Inspiring Illustrations - The Minions of the Moon

35). The Minions of the Moon

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer

(Note: In My AS&SH campaign I have only the single moon which we all know and love, rather than the two moons Selene and Phobos, at least so far...)

North of the Hellenic City-State of Ptolemides, beyond the forest of the Crowned Beast (but known to most as the Foxwoman's Domain), lies a pool of liquid silver metal that is death to touch. Around this pool can be found white-clad devotees of a new cult that has followers in both Khromarium and Ptolemides and seems to be spreading like fire among dry leaves to every city and large town in all of disparate Hyperborea. These are "The Minions of the Moon" and they worship both the Moon as a divinity and the silver pool as the Moon's avatar upon the earth.

It is rumored that at both the waxing and waning of the moon human sacrifices are performed which the cultists call 'The Silver Death' and the victims are submerged in the liquid metal pool. The bodies are said to be held by chains and drawn back from their fatal bath now withered and hardened like iron. Their spirits are then purposed to walk the environs of the people serving the will of this new lunar divinity. The reality is much more deadly.

These sacrifices have become servants of the silver metal pool, which is a living entity fallen to earth millennia ago. It is an animal creature without need of sustenance and without language. It can rise into a wave and move, sometimes at great speed, but will always return to the basin where it now resides connected by a cord of liquid metal to a crystal-like object buried deep within the earth below. These servants act as automaton akin to those of Iron but with several differences (See New Monster).

The truth behind the cult is the discovery of the crystal by a notorious thief from Rusland, Mikhaliov Fydrovich, who , fleeing from a monstrous guardian of a Ptolemides merchant's treasure, came across the pool of liquid metal and the fragment of crystal which lay almost within the pool itself. The body of a dying manticore had come in contact with the pool and with the crystal Mikhaliov was able to summon it to his defense and defeat the guardian Daemon which pursued him. Much to his disappointment the silvered form of the manticore fell to dust within a few weeks time.

Mikhaliov was not one to let a good thing go and his quick mind immediately formed the idea of the cult and "The Minions of the Moon". Originally all the members were thieves or the like, but the cult has taken on a life of its own and only the original core (and some select recruits) now know that the cult is false.

Worshippers of Lunaqqua are the dire enemies of the cult and minor war of assassination and retribution is being waged between the two.

New Monster

Automaton, Silver Metal [MON]

No. Encountered: 1-6

Alignment: Neutral

Size: Varied, most common size is M

Movement: 40

Dexterity: 16

Armor Class: 5

Hit Dice: 4+2

No. Attacks: varied most commonly 2 (Pummel) (see Notes)

Damage: 2d6/2d6

Saving Throw: 14

Morale: NA

Experience Points: 750

Silver Metal Automatons are formerly living creatures (most notably human but to a much lesser extent any creature existing in Hyperborea  and even some that do not) whose flesh and bone has been consumed and replaced by the creature that is the pool of liquid metal. They have only an animal intelligence regardless of their former intelligence as a living creature and a life span of under two months. At the fullness of the moon above Hyperborea they must return to the liquid metal pool where they merge with the creature or harden into a solid piece of dull grey metal and fragment into a powder that will eventually sift away to nothingness.

These Automatons can be controlled by a fragment of crystal that is now set within a small medallion (and worn by the Master of the Minions of the Moon. They will obey basic commands when within a 60foot radius but otherwise act as an extension of the pool of liquid metal with a completely alien set of reactions and desires. (They my stand still and let themselves be hacked to bits, walk into a fire, off a cliff, attack wildly, etc... )

NOTE: Silver Metal Automatons that are formed from monstrous creatures retain and physical type of attacks including number and damage of attacks of the formerly living creature with a +2 damage per attack. All other stats remain as per the basic listing (AC, Dex, Etc.. ) for any form the Silver Metal Automaton may take regardless of previous HD or abilities.

NOTE: These Automatons are not constructs and are much quicker, moving with a high grace and dexterity, than magically created Automatons. Part of their AC comes from a bonus for high dexterity.

NOTE: Sacrifices to the pool of liquid metal can only be done at the waning and waxing of the moon. At other times anything entering the pool is simply absorbed into the liquid metal. Even at these time there is a 75% chance that anyone or thing of flesh placed into the pool will simply be absorbed.

NOTE: These Automaton's can regain full HP by resubmerging themselves within the pool, but will also regenerate 50% of their total HP every night when the moon rises (up to their original HP total). If reduced to 0 HP they turn into a grey metal and fall to dust.

Inspiring Illustrations - The Alchemist

34). The Alchemist

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer

In all of Khromarium there is perhaps no single individual better known and yet still an enigma than the man known only as 'The Alchemist'. That he is a mage of great power is undisputed, but his origins remain unknown as does his name.

Years ago a strange ship sailed into the docks of Khromarium; a ship without sails, without crew, and with only a single occupant. It was a small ship but the man who emerged from its hold seemed too old to have crewed even such a vessel no bigger than the long boat off a galley. When he turned and lifted the ship in his hands and then proceeded to fold and refold the vessel till it was smaller than his hand, smaller than his fingers, so small that those watching had to look away as what they watched became more than wondrous; it became disturbing to the senses of what should be and what should not.

This was the arrival of the Alchemist. Not a display of raw power, but power was there, subtle and practical. He appeared as an old man of white beard and hair, not tall, perhaps shorter than average, not fat, nor thin, nor so old to appear feeble. As he turned to walk along the quay a staff of smooth white wood appeared in his hand as if a branch, straight and unblemished, grew from a dark core of nothingness.

The Alchemist settled near the Street of Trade where it crossed the Quarter of Craft before emptying into the Sea Market where the goods fresh from the holds of ships were sold and the pens of exotic animals and slaves were kept. He found an old building that had suffered in the Cold Riots many years before, partially ruined with a roof holed by fire and walls stained with smoke. A small crowd of layabouts, longshoremen, traders and sailors had followed at a respectful distance from the docks where he had arrived and watched as he step lightly across the overgrown yard littered with debris and enclosed by a short iron fence. The doors of the building had been nailed shut but they parted at the touch of the Alchemist's hand and closed silently behind him.

A flash of light burst from the windows and the holed roof, out the top of the broken chimney. The light suffused the walls, swept across the yard, caressed the iron fence, the broken gate. When the light faded the iron gate was black, the yard bare except for a carpet of wildflowers and herbs, the walls of the building a rich brown, the windows glassed and shuttered, the roof whole and the doors more solid and dark bound with what might be silver and etched with runes that none could read, and open as if waiting visitors.

The Alchemist stepped from his new abode and shut his door behind him, locking it with a small silver key and turned toward the nearby market. He shopped, and talked of small things, and laughed. He hired servants to watch his door and tend his garden and cook his meals. The Alchemist seems never short of gold and what he cannot find for sale he hires adventurers to find for him, and within his brown-walled home he sells potions and pills, salves and solutions which will dissolve steel but not harm flesh.

The Alchemist is liked, respected and somewhat feared by his neighbors on the Street of Trade, but he is well-regarded and a source of pride for proud Khromarium.

Inspiring Illustrations - Outside the Khromarium Gate

32). Outside the Khromarium Gate

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer

Kromarium is vast and older than man. Streets and towers and catacombs that wind their way into the bowels of the earth like a wyrm gnawing at the heartstone of the city. So vast is Khromarium that losing oneself in its twisting paths can become being lost in passages of time and space and dimensions not hospitable to man. It is said that the center of the city can never be found, always there will be another tower, ruined manor, gaping pit where the dank sewer waters gush down and down and down, another street or alley to follow deeper and deeper along ways that should not be trodden if there is any wish to return.

But Khromarium is a city filled with life as well and the precincts that surround the walls and its many gates are lit with fires both mundane and magical. Cleanly swept are the corridors of the wealthy and powerful or littered and stinking with the refuse of the outcast poor and discarded souls. Merchant squares abound, strange passengers from stranger lands view wares from coach or palanquin. Street musicians play and thieves ply their trade. Courtesans demurely pass brothels where their less fortunate and less expensive fellow professionals bare their own bare and berouged wares from doors and balconys.

Outside the gates of Khromarium can be found philosophers, beggars and scribes. Soothsayers, hedge-wizards, and shamans can be found in abundance, but any with more earthly goods are shooed away and into the well-taxed environs of the city walls by the passing guardsman and mounted patrols of the city. The business of the mind, the soul, and the mystical is conducted along these thoroughfares by any but the well-established masters of these professions, beggars and mendicants excluded.

Tellers of fortunes, popular among the Kimmerians and people of Rus, have small tents inside the city gates, while a more well-regarded practicer of divination can be found sitting upon a waxed or oiled cloth on the verge of the great road close to the iron and wood portals of the city. There is a hierarchy and tradition among the traders in the ephemeral outside of the gates and woe-betide any who would usurp another's spot of buttocks smoothed grass that may have been occupied for generations or passed down from journeyman to apprentice from time immemorial. 

Inspiring Illustrations - She Speaks A Scarlet Mist

29). She Speaks A Scarlet Mist

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer

Who can say when the blood of man was polluted with the foulness of undeath. From what blackened and defiled corner of Old Earth where first they arose is unknown. Every corner of the globe speaks of them, Bruja, Dachnavar, Draugir, Chang Kuei, Mara, Striga, Vampire.

In Hyperborea it is the same, though only at Ix of the Black Gulf at the Rim of the World do they find welcome. In all other lands are they hunted and if found slain, though it is no easy task. Vampires are social creatures that form a family with a patriarch or matriarch ruling over them, but these paternal figures feel no love or attachment for their offspring and will use them for their pleasure and their defense willingly sacrificing all those they deem their 'children' for their defense or even simple gain. At times these Hyperborean vampires will tire of their family and will slaughter them all gathering their tainted blood in great casks like wine to be aged and consumed at a later date.

Vampires always choose the strongest or most beautiful or talented humans to be their victims and future 'children'. Around this family are collected groups of ensnared servants or 'thralls' as the Norse from Vikland call them. These are half-drained victims of the vampires who ensorceled into fanatical loyalty to their vampiric masters.

While vampires may be found in ruins, catacombs or graveyards, they often join the society of large cities such as Khromarium or Ptolemides. Some have taken over Norse halls or holdings of the Rus or villas of the Hellenes near to Ptolemides.

There are rumors and traces of a vampiric brood gathering in the vast metropolis of Khromarium and the local guard as well as a cabal of certain powerful sorcerors are interested in finding them. While a small bounty is placed on the capture or heads of any proven thralls, a much greater reward can be gathered for the bodies (living or dead, but living pays better) of any of the Vampiric family. The Lord or Mistress of the clan would garner the greater reward but such a capture or even a defeat of one of these monsters is deemed unlikely.

Inspiring Illustrations - Tesla and the Unknown Region

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer

23). Tesla and the Unknown Region

"Darest thou now O soul.

Walk out with me toward the unknown region,

Where neither ground is for the feet nor any

Path to follow?"

One day Nikolai Tesla walked out onto his stage between his machines of tamed lightning and in a blinding flash disappeared from Old Earth forever.

The gulfs of space are not empty. No, they are filled with a horror older than time, beings that should not be and are inimical to man. Their gaze which is not sight wanders the galaxy peering deep into the darkness as easily as they stare into the blinding core of a sun. Some have fallen to Earth and the hint of their shadow haunts the dark corners of the mind. Others have crawled between what is and what was and what may come venturing forth in madness and ecstasy. And in Hyperborea many of these dark powers are worshiped as Gods though they care not thirsting only for the souls of men and lusting after torment and despair.

The men of Old Earth have touched they veil that hides these beings delving deep into the grinding spheres too small for the eye to detect or summoning the lighting and chaining the elementals to dance for their pleasure. Nikolai Tesla was one of these men, a powerful wizard that changed the substance of the world by tearing apart the veils and thrusting his mind into the white light of creation. In his hands he wielded the power of light and fire and awoke the beasts which lurk.

In a confrontation that removed him from the world of modern man he broke the spine of the daemon summoned against him and fashioned a gateway from its unearthly flesh powered by its own hellish spirit. His gaze sought a refuge and in the mist shrouded land of Hyperborea that exists beyond time and the geography of any but the mind he stepped from Old Earth and into the ageless realm.

A new Wizard walks the streets of Khromarium. Tesla came upon Hyperborea with nothing but power and with his power he has fashioned himself a citadel in the ancient ruins of the great city. His tower blazes with globes of fire, with chilling lightnings that can crawl across the ground, across the flesh of man without burning, without ending. His power is great but his needs for metal, for this Hyperborean magic he has discovered, for his automations that guard his laboratories, all are great and many a merchant and adventurer has profited greatly in their dealings with striding giant of light and raw power.

Tesla has stepped from Old Earth through the Unknown Region into Hyperborea and shaken the foundations of all. Opportunity abounds, he can be a generous master, a powerful allie or a terrible enemy, but the choice is yours.

Inspiring Illustrations - Older Than The Memory of the Dead

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer.

18). Older Than The Memory of the Dead

The foundations of Khromarium are set deeper and more firmly than bedrock. They touch upon the boundary of the black abyss and the nightmare dreams of the Elder Gods who were never worshiped by man. More terrible than the bodies of the Dead that Walk are the Blue-men who inhabit these frail shells of humanity.  That they themselves are corpses of some ancient and unknown race speaks of a terror the passing ages has allowed to endure.

The Blue-men are corrupters and desecrators. They delight in pain and the torture of the living. They trample the ceremonies and rituals of the Gods beneath their feet and scatter the offerings of the pious. Rarely seen, the Blue-men are powerful and draw energy from the power of priests and mages. The drain the life from strong warriors and wear their skin as a cloak to mask their decaying limbs. They find their ways into the very bones of men.

When and where they will appear is unknown. They prefer moonless nights but will come out in the brightest day. Singly they are a terror, but in groups of three or four they are a devastation. Wherever they come from it is deep beneath the great city, among the tunnels that wind down and down beneath the earth, swallowed in darkness, older than the memory of the dead.

Inspiring Illustrations - The Tomb of Isabella

14). The Tomb of Isabella

Isabella of Khromarium is a princess of sorts of that eternal city. Her family was as old as the stones of the Great Council Hall where the rulers of Khromarium sat and extolled laws unto their more savage brethren. But Isabella is gone from the city, dead some say, murdered so that her wealth might pass to her relations, as she is the only child of her parents. Other suspect her lover who they also say Isabella rejected in favor of an older suitor more in keeping with her class and station, Or did her pale beauty attract the attentions of a powerful noble or the reclusive Malygris the greatest and most wicked mage in all Khromarium who is said to have an eye for such young maidens as Isabella. But what has truly happened to Isabella remains a mystery.

Demosthenes, Isabella's one-time suitor is the scion of a wealthy family. He is a duelist and not an adventurer so he has sought out the services of such to find his darling Isabella. Through bribery and torture he has managed to find a clue to his Love's where-abouts.

On the outskirts of the Ruling Quarter where all the Councilor families have their mansions are the crypts and tombs of Khromarium's oldest families; Isabella's chief among them. It is here that Demosthenes has been told that his Love was taken. He himself is above breaking into her families crypt and delving into the darkened passageways to search for her, but he will provide servants to move stones and carry torches. He warns that the crypts are no simple affair but are instead passages going back to the earliest reaches of the city and perhaps older even than man's occupation. He wishes them luck and urges them to haste since every hour he is parted from Isabella is a torment.

At least the fop's gold is good and burial crypts of the wealthy promise decent pickings in burial loot if nothing else.

Inspiring Illustrations - The Pale Magician

11) The Pale Magician

They say, in Hyperborea, that if you want to find a necromancer you look in a graveyard but if you want to find a magician you go to Khromarium, and in Khromarium the magician to find is young Zorathus called the pale magician.

There are more powerful sorcerors, witches and mages within the great city, but each can be dangerous to deal with, each will use those who come to them, and normally the cost of dealing with them is high. Zorathus has power enough and each day seems to gain more, and lose some part of himself.

It is said he never leaves his small tower, an ancient ruin older than man, except in the moonlight. Zorathus has the look of one whom the sun has not touched, but he is not a creature of the night. Instead call him a creature of dreams, for it is in dreams where he truly dwells. And the cost of dealing with Zorathus is not in coin but the dreams of those who come to him. A small price to pay many think. One dream for a spell or enchantment, a scroll of minor power, the varied skills of a sorceror for a dream. The greater the dweomencraft required the cost in dreams increases, deeper dreams more powerful dreams, dreams taken and never to come again.

Zorathus's servants speak of a door in the ruined tower that appears only in the moonlight, a door through which their master takes the dreams he collects, but where it leads and what use he makes of other mens' dreams none know.

Inspiring Illustrations - The Crowned Beast of Stone

10) The Crowned Beast of Stone

In the depths of a boreal forest west of the immortal city of Khromarium and north of the Hellinic city-state of Ptolemides can be found a statue of some great beast crowned with a rusting iron band whose spiked ends, now snapped off into jagged spears, suggested gems or valuable crystals once ran astride the crown. The weed-choked creature now stares forlornly into the stream which begins life as spring whose waters pour from its open mouth and which rushes by its front paws before disappearing in the thick forest and eventually emptying into the great swamp and mire to the north of Khromarium.

Few know of this crowned beast of stone for its waters are sovereign and potent and the alchemists of both Khromarium and Ptolemides strive to keep its existence and location a secret. To this end they have set traps and guards within the forest, paid druids to charm creatures and enchant plants, illusionists to hide the spring, necromancers to set guards that neither sleep nor rest nor tell tales, as well as magicians and witches cast dire spells to protect this source of so many of their potions, solutions and balms.

The power of these waters is quickly diluted after it spills from the mouth of the crowned beast but within certain distances the waters have differing effects. The water at the mouth of the statue pours forth a deadly acid on one side and a supremely potent base from the other. As the water touches the earth it becomes useful for all manner of transmutation elixirs but a dozen feet further and it is sovereign remedy for curses and a foundation for healing potions, a dozen feet further on it is useful for charms and enchantments, till it covers the entire gamut of the alchemists trade. The area where these liquid components can be gathered is not truly large and the waters quickly become no more than any other forest stream and no more useful. Within this area the guilds from both cities have set their guards, wards and enchantments. Beyond this area a steady patrol of foresters, rangers, and various mercenary groups patrol the forest and roads leading to it. Only guildsmen can pass these men, and then only with certain badges, tokens and finally enchantments if they are to proceed to the innermost sanctum of the forest. But all this protection has brought inquiring eyes down upon that which they would seek to remain hidden and differing powers within and without of Khromarium and Ptolemides seek to find out what is being so lavishly protected.

In singles, pairs and groups spies and adventurers are being hired to seek out whatever is hidden within the depths of the northern forest. To date none have returned and only the fact that something valuable enough to warrant such costly measures as guards and enchantments drives the search for this unknown treasure forward.