"I Hated Harrow So Much At The Beginning" Could NOT Be Me. She Has Flair, She Has Panache. She Stays

Adventure: Enter the Vivlioklasm 

“I’ll tell you something for nothing” said the old wizard, leaning back in her well worn reading chair. “ The power of our station is gained through the acquisition of knowledge and cultivated through understanding. Archmage Jovenal never understood the later, and it led him and the dozens of fool apprentices that chased his horde to the same sad fate. Trapped like a begger in a golden tomb: surrounded by all they could ever want, but with no way to use it.” 

Setup: Rumors among knowledge seekers  and bibliophiles speak of an infinite library, A scriptographic cornucopia  somewhere in the astral plane that contains every though ever consigned to page. Those venturing across planer barriers in search of a multi-dimensional archive invariably return disapointed, having found what amounts to the back room of an ill-managed bookshop, distorted in scale until it reached the size of a city, complete with districts, castles, slums and canals all full of muchabused volumes.  The place is a maestrom of loose pages and flying volumes, constantly being piled and repiled in different configurations. 

Said to contain coppies of every text to have ever existed, the Viivliokasm contains no accurate maps, guides, or filing systems, with volumes tossed about randomly, buried beneith mountians of other mismatched texts, or used as some architectural flourish in the city’s ever changing layout. Most astral explorers know that finding a useful tome, let alone a singular instance of a DESIRED tome is impossible and leave the search to the immortal and foolishly overambitious. 

Adventure Hooks:

Working for a loremaster, the party seeks a book of prophecies that can help them to evade a great disaster. Entering into the most dangerous dungeon they’ve ever delved, their sacrifices and trials come to naught as the tome in question has rotted away into barely legible scraps. Knowing that there is one last “hail Ioun” option, the loremaster equips them with a tracking spell and sets them on a path towards a portal to the Vivlioklasm

A lich and an angel have taken up residence in neighboring boroughs of the book-made city, intent on bringing order to the chaos. The two rivals send minions to steal volumes to one anotehr as they work on increasingly elaborate ( and non-compatible) filing systems. Can the players break the stalemate, or perhaps even negotiate a peace between the two?  it may be only a drop in the bucket, but in a few millennia their organization may turn the Vivlioklasm into a usable resource.

By Chance, the party comes into possession of an absolute rarity, a magically enhanced map that charts the location of a series of valuable books and the shifting hallways that hide them. Sadly, these hallways lay in “the burning stacks”, which is where the arcane servitors that maintain the Vivlioklasm place those books that invariably catch fire in the sprawling chaos of the libric-city. As the books themselves are astral constructs, they don’t completely burn away, instead piling atop one another as kindling in an everburning cathedral reminiscent of something out of hell. Coincidentally, the party acquires the map from a group of demonic cultists. could they have competition in retrieving these rare volumes?  

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Villain: Golvelker Skoff, The Deacon of Dereliction

“ They Hate us, you know: The Gods. Not in the way you or I might hate someone, but in the way one hates mold growing in the back of a pantry, or a particularly ugly spider that had crawled over you at night. The only difference between you and I is that I know the means by which to stay beyond their reach, while you tarry in the light by their feet and invite the crunch of the celestial boot” 

Setup: There are three groups that will never forgive a grudge: dwarven traditionalists , the clergy, and the dead.  Woe then to anyone who crosses Deacon Skoff, an undead dwarven holyman who’s spent the past century indulging a hatred for all things blessed by the gods. 

Usually secreted away on “ vows of isolation” in a forgotten hermitage, Golvelker uses false identities within church correspondence to keep abreast of any appearance of the miraculous and divine. When he catches the scent however, he travels in disguise or sends conjured minions out to obtain these mystic specimens, employing all manner of dark magic to aid in their capture. 

His ultimate goal? Dissect the hallowed until he can learn ways to circumvent divine wrath, overcome blessed protections, and eventually poison destiny itself. 

Adventure Hooks: 

The Expansion and renovation of a local princess-bishop’s castle leads to the discovery of a long sealed vault full of monsters and relics from before the last purge. Excellent work for a group of aspiring adventurers, though they will have to put up with a gaggle of church reliquarians poking over their loot like a gaggle of gulls by a fishing net. Into this knot comes Deacon Skoff in one of his disguises, muddling the proceedings in every way he can while his own team of tomb robbers infiltrate the delve. 

Rampaging wraiths have overtaken the excavation of a storied battlefield, seemingly called up in response to an overzealous historian uncovering their bones. In fact, these specters were called up by Skoff, who wishes to steal the historian’s true discovery: A 15ft tall winged skeleton, partially encased in stone, which may be the ossified remains of an archon called up by the warprieats of one warring faction snd struck down by the battlemages of another. 

Following tell of a miracle healer, the party comes to a guarded village shrine only to find that disaster has occured. The healer, an aasimar child gifted with potent healing powers and fostered by the temple from a young age, has been kidnapped. Evidence suggests bandits, but an eagle eyed party will mark the coming and going of a conspicuous clerical carriage in , as well as appearance of a visiting scholar of the faith always on the edge of the witness’s testimony.  

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Alright who shit my pants

I have replaced the dragons in Skyrim with the state of Ohio.

Got new pants

??? I can't see them

smacking you in the face wjth it

The whole “make a monster version of a regular animal by prefixing its name with a scary word” bit doesn’t really work with birds because bird names are just Like That. Tell me I’m going up against a blood horse and I’ll grant that this would probably scare me, but a blood raven, well, that’s just a guy. I am 100% prepared to believe there’s an actual bird species by that name.