Events - Blog Posts
Random kindness? Or Salty revenge? (11.28.2017) // It was normal day. As usual i made my way through Targét, before work. Hunting for discount sales, like the true mother i am. Unfortunately, Lady Luck did not bless me w/her magical juju. After purchasing an unnecessary bathing suit for a whopping $40.71, I made my way into a widely popular café where Pumpkin Spice drinks are praised, like it were wine made from the blood of Christ, himself. Where the stereotypical teenage girl struts in, wearing yoga pants and UGG boots. (yes, Starbucks)
I set my belongings on a table secluded from the rest of the customers (bc loner✌🏻). I grab my wallet and turn back to obtain a place in line, when an arm shoots out in front of me. My eyes follow the arm to its owner. A girl with a red shirt and light khakis. She hands a small brown, paper bag w/2 white doves on it. “Here.” She says. “I wanted a chocolate chip one but they gave me this one.” I could only assume that her salty tone was directed at the Barista, who was too busy doing her job to pay attention at the death glares. I dismissed the bitter remark and thanked her for the free treat. Then, proceeded to order my beverage of choice (an iced chai w/coconut milk😏👌🏻). Now, as I type this theatrical caption, I’m enjoying this delicious, pumpkin spiced, octo-cookie. So,win. Moral of the story, never deny a gift?? Idk take what you want from this.😂
Strangers & Doughnuts.
So, I was running late for school, its was 8:30 A.M. when my mom and I left the house to go to Dunkin Donuts. When we got to the parking lot, a man no more than 22-23 years old, was riding up the sidewalk on his skateboard. He was about average height. No more than 5′9″. He wore camouflage cargo shorts with a grey undershirt-I didn't really look at his shoes. Upon his freckled skin were old, faded, and scarred up tattoos. His hair was buzzed off. He didn't seem dangerous, but wasn't your average Joe walking around in jeans and a t-shirt. He stood out yet he was invisible at the same. (if that makes sense?)
After we found a parking space, I got out of the car before my mom and quickly made my way across the lot toward the front door. And I noticed the man holding the door open for an older gentleman (mid to late 50s or 60s), and we made eye contact (awkward) so I sped up a little; jogging to the door; feeling guilty for letting him stand there while I walked. When I finally reached the door, I smiled at him and thanked him. And he smiled back, nodding his head slightly, before saying “You're welcome.” As I walked by him, I noticed one of his face tattoos was tear drop on his right cheek bone. It was the only one that really caught my attention. (not in an offense or negative way, it was just the only tattoo that stood out to me at the time.)
Then, he disappeared into the bathrooms along with the older gentleman from earlier. My mom and I go about our usual business and order breakfast. (99¢ coupons bc we’re cheap & poor lol ). When the cashier hands me my iced coffee, I thank her and set off to find a straw for my drink. I could hear my mom ordering and the cashier telling her the price. Suddenly, I feel someone standing behind me. but like rly close-like he was just a inch behind me. And then I hear a familiar voice say:
“You have a good day, now. Okay?” I turn around and it was the same man. So, I smiled back at him and wished him the same before he walked out of the shop and took off on his skateboard. I walked back over to my mom at the counter and she asked me about the man and what he said to me. I told her and told her about the tear drop tattoo he had. She said that he had to have been in jail or prison to have one on his face like that. (not ALL ppl who have teardrop tattoos on their face are/have been in jail/prison. nor are they ‘bad ppl’, that is just her theory as to why that tattoo was on this particular dude’s face. if you want my personal opinion send me a message and i will share it w/u.)
Since then, I spent most of my day thinking about the kind stranger from Dunkin Donuts. And wondering if his day just as mediocre as mine. So, yeah. That was the highlight of my day and possibly the whole week.
I've had a campaign idea for a while where the party chases after a monster/demon that's taken the appearance of a giant fox and they have to hunt it down or trap it, I'm unsure of how to run it as of now, but any ideas are appreciated!
Monster Hunt: The Smoke-Tailed Fox
“Listen, the magistrates are already at eachother’s throats as how to classify this mess.... Is it grave robbing if the victim wasn’t buried yet? Is it attempted regicide if she was already dead? All I know is that the court’s willing to pay extra to see this over and done with as soon as possible”
-Roderik Tull, Bounty Officer.
Adventure Hooks:
The Funeral procession of the recently departed queen was attacked while on its way to the royal sepulcher for last rites and entombment. While not even the most desperate bandits would attempt this daring feat, the honor guard present were unprepared to deal with the appearance of a tremendous white fox that emerged from the forest to strike their caravan with lightning-quick speed. Throwing the defenders aside, the fox beast sundered the wagon carrying the queen’s body and savagely mauled the body with one of its claws. Witnesses report seeing the fox “drinking” an unearthly light from the royal remains before taking off once again into the woods. Everyone is pretty sure this is a bad omen, but few can agree exactly what it portends.
Burial rights within the kingdom involve the priests invoking various rituals in order to “sign” which deity has taken up the departed soul, usually this is a chance for the gods to speak, and provide veiled commentary on the life of the lost, but upon the attempted buriel of the queen, it appears as if none of the gods have claimed her. People have begun to whisper that the Fox-beast stole their monarch’s soul, which again.. can’t mean anything good for the fate of the kingdom.
Hunters going after the fox have reported that the woods it fled into have become a haze choked labrynth, with even the most well trod paths suddenly becoming winding meandering things that don’t lead you to their customary exits. A trapper fears for her partner who’s been lost out there for a few days, caught out in the woods when the Fox decided to lay down it’s curse.. or whatever type of spell it’s woven over the landscape.
Setup: Though Psychopomps come in many forms, they are all spirits preoccupied with shepherding mortal souls to the afterlife, ensuring that they do not tarry on among the living become ghosts. While some peruse this task with a solemn determination, and others with a warmhearted cheer, these entities help to maintain the balance of the cosmos, and ensure that the shades of the departed do not overwhelm their descendants.
What happens then, when a Psychopomp abandons their duty? This is what happened to Ruvo, a vulpine steward of the dead who was sent to watch over the ailing health of the queen. Taking the form of a simple grey fox or unremarkable house servent, Ruvo watched over the queen as she spent her last remaining months tending to her gardens, never tarrying to far from her side lest her frail old body finally give out. Newly appointed to this grim task, and not yet assigned to watch over the soul of one yet to perish, Ruvo developed a fondness for the resilient monarch, which over time grew to a protective attachment as he cared for the woman who he was eventually supposed to escort off the mortal coil.
The fox-spirit has made off with the queen’s soul, emotionally paralyzed at the thought of his “ friend” leaving him and perhaps fading away forever. Now perused by hunters, royal guard, and agents of whatever death deity he shirked in the queen’s favor, Ruvo has hidden the two of them away in an isolated spot in the forest, shrouding the surroundings in magic and hoping the whole mess will blow over if he just stays hiding long enough.
Art 1
Art 2
Deity: The Walker of the Wheel
“ Traveler! Why don’t you pull up a stone and rest your weary self, Come share a tale, join me in a song. Between us there are as many miles to go as there are stars uncounted, but maybe we can number a few of them before we’re through”.
Setup: There are some gods that demand the worship of all, who seek to spread their gospals to the four corners of the earth. Then there are the small gods, the humble guardians who preside over their little corner of reality and ensure those who journey through it are well taken care of.
The Walker of the Wheel is one of the latter, a guardian god of roads, travelers, and the infinite horizon who protects those who venture far from home. Appearing as a broken down tramp, a traveling mapmaker, or an adventurous youth, the Walker eschews a concrete identity or even a name, preferring to intercede in the guise of a fellow wanderer rather than act through miracles or celestial agents.
Holding no temples save for the small roadside shrines erected by fellow travelers, the existence of the Walker is lore held only by those who live their lives on the road, cobbled together out of scraps of road-lore and tales of secondhand encounters.
Astral travelers are also known to draw the attention of the Walker, who holds stewardship over forgotten gateways between the realms.
Adventure Hooks:
Exhausted and woefully lost with darkness closing in, the party hears the plucking of an old guitar drifting across the landscape, leading them to a small campsite and the hermit who presides over it. The old codger offers them hospitality and a drag off his jug of barleywine, in exchange for their tales of adventure and woe. When the party awakes in the morning, they’ll find the Walker gone and themselves a stonesthrow from their destination, having crossed valleys and rivers in the span of a single night.
Those that impress the Walker are likely to be rewarded with good luck charms touched by a bit of his divine grace. Dented compasses that point the way home, guitar picks that conjure visions of the past when used to strum a nostalgic song, well worn walking sticks that allow for tireless travel over harsh terrain. These items all show evidence of having many owners in the past, as well as handetched patterns of stars and constellations.
While generally a god of good spirits, the Walker cannot stand those who prey upon travelers, and woe to any robber or highwayman who draw his attention. The party bears witness to this wrath when bandits attack their inn, hoping to kidnap and ransom a merchant who also happens to be staying there for the night. The Walker appears partway through this standoff, and with a strike of his stick dissolves the bandit’s leader into a pile of road dust.
Titles: Our Old friend, Master Dust, The Starry Hermit, Wornboot Bill, The Roadwarden
Signs: Whirling Stars and Nebulas, music on the edge of exhaustion, dreamlike landscapes.
Symbols: Hobo Marks, Migratory birds, A long road beyond a gateway.
do you have any resources or guides for worldbuilding and reimagining the feywild? not looking for adventure prompts or npcs just your thoughts on setting and how to make the feywild feel dangerous and mystical
Planescape: The Feywild
I won’t lie, the introduction if the feywild is one of the best additions to the default d&d cosmology in a while, not only from a thematic perspective, but gameplay aswell, as it allows any podunk patch of land to act as a doorway to wild adventure. That said, too often this wonderland is treated as a place where things are just wacky, without real attention paid to the narrative possibilities introducing the feywild into a story can have.
To that end, I’m going propose a few different aspects of the feywild, different visions of how things could be drawn from different mythologies and storytelling conventions:
The feywild has no geography: like the notes of a song or the lines of a play, the reality of faerie is reinterpreted with every visitation, Coloring itself based on the expectations and emotions of those exploring it. This is why a child can stumble into a mushroom ring and have themselves a whimsical romp full of talking animal friends and life lessons, whereas adults tend to find themselves ensnared by echoes of their deepest desires and why adventurers ALWAYS find something to fight. If you want to go anywhere in the feywild you don’t need a map, you need a thematic structure that will carry you to your destination: whether that be staying on a yellow brick road through a number of distractions and tribulations, or winning a game of riddles against a talking bird who’ll swear to drop you off at your destination.
The feywild is a place of stories: When a peasant family leaves out milk and performs small acts of thanks for the brownie, they are unwittingly inviting the primal energies of the feywild to fill the space they have made for it, creating a creature that had always been there, looking out for them. Likewise, when folk tell of wonderous places just beyond the edge of the map, the feywild becomes those places, taking solidity from repeated tellings of the tale and incorporating different interpretations to give themselves depth. This is not to say that the translation is perfect, as one can’t simply make up a story, tell it to an audience, and expect it to suddenly become true as it takes a powerful and engrained sort of lies, embelishment, or folktales to give shape to the otherworld. When populating your local fairy-realm or those areas near enough to it, consider what sort of stories people tell about that place, whether it be about monsters that gobble up wayward children or treasure hidden there by bandits long ago.
The feywild responds to your emotions: When your party takes a rest, ask them how they think their characters are feeling. Consider whether they are frightened or foolheardy, adventurous or avricious, and then sketch out some random encounter to spice in along the way as the realm of whimsy responds to the vibes they’re putting out. A party that’s feeling hungry may encounter a friendly fey teaparty or a dangerous lure disguised as a snack, a group that’s feeling pressed for time may hear the horn of a savage hunter stalking them, or a parable about stopping to help others can actually speed you along your own path. In this way, the fairyland is in diolog with the party’s desire to press their narrative forward, and will test or reward them according to its whim.
The feywild is everywhere: one of the underutilized aspects of having the feywild in our games is that a portal to the “shallower” areas of the otherworld can pop up anywhere overtaken by nature, allowing fey beings and other oddities to cross over in a way that creates all manner of adventure hooks. If I’m building a dungeon in the wilderness, I’m personally fond of having a mounting fey presence the deeper in you get, replacing the normal ruin dwelling hazards with troops of hobgoblins, odd enchantments, and various tricksters. For smaller dungeons, the closed off fey portal can be an adventure hook for later, encouraging them to come back when they need to delve into whimsy, whereas for the larger dungeons, a non contiguous fey realm connecting multiple points can serve as a combination of fast travel AND bonus stage. Even for non dungeon locations, consider how much fun of an adventure it’d be if someone discovered that their cellar had been replaced with a fairy’s larder, or that the vine-covered lot where neighborhood kids play during the day transforms into a vast battlefield for sprites during the night.
