Weird Revisited: Planet of the Elves

This post from 2012 takes us to a future world where Man is only a dim memory...

Many young elves heed the call to adventure, despite the fact their simple and pleasure-loving society sees their actions as odd--perhaps even aberrant.  The elvish word for "hero" carries the connotation of "fool."

The shimmering sprites are sometimes found in old forests.  These beings claim to be visitors from metal cities which circle the earth like the moon. Right-thinking dwarves don't believe such foolish tales.

Though their numbers are few, ancient dragons know many secrets and will impart them--for a price.

Mutated cultists haunt subterranean ruins.  Not only are they dangerous, but their ideas are theologically suspect.

Weird Revisited: INFERNO-LAND!

This post first appeared in 2012 and was written for a Bakshian post-apocalyptic setting. it could be used in any number of post-apoc settings, though...

Beneath the wilds east of the domain of the dwarves, there is a series of caves and grottoes, lit crimson and cast in flickering shadow by ever-burning fires. This subterranean realm is know as Hell.

Hell’s most famous entrance (though there are rumored to be many) is located in a lonely ruin near the sea. It’s accessible through a door in the mouth of statue of a giant head. Near the head is a runic legend that resists translation: “D NTE’   NFEFNO-L N !” The head’s leering and horned visage is said to be in the likeness of Hell’s sardonic ruler. He names himself Mephisto (though he has other names) and appears as a Man of ancient times, save for the small horns on his brow and the ever present flicker of flame in his eyes.

Lord Mephisto is not confined to his domain. He tends to appear when people are at their most desperate to offer a bargain. And a contract. Souls are typically his price and stories say that he doesn’t wait until a person’s death to collect them. Unwise bargainers and those who blunder into Hell unaware find themselves in the clutches of Mephisto and his minions: snickering fiends with crimson skins, horns, and often, batwings. Smiling, they escort captives to one grotto or another and enthusiastically apply some torture or torment.

There have been a lucky few to escape Hell’s clutches. Their tales are difficult to comprehend, even considering the strange nature of the place. They speak of a room full of copies of Mephisto in repose upon slabs and glimpses of ancient devices of Man behind the torture tableaux.

Audience with A Dragon

I'm having intermittent internet connectivity problems, but it's working at the moment.  Long enough for me to post this illustration of an adventuring group in the eldritch future of the Planet of the Elves of an adventuring party in consultation with a smartly dressed dragon.

The art is by Bobby Timony who was the artist on the whimiscal, 1920s occult detective comic strip Night Owls for Zuda.

The Multi-faceted Gnome

art by Filip Cerovecki

The gnomes of the distant future Earth known as the Planet of the Elves are dwarf-like beings of pure crystal. Not earthly beings, they are visitors from some elemental realm who came to this world long ago as colonists or explorers. They are contemplative folk, given to pondering the workings of the universe and uttering cryptic statements.  They have some sort of accord with the Mushroom Men, but often have some antipathy with the indiscriminate mining done by kobolds.

All gnomes ever encountered have appeared male.  Theere reproductive cycle is unknown but seems to involve rare elements and zealously guarded underground nests.

GNOMES
#App.: 1d8 AC: 2 HD: 3 Move: 60' Atks: 1 (1d6 or by weapon) Special: crystalline creature taking no damage from fire, cold, or electricity-based attacks.  Acid only does half-damage.  They are also magic resistant, making all saving throws against such at a +3. Sonic attacks do 1.5x damage. Gnomes can move through rock.

Mushroom Men

The Mushroom men or Myconoids are strange humanoids that emerged on Earth in the ages after Man.  Treated with mistrust by dwarves for their pranksterism and purveyance of psychedelic drugs, they'e friends of the satyrs (and some elves) for those same reasons.

These fungal sapients appear as tiny humanoids (6 inches to around 1 foot in height) wearing wide-brimmed hats--actually their “caps.” Leaders among them tend to have red caps while most others have powder blue.  Leaders may also have fleshy tendrils that give the appearance of a beard.

Mushroom men emerge from their underground collectives to explore the surface, trade with other races, or perform odd rituals under the full moon. Myconids are living chemical factories. They generate powdery toxins which they can blow into the faces animal species to cause hallucinations and confusion on a failed saving throw. They can generate other sorts of mind-affecting spores (such as sleep, amnesia, or hypnotism), which the red caps among them may release into the area once per day.

Owing to their fungal biology, Mushroom Men are hard to kill, despite their small size. They get a +2 to all nonmagic saving throws (except fire related), are immune to poisons unless specifically designed for them, and are 25% magic resistant.

MUSHROOM MEN: #App. 2-12; Move 60’; AC 4 HD 1 Atks: 1 (various special like toxin effects)

Planet of the Elves

Here are some images from the future world where Man is only a dim memory...

Many young elves heed the call to adventure, despite the fact their simple and pleasure-loving society sees their actions as odd--perhaps even aberrant.  The elvish word for "hero" carries the connotation of "fool."

The shimmering sprites are sometimes found in old forests.  These beings claim to be visitors from metal cities which circle the earth like the moon. Right-thinking dwarves don't believe such foolish tales.

Though their numbers are few, ancient dragons know many secrets and will impart them--for a price.

Mutated cultists haunt subterranean ruins.  Not only are they dangerous, but their ideas are theologically suspect.

700 posts and a hobgoblin

Some elves and dwarves fail to learn the lesson of the doom of Man and seek knowledge and power at any cost. Hobgoblins are the twisted remnant of elvish or dwarvish mages who were corrupted by their contact with the Outer Dark, bartering their souls either all at once or piecemeal, until they were transformed into something more--and less--than what they had been.

HOBGOBLIN
AC: 2 or better
HD: 5+
Attacks: claw (1d6)
Special: spells (as Magic-User of level equal to hit dice); chilling laugh (causes paralysis with fear in beings 4HD or below on failed saving throw)

Hobgoblins have lairs in creepy locales, dark plots and sinister henchmen (villainous elves or dwarves, cyborg monstrosities, demons, or umber hulks are possibilities). All hobgoblins are mad to one degree or another (feel free to roll on a Palladium rpg insanity table or the like). Sometimes their madness dilutes their evil purpose, but it also increases their unpredictability.

If brought to zero hit points, hobgoblins will often explode--messily.  They will reform by the next new moon unless their soul is found and destroyed.  Their souls are always kept hidden but generally close by.  They have the appearance of insects or other crawling things molded from congealed shadow--inky black, confection-sticky,and unpleasant in texture. These souls can be destroyed by fire or magic, but possessing one affords a means to leverage a hobgoblin to do the possessors bidding.


And that's 700 posts, folks.Thanks for reading!

INFERNO-LAND!

Beneath the wilds east of the domain of the dwarves, there is a series of caves and grottoes, lit crimson and cast in flickering shadow by ever-burning fires. This subterranean realm is know as Hell.

Hell’s most famous entrance (though there are rumored to be many) is located in a lonely ruin near the sea. It’s accessible through a door in the mouth of statue of a giant head. Near the head is a runic legend that resists translation: “D NTE’   NFEFNO-L N !” The head’s leering and horned visage is said to be in the likeness of Hell’s sardonic ruler. He names himself Mephisto (though he has other names) and appears as a Man of ancient times, save for the small horns on his brow and the ever present flicker of flame in his eyes.

Lord Mephisto is not confined to his domain. He tends to appear when people are at their most desperate to offer a bargain. And a contract. Souls are typically his price and stories say that he doesn’t wait until a person’s death to collect them. Unwise bargainers and those who blunder into Hell unaware find themselves in the clutches of Mephisto and his minions: snickering fiends with crimson skins, horns, and often, batwings. Smiling, they escort captives to one grotto or another and enthusiastically apply some torture or torment.

There have been a lucky few to escape Hell’s clutches. Their tales are difficult to comprehend, even considering the strange nature of the place. They speak of a room full of copies of Mephisto in repose upon slabs and glimpses of ancient devices of Man behind the torture tableaux.

Where Goblins Come From

When sleeping in isolated villages, it’s prudent to shutter the windows and bar the doors, for goblins hunt the night. They crawl from their underground warrens and scramble forth in a gibbering, mumbling, mob. They overrun farmhouse, manor, and hamlet--and even strike the outskirts of cities--in their search for victims, whom they snatch up and carry back to their lairs.

What do the goblins do with the folk they carry off? It has long be supposed that goblins don't reproduce in the manner of most man-like creatures.  All (or almost all) appear to be of the same sex, and while most goblins are small, scrawny and sickly green, there is an extreme degree of variability in form and features among members of the race.

The subterranean lairs of the goblins are always built within ruins of the time of Man.  There strange machinery--hissing valves and wheezing pumps--surround large pools of viscous liquid. These are the goblin spawning pools.  Their surfaces eddy and bubble and finally erupt with protean goblin life: here a hopping thing with one leg and one arm, there a headless giant (compared to his kin) with a slavering maw in his belly, and between a snickering thing with a goblin’s head on spider’s bloated body.

These neonates crawl from the muck and soon take their place with their fellows, apparently directed to tasks suited to their particular forms by their elders.  Some tend the strange machinery, while others guard their den, but many are assigned to the raid gangs.

The gangs are essential, for the spawning pools need a substrate. Through the working of the machines and the fluid, and a process beyond the kin of anyone in the current age--including the goblins themselves--the unfortunate folk kidnapped are rendered in the pools into the stuff of more goblins.

Stupid Little Fairies

An elvish sorceress from the eldritch future world sometimes called the "Planet of the Elves" blasts a couple of pesky ultraterrestrials.  These creatures are said to flit across the ether on their shifting-patterned wings, but more commonly arrive in craft of some sort.

Sorceresses shouldn't be confused with "wizards" who are a whole another sort of being, separate from elves, dwarves, or their lesser kin.  Wizards are extremely dangerous for many reasons--not the least of which being all seem to suffer from some form of insanity, the product of their quest for power at all costs.

Elsewhere, in a dwarven tavern, an adventurer regales the other patrons with a tale.  The trophy under his foot is the head of one of the Metal Men who are sometimes encountered in the ruins. Some are friendly; some are not.

Both pieces are by the very talented Steve LeCouilliard.

Everybody have a good Memorial Day weekend. I'm starting mine early!

Beneath the Planet of the Elves

Every elf or dwarf is aware of the horrors that lurk in the underground ruins of the long dead race of Man: crawling things with superstitiously shunned names, lurching things with nigh unpronounceable names, and oozing things left fearfully unnamed. But none of those evoke more horror than the Cult of the Dread God.

The cultists are utterly subterranean, emerging only briefly at night.  They resemble elves or dwarves, for the most part, except that they are taller and their features (when they are seen) are coarse and with an unhealthy waxiness.  They all dress in the vestments of their order and reveal little more than their faces.

The cultists possess powers of the mind allowing them to stun or control even the most strongly willed elf or dwarf.  They march their victims, puppet-like to their own sacrifice--for that is what the cultists seek when they emerge from their underground temples or monasteries.  Little is known of their hungry god other than his name--which is not commonly spoken for fear of drawing his attention--and that name is Ba’am. No elf has seem the god or his altar and lived.

There are adventurers' tales that suggest their waxy countenances are not the true faces of the cultists, but merely masks.  Whatever they were before, their god has changed them in strange ways. Tales speak of glimpses of bruise-colored tendrils writhing beneath their masks and uncovered heads, hairless and rugous, pulsing with malevolent intelligence.

Planet of the Elves

In elven village and dwarven hamlet, elders warn children of the dangers of venturing too far into the wilderness.  Out there in the wastes, the well-worn admonitions say, lie half-buried ruins--the blasted and timeworn remnant of a world that was.

Reckless youths and greedy treasure-seekers have long ignore the warnings of their mothers and fathers. They brave the wilds to seek out these ruins, where tribes of giant Hairy Ones and worse things hunger for elf (and dwarf) flesh, and they delve into subterranean depths where baroquely insane wizards give flesh to monsters out of nightmare.

Many of these foolhardy adventurers don’t return home.  The skillful and lucky ones that do win glory as well as treasure.  They become heroes--for the wise amongst their peoples well know that every  bit of forgotten knowledge or ancient artifice brought up from underground brings their races closer to wresting the world from the grip of Man’s long ago folly.