Saturday, March 2, 2019

Shattered Tornstark

    The first game I ever ran was Vampire: the Masquerade Revised. I was 14 and it quickly devolved into a superheroes with fangs game. I did learn a few things from it, notably how to construct problems which require solutions other than violence. Shattered Tornstark is one such idea. It's a location in my Volmusia setting, which is the backdrop for a sand-box style Fifth edition game that's been ongoing for about two years.



Shattered Tornstark
Perilous, Ruins, Enchanted (Planar Portals), Cursed (Reality Fractures), Monsters (Horrors)

The Giants of the Nameless Empire made many mistakes over the course of their long reign, and while there are a few other contenders for the worst, Shattered Tornstark is certainly among their most regrettable. Originally envisioned by it's designers as a means by which the Nameless Empire could extend it's ability to travel the planes without the need for powerful spell-casters or mystics to be in attendance, what they ended up creating a conduit to was a place beyond the realms of existence and their understanding. The number of portals active at the same time in such a small area caused a catastrophic weakening of the fabric of reality, causing a resonance cascade and tearing the fabric of existence in the local area to shreds. It shattered the Giants, their servants and the zone around them into a confused haze of untethered experiences, feelings and memories which are experienced as bedeviling flights of fancy or bewildering hallucinations. The series of teleportation gates which were to make up the project were housed within a squat multi-roomed edifice, with low ceilings (in Giant terms) and heavy, barred doors separating the various summoning chambers from another and the central preparatory rooms which radiate equidistant from the center of the building. The building itself was made from whatever local stone which was easily acquirable and due to the utilitarian purpose of the site it was left largely without ornamentation or complicated artistry that the long-lived Giants were known for. Unfortunately for those trying to find the place, Shattered Tornstark lives up to it's name and it has been scattered across several square miles underneath the ground, no piece of the structure is larger than a few rooms. This doesn't complicate travel throughout the rest of the building any more than if it were in one piece. If one steps onto what was once a piece of Shattered Tornstark, it seems to outward perspectives that the individual has simply vanished. From the inside it is as if one has simply stepped into a still intact version of the structure, complete with what remains of the residents and the intruders that they allowed in. Experiences inside Shattered Tornstark have a disjointed and amnesic quality, like a vinyl record skipping. Visitors find it easy to forget why they are here in this place, walking down a hallway with a slowly burning torch in their hands and not knowing why. People can't remember to eat or sleep, or find that their eyes are drying out from being kept open, or they've been holding their breath for so long that they have to gasp to get it back. Sometimes it seems like the place is a dilapidated ruin, abandoned to the elements, gaps in the roof showing an alien sky filled with a swirling stew of colors and ominously drifting shapes, but then it shifts as they take a dozen steps and seems to be as it was right before the disaster which claimed it came to pass, filled with Giant scholars, their goblinoid scribes scurrying about under foot. The phantoms replay events which have transpired both before and after the cascade consumed and demolished the area, but visitors are unable to intercede or meaningfully interact with them. Outside of the threats of accidental privation or being lost within an alien memory, there are the actual intruders that were brought to the area when the fabric of reality was destroyed locally. The Horrors are inherently inimical to creatures native to the prime material plane, their very presence causes violent physiological reactions from natives; thought processes to become confused and scattered, blood flows from the eyes, mouth, nose and ears, and violent muscle tremors make combat or even simple movement difficult or even impossible. Witnesses have trouble recalling or describing the creatures that vex them, but what memories can be articulated are of strange beings resembling animal or humanoid shapes crafted of seemingly impossible materials; a gorilla-sized silhouette consisting of microscopic chunks of beryl which flow and shift instead of move, a snake made up of a length of flaming purple orbs which dance and swirl around to the time of the nearest observer's heartbeat, a humanoid made up of a silvery liquid which reflects alternate realities and who speaks in a voice of twinkling lights and clanging smells. The Horrors are not necessarily hostile, but they do not understand the world around them or fathom that their actions could harm what they may not even perceive as fellow living creatures. They will place themselves next to an intruder simply to watch their form wither and burn from their otherworldly aura, while moments later they will nuzzle against the new corpse without grasping that they just caused it's demise. Certain objects, sounds or even thoughts may attract, enrage or repulse them, but they universally dislike anything that is crafted as one thing but meant to ape the appearance of another, masks, art, miniatures, and they will attempt to destroy the offending object and it's bearer. There are only sixteen of the Horrors in the entirety of the structure, but even if one was somehow destroyed, the strange nature of the place seems to protect them from permanent discorporation and they can be observed wandering the halls again in a few hours after their apparent demise. Thankfully for the surrounding wildlife the nature of their existence seems to preclude them from leaving Shattered Tornstark's confines. Well-attested in Nameless Empire sources, Shattered Tornstark became something of an El Dorado or Atlantis to the Giants who came later, often searched for but ultimately never found by any one who successfully returned. Several expeditions managed to reach the ruins, but they met their end through starvation, brushes with the horrors or expiring through confused violence inflicted upon one another. Evidence of the lost explorers can be seen in the ruins from the remains of moldered packs, lost equipment and mummified corpses. Given its purpose, Tornstark was located far away from the Giant roads and the heartland along Maaglurtet's Range. It's former above-ground location was on a plateau on the eastern side of Ingram's Tangle, past Mrytle's Hut, south and west of Twisted Hill, but now most of it lies in pieces scattered within a few hours of one another about two or so days underground.

  • Those that die within Shattered Tornstark become the phantoms that others experience or watch passively act out moments long past. It's possible that these beings aren't truly dead or alive but stuck in the same state as the Horrors that fill the ruins.
  • One of the major indications that a piece of Shattered Tornstark is near are fluctuations in memory or intent similar to those within the area itself. They often are considered taboo or otherwise rightly cursed by the locals.
  • While it may seem insane to try and use them, the teleportation circles which caused the calamity are still as perfectly functional as the day that they were first activated. There are sixteen in all, one for each of the outer planes excepting the Outlands.
Treasure & More: Besides potentially being a huge source of research material for any spell-caster or scholar hoping to broaden their understanding of dimensional or planar travel, pebbles or stones from Shattered Tornstark have similar effects to that of the site, though on a much smaller scale. If somehow a Horror corpse -no one wants a living Horror - was removed from the ruin it would be absolutely priceless to any serious student or seeker of the Far Realm.

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