Crossworlds
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The Crossworlds is a conglomeration of several roleplay settings staged within the same multiverse or worldline, with each independent 'Verse playing host to a group of PCs. The Verses are connected by the ever-present and debatably thematic Roads, mysterious apparitions which conveniently facilitate the entry of new PCs and a minimal degree of GM control of the parties' directions. Presided over by Orbital_Overdose, the general trend is towards a low-fantasy feel, though elements of science fiction are evident.
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Trader's Forge
Nestled in the Greenriver Mountain range, the peaceful Greenriver Valley was once a rather pleasant place to be. Home of the faerie forge at which the legendary Mad Snipe had his great-grandfather's sword remade after the Roving Band's disastrous clash with the sage Durmenaw's forces in the bitter fourth winter of the interregnum, it was made a holy spot for both pilgrims of the faith, scholars of history and martial enthusiasts following its rediscovery during the reign of Queen Isanlo II. Though attempts to set up a large-scale farming operation never got off the ground, a respectable trader's town was able to rise around the restored forge, tended by a family that fulfilled a function somewhere between priest and blacksmith. Part supply store for visitors of the shrine-forge, part rest stop for caravans seeking a longer but less treacherous route through the mountains, the town was a plant sitting overshadowed in good soil, growing strong and healthy without producing flowers.
One year, the winds shifted. Where before men had felt safe to travel the realm unarmed, bands of pilgrims began to pay visit girded with steel, and then not at all. Guards sprouted around the caravans, and the drivers grew hunched and suspicious-eyed, tales of strange new things roaming the countryside riding in on their shoulders like crows.
Two years have passed since the caravans stopped rolling through the mountain passes, and the townspeople can no longer claim to rule the valley. Not when cows turn up dead in their pastures, bellies slashed open and viscera consumed. Not when unwary farmers vanish into the waving stalks of their fields when they stray too far from the homestead's lights as the sun slips like a thief from the sky, carrying off their protection. Not when the faeborn Slumberers have such dreams that they shun their beds at night. Humans can no longer claim to rule the valley. May Merciful Lua protect.
Note: This is a native characters only campaign.
Iz's Domain
Of the many "homeless" deities who by turns grace and curse the Crossworlds system with their presence, the most well-known, and least understood, is Iz. Self-styled as the Duke of Dreams and Phantasms, he eschews both church and cult, demanding no worship and encouraging no offerings. Flash scripts integrate easily any web site. You don't need any coding skills to use this powerful software. download free mp3 player to showcase music online. His rise to imminence in the Starlight Index has only recently been marked by the most observant of mortal astrotheologians, and his symbol does not appear in the Tome of Greater Gods. Regarded as a dangerous enigma by most of the celestial beings who make a practice of trafficking with mortals, the faithful are warned against invoking his name--who knows what "blessing" he might choose to confer, or what price he would extract for it.
The question of his goals and motivation is about to become of pivotal importance, because this mysterious figure has just invited you to a festival, to be held within his domain--a celestial demesne which, according to the Tome of Greater Gods, should not even be. From the fluorescent skyline of Grand Central City, dominated by the impossible golden fixture of the Spire, to the labyrinthine and rustic sprawl of shops and vendors of the Midnight Bazaar, from the vaulted and torchlit stone chambers of the subterranean Cathedral to the green ocean that is the White Plains beneath the daunting eye of Roc, the ghost moon, a door has been opened for you into a phantasmagoria which all authoritative sources insist does not, can not, exist.
Are you a seeker of answers, on behalf of an ethereal patron or in the name of arcane knowledge, or a quester after thrills unaware or uncaring of the divine tension surrounding your host? Will you throw yourself into the dazzling and dizzying panorama of revelry, or trawl the shadows for hidden strings and unmentioned fine print? Either way, with a world of sights and sensations to explore, the timekeeper on the Spire counting down to an unknown event, and the green-robed Regulators combing the crowds for an unknown fugitive, tonight promises to be a night to remember.
Note: Characters from native or non-native backgrounds are welcome, though non-natives are encouraged.
Special Note: If the non-native turnout exceeds two characters, players submitting non-native characters will be required to collaborate on a common setting of origin, to be submitted to me for inspection and approval.
The WayPoint
The space between worlds is cold and bleak, traveler, a realm of fevered landscapes and angry ghosts. Walkers on the long Roads are few and far between who can make the journey without needing to stop and rest. Stopping on the Roads themselves is a invitation for death or worse, and while it is possible for those with the learning to create a small pocket of stability to make camp in, these have shown an unfortunate tendency to wander, stranding the poor individuals trapped within far from their intended destinations.
For this reason were the WayPoints created. Hewed from the stuff of the dreamlike half-reality that is the water to the worlds' fish, ranging in size from a few tents in an uncanny glen to small industrial cities, their sole purpose is to act as resting points and staging grounds for travelers on the Roads, and all are outfitted for this task. Islands of stability and sanity upon the subtly maddening expanse that is the great in-between, they offer relief and succor to the weary and provisions to the unprepared. Some claim that they are the harbingers of the next great phase of life's development in the Crossworlds.
Perhaps it is a good thing that you are not personally aware of this, because such knowledge would only make you all the more ill at ease with your current situation. This ghost town of gray buildings and white mists is not as a WayPoint should be, nor indeed as most would insist they could be. Hollow, wild and alien, echoingly vast and claustrophobic in turns, devoid of the order that all sites of its kind should be indelibly imbued with, it does not appear friendly to occupation in the slightest.
Now if only you knew how you arrived here, so you could begin to wonder how to leave.
Note: This campaign is open to native or non-native characters, though non-natives are highly encouraged.
Special note: Players of non-native characters in this campaign will be required to agree upon a common point of origin for their characters, the details of which are to be worked out between them and submitted to me for approval.
Gest
With the fall of the oppressive Alkain Empire, the city-states and trade nations of Greater Tilth stretch their wings beneath a new banner of freedom. The advent of a grand alliance between ancient Farrast and fledgling Olma, sealed by the marriage of Duke Larrict and Third Princess Mailo e'Marilee, rains down blessing after blessing upon the continent, spreading the seeds of Art, Philosophy and Enlightened Theology far and wide. Even the austere Combine has softened its visage, opening borders to public trade for the first time since Alkain's rise. This is, truly, an age of prosperity.
Of course, prosperity is rarely spread evenly, and even the uneven spread that the commonfolk are forced to deal with takes time to occur. Old Alkai has fallen, it is true, but for all its oppressive policies, the Imperial Triune maintained a standard of organization and efficiency that was a benediction to all in their domain. While the possibility of a war between Farrast and Olma is now remote, the exact nature of their borders is still a fluid question. And though the Combine has not shown expansionist tendencies for the past four hundred years, it is a valid argument that the only force holding them within their borders was the unblemished might of the Alkain Empire's famed and feared legions.
So, while order has been established--at least to an acceptable degree--in the major urban areas and main agricultural regions, the more rural communities have waited for seven long years for the newly emergent powers to make good their claims of lordship with a peacebringing military presence. And they wait still.
The small village of Abonast has never been much of a center of attention. The closest it has ever come to renown is its position at the base of the Catseye Mountains that so featured in Imperial legend, and even then on entirely the wrong end of the chain, a journey of months away from the Combine's borders. Between the Glorious Revolution and before that its general lack of interest for the bureaucrats in Alkai, four generations have passed since last they saw a tax collector and two since the latest sightings of any faction's soldiers. It is about to become a place of great interest, however, as several events of great import have just occurred in little Abonast, the most noticeable of which is the arrival of a battered and worn caravan of wagons from out of the Catseyes, bearing tidings that the village elders refuse to share...
Note: This is a native characters only campaign, with the options of playing either a youth from among the caravaners or a youth or adult from among the folk of Abonast.