Saturday, 24 September 2016

The Last Tower - Mini Adventure

This is from a longer thing what I'm doing, but can basically be dumped anywhere you need a weird wizard-tower. Cool. Could be a nice hex filler?


The Last Tower – Rising still, each brick heavily engraved with warding sigils, the spirits of longevity bound within so very tired. From anywhere nearby the top of the tower glints, being made entirely of glass, containing something which seems to call, call, call.
All floors of the tower show signs of very small cuts, everywhere. This is from the golem on floor five.
1. The first floor contains mess and rot. Many have used the base of the Last Tower as their camp, and something is always left behind. A stone trapdoor leads to the basement of the Last Tower, which is flooded, and filled with slime-encrusted black leeches, swirling about in their foulsome pool. Eliminating them would allow you to search the basement to no great effect, bar the corroded metal of prior unfortunates.  There is an illusion here, which shows a well-stocked larder, a trap designed to eliminate casual thieves and determined adventurers alike. A set of stone steps curl up to the second floor. A slender silver gate once blocked the way, but it has been successively torn to shreds by passing mercenaries.

2. The second floor contains portraits, each portrait framed in exquisite white-gold frames. A figure made of wooden splinters hangs from the ceiling. This is the guardian of the room, who will faithfully return the paintings if they are disturbed. Each painting depicts a notable alumni of the college. All are very much alive, and will threaten to blast you with magic should theft be attempted. There are several scorch marks on the floor and walls attesting to the truth of this. Each can cause an elemental blast dealing 5d6 damage once a day. If moved, the splinter golem will replace them to their rightful place, harmless but endlessly reconstructing itself. If stolen and survived, each painting is worth 6000sp. The stairs continue to curl upwards.

3. The third floor is nearly bare, featuring only a glyph set in gold into the floor. Reading the glyph, it is simply a depiction of the creed of the college –
"A light amidst the dark"
The gold is animated to regrow when in this room, and chipping out all of it is laborious and not worth the time taken. 500sp for several days work.

4. The fourth floor contains three sarcophagi, unmarked, constructed of frosted glass. Within each is a blind woman, a bandage covering her face. The founder of the college decreed they be kept here in perpetuity. Each is long dead but perfectly preserved, untouched by time. This effect emanates from the sarcophagi, but only functions on the women. Attempting to interfere with them or the sarcophagi will awaken the golem on the floor above.

5. The fifth floor contains a golem, constructed to resemble an octopus, each tentacle made up of razorblades. If the women are undisturbed, it rests, hanging from the ceiling, swaying gently, whistling as the blades slice the air. If they are distributed, it will savagely kill everyone in the tower before weaving a new sarcophagus, gently caressing the dead women with its razor blades. It cannot leave the tower unless the women do.
HD 8 AC 18 +4 1D8 RAZOR SLASHES 1D10+1 MORALE 12

6. The sixth floor is the Assumed Mausoleum. It marks the supposed death of the founder – he simply vanished and after twenty years was assumed to be dead. All forms of divination have failed to discover anything about what occurred, or her location. All of the goods here are entirely false, and utterly worthless – unless you can convince the buyer of their validity, in which case all the moveable wealth in the room (about a wagon load) is worth 20000sp. It takes the form of exotic silks, precious metals and gems.

7. The seventh floor is filled with star charts, and set about with 4 great lenses, cunningly hidden to stop them being visible from outside. Each one is pointed at a constellation of note:-
The first lens is directed at a constellation which confers luck upon the first viewer, granting them advantage on one roll of their choice. It must be spent within 6 days. The second viewer has poor luck, as the constellation siphons their luck to the original viewer. The GM may force them to roll again and take the lower result at any point for the next 6 days.
The second lens is directed at a constellation which looks really nice.
The third lens is directed at a constellation which renders the first viewer idiotic (2 INT), the second blind and the third deaf. The vampiric constellation feeds on such things.
The fourth lens is directed at no constellation, revealing only inky blackness.
There are no stairs to the eight floor.

8. The eight floor is a chamber of glass, a brilliant gem which randomly emits pulses of powerful, blinding light. (Every d4 rounds). Holding it would burn the hands for 2d6 damage from the sheer intensity of the light. It is an embryonic star, crystallised by unknown processes. The chamber of glass refracts and mutes the light, acting as a containment chamber. It could be worth 10000sp if transported.

Wednesday, 7 September 2016

The Library

I'm seeing a Library, dour and grey. Not that you can see it from the outside - it floats in the sea of chaos, a bubble of quiet and storage.

The first room, a reception. A ten foot bird-headed figure, silently observing your coming. The head changes species with each visit. Killing it does nothing - it shall return.

Beyond this, things are in flux.

The Atlas of Dead Gods - a black void wherein float the embryonic corpses of gods forgotten. Each has a blank bronze plaque the size of cities attached. If they are named, they are gone, cataloged elsewhere.

Book Finders Office - A wizened old figure atop his floating desk, the Ink Dogs chained to it. Any stolen book will be recovered by this team. One Ink Dog can blank the pages of a book to stop the knowledge escaping. The other barks out one line, forcing the carrier of the book to find the next line and respond.

NarcoScholars Den - The NarcoScholars bend and warp psychedelically. Some are less psychotic than others. They gladly exchange your induced visions for ever more novel narcotics. Just stay a little longer.

Gorestained Pit - The Haruspexes collect life to gut and discern information from. Every living thing is another book, aching to be read. Everything has entrails if you are willing to stretch the definition.

Stitchers Workroom - The Figment Finders stitch stitch stitch tiny fragments, single words in pages, pages into chapters and chapters into books. To the other librarians, they are dull restorers. They know they endlessly weave new works to infiltrate the Library.

Grammar Fiends

(d4 actions is a sentence, judged from beginning of combat. They can be cut short.)
Comma Imp - Can pause two attacks per sentence, allowing the target to take action first.
Period Devil - Negate an action, undoing it's effect. Ends the sentence.
Exclamation Devil - Double a numerical effect.  Ends the sentence.
Noun Fiend - Whatever the noun is their form, inky and sketchy, made of tiny words floating free. Can change once per sentence.
Subject Succubus - Can change the target of a spell or action (where logically possible) a number of times equal to the number of combatants.

Intellectual Contagion.

It was locked away for a good reason.
HD - Highest INT in party.
Damage - Lowest INT in party.

A smokey black cloud of thought, untouchable by action, only hurt by argument. Characters argue against the concept, the GM decides the strength.

1d4 - weak argument.
1d6 - average argument.
1d8 - good argument.
1d10-great argument.
2d6 - crushing argument.

category of contagion
1. political
2. religious
3. social
4. cultural
5. artistic
6. economic.

(For fun/fist fights, make it a view held by a player or the GM)