From time to time readers will note some inexplicable content here: strange chicken-scratch drawings or long laundry-list rosters.
There's a simple reason. This blog began life as a campaign hub for players, and while it's taken on it's own life as a vehicle for other things, from time-to-time I use it simply as a place to drop a link to.
Be forewarned as I seem to take on more and more G+ sessions, I think you'll see more of it. We make heavy use of Twiddla, an online whiteboard program with some limited functionality. Among one of the handier features is the ability to import images with the paste of a link. That's what's going on here and with such things as the Rough Guide to Nowhere.
Campaign Intro for Domain Game II
The epics make out entering The Gate Between the Worlds to be as simple and as glorious as stepping through the Jewelled Door of Imyr. For you the Exiled it was something entirely less grand—more like a forced march than the easy, pomp-filled entry of heroes.
The rough, low-hanging tunnel beyond the verdigris-encrusted bronze doors of the the portal seemed virtually endless. No amount of light seemed to penetrate the haze hanging like a funeral shroud from the walls. Innumerable hours were passed putting one weary foot in front of the other until finally caravan members were hanging their hands in exhaustion out on the shoulders of their comrades in front of them.
Finally, one merciful moment many hours later, you stumbled into the sudden sharp shock of daylight. Catching your breath, a few minutes slipped by before you could really take in the full effect of being in this brave new world of Nowhere.
The scene in front of you seems jarringly both familiar and not.
The sun shining above you for one is not as yellow as you remember your own being. Larger, redder and filled with a sense of melancholy and ancient memory, it casts longer shadows much like late afternoon though it sits just a little bit past its zenith in the sky. The few trees around you seem almost familiar as those at home to be a comfort, though the darker, blacker hue of the trunk and the grayer cast of the leaves give the impression of something just a bit off. Their limbs sway a little too lazily in the stiff, cool spring breeze.
Stranger still is the basalt obelisk standing directly in front of you. Five man-heights high the monolith stands in silent testimony to some forgotten eldritch race's hand.
Taking stock, you notice the wave of nervousness spread through your caravan—disturbingly even among the trusted, solid faces of your long-time companions and followers. Each face silently asks, “what now?” as you are approached by the silver-masked, tight-lipped officials of the Colony.
Player's Map to the Southlands Satrapy
Player's Sketch for “King of the Mountain”, the Conan One-Shot