The Isle of Inishbradden

FIVE CENTURIES AGO, the Mists descended on Inishbradden for the first time; a cloak of ghostly grey, bathing the island in nightly luminescence. It appears each night in perfect time with the rising of the moon; few now dare enter its cold embrace, for fear of foul magic and the fae of folklore.

FIVE DECADES AGO, the current Countess of Ember ascended to the island's seat of power, her laws harsh and temper harsher. Never since has she appeared in public without her mask of iron, her work done only through ambassadors and intercessors.

FIVE YEARS AGO, ships stopped coming from the Mainland. Never a bustling trading post, the Isle is now cut off entirely from contact with the world beyond, with no sign of resupply from off the island in sight. No longer does the Crown seem to maintain any interest in keeping the Isle under its domain; not a single expedition from the island has returned since.

FIVE DAYS AGO, reports came from farms to the north of the mysterious disappearance of an entire village. Not a soul remains, animal or human—and the Countess's Guard are far from eager to investigate.

FIVE MINUTES AGO, you were roused from your slumber on the bare stone floor of your cell, and given an ultimatum: death, or freedom, in return for service rendered. The latter means trekking out into the Mist, to discover what really happened to that village

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image by me

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Each night on Inishbradden, every door on the Isle is bolted, every window firmly shuttered, people of every age safely indoors. With the moon comes the Mist, and with the mist creatures fit for no mortal eyes. Every family on the Isle claims heritage lasting centuries; as far as anyone remembers, the Countess's family has always ruled.

You are a prisoner. You violated the law of the land, and for it you pay the price; it seems that that price might well be greater than you ever imagined. You don't have a choice. You've got to do it, and pray to the Bladed Lord you'll make it through.

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Black Alchemist:
You worked outside the law, operating without license and with secrecy assured. One of your clients ratted you out; you've had plenty of time to think about who it was.
Start with: a roll of bandage fashioned from an old gaol uniform, a small pouch of salt, iron, and blessed ashes
Perk: with a minute's close inspection, you have a 4-in-6 chance of correctly identifying any plant or mysterious substance. with ten, it becomes 6-in-6.

Drunkard:
You spent more nights at the pub than you did at home. The Day Watch finally decided to drag you in for nuisancy after some particularly well-placed public urination.
Start with: a smuggled flask of whiskey, impossible to find on your person unless you allow it
Perk: you have advantage on Saves against ill effects from consuming food or drink

Arsonist:
From an early age, you had a special fondness for starting fires. The Brotherhood of the Hallowed Sword caught you behind one of their chapels; your time in the Guards' custody has been a breeze in comparison.
Start with: an all-weather fire-starter, a burning desire to take out your anger on your surroundings
Perk: with an hour of preparation and access to suitably flammable materials, you can fashion an explosive device with a fuse of however long you wish

Charlatan:
You made your living running confidence games on the Isle's up-and-coming elites, offering investments and trade opportunities that never made themselves manifest. You defrauded the wrong person, and you've spent the time since plotting how you might escape your confines.
Start with: a "friend" in any town you visit, a trustworthy smile
Perk: you can affect any accent or demeanour you so desire; proper imitation demands proper study

Pickpocket:
You survived on deft fingers and quick thinking, until one day you couldn't think quite quick enough. You were expecting a severed hand; mist-catching is almost preferable to you.
Start with: a short piece of metal, fashioned into a miniature blade, a token to remember a loved one by
Perk: you can hide from view on your person anything that would fit in your palm, and you  perform sleight of hand well enough to impress and distract any layperson for a moment

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FIVEs format shamelessly stolen from the pre-eminent Lexi of A Blasted, Crated Land.

The City Who Slumbers Not

City! I am true son of thine;

Ne’er dwelt I where great mornings shine

Around the bleating pens;

Ne’er by the rivulets I strayed,

And ne’er upon my childhood weighed

The silence of the glens.

Instead of shores where ocean beats,

I hear the ebb and flow of streets.

—Alexander Smith, 'Glasgow'

The City is an old thing, built long before living memory. It reaches out endlessly in every direction—east & west, up & and down, inward & out. Layers of new creation spring up over layers of ruin, the old consumed to make way for the present. Petty factions vie for power, each eager to further their goals and advance their standing—councils, unions, cults, and consortiums of all stripes always interfering in each other's works.

The City is alive, change its near-sole constant; a fixed map is of little use to anyone, save perhaps as something to blow your nose with. Everything in the City matters to someone; quite who might not matter yet, but they do exist. Life is everywhere, even in those bits abandoned by humanity.

By Stephan Martiniere

The Sewer-Ferry Syndicate

The Sewer-Ferry Syndicate are one of the City's most wealthy purveyors of transport, providing passage all across its lower regions. They provide financial and military backing to gondoliers and boat captains of all kinds, undercutting or threatening any potential operators who refuse to pay their dues. They often draw the ire of those who call the sewers their home—the Rat-Speakers, fungus cults, &c.—and are quick to ally themselves to those who might see the City's annals 'cleaned up', as it were.

Goal: Outcompete financial opponents, regulate all passage through the sewage network

Allies: The Plumber's Guild, Waterworks, the Sludgemarket

Enemies: Other transport suppliers, the splintered Fishing Coalition, native denizens of the sewer system

The Church of Urbis

Members of the Church of Urbis are worshippers the City itself, ever-eager to perform good deeds in Her service. They revere those who work to maintain Her various boroughs and enclaves, and often take it upon themselves to clean up messes or decorate empty spaces in Her honour. They deride other forms of faith as idolatry and heresy, including those who worship the City in the "wrong" ways. Bureaucrats, lawmen, and officers of local governments are among the Church's most common adherents.

Goal: Convert all to the light of the City's worship.
Allies: Hapsmire District Council, the Street-Sweeper's Guild
Enemies: Litterers, loiterers, other faiths (especially the Cult of Metros)

Their Majesty's College of Wizardly Study

No one quite recalls whose majesty the College was named in reference to, but the College Board's bureaucracy thinks it adds an air of grandeur. It is but one among many institutions offering tutelage in the practice of magic, each eager to draw the eye of new prospective students to extort for money and saddle with debt shape into the next generation of scholars! The College is particularly renowned among its peers for its research into spatial manipulation, though accusations remain of stolen experiments; total codswallop, of course.

Goal: Provide as much return to investors as possible education to all who desire (and can afford) it!
Allies: Very little; the academic world is one of spite, not friendship.
Enemies: Agselsior University, the Institute of Elemental Arts, Gdinsleslav Academy; the list goes on.

1d50 factions for player characters to love, hate, or owe copious amounts of money to:

A World in 13 Items

Bandwagon time. Likely more verbose than I should be aiming for, but:

1. Bandolier of rune-inscribed bells, with handles of human bone.
2. Moth-bitten cloak, long and black.
3. Logbook, with descriptions of an expedition to the north. Last dozen pages have been ripped out.
4. Ice-like gem. Whispers when you draw close.
5. Silver pendant. Holds a mirror and a symbol of the Church of Violence.
6. Sack of provisions for a long journey, packed in haste.
7. Tin flask, full of sea water. "In case of emergencies" carved roughly into the side.
8. Leather pouch, containing iron filings and salt.
9. Frog-in-a-jar. Glows in the dark, piercing even the thickest fog.
10. Dive watch, with 13 digits on its face.
11. Knife, carved from a stag's antler.
12. Silver key, kept in a locked chest at the back of a cellar.
13. Unfinished map, labelled "Death, in the year 1833."

Original post by Michael Prescott, of Trilemma Adventures; also take a look at posts from Sundered Shillings, the Slopyard, Nothic's Eye, the Cosmic Orrery, and Colors of Pentagrams, in no particular order.

Black Lotus Laws of Gaming (BLLOG)

Eralou is a fantasy setting inspired by the culture and folklore of Louisiana, originally created by Simon Williamson for their custom Magic: the Gathering set of the same name. (You can view the in-progress re-imagining of set here, which is the version of the world this content will be based on. Some flavor divergences here and there, but the former gives a good idea of the setting.) This post — and likely quite a few future ones — is my attempt to transfer that setting to a TTRPG, specifically a variant of Arnold K.'s GLOG, with inspiration being drawn from a wide variety of different blogs and hacks.

One of the most important elements of the setting is the black lotus. These plants are imbued with great magic, and can be used for many purposes: making food taste better, bargaining with spirits, enhancing a musician’s abilities; the list goes on. They can be somewhat rare, and are often quite valued — many would do a lot to get their hands on one. Once each year, during the festival of Plume de Val, all of the plane's lotuses bloom — magic is in the air, the great Phoenix rises, and celebrations can go on for weeks.

Some things you can expect from the setting include...

• Sentient fungi and frogs and birdfolk, oh my!
• No fewer than eight classes, including three distinct types of magic user.
• A research organisation headed by an owl from another world.
• Far too many tables, for likely completely unnecessary things, including...
• 1d20 Lies the royal family will tell you about themselves
• 1d100 Mildly magic trinkets
• 1d20 Rumours heard muttered in the bar
• 1d66 Folk saints and their feast days
• 1d100 Meals you can find in a restaurant in New Alores (the largest city around)
• A church dedicated to a long-dead angel.
• All manner of odd creatures and encounters.

By Vyacheslav Safronov

All to come in future posts! For now, have 1d100 possible backgrounds from  the setting: