senior. Few among the Amrou objected to the treatment, but from time to time the Korushans were astonished by the prowess of the shield-bearers.
Centuries passed and Korusha’s political system became more and more Byzantine, while Amrou held to its roots maintaining a far more simple political system focused on the needs of the Amrou and their primary concerns. Despite the wonders that these Hillfolk were able to accomplish, the Amrou were often looked down upon or not even noticed for centuries by the other powers of the West. Amrou were content enough to allow the world to pass them by, while they maintained their own security in their generally pastoral lives.
The coming of the Tieflings to the shores of the West changed Amrou from the start of the First War of the Third Eye. These horned humanoids from unknown lands landed upon the shores of Ryth with war in their hearts. Amrou lay safely behind the vast Empire of Korusha and would have never felt the effects of this war firsthand, but the kind hearted Hillfolk were unable to allow Tiefling aggression to go unanswered. Shield-bearers came together in a grand moot and discussed their course of action. At the end of their meeting over half left the lands of Amrou to aid the humans in their war with the Tieflings, few returned home.
After this Amrou was still not recognized by many, but the Second War of the Third Eye would bring Amrou, people, city, and nation, to the center of all of Ryth’s eye. In the Second War the Korushans were pushed back along the Audran’shee unable to fight against the power of the Tiefling armies. Korushan refugees and the remnants of its military fled south of the Teremor, to the fort city of Var, into the cold north of Corskia, and to the shining bastion Amrou.
The Tieflings pursued the refugees and the shattered military into the fields of Amrou, and the Hillfolk knew the sting of war once again. Shield-bearers aided both human and Hillfolk as they fled from the oncoming regiments but provided little aid against their unstoppable opponents until they were pushed back to the city of Amrou. Here in Amrou, behind the fabled Stonewall, the world felt safe again, and the oncoming host finally failed. Tieflings pushed the city of Amrou convinced of an easy victory against these small opponents but the tenacity of the Amrou surprised them. Farmer, shield-bearer, noble, and human stood side by side to defend the Stonewall from breach, and together they turned back the tide of Tieflings.
Word of the battle of Stonewall quickly spread across Western Ryth, and some even carried the tales beyond the Divide. This mostly unknown race to foreigners had done something that the barbarians of the West and legions of Korusha had been unable to accomplish; they stopped the Tiefling war engine. While it was Amrou’s time on the stage of the world, that time was fading. The Tieflings were unable to penetrate the city but it was clear that they had the forces to dominate the fields of Amrou. In the second week of the siege of Amrou, a Tiefling ambassador approached the city under a white flag. They offered peace with not only the folk of this land, but of all Ryth. Messengers were sent out to bring representatives from all warring lands to Amrou, and the Treaty of Stonewall was signed ending the Second War of the Third Eye.
Amrou saw little of the Final War of the Third Eye, as it began as the city of Amrou fell, not to the Tieflings but to a darkness from below. Tales say that it took only one night for the city to fall, but so little knowledge is available of what happened that the accuracy of the statement is unknown. The Tieflings marshaled and moved their armies past the lands of Amrou to continue their war, leaving the little folk picking up the pieces of the catastrophe.
The Wars of the Third Eye are long over; their effects are felt throughout the West. Nations have attempted to put the pieces back together since the fall, but Amrou has never been reclaimed. Since the fall of Amrou the shield-bearers have fought a losing battle against the seeping darkness that emanates from their city, and now the fabled Stonewall that has long been a hallmark as the Aegis of Amrou acts to reinforce the position of those that hold the city.
The light grows dim for Amrou, and even its people begin to lose hope for the future when word that the last of the Stonewall line has died. Word spreads of the shield-bearer’s death across all of Ryth as if it were the destruction of the Amrou people themselves. Messengers carrying this news also bear select letters that are taken to the corners of Ryth seeking their recipients.
I know that it has been many long years since last we met. Since our parting I have looked back upon our time and journey together with fondness. The memory of successes that we accomplished together have stayed with me, and even acted to reinvigorate my spirit when it would flag.
I hope that this letter finds you in better health than I believe my state is. I have set aside this request to be sent to you in case of my death. Mourn not for me companion, for I have lived my life as I have desired to live, in the defense of my homeland and my dream, Amrou. The lights set on my story here in the lands of the Stonewall of my ancestors, and as they do allow me one last request, a final wish.
When last we were together I aided you for a cause that we both believed in. We fought together for a time believing that there was no good end to the battles. Both of us were mistaken, and we found the course that you had wished for at the onset of our endeavor.
When we parted you promised me your aid when I would call upon it in repayment for my part in our shared story. In my passing I must call upon this oath and summon you to my homeland.
While there are more shield-bearers than simply myself, I fear that many look to me for guidance and inspiration. If I do not remain to lead, I believe that my dreams of Amrou restored will never come to pass. However, if I only sit back to watch I fear that my complacency will act as example to those who would follow me. I did not ask for this position, nor did I ever seek to be placed upon a pedestal by my people.
I must live with the eyes of Amrou upon me in the same fashion that has attracted their gaze. I will not quietly allow the night to fall on myself or my nation. The path that I walk is dangerous, ff you follow those dangers will threaten you as well.
I do not call upon your vow to walk the path that I have chosen. I ask that you come to Amrou because of our bond, look upon the faces of my friends, my family, look to the lands of my homeland. That is what I would ask of you; then you must decide what you will do.
If you take up my banner, or merely come to wish me final farewell I smile upon you and all your journeys.
Godspeed;
Arkayan Stonewall
Thanks for input.