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City of Dead Gods[edit]


Welcome to the City of Dead Gods wiki page! This wiki is designed to be a repository of setting information, notes, character sheets and other useful resources for the City of Dead Gods PBP game. It is here for all members of the game to edit and use, so go ahead!

Setting Background[edit]

It has been a thousand years since the Sethesians, a worlds-spanning empire of the elves, warred with the upstart hobgoblins of the Ghuk-ta-Kali, and wildspace has never been quiet since.

From the earliest times, the countless races of the countless planets in the universe have dreamed of other worlds- worlds where their gods dwell, worlds where the strange creatures that plague them return to, worlds to escape to, worlds to exile others. Some looked to the sky, and called the unexplained among them "visitors" or "aliens". Others, scholars and arcanists, spoke of "infinite planes" and a "multiverse".

The truth was far more complex. Both views were right. The vast gates found on many worlds allow travel through them to far off lands and other stars. Arcane and divine magic allows a quick "door" through to the dwelling places of the gods. In time, it was discovered that spelljamming, the ability to fly up off the planet and travel through the stars, could bring one just as accurately to the "outer planes"- in actuality, other worlds floating in the vastness of arcane space. Today it is a cosmopolitan universe. Between powerful wizards opening gates to fiend-stars and elemental bodies, the ancient gates allowing limited and often dangerous travel, and spelljamming vessels, by far the safest method, the groundling has many opportunities to pass from place to place.

It is a fine universe to make a profit in, or to study the ancient star-spanning civilizations- the dragons, illithids, elves, or even older and stranger. Whether you began as a groundling and have since taken to the stars, or are a seasoned worlds-traveller, Wildspace has much to offer you.

Eventually, most people find themselves at least passing through the floating city of Hallows, the city of dead gods. For that it is what it is comprised of- vast corpses of ancient elf and hobgoblin deities, their names long forgotten, locked in an eternal struggle. There are three of them, two elf and a hobgoblin. The first god, called the Lady by the irreverent townsfolk, is the district of the wealthy, and consists of the weathered remains of an elf woman. She kneels, cradling the fallen form of the second elf, the Fallen, upon which the bulk of the city is built. Connected by a vast spiked chain of the same chalky stone, wrapped around the waist of the fallen elf, is an armored hobgoblin, the Slayer, where the military and higher government of the city resides. Hallows is a holy place to both the elves and hobgoblins, and by treaty is the only place in all of Wildspace that the two races meet without elaborate truce discussions. The city is neutrally held by a joint council of dwarves, illithid, and giants, with the current mayor being a giant, a former pirate named Clever Jack who sponsors many privateers and merchant companies. The city is a flamboyant cultural melting pot, with staid elf Imperials meeting with hobgoblin sons of the Wolf in seedy opium dens, dwarf merchants selling slaves to illithids in the shadows of their great conch-towers, and members of a hundred other races going about their business and worship both above and below the city streets.

You are members of the Company of the Emerald Heron, a prestigious worlds-spanning research and adventuring society chartered in Hallows for the purpose of exploration and charting of Wildspace, collection and cataloguing of relics and artifacts of interest to the community, and the selling and profit from said relics. Members of the company are known by their green cloak or sash and silver heron cloak pin or belt buckle. Your patron is a wizard named Anaximander, and there are several other groups much like yours within the Company. Your group just happened to work well together on past jobs, and so you have been a squad longer than usual. Your base of operations is a converted dwarven ironbarge called the Jormungandr. It derives motive force from a series of spellforged plates along its flanks which collect light and heat from the ambient atmosphere and convert it to a thin, foul-smelling oil known as phlogiston (which, incidentally, occurs naturally in places and can be used in grenades). In a pinch, the ship can also be run on coal or whale oil. As long as no speedy maneuvers are needed, the Jormungandr is entirely self sufficient for travel of any distance, needing to stop only for reprovisioning. The Jormungandr is possessed of two swivel guns, primitive cannons only a bit larger than rifles which fire phlogiston explosive shots (treat as a fireball, 3d6 damage, must take Exotic Weapon Proficiency in Artillery to use them properly). As you are chartered out of Hallows, which is theoretically neutral ground for all major spacefaring nations, it is the hope of your employer that violence need never be resorted to.

Well, hopes are so often fleeting...


The Player Characters[edit]

NPCs of note[edit]

  • Anaximander: Human Wizard, owner/operator of the Emerald Heron

The Jormungandr[edit]

The Jormungandr is the ship that the group is assigned to. The Jormungandr has only a single mast, since its motive force is supplied by the equivalent of a steam engine, and the mast is only for steering and emergency maneuvers. The Jormungandr also has two "lifeboats"- small skiffs that can each hold eight men and are fitted with a heavy grapnel-throwing crossbow device that stows away when not needed.

The crew of the Jormungandr consists of a dozen men and dwarves who do all of the basic needs as far as rigging and ensuring the phlogiston processors and condensers remain in good repair. The minor helm is a large wooden throne with a metallic bowl, covered in runes. Yes, it looks like an electric chair. Unless a "spellcaster" (preferably a sorceror or psion) of the party uses the helm, a 1st level NPC sorceror helmsman guides the ship.

The better your INT, WIS, or CHA, the faster the ship goes. CHA gives it better speed, WIS gives it better handling, INT is a well rounded control.

Threads[edit]

Recruitment
In-Character
Out Of Character

Resources[edit]

SRD
Feats
Spells
Lists
Spelljammer dot org
Planewalker dot com

Game introduction[edit]

The City of Hallows, 21st Thirdmonth, 1067 AT

Midnight in the city, the blue-grey gloom of midday given way to the purple-black of the vastness of space as the Slayer drifts in front of the tiny sun which the Hallows orbit like lost children. As usual, the condensation from the water droplets bourne on the stellar wind falls like the temperature down from The Lady's vast, stained glass eyes onto the streets and canals scoring The Fallen, onto the miserable throngs in their ramshackle buildings, built in the thousand styles of the races who flock to the place. The few creatures on the street lurch and struggle from place to place in the thick, unpleasant-smelling rain, and occasional patrols of the dwarf and giant militia scout the streets- well, at least the streets they don't expect to get jumped on.

An observer might say this is a city of opportunities- though he likely isn't observing under that bridge, on the edge of the canal, where that mind flayer is finishing up his goblin snack. Also he is likely not looking there, on the shoulders of the Slayer, where the holy temples of the Thirteen Gods of Goblinkind are leaving that unpleasant red-black stain down his chalky mail shirt. There's a pretty good chance he isn't looking across space down at the noble houses on the Lady, because the richest elves have wards against that sort of thing that will melt your eyeballs and turn your brains to spiders. And so, if the observer is looking for opportunities, his choices are limited. So let's focus on one place where they're never in short supply.

In the shadow of the prone figure's vast chin, a three story, well built building in the elven design looms over a gaslit alleyway. A swinging brass sign is emblazoned with the image of some sort of green wading bird, and most passers-by pay it no mind as they go about their business. Inside, a large sitting room is filled with a variety of oddities, both in its occupants and its fixtures. A variety of magical and gaslit lanterns vie with a smoky, open whale oil lamp and even a few torches. No two of the many chairs are alike, and most are occupied with humans, dwarves, and odder creatures. Next to a huge, elephantlike loxo sits a cherubic halfling woman festooned with daggers of every description. Behind the bar, a one-eared sibeccai slings a tall, clear, vile smelling drink (complete with olive) to an armored spiker, who clinks her drink against the frothing mead-horn of the bugbear on the next stool before tipping it back, to the cheers of several dwarf crossbowmen who place bets on the better drinker. The spiker is winning.

The one thing all of these disparate creatures have in common is the rich kelly green of their clothes and the heron who rides on cloak, hat, and belt. For this is the headquarters of the Emerald Heron, and upstairs, in one of the pleasant sitting rooms, the head of the order, Anaximander, sits in his favourite chair, stroking his grey-streaked beard. The black-robed wizard skims the latest scandal rag, carelessly flung on the ottoman at his feet. He lights his ever present pipe. He adjusts his half-moon spectacles. The person in the chair across from him grows increasingly impatient. Eventually, Anaximander looks up, and sighs.

"Mr Kajagiyet. Surely, you know that we are not some sort of low class mercenary establishment. We're not hired muscle, and we're not thugs. We also don't take sides- elves vs. gobbers is bad for the business of learning. As you may have noticed when you came in, I'm happy to say we've got elf, drow, hobgob, AND blue members, among others, all working together real happy-like. So if your run is going to twig the Armada, then find another company- I hear the Red Flags are in town and looking for work."

At this, the cowled figure grins, exposing his broken yellow teeth. An old hobgoblin, his blue and orange mottled hide betrays his psionic heritage. The red, wolf-trimmed cloak belies his allegiance- a wolfson, some ranking noble among the Ghuk-ta-Kali star hordes. The hobgoblin waves his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Oh, Mr. Anaximander, we have done this sort of work together before, surely you know I would not put you in the danger, or your men! This is, personal request? Not a Ghuk mission, this time. Is one of my hobbies, Gatebuilder! Big interesting! But, of course, Pack Alpha say he wants to go to dried up planet, people point finger, yes? They say, what does Kali want with old gobber base, so near The Forest? People are big talking, they say Ghuk on the move, whole thing falls apart, big wartime again. Gobber base is on other side of planet! But that what they will say. Is bad all around. So, I am thinking, who can be discrete, who can be trusted, who is not on side of pointies? Old friends! Emerald Herons! And so I come. You get your best crew. I tell more then. You will do this. You cannot resist it, the call of knowledge. You cannot resist fine gobber silver, either, no?"

At this, Anaximander smiles and shrugs. "What can I say, Kajagiyet? You're right. Gatebuilders? Discretion? Silver? This does sound like an Emerald Heron job."

Anaximander's ring glows for a moment, and within his mind, the one-eared sibeccai barkeep barks a polite "Yessir?"

"Get me the crew of the Jormungandr. I've got a job for them."

Setting Notes[edit]

General[edit]

AT means After Treaty. The grudging end to open war, the Treaty of Hallows delineated space between the Elves, Elf-Friends, Goblinkind, and the Others (such as illithids, dragons, psurlons, githkin, beholders, etc. etc.) Needless to say, the Treaty's border markings are almost universally ignored by everyone who isn't an elf captain or hobgoblin pack alpha.

There are wind collectors on the Slayer's back which collect the ephemereal energy of the stellar wind and condense it for use in the city, much like the Jormungandr does. The Lamplighter's Guild, all dwarves, command a pretty hefty price in the neighborhoods that use their service, since gaslight is a hassle to install, costs a lot of jink to upkeep, and if you piss off the dwarves, you find out that all the fancy gaslight lamps in your house have an astonishing tendency to burst into flames, and not the way you intended.

The Common tongue is surprisingly...common. Human languages throughout Known Space tend to run to similarities, and so oddly enough people from one planet can speak to people from another with only a few minor differences in wording and metaphors, at least in most cases. Human is thus the trade Common for wildspace, though of course Elf and Goblin are popular as well.

The Elves[edit]

The elven architectural design apparently resembles those of real-Earth Victorians. Go figure!

The Forest is the name for a chain of liveworlds and verdant earthworlds, considered by most to be the homeworlds of the elves. More importantly, it is the home sector for the Elven Armada of Sethes.

The elves, living on a number of extremely forested worlds of a bewildering variety, are experts at the creation of any number of drugs, poisons, and other herbal and alchemical viands. The opium trade is largely a result of their activities, though drug use is highly illegal for the elves themselves to partake in.

Elf Greenbacks[edit]

Just like they sound, a particular silvery-green leaf used by the elves as a currency. Treated with an alchemical concoction that turns black briefly if it's touched by metal, to ensure veracity.

The Ghuk-ma-Kali[edit]

Psionic ability runs strong in the Ghuk-ma-Kali, with blues having many positions of authority. Pureblood goblin blues are somewhat rare, and individuals such as Kajagiyet are common, no more than quarter or half-blooded but still able to manifest some wild talent.

Ghuk trade talents are rectangular blocks of silver, sometimes alloyed with copper and/or gold. A silver trade talent is the nominal base currency for Kalispace, and is worth roughly the same as a dwarven gold piece or an elf greenback.

Kali's Throne[edit]

The throneworld of the Ghuk-ta-Kali, a vast planet of rolling plains and dense forests, interspersed by barren towers of pitted iron far larger than the hobgoblins could have built themselves. It is thought these towers may be semi-natural, as an area of Acheron lies very near the planet and some of that strange energy may have leaked in ancient times.

The Thirteen Gods of Goblinkind[edit]

Kali is the great Goddess of the Hunt, the Wolfmother, First Gobliness. Her six sons and six daughters comprise the rest of the Thirteen, and it is from their incestuous courtings that Goblinkind in its many variations (goblins, hobgoblins, blues, bugbears, and far stranger) spring forth and multiply throughout wildspace. Nobody knows which son of Kali is the Slayer, and no one seems to want to narrow it down, for fear of possibly angering the others.

The Gatebuilders[edit]

The Gatebuilders. An ancient and long extinct race of unknown appearance, whose sole legacy are the vast stone rings and the bizarre hybrid magic-psionic devices that power them. Much research has been done into the Gates, with most scholars deciding they have more productive things to do after ten or twenty years of not accomplishing a damn thing in their inquiries. Not even the libraries of the Celestials describe the Gatebuilders, and some of them are ancient beyond time.

Wildspace[edit]

Stellar wind[edit]

Aka, how you get anywhere in wildspace. Usually blows outward in all directions from the central body of a system, where it joins up with the astral currents and eddies that make up the Planar Rivers. The primary rivers are the Oceanus, Astral, and the Styx, and they tend to link similar planets, with the Oceanus linking the prime planets to the upper planets, the Styx linking the prime planets with the lower planets, and the astral winding its way around the whole mess. Of course, there are plenty of lesser currents, but if you can't find your way from one major river to the other, you're pretty much useless as an astrogator, and people will make fun of you.

Navigation[edit]

Of course, the higher planets are, in theory, actually UPWARD from the Prime planets, which exist more or less on a single plane. The lower planets are lower than then Prime planets, and lower still is the cold, broken space of the Abyss, where few sane pilots steer their ships.

Air Quality onboard Ship[edit]

For the first month after putting out from an atmosphered port, your ship's air quality is perfect, as long as the correct number of crew are on hand. If the number varies by 25% above or below, it increases or decreases the amount by one week. After this period, all living creatures subject to it are fatigued as the amount of carbon dioxide increases. After one week of fatigue, living beings are nauseated at all times, and after that, living beings begin to take 1d2 points of CON damage each day. There are a number of spells and effects that can remedy this, the simplest of which is to bring some plants along. The Jormungandr, being a reasonably small barge type ship, doesn't have any major plants sufficient to correct breathity goodness. The Jormungandr does run a normal amount of crew.

Falling Off Your Ship[edit]

If you fall off, you rapidly descend away from the plane of gravity of your ship, which is for many vessels is the "water line" that a normal ship would possess. With luck, another ship's plane of gravity pulls you toward it. If you are unlucky, you begin to free float through wildspace.

Gravity exists for you to make really cool jumps, and me to make you fall if you fail a jump check. If a ship is coming in at some god awful angle, it's so I can make neat things dive bomb you and you are able to use those boots of striding and springing you didn't buy to leap up Errol Flynn style and land on their crow's nest to the delight of your allies and rage of your enemies. Also, of course, if for example you are fired out of a bombard toward the sun, you need to know what happens.

Outside of the envelope of a ship, wildspace is usually intolerably cold, and the powerful wind is full of tiny particles of grit and unseen force that tear and pull away at the poor sod who's been cast adrift. Wildspace outside of an air envelope subjects a cutter to frostbite, hypothermia, and cold conditions of anywhere between severe and unearthly, depending on how far from a fire body one is. Of course, if one is too close to a fire body, one is subjected to the rules for extreme heat. The moral of the story is to stay in the magic bubble.

Ship to Ship Combat...[edit]

Is basically pointless. That is, broadsides and attacking the ship itself. A destroyed hull won't stop the chunks that are still stuck together from moving, and it will only have a decrease in maneuverability. The vast majority of naval actions in wildspace are boarding actions by ships with rams and a large amount of surly marine-types with crossbows and boarding axes, whose main priority is to fight their way to the helmsman, murder he or she, smash the helm, and fight their way back to their vessel. Some navies and races (the hobgoblins and several nations of humans) do prefer to cripple a ship thoroughly with bombards and scorpions, but they are in the minority. The majority of onboard weaponry is designed to kill enemy crew- grapeshot catapults, fireball swivel guns, and the like.


Known Worlds[edit]

The Hallows[edit]

Eventually, most people find themselves at least passing through the floating city of Hallows, the city of dead gods. For that it is what it is comprised of- vast corpses of ancient elf and hobgoblin deities, their names long forgotten, locked in an eternal struggle. There are three of them, two elf and a hobgoblin. The first god, called the Lady by the irreverent townsfolk, is the district of the wealthy, and consists of the weathered remains of an elf woman. She kneels, cradling the fallen form of the second elf, the Fallen, upon which the bulk of the city is built. Connected by a vast spiked chain of the same chalky stone, wrapped around the waist of the fallen elf, is an armored hobgoblin, the Slayer, where the military and higher government of the city resides. Hallows is a holy place to both the elves and hobgoblins, and by treaty is the only place in all of Wildspace that the two races meet without elaborate truce discussions. The city is neutrally held by a joint council of dwarves, illithid, and giants, with the current mayor being a giant, a former pirate named Clever Jack who sponsors many privateers and merchant companies. The city is a flamboyant cultural melting pot, with staid elf Imperials meeting with hobgoblin sons of the Wolf in seedy opium dens, dwarf merchants selling slaves to illithids in the shadows of their great conch-towers, and members of a hundred other races going about their business and worship both above and below the city streets.

Kali's Throne[edit]

The throneworld of the Ghuk-ta-Kali, a vast planet of rolling plains and dense forests, interspersed by barren towers of pitted iron far larger than the hobgoblins could have built themselves. It is thought these towers may be semi-natural, as an area of Acheron lies very near the planet and some of that strange energy may have leaked in ancient times.

Drakara/Trakash[edit]

Drakara is a planet on the rim of currently charted territory. "Found" by Anaximander himself it is the home of one of his most trusted companions, Garash Merkel. The planet is dominated by the Drakar Empire, or The Empire of the Dragons, which is, not surprisingly ruled by dragons. The inhabitants of Drakar consider the dragons to be holy animals and their pantheon consists of five dragons and two dragonborn (the two last ones also the Commander in Chief and Prime Minister of the Court). The name Drakara comes, not surprisingly from Drakar, in fact the rest of the planet calles the planet Trakash, which is the word for 'planet' in the second largest language on the planet.

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