Show notes
The Amber Mines
Like moths to a flame, the promise of wealth rarely goes ignored. Least of all by the types of settlers you’re likely to find seeking their fortune in the freshly dug tunnels of the Amber Mines. This rag-tag cooperative of backyard born excavators and fly-by-night opportunists might honestly struggle to stumble upon a quest in a tavern. However, just as a similarly opportunistic, but slightly more organised leader emerges to stop their burgeoning industry from imploding, the miners may have stumbled upon more that their insatiable greed had bargained for.
The hungry excavation of the earth beneath the forest has inadvertantly connected entire networks of natural subterranean caverns, borne from the cavities left in the sediment from enormous, decomposed fallen trees, victims of one of the many volcanic eruptions that once ravaged the coast.
These caverns have hastened the rate at which the amber veins can be exhumed, but as the twisting tunnels have begun to be explored new evidence is emerging that suggests traces of a long forgotten civilisation that once called the Black Rock Coast home. Ancient scrawl on rough hewn rock, primitive tools encased in amber and fossilised creatures that are no longer native to the area are just some of the discoveries shutting down large sections of the mine.
Forged in collaboration with Holly Fox
-------------------
Preservation or Profit - The Leaders of The Amber Mines
Amanda Planeta's shaved head glistens with perspiration, and her filthy overalls show that she still spends more time underground than not. A no-nonsense dwarven entrepeneur, her dig has yielded more amber than any other, though she also has the most questions aimed at her surrounding her methods. As her team delves deeper, following rich veins of maple sap and other valuable commodities, an alarming number of workers have never returned, waved off as personal carelessness or unfortunate accidents. Concerned with her operation's practices, the council appointed Mannett Shepard as their representative and site inspector. Mannett's blonde hair and colourful clothes stay remarkably clean as they traverse the tunnels, looking for signs of cultural or ecological significance, or particularly hazardous areas, to be blocked off indefinitely for inspection or expensive improvements. The two could not be more different, with Amanda constantly trying to run risky gambits without Mannett finding out about them, and Mannett condemning ever growing portions of the yield and the dig to inspections. Tension is growing, with both parties looking for ways to gain the upper hand in the arms race over the balance between peace and profit.
Forged in collaboration with Josh Kurganoff, Holly Fox, and Scott Ryan
-------------------
Thuun’Dakar the Ravenous Shadow
Many names once existed for a horror which few now have ever heard of. Ancient denizens of the Black Rock forest told legends of a monstrosity which dwelled deep beneath the earth, a creature of myth and nightmare which skulked through shifting tunnels where no natural light touched. The few who were washed over by the pale yellow light of its eyes and lived to tell the tale back then called it Thuun’Dakar.
But that name is an old name, long-since forgotten. The mines had been untouched for centuries by the time that the settlers of Firstshore first explored them, and the newcomers gave a new title to the low rumbling which rolled and echoed through the dirt and stone beneath the earth. A rumbling which gives way to the sound of a thousand scythes excising rock from wall and scratching lines in the floor leaving no life behind. Of pale yellow light creeping through holes in the walls, only to flood into tunnels as they fills with screams while the lucky few flee in fear. They call it, the Ravenous Shadow.
But who could honestly believe such a tale? Not those in charge of the Amber Mines, that’s for sure. They haven’t seen any sign of this nonsense. The missing diggers were just soft headed fools who got lost… in single passage mines.
Forged in collaboration with Brent Walters
-------------------
The Skitter Shrieks
A Public Service Announcement from the Head Researcher of the Consortium of Curiosities, Professor Nitra Fizzlebottle
Small insatiably curious bipeds that rarely grow larger than about a foot and a half tall, these chthonic omnivores are primarily found in the twisting natural passage ways that occur around the area known as the Amber Mines, it is here that they scrabble in the ancient rootways feeding off of the insect life and fungi that share their domain.
Nearly blind, the Skitter-shrieks get their name from their liberal use of echolocation and their chirps and whistles can be heard nearly anywhere with the mines, in fact it's considered an incredibly bad omen if you can't hear them as it usually means one of the larger predators or similar danger is close.
The Shrieks make their nests upon the fecund beds of the luminescent fungi that grows throughout the mines, a practice that has caused a biological marvel of symbiosis where the creatures have appeared fuse with the plant over time. You may be tempted to risk rummaging through a nest in search of the small chunks of infused amber the Shrieks prize so highly.
But approach with caution: A shocked Shrieker will rarely hesitate from expelling a large cloud of fungal spores, whose properties are prone to induce wild hallucinations.
Forged in collaboration with Kat Winslade and Cameron Doyle
-------------------
The Genasi Druids of the Black Rock Coast
Deep in the forest resides a druidic clan, consisting predominantly of Genasi of Earth and Fire, who found that the strength of the elemental essence of the area grows deeper inland. Towards the volcano, powerful elemental forces threaten to emerge and destroy all they touch. These druids have taken it upon themselves to safeguard the area, and the Tabaxi tribes have made careful effort to keep these elemental custodians and the frontiersmen apart to avoid potential conflict. Of perhaps several clans scattered across the land and sea nearby, the tribe settled within the forest and inside the mountains call themselves The Ash Cloaked, a tribute to everything the forces of nature have buried, that they serve to protect. The Genasi may have descended from the original inhabitants of the Black Rock Coast, their elemental nature a byproduct of the calamity which decimated their numbers long ago; or perhaps they're also migrants just like settlers of Firstshore; the truth may indeed be lost to the ages, unless it is sealed away below the mountain. The Ash Cloaked have to keep watch in every direction, with new threats emerging more frequently than they can quell them, hence sometimes sealing them away is the only option, losing their history - and their domain - one ritual at a time. While they have a strong community and sense of tradition, their duty as custodians of the land make them weary at best to outsiders. While the tabaxi of Sablereach are largely at peace with their habitat, and of little threat to the clan's mission, the settlers of Firstshore are of growing concern for the conservative guardians, and view their reckless expansion and excavation as a direct threat to their duties, and may see fit to intervene before they dig into areas long since condemned and forgotten...
Forged in collaboration with Brent Walters and Cameron Doyle
-------------------
The Eye of Reverie
The Eye of Reverie is a small faction within the Druidic tribes of Genasi that broker agreements with the nobles of the Fey courts. Stepping into the thriving plane of positive energy to confront the denizens of the gloam court, and navigating the turbulent channels of the summer court and its ever shifting political landscape.
While their focus is narrow, their duties seem to be ever expanding. As the influence of the Feywilds seems to grow stronger with each passing moon, more and more Fey creatures are entering the forests the Druids call home. The murderous Redcaps, are one of the most note worthy. But lesser nobles also have been met by travellers, with grandiose titles and bold claims of power.
Druids tied to The Eye of Reverie often play the role of emissaries or ambassadors for the material plane. They’re highly disciplined, often training for years to perfect the art of maintaining a sound mind, even when faced with the threat of Fey magic.
Occasionally however, when called for, The Eye develop a different kind of warrior. A strike force, so to speak, hand-picked to eliminate invasive Fey like the redcap, before they have the chance to spread. In this way, a member of “The Eye” may occasionally find themselves in the company of adventurers, taking careful measures to avoid ever completely revealing who they truly are.
Forged in Collaboration with Brent Walters
-------------------
The Ember Release
The winter gales lashed out in the night, a tempest of ice and wind. An endless howl carried on the air, seemingly without end. The coast was dark, the sky was nothing but rolling clouds of the blackest greys; blocking out even the faintest sliver of a moonbeam. But one soft light pierced the perpetual gloom. Shades of orange and red spilled forth from the cave mouth, appearing as a beacon of warmth, of light, of life.
The cavern shifted with the flicker of fire. It was warm and bright, almost as if the cave somehow hid a small pocket of summer sequestered away from the storm raging outside. Stoic figures stood within bearing grim expressions. The Ash-Cloaked, faced grave danger for this was the night of the ritual they called “the Ember Release”: a tradition wherein the rift which they normally protected was allowed to open. Deep in the heart of winter, they did this in order to vent the intense power and heat which builds inside the volcano, coursing into the material realm through its connection to the plane of elemental fire.
Pyren stepped forward, his bare chest prickling as he walked towards the rift. The heat that radiated from the tear in reality seemed alive, as if sensing his approach. He steeled his nerves. What he was asking of those who stood behind him… they deserved at least this much. He looked around each face in half circle forming behind him, then turned back towards the rift, and raised his hand. A pulse shot through his chest, forming a tether between himself and the rift, drawing on the ancestral magic which flowed through his veins. In unison those around him also rose their palms to the fire, lashing themselves to the rift, lending their strength to his.
The lights swirled, the heat rose to the point of burning, and the portal groaned and expanded. Ember and ash swirled from its depths; then with a scream, beings of fire and hatred tore through, clawing their way into reality, unleashing blood curdling cries of hunger and anguish. They charged forward, smashing against the wards and protective shields that had been set up in preparation, screeching as their forms shifted across and pushed against the barriers.
The druids hands blackened, the darkness spreading up their forearms as they pushed to hold the burning entities back just a moment longer, starving them of air. And then all of a sudden, the wards broke. The spirits shattered through the boundaries in waves of cinder and flame. The elementals of fire swarmed into the cavern, to be met by the druids bearing down against the assault.
Much later, the rift had returned to a slow, rippling glow. The Genasi were silent as they drifted around the cavern, nursing wounds or moving the dead. Staring out into the cold at the mouth of the cave, Pyren cradled something in his hand. A Cinder Shard. He knew that inside this tiny gem was stored all the intense rage and crystallised heat of an inferno, but he was numb to the scalds it was burning into is palm. He wept, as the bodies of so many of his people lay still behind him, not for failure, or grief, but simply for the futility of it.
So it was almost a thousand years ago, when Pyren of the Conflagration led the Genasi people. And in all these intervening years, nothing has changed. Nothing has ever hinted at an end to the painful cycle. Until now. Just last year, when Solis, his descendent, led the Ash-Cloaked to complete the ritual, something had seemed unfinished. They had realised that something was wrong – the volcano was not sated. And when they studied this last shard – the last in a long line… they saw that it was cracked.
Forged in collaboration with Brent Walters
Like moths to a flame, the promise of wealth rarely goes ignored. Least of all by the types of settlers you’re likely to find seeking their fortune in the freshly dug tunnels of the Amber Mines. This rag-tag cooperative of backyard born excavators and fly-by-night opportunists might honestly struggle to stumble upon a quest in a tavern. However, just as a similarly opportunistic, but slightly more organised leader emerges to stop their burgeoning industry from imploding, the miners may have stumbled upon more that their insatiable greed had bargained for.
The hungry excavation of the earth beneath the forest has inadvertantly connected entire networks of natural subterranean caverns, borne from the cavities left in the sediment from enormous, decomposed fallen trees, victims of one of the many volcanic eruptions that once ravaged the coast.
These caverns have hastened the rate at which the amber veins can be exhumed, but as the twisting tunnels have begun to be explored new evidence is emerging that suggests traces of a long forgotten civilisation that once called the Black Rock Coast home. Ancient scrawl on rough hewn rock, primitive tools encased in amber and fossilised creatures that are no longer native to the area are just some of the discoveries shutting down large sections of the mine.
Forged in collaboration with Holly Fox
-------------------
Preservation or Profit - The Leaders of The Amber Mines
Amanda Planeta's shaved head glistens with perspiration, and her filthy overalls show that she still spends more time underground than not. A no-nonsense dwarven entrepeneur, her dig has yielded more amber than any other, though she also has the most questions aimed at her surrounding her methods. As her team delves deeper, following rich veins of maple sap and other valuable commodities, an alarming number of workers have never returned, waved off as personal carelessness or unfortunate accidents. Concerned with her operation's practices, the council appointed Mannett Shepard as their representative and site inspector. Mannett's blonde hair and colourful clothes stay remarkably clean as they traverse the tunnels, looking for signs of cultural or ecological significance, or particularly hazardous areas, to be blocked off indefinitely for inspection or expensive improvements. The two could not be more different, with Amanda constantly trying to run risky gambits without Mannett finding out about them, and Mannett condemning ever growing portions of the yield and the dig to inspections. Tension is growing, with both parties looking for ways to gain the upper hand in the arms race over the balance between peace and profit.
Forged in collaboration with Josh Kurganoff, Holly Fox, and Scott Ryan
-------------------
Thuun’Dakar the Ravenous Shadow
Many names once existed for a horror which few now have ever heard of. Ancient denizens of the Black Rock forest told legends of a monstrosity which dwelled deep beneath the earth, a creature of myth and nightmare which skulked through shifting tunnels where no natural light touched. The few who were washed over by the pale yellow light of its eyes and lived to tell the tale back then called it Thuun’Dakar.
But that name is an old name, long-since forgotten. The mines had been untouched for centuries by the time that the settlers of Firstshore first explored them, and the newcomers gave a new title to the low rumbling which rolled and echoed through the dirt and stone beneath the earth. A rumbling which gives way to the sound of a thousand scythes excising rock from wall and scratching lines in the floor leaving no life behind. Of pale yellow light creeping through holes in the walls, only to flood into tunnels as they fills with screams while the lucky few flee in fear. They call it, the Ravenous Shadow.
But who could honestly believe such a tale? Not those in charge of the Amber Mines, that’s for sure. They haven’t seen any sign of this nonsense. The missing diggers were just soft headed fools who got lost… in single passage mines.
Forged in collaboration with Brent Walters
-------------------
The Skitter Shrieks
A Public Service Announcement from the Head Researcher of the Consortium of Curiosities, Professor Nitra Fizzlebottle
Small insatiably curious bipeds that rarely grow larger than about a foot and a half tall, these chthonic omnivores are primarily found in the twisting natural passage ways that occur around the area known as the Amber Mines, it is here that they scrabble in the ancient rootways feeding off of the insect life and fungi that share their domain.
Nearly blind, the Skitter-shrieks get their name from their liberal use of echolocation and their chirps and whistles can be heard nearly anywhere with the mines, in fact it's considered an incredibly bad omen if you can't hear them as it usually means one of the larger predators or similar danger is close.
The Shrieks make their nests upon the fecund beds of the luminescent fungi that grows throughout the mines, a practice that has caused a biological marvel of symbiosis where the creatures have appeared fuse with the plant over time. You may be tempted to risk rummaging through a nest in search of the small chunks of infused amber the Shrieks prize so highly.
But approach with caution: A shocked Shrieker will rarely hesitate from expelling a large cloud of fungal spores, whose properties are prone to induce wild hallucinations.
Forged in collaboration with Kat Winslade and Cameron Doyle
-------------------
The Genasi Druids of the Black Rock Coast
Deep in the forest resides a druidic clan, consisting predominantly of Genasi of Earth and Fire, who found that the strength of the elemental essence of the area grows deeper inland. Towards the volcano, powerful elemental forces threaten to emerge and destroy all they touch. These druids have taken it upon themselves to safeguard the area, and the Tabaxi tribes have made careful effort to keep these elemental custodians and the frontiersmen apart to avoid potential conflict. Of perhaps several clans scattered across the land and sea nearby, the tribe settled within the forest and inside the mountains call themselves The Ash Cloaked, a tribute to everything the forces of nature have buried, that they serve to protect. The Genasi may have descended from the original inhabitants of the Black Rock Coast, their elemental nature a byproduct of the calamity which decimated their numbers long ago; or perhaps they're also migrants just like settlers of Firstshore; the truth may indeed be lost to the ages, unless it is sealed away below the mountain. The Ash Cloaked have to keep watch in every direction, with new threats emerging more frequently than they can quell them, hence sometimes sealing them away is the only option, losing their history - and their domain - one ritual at a time. While they have a strong community and sense of tradition, their duty as custodians of the land make them weary at best to outsiders. While the tabaxi of Sablereach are largely at peace with their habitat, and of little threat to the clan's mission, the settlers of Firstshore are of growing concern for the conservative guardians, and view their reckless expansion and excavation as a direct threat to their duties, and may see fit to intervene before they dig into areas long since condemned and forgotten...
Forged in collaboration with Brent Walters and Cameron Doyle
-------------------
The Eye of Reverie
The Eye of Reverie is a small faction within the Druidic tribes of Genasi that broker agreements with the nobles of the Fey courts. Stepping into the thriving plane of positive energy to confront the denizens of the gloam court, and navigating the turbulent channels of the summer court and its ever shifting political landscape.
While their focus is narrow, their duties seem to be ever expanding. As the influence of the Feywilds seems to grow stronger with each passing moon, more and more Fey creatures are entering the forests the Druids call home. The murderous Redcaps, are one of the most note worthy. But lesser nobles also have been met by travellers, with grandiose titles and bold claims of power.
Druids tied to The Eye of Reverie often play the role of emissaries or ambassadors for the material plane. They’re highly disciplined, often training for years to perfect the art of maintaining a sound mind, even when faced with the threat of Fey magic.
Occasionally however, when called for, The Eye develop a different kind of warrior. A strike force, so to speak, hand-picked to eliminate invasive Fey like the redcap, before they have the chance to spread. In this way, a member of “The Eye” may occasionally find themselves in the company of adventurers, taking careful measures to avoid ever completely revealing who they truly are.
Forged in Collaboration with Brent Walters
-------------------
The Ember Release
The winter gales lashed out in the night, a tempest of ice and wind. An endless howl carried on the air, seemingly without end. The coast was dark, the sky was nothing but rolling clouds of the blackest greys; blocking out even the faintest sliver of a moonbeam. But one soft light pierced the perpetual gloom. Shades of orange and red spilled forth from the cave mouth, appearing as a beacon of warmth, of light, of life.
The cavern shifted with the flicker of fire. It was warm and bright, almost as if the cave somehow hid a small pocket of summer sequestered away from the storm raging outside. Stoic figures stood within bearing grim expressions. The Ash-Cloaked, faced grave danger for this was the night of the ritual they called “the Ember Release”: a tradition wherein the rift which they normally protected was allowed to open. Deep in the heart of winter, they did this in order to vent the intense power and heat which builds inside the volcano, coursing into the material realm through its connection to the plane of elemental fire.
Pyren stepped forward, his bare chest prickling as he walked towards the rift. The heat that radiated from the tear in reality seemed alive, as if sensing his approach. He steeled his nerves. What he was asking of those who stood behind him… they deserved at least this much. He looked around each face in half circle forming behind him, then turned back towards the rift, and raised his hand. A pulse shot through his chest, forming a tether between himself and the rift, drawing on the ancestral magic which flowed through his veins. In unison those around him also rose their palms to the fire, lashing themselves to the rift, lending their strength to his.
The lights swirled, the heat rose to the point of burning, and the portal groaned and expanded. Ember and ash swirled from its depths; then with a scream, beings of fire and hatred tore through, clawing their way into reality, unleashing blood curdling cries of hunger and anguish. They charged forward, smashing against the wards and protective shields that had been set up in preparation, screeching as their forms shifted across and pushed against the barriers.
The druids hands blackened, the darkness spreading up their forearms as they pushed to hold the burning entities back just a moment longer, starving them of air. And then all of a sudden, the wards broke. The spirits shattered through the boundaries in waves of cinder and flame. The elementals of fire swarmed into the cavern, to be met by the druids bearing down against the assault.
Much later, the rift had returned to a slow, rippling glow. The Genasi were silent as they drifted around the cavern, nursing wounds or moving the dead. Staring out into the cold at the mouth of the cave, Pyren cradled something in his hand. A Cinder Shard. He knew that inside this tiny gem was stored all the intense rage and crystallised heat of an inferno, but he was numb to the scalds it was burning into is palm. He wept, as the bodies of so many of his people lay still behind him, not for failure, or grief, but simply for the futility of it.
So it was almost a thousand years ago, when Pyren of the Conflagration led the Genasi people. And in all these intervening years, nothing has changed. Nothing has ever hinted at an end to the painful cycle. Until now. Just last year, when Solis, his descendent, led the Ash-Cloaked to complete the ritual, something had seemed unfinished. They had realised that something was wrong – the volcano was not sated. And when they studied this last shard – the last in a long line… they saw that it was cracked.
Forged in collaboration with Brent Walters