There are some things that are better left alone. I have done my best to detail them here.
Mindfire is a dark red powder that tastes of blood and tea leaves. It can be found coating the valuables in many an ancient tomb in the Azerkine where it is said to have been created by one of their God Knights (a hero in the mythic sense, there are eleven in all each one having killed the previous in order to take their place. They all turn evil towards the end so as to allow the next to kill them in good conscience. Except the last God Knight who died of old age). As you approach it your heart speeds up and adrenaline courses through your body. Excitement. Anticipation.
Do not touch it.
It is evident to those who know the name, but when one sees glorious treasures with a spot of dust or dirt griming it up ones first response is often to wipe it away. It makes you feel like you have caught on fire. You feel your flesh burning and your fat sizzling and your cartilage melting away. But you never do burn up. The pain never subsides though healing spells are able to quiet the pain for a short time. There is no easy way to cure it, no Mindwater to douse it. But there are ways. If you do not die of exhaustion, or end it yourself, before then.
You've heard about it, of course. Dreamed about it maybe. We all have regrets. Things that we can't do anything about but wish we could. It would be easier, then, to simply forget.
The slick black stone of Mt. Orphinus has been carved and chiselled into a massive altar dedicated to a long forgotten god. The Oblivion stone, the alter is called. The stories say that if you want to forget something forever, you can simply travel to Mt. Orphinus and whisper a prayer to forgotten things at the foot of the altar. The altar stands before you.
Do not touch it.
For it does not simply wipe the troublesome memory away. It rips it out with a black stone scalpel made of memory. You wake with a painful black scar and so much taken away. Though it may not feel like it. People might tell you about things that you could never imagine yourself doing, because whole veins of your self have been mined away into oblivion. You are a different person now, the other you has killed themselves and you have been stitched together from what remained of their memory and flesh. Those who knew you before barely recognise what you have become. Your friends, even the ones you remember, may turn away from you.
Roll 2d4, there are that many significant portions of your life that you do not remember. These will all come back to haunt you in some way.
The gm spends these like points. 1 point for each (can spend these multiple times):
- you were involved in something that you now find reprehensible
- you have forgotten something that it was important not to neglect, but because you no longer know about it you have neglected it and the worst has come to pass
- Someone knows that you went to the oblivion stone, and under the pretense of being someone who you have forgotten tries to manipulate you to their purpose
- You are rejected or denied something you want due to a past slight that is not explained or remembered
The gift givers are fey creatures. They look much like high elves with smooth skin and piercing eyes. Except that their slender builds appear to be due to severe malnourishment rather than elven purity. Their necks are perilously thin, their bared torso's show skin stretched tightly over ribs and collarbones.
They approach slowly with their arms extended, carrying their offerings. Each will offer varying sumptuous gifts of food, perhaps accompanied by and served upon glowing gem encrusted plates and goblets of glistening gold. They are only ever found in groups, each one proferring their food insistently competing to gain your attention. They will circle you with their slow, careful movements, offering, offering. They drool over the food in their hands but will not eat it. They will follow you until they die of starvation (they drink greedily any water they can find). In a group of 10 expect 1 to die every day. They offer you a gift.
Do not touch it.
Those that do are overcome with an insatiable appetite. Fine. You could afford all the food you needed by selling a single gem from one of the cups. Ah, but it is not merely food that you hunger for. Your hunger directs itself at whatever it is around you that you most desire to keep. Perhaps you are starving and desire to keep up your supply of rations. You cannot help but eat them all in one go. Or perhaps it is your trusty sword that fends off the evil in the dark? Never mind the blood and teeth that fall out as you devour it, the hunger is sated for now. Then you are left without supplies, without equipment, with only your companions to rely upon. But do not fret too much, they are tastier than you expected.
(Once a day you must eat the thing you most want to keep, you are able to chew it and swallow it and digest it no matter what it is, though it might hurt a lot)
God of power, god of strength, god of wrath, god of near-perfect calculation. There once was a god like this, though it assumed it was infallible and never dreamed of being only near-perfect. This angry god thrust its sword into the earth. Not wanting to exert more energy than needed, it calculated exactly how hard it would need to thrust its massive blade in order to split the earth in two. It made an error in its judgement. The sword almost split the earth in half. But a fraction more force was required to do so and something got to the god before it could finish the job.. Instead the sword simply rests, buried to its hilt which is the size of a mountain, sticking out of the earth.
Do not touch it.
It only takes the slightest of touches. You will note that there is nothing living nearby. The air is perfectly still. It does not rain. If anything touches the sword, the earth cracks. Two perfectly hemispherical pieces separate from each other. I would not like to see it.
Posted on January 20th, 2018 by RhysComments (1)