The old folks say that once things had been decent. The good earth was rich, and trade flowed along the highways and the sea-lanes. People lived in peace, most of the time. Oh, certainly there were wars; knights charged boldly in their shining mail, soldiers killed and died. But even the nastiest of those wars had their ends, and life went on. New people were born, homes were rebuilt, and things went on more or less as they had before. But something changed, though they can never seem to agree on just what happened: Maybe the wizards got greedy, wanted more power than they ought to have had; maybe the priests turned to wickedness and blasphemy; or maybe the kings grew proud, and thought themselves as gods. There is considerably less debate over what came next: The Last Days.
At first Evil worked subtly, secretly. Demons walked in the guise of men, and poisoned the minds of the mighty. Kings and lords grew paranoid, believing their neighbors of plotting against them and began to make plans of their own. Soon the land was plunged into fratricidal warfare. Even the lowly were not spared; men and women who before had been kind were suddenly driven to violent fits of madness, and committed all manner of unspeakable acts against family and friends. Then strange signs began to appear: the Earth shook, and the stars fell from the sky like rain; the sun fell dark, like sackcloth, and the moon was red like blood; the weather became treacherous and unpredictable, and soil that was once bountiful was now meager; whole herds of cattle died mysteriously, and beasts of burden fell sick; births slowed to a trickle, and suddenly stopped altogether.
By the time the servants of Hell were working openly it was too late to stop them, though some did try: The princes of the Holy League; the Knights of the Four Corners; the Order of Saint Gwydion. All were cast down, their bodies ground to dust beneath the tread of infernal legions. All hope faded.
All but here. Here, in the wild mountain valleys of the north, a desperate few cling to life and hope. This handful of villages, too small and remote to be any great concern for the forces of evil, are home to the last free people in the world. Guided and protected the Order of Holy Wisdom, they enjoy a precious measure of safety, and have for many years. This is your home, the only one you have ever truly known. You are one of the last children to be born before the Doom fell, and now you have to leave.
But you won't be going alone.
Alright, thanks for reading. In summary, a cataclysmic series of events has been visited upon the world, for reasons that are not altogether clear. The player characters are a group of young people living in one of the only (or perhaps the only) safe places left. The holy men and women of the Order of Holy Wisdom have come to believe that a recently recovered artifact, The Cup of Woe, might hold the key to restoring cosmic order and banishing the demonic hordes from the world. It must, they assert, be returned to its rightful place at Aldren Priory.
There is a problem, however: Most of the monks and nuns are too old to undertake the long and dangerous journey. Only one is willing and able to go, the young and zealous Brother Osric. But knowing he could never hope to make it alone, he calls a general assembly and explains his quest to the villagers before asking for volunteers to accompany him. Many skills might prove useful on the road, and for whatever reason you step forward – or perhaps, are gently persuaded to do so by your friends and family.
And so you set out, with a handful of other young people and Brother Osric, braving the terrors of the outside world with little more than a faint hope that you'll come out of it alive.
So, that's pretty much it. I'm hoping for 4-6 players, though I imagine it could probably work with less. Let me know if you're interested, and feel free to ask questions. I've included some lore below, which I'll probably expand upon by the time I post an OOC thread.
In the north of Monothrana, hidden away deep in the Silverpeak Mountains, seven small villages hold out against the end of the world. Through hard work they scratch a thin living from the soil, though every year the yield is a little less. Some are zealous in their optimism that things will turn around, but most are just quietly desperate. Even so, there are moments of levity at spring dances and harvest fairs, and the goodness of the old world (such as it was) is not entirely forgotten.
The villagers are ethnically diverse, having fled from every corner of Monothrana and beyond to the safety of the mountains. Some worship gods outside The Faith, or none at all. Village elders handle the day-to-day affairs of government, with major decisions being made at assemblies where all adults vote. Class distinction has been rendered largely irrelevant. Men who had once been knights and high lords have no more say than goatherds and plowmen.
No children have been born for nearly twenty years, and the crisis that this fact may entail is already apparent. Time is running out, and soon the population may be too old to feed itself.
The largest and most important village is Saint Antonia, situated in the highlands near the center of the territory. Here is the best pastureland for cattle, as well as the Gray Maiden, the only fully-fledged inn. The inhabitants of this village have the most regular contact with the Order, and some of the leading men and women act as intermediaries in trade with the outlying settlements.
Other villages include: Whimble, a center for mead and beer production, and which also contains a number of disused silver mines; Lastbridge, a watchful settlement athwart the only easy pass in or out of the Silverpeak Mountains; and Fairwater, a fishing village built along the banks of the mighty River Irenflow, boasting both a sawmill and a gristmill.
On the rocky heights above the largest village, Saint Antonia, looms the monastery of the same name. Behind its high walls the monks and nuns of the Order of Holy Wisdom work and pray ceaselessly. They are largely self-sufficient, and trade with the villagers for what little they cannot grow or make for themselves. The knowledge of the scribes in their great library is an asset to the community, aiding in a wide variety of projects.
Their true purpose, however, is far more significant than repairing bridges and and copying manuscripts. By their magical arts they maintain a barrier that no evil can pass, a ward that not even the most powerful lord of Hell has managed to peer through. As far as the Order can tell, the demons don't even know of their presence.
It is doubtful, however, that this subterfuge will last forever. As many capable novices as could be found have been pressed into service with the Order, but with no new children being born eventually the monks and nuns will be too few to maintain the barrier.
The rough country now home to the Seven Villages was once part of the Kingdom of Pendria, the most powerful of the Monothanian realms. A great highway, often called the King's Road, ran north from the royal city of Caerlon, through the rich green fields of the Pendish Midlands, before terminating at the former mining town of Whimble.
Once the King's Road was famous for its safety. Inns and watchtowers were built at regular intervals along its length, usually about half a day's travel apart, and armed patrols passed frequently in either direction. By all accounts, this is no longer the case.
As Aldren Priory is located rather close to Caerlon, it is likely that the King's Road will be the first path taken by the party.
The currency-based economics that once facilitated commerce in Monothrana has been all but forgotten in the mountains, where gold and silver are now valued only for their ability to shine brightly in the firelight above a mantle. Simple bartering (and outright gifting) is the norm, though more complex transactions can be simplified by recourse to a unit of account known simply as the Pound. A Pound is the arbitrarily-fixed value of a one-pound iron bar, of the sort used in elder days to balance a merchant's scale.
Since very few actual Pounds are in circulation, is is exceedingly difficult for anyone to build wealth over the long term. This has had a leveling effect on the villagers as a whole, as the disparity between the richest and poorest among them is rather small.
The Continent of Monothrana (often simply called the Midrealms, owing to its position near the center of the known world) was once home to kingdoms, republics, and principalities of every description. The most significant of these were the Kingdom of Pendria, the Kingdom of Boliponia, and the Republic of Cortes.
Monothrana was a rich land, divided politically but united culturally. The Faith dominated religious life in every realm, its clerics and monks moving freely across borders. A common tongue, the High Speech, bound the upper classes together, while vulgar dialects spoken by the common folk of the various realms were (mostly) mutually intelligible.
Though sporadic warfare between the Midrealms was common, a delicate balance of power usually stopped these conflicts from escalating out of control and kept any one state from becoming truly preeminent over its neighbors. Complex, multi-polar diplomatic negotiations were the norm.
But things have changed. The world beyond the sheltered mountain valleys has been laid to waste, cities decimated and kingdoms of ancient pedigree reduced to ashes and memories. There are still many people, and here and there even towns, but you should not expect to make friends on the road. The few places where humans are not ruled directly by demons are little better off. Savage cruelty is the order of the day, and the whims of petty warlords are the only law.
In theory any human is capable of learning magic, but most would require decades of strenuous effort to achieve even the simplest spells. Perhaps as few as one in a thousand have the inborn ability to really learn, but with proper training those few can work wonders. This ability generally manifests in early childhood, often first noticed by a dramatic (and unconscious) discharge of magical power. Such children are sent off at once to learn to control their abilities under a master or mistress of the arts, lest they be a danger to themselves and those around them.
Unless some few have hidden their talents, every magically-capable resident of the Seven Villages has been pressed into service with the Order of Holy Wisdom. Such heavy-handedness is regrettable, but without enough mages to maintain the Barrier all would be lost.
Interestingly, there does seem to be an unusually high number of mages among the local people, approaching ten times the average seen in elder days. None can say for sure why this is, but many suspect divine intervention to be the cause.
The Faith revolves around the worship of Our Mother Above the Queen of Heaven and her son Omida, the god-man and advocate of humanity. Alongside these are a panoply of lesser gods and saints which make up the Heavenly Court. The Faithful believe that, should they behave themselves, they will be reborn upon the Starry Field and live forever at the feet of the Mother Above. It is further asserted that, at the completion of the Last Days, She will unsheathe The Sword Unstained and destroy the Demon King.
Each of the Seven Villages maintains its own shrine to the gods of the Faith, and a few even keep holy places dedicated to foreign deities. Faithful shrines are administered by members of the Order of Holy Wisdom, who hold regular services for the edification and salvation of the villagers.
The heart of the Faith is to be found in a large body of ancient texts. The most prominent of these include the Book of the Law, the Book of Dreams, and the Book of Wisdom. These are joined by lesser works of edification, namely commentaries penned by religious scholars and books detailing the lives and deeds of holy saints. Careful study of these texts plays an essential role in the training of monks, nuns, and priests, and they are also popular reading for educated laypeople.
Religious rites include baptism by water, formal marriage ceremonies, weekly sacrifices of sanctified alcohol accompanied by prayerful singing, and cremation of the dead, whose ashes are scattered in a ritual pattern determined the the position of the stars at the moment of death.
The Faithful are commanded to speak honestly, to live humbly, to act with charity, and to kill only as a last resort. They are likewise forbidden from engaging in adultery, gambling, fraud, and are discouraged from seeking wealth over spiritual purity. As one might imagine, the extent to which an individual obeys these precepts can vary considerably.
While there is no legal requirement for villagers to participate in the Faith, the turbulence of the present age has resulted in a level of peer pressure that most would find difficult to resist.
