Welcome to my campaign: The Colony of Nature's Majesty
Each player character starts off in their home realm, at their living area. Since SarshaSiren was the first user to give me a detailed description of her home realm and home village, I am starting with her story first.
The sounds of Melodygrove have always sung in harmony with the natural world — a constant, eternal composition woven into the land itself. This morning, though, things change a bit. In Thimbleburrow, lanterns are put out by the wind, and melodies struggle to be heard. Wind swirls and leaves whirl in a specific spot right outside SarshaSiren's home, and suddenly a creature, whose structure is made out of palladium, emerges from the swirling leaves and wind. The locals are afraid, but the creature looks at SarshaSiren, then the portal, then SarshaSiren, and then the portal again. It barks at SarshaSiren, as if wanting her to enter the swirling wind.
The melodies of Thimbleburrow falter, their usual symphony interrupted by the unnatural disturbance. SarshaSiren stands at the threshold of her moss-roofed cottage, bioluminescent fungi casting a faint glow beneath her feet. The palladium-clad creature watches her, its bark reverberating in harmony with the discordant winds. The portal swirls like an unsteady note in an unfinished song.
The villagers murmur in fear, but SarshaSiren knows the rhythms of nature are shifting. Her magic has always nurtured unity, weaving life together like an intricate composition. If this disruption remains unchecked, Melodygrove’s balance could unravel.
I take a breath, feeling the resonance of the land beneath me, and step confidently through the portal, trusting the guidance of palladium creature.
"As SarshaSiren steps through the portal, the sensation of movement fades, replaced by the stillness of a new realm. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and freshwater. Before her, a river flows, steady and unremarkable—no shimmer, no mystical glow. Just water, moving at its natural pace. To the west, beyond the river’s curve, blueish-purple flora sways gently. Their colors, while unusual, do not pulse or hum with energy. Instead, the faintest traces of Mana linger in their petals—a subtle presence rather than an overwhelming force. They are tinged with magic, not defined by it. The landscape is quiet, familiar yet undeniably foreign. Nothing feels overtly magical. But something still feels different—an unknown presence beneath the surface of normalcy. The metal creature is still trying to lead SarshaSiren, and is heading towards the blue-ish purple plants."
Ooc: The portal also stays open behind you, and you can literally travel through it at any time in this campaign. But for now, I recommend following the Canine Golem. (Also this time don't fill my role as DM, I literally wasn't expecting you to start writing what happens, and I have plans lol 😉)
The skies overhead churn, their once-playful gusts now coiling with tension. Jharun leans against the mast of the Wivenhoe, perched atop the rigging like a shadow watching the horizon. The creak of sails falters, the wind stuttering as though unsure of its path. At the docks below, the gensai waits, as the winds tell of something new approaching.
The crew glances skyward, whispering tales of omens and curses. But Jharun feels it—this is no mere storm. The air trembles with forgotten echoes, ancient and calling. For one born of the clouds, the message is clear: the winds are shifting.
His boots hit the planks with practiced grace as he descends, as they dock at a town he is not familiar with. The storm in the distance catches in his silver-shot hair, and for a heartbeat, the wind stills—as if holding its breath. He decides to move away from the pending storm, walking through town.
He takes a breath, feeling the wind circle my form like an old friend. The sea behind he fades, and he step confidently through the small town, guided by the silence between the gusts.
The flames of Fotia flicker in the distance, their glow casting long shadows across the towering trees of Prime Dasos. High above the unforgiving swamps below, nestled within the ancient bark of a living monolith, Embercrest stirs with the quiet hum of morning.
Ralnor moves with practiced precision, his footsteps steady along the carved pathways of the tree-village. The embers of Fotia demand vigilance, and he—knight, protector, guardian of balance—has never faltered in his watch.
Then—reality fractures.
In a heartbeat, a portal forces itself open, right in front of him. The air warps around it, bending the familiar into the unknown.
The villagers stop. The flames crackle. The ancient trees groan in response.
But Ralnor? He does not flinch. He has spent his life standing between destruction and preservation, between life and death. This—whatever this is—is merely another force that demands reckoning.
The portal remains, swirling like a wound in the fabric of Dasos. It does not ask. It does not wait. It simply is.
A metal creature, made from palladium, hops out of the portal, and barks at Ralnor. It looks back and forth between him and the portal, wanting him to go through.
Ooc: okay, everyone... I do enjoy your descriptions of your own worlds, and I will let you continue to describe what happens in your realms. However, I'm the creator of the Ancient Wilds, so leave that realm's descriptions and etc to me, alright? (Seriously though, I am kinda laughing about this, about the fact I have to say this lol)
Ralnor's eyes focus on the creature, unyielding and resolved.
“I shall follow you my friend but sadly I was not prepared to explore the unknown. Give me but a second and I will come.”
Ralnor with a slow and steady cadence walks around his home packing everything he might need on this strange journey. As he packs his calligraphers supplies he quickly writes a note for anyone that might come searching for him. After a few minutes Ralnor stands in front of the portal with all of his equipment.
“Well I guess I will see you on the other side my friend.”
Ooc: lol, you told the Golem to wait a moment. Good idea, though, to prepare for the unknown.
Ooc: Also, I just found out I can view character sheets, and I noticed there were some dice rolls. What were they even for? (Oh, don't mind me, this is just my first time being a DM lol)
DM tips: I recommend you all get used to the idea of custom items, because most things in this campaign will be custom, not included in the website's item list.
Ralnor steps forward, his boots pressing into dense clay, the soil beneath him rich and thick with history. The land here is firm yet malleable, shaped by time, rain, and unseen forces.
The scent of earth fills the air—raw, untouched, grounding. Around him, the Ancient Wilds stretch in quiet vastness, an untamed realm whispering of old magic and forgotten stories. To the east, distant structures hint at the presence of the Colony of Nature’s Majesty, though their forms remain obscured by distance.
This place is new, yet it carries the weight of something ancient—something waiting to be uncovered.
The skies overhead churn, their once-playful gusts now coiling with tension. Jharun leans against the mast of the Wivenhoe, perched atop the rigging like a shadow watching the horizon. The creak of sails falters, the wind stuttering as though unsure of its path. At the docks below, the gensai waits, as the winds tell of something new approaching.
The crew glances skyward, whispering tales of omens and curses. But Jharun feels it—this is no mere storm. The air trembles with forgotten echoes, ancient and calling. For one born of the clouds, the message is clear: the winds are shifting.
His boots hit the planks with practiced grace as he descends, as they dock at a town he is not familiar with. The storm in the distance catches in his silver-shot hair, and for a heartbeat, the wind stills—as if holding its breath. He decides to move away from the pending storm, walking through town.
He takes a breath, feeling the wind circle my form like an old friend. The sea behind he fades, and he step confidently through the small town, guided by the silence between the gusts.
DM:
The alleyway was quiet, tucked between two stone buildings that had long since been worn by salt and storm. A place where the wind funneled through in sharp, restless gusts, always shifting, always speaking.
Jharun moved through, boots light on the cobbled ground, feeling the wind hesitate—an unnatural pause, as if something unseen had stolen its breath.
Then—the portal tore open.
Mana crackled in the air, warping the space between the alley walls. The edges shimmered like heat waves, swirling into a void of movement. The gusts returned, but they were no longer aimless—they surged outward from the portal, pushing against Jharun’s coat with force.
Before he could react, a Canine Golem leapt through—its palladium form gleaming, dusted with stray particles of energy from its abrupt arrival. It landed with precision, its mechanical limbs adjusting instinctively, then turned its gaze upon Jharun.
The air pulsed. The wind circled. And the golem barked, sharp and direct.
It did not attack. It did not threaten. It simply watched him—then turned, eyes flicking toward the swirling portal behind it.
Ralnor stands frozen for a moment. Having never seen anything like this world he mutters to himself “I guess I'm no longer on Dasos.” First taking in the idea of the ground being soft followed by the realization that he is on the ground not in a tree. After a few minutes of acclimating to the situation Ralnor wonders if the golem is planning to follow him and a slight regret at the fact he did not bring someone from his village that had survival skills. With all of those thoughts swirling around in his head he starts to walk east and calls out to anyone.
Ralnor stands frozen for a moment. Having never seen anything like this world he mutters to himself “I guess I'm no longer on Dasos.” First taking in the idea of the ground being soft followed by the realization that he is on the ground not in a tree. After a few minutes of acclimating to the situation Ralnor wonders if the golem is planning to follow him and a slight regret at the fact he did not bring someone from his village that had survival skills. With all of those thoughts swirling around in his head he starts to walk east and calls out to anyone.
“Is anyone here?”
DM:
The call echoes across the clay-rich terrain, swallowed by the stillness of the Ancient Wilds. For a moment, silence lingers—no response from the land, no figures emerging from the distance.
Then—four sharp barks.
The Canine Golem faces Ralnor directly, its palladium body shifting slightly, as though adjusting to his presence. The barks are deliberate, spaced apart just enough to feel more like a message than an instinct.
It does not move forward. It does not retreat. It simply waits, its metallic gaze locked onto him, as though expecting something.
Is this a warning? A directive? Or just confirmation that he’s not alone?
...
The four barks fade into the still air, but the message lingers. Without hesitation, the Canine Golem turns, its palladium form shifting in the soft clay beneath it.
It moves eastward, its stride controlled—not hurried, not hesitant. But it is aware. Every few steps, it glances back, its metallic gaze locking onto Ralnor, ensuring his presence remains constant. It is not simply moving forward—it is leading.
The terrain stretches ahead, untouched and unfamiliar. The air feels dense, not with danger, but with purpose. Something waits in the distance.
(OOC: If you're fine with players coming up with reasons their character would trust the golem I have an idea for Ralnor. The golem might have a symbol on it the people from Ralnor's realm all know. The symbol belongs to an unknown group powerful enough to survive in and control the land of Fotia. The name of the group in Sylvan translates to “those that control the forge”. Also I am assuming Ralnor is following them.)
(OOC: If you're fine with players coming up with reasons their character would trust the golem I have an idea for Ralnor. The golem might have a symbol on it the people from Ralnor's realm all know. The symbol belongs to an unknown group powerful enough to survive in and control the land of Fotia. The name of the group in Sylvan translates to “those that control the forge”. Also I am assuming Ralnor is following them.)
Ooc: the Canine Golems have the symbol of a great tree, like a redwood tree.
Jharun’s fingers twitched near the hilt at his belt, not out of fear, but instinct—an old habit from days when trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. But the golem looked as if it hadn’t come to fight He studied it, the metallic gaze, the glow at its core, the silence behind the forged eyes. Whatever mage constructed this creature hadn't just shaped metal had given it a purpose. “All right then” he responded to the golem, not knowing what would be awaiting him as he crossed. He took a look at the town and back at the docks, seeing the ship he called home for years. Adventures like these are what he’s always known, exploring the unknown. He gave quick breath as he stepped forward, his coat flaring behind him as he crossed the threshold of cobblestones into the light.
Welcome to my campaign: The Colony of Nature's Majesty
Each player character starts off in their home realm, at their living area. Since SarshaSiren was the first user to give me a detailed description of her home realm and home village, I am starting with her story first.
DM:
The sounds of Melodygrove have always sung in harmony with the natural world — a constant, eternal composition woven into the land itself. This morning, though, things change a bit. In Thimbleburrow, lanterns are put out by the wind, and melodies struggle to be heard. Wind swirls and leaves whirl in a specific spot right outside SarshaSiren's home, and suddenly a creature, whose structure is made out of palladium, emerges from the swirling leaves and wind. The locals are afraid, but the creature looks at SarshaSiren, then the portal, then SarshaSiren, and then the portal again. It barks at SarshaSiren, as if wanting her to enter the swirling wind.
Does she follow the metal creature?
The melodies of Thimbleburrow falter, their usual symphony interrupted by the unnatural disturbance. SarshaSiren stands at the threshold of her moss-roofed cottage, bioluminescent fungi casting a faint glow beneath her feet. The palladium-clad creature watches her, its bark reverberating in harmony with the discordant winds. The portal swirls like an unsteady note in an unfinished song.
The villagers murmur in fear, but SarshaSiren knows the rhythms of nature are shifting. Her magic has always nurtured unity, weaving life together like an intricate composition. If this disruption remains unchecked, Melodygrove’s balance could unravel.
I take a breath, feeling the resonance of the land beneath me, and step confidently through the portal, trusting the guidance of palladium creature.
DM:
"As SarshaSiren steps through the portal, the sensation of movement fades, replaced by the stillness of a new realm. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and freshwater. Before her, a river flows, steady and unremarkable—no shimmer, no mystical glow. Just water, moving at its natural pace. To the west, beyond the river’s curve, blueish-purple flora sways gently. Their colors, while unusual, do not pulse or hum with energy. Instead, the faintest traces of Mana linger in their petals—a subtle presence rather than an overwhelming force. They are tinged with magic, not defined by it. The landscape is quiet, familiar yet undeniably foreign. Nothing feels overtly magical. But something still feels different—an unknown presence beneath the surface of normalcy. The metal creature is still trying to lead SarshaSiren, and is heading towards the blue-ish purple plants."
Ooc: The portal also stays open behind you, and you can literally travel through it at any time in this campaign. But for now, I recommend following the Canine Golem. (Also this time don't fill my role as DM, I literally wasn't expecting you to start writing what happens, and I have plans lol 😉)
The skies overhead churn, their once-playful gusts now coiling with tension. Jharun leans against the mast of the Wivenhoe, perched atop the rigging like a shadow watching the horizon. The creak of sails falters, the wind stuttering as though unsure of its path. At the docks below, the gensai waits, as the winds tell of something new approaching.
The crew glances skyward, whispering tales of omens and curses. But Jharun feels it—this is no mere storm. The air trembles with forgotten echoes, ancient and calling. For one born of the clouds, the message is clear: the winds are shifting.
His boots hit the planks with practiced grace as he descends, as they dock at a town he is not familiar with. The storm in the distance catches in his silver-shot hair, and for a heartbeat, the wind stills—as if holding its breath. He decides to move away from the pending storm, walking through town.
He takes a breath, feeling the wind circle my form like an old friend. The sea behind he fades, and he step confidently through the small town, guided by the silence between the gusts.
Ooc: the following is for JehanO.
DM:
The flames of Fotia flicker in the distance, their glow casting long shadows across the towering trees of Prime Dasos. High above the unforgiving swamps below, nestled within the ancient bark of a living monolith, Embercrest stirs with the quiet hum of morning.
Ralnor moves with practiced precision, his footsteps steady along the carved pathways of the tree-village. The embers of Fotia demand vigilance, and he—knight, protector, guardian of balance—has never faltered in his watch.
Then—reality fractures.
In a heartbeat, a portal forces itself open, right in front of him. The air warps around it, bending the familiar into the unknown.
The villagers stop. The flames crackle. The ancient trees groan in response.
But Ralnor? He does not flinch. He has spent his life standing between destruction and preservation, between life and death. This—whatever this is—is merely another force that demands reckoning.
The portal remains, swirling like a wound in the fabric of Dasos. It does not ask. It does not wait. It simply is.
A metal creature, made from palladium, hops out of the portal, and barks at Ralnor. It looks back and forth between him and the portal, wanting him to go through.
Ooc: okay, everyone... I do enjoy your descriptions of your own worlds, and I will let you continue to describe what happens in your realms. However, I'm the creator of the Ancient Wilds, so leave that realm's descriptions and etc to me, alright? (Seriously though, I am kinda laughing about this, about the fact I have to say this lol)
Ralnor's eyes focus on the creature, unyielding and resolved.
“I shall follow you my friend but sadly I was not prepared to explore the unknown. Give me but a second and I will come.”
Ralnor with a slow and steady cadence walks around his home packing everything he might need on this strange journey. As he packs his calligraphers supplies he quickly writes a note for anyone that might come searching for him. After a few minutes Ralnor stands in front of the portal with all of his equipment.
“Well I guess I will see you on the other side my friend.”
With that Ralnor walks into the portal.
Ooc: lol, you told the Golem to wait a moment. Good idea, though, to prepare for the unknown.
Ooc: Also, I just found out I can view character sheets, and I noticed there were some dice rolls. What were they even for? (Oh, don't mind me, this is just my first time being a DM lol)
DM tips: I recommend you all get used to the idea of custom items, because most things in this campaign will be custom, not included in the website's item list.
DM:
Ralnor steps forward, his boots pressing into dense clay, the soil beneath him rich and thick with history. The land here is firm yet malleable, shaped by time, rain, and unseen forces.
The scent of earth fills the air—raw, untouched, grounding. Around him, the Ancient Wilds stretch in quiet vastness, an untamed realm whispering of old magic and forgotten stories. To the east, distant structures hint at the presence of the Colony of Nature’s Majesty, though their forms remain obscured by distance.
This place is new, yet it carries the weight of something ancient—something waiting to be uncovered.
What will Ralnor do next?
Wait, has the game started? I mean... campaign.
DM:
The alleyway was quiet, tucked between two stone buildings that had long since been worn by salt and storm. A place where the wind funneled through in sharp, restless gusts, always shifting, always speaking.
Jharun moved through, boots light on the cobbled ground, feeling the wind hesitate—an unnatural pause, as if something unseen had stolen its breath.
Then—the portal tore open.
Mana crackled in the air, warping the space between the alley walls. The edges shimmered like heat waves, swirling into a void of movement. The gusts returned, but they were no longer aimless—they surged outward from the portal, pushing against Jharun’s coat with force.
Before he could react, a Canine Golem leapt through—its palladium form gleaming, dusted with stray particles of energy from its abrupt arrival. It landed with precision, its mechanical limbs adjusting instinctively, then turned its gaze upon Jharun.
The air pulsed. The wind circled. And the golem barked, sharp and direct.
It did not attack. It did not threaten. It simply watched him—then turned, eyes flicking toward the swirling portal behind it.
Then back to him.
Then to the portal.
The message was clear.
It wanted him to follow.
Yeah, it started yesterday or the day before.
Ralnor stands frozen for a moment. Having never seen anything like this world he mutters to himself “I guess I'm no longer on Dasos.” First taking in the idea of the ground being soft followed by the realization that he is on the ground not in a tree. After a few minutes of acclimating to the situation Ralnor wonders if the golem is planning to follow him and a slight regret at the fact he did not bring someone from his village that had survival skills. With all of those thoughts swirling around in his head he starts to walk east and calls out to anyone.
“Is anyone here?”
DM:
The call echoes across the clay-rich terrain, swallowed by the stillness of the Ancient Wilds. For a moment, silence lingers—no response from the land, no figures emerging from the distance.
Then—four sharp barks.
The Canine Golem faces Ralnor directly, its palladium body shifting slightly, as though adjusting to his presence. The barks are deliberate, spaced apart just enough to feel more like a message than an instinct.
It does not move forward. It does not retreat. It simply waits, its metallic gaze locked onto him, as though expecting something.
Is this a warning? A directive? Or just confirmation that he’s not alone?
...
The four barks fade into the still air, but the message lingers. Without hesitation, the Canine Golem turns, its palladium form shifting in the soft clay beneath it.
It moves eastward, its stride controlled—not hurried, not hesitant. But it is aware. Every few steps, it glances back, its metallic gaze locking onto Ralnor, ensuring his presence remains constant. It is not simply moving forward—it is leading.
The terrain stretches ahead, untouched and unfamiliar. The air feels dense, not with danger, but with purpose. Something waits in the distance.
The path has been chosen.
Now, Ralnor must walk it.
DM tips: beginning portals, the ones that lead to your character's homes, will stay open through the entire campaign.
DM tips: trust Canine Golems when they want to lead you somewhere. I'm using them as means of showing players where to go.
(OOC: If you're fine with players coming up with reasons their character would trust the golem I have an idea for Ralnor. The golem might have a symbol on it the people from Ralnor's realm all know. The symbol belongs to an unknown group powerful enough to survive in and control the land of Fotia. The name of the group in Sylvan translates to “those that control the forge”. Also I am assuming Ralnor is following them.)
Ooc: the Canine Golems have the symbol of a great tree, like a redwood tree.
Jharun’s fingers twitched near the hilt at his belt, not out of fear, but instinct—an old habit from days when trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford. But the golem looked as if it hadn’t come to fight He studied it, the metallic gaze, the glow at its core, the silence behind the forged eyes. Whatever mage constructed this creature hadn't just shaped metal had given it a purpose. “All right then” he responded to the golem, not knowing what would be awaiting him as he crossed. He took a look at the town and back at the docks, seeing the ship he called home for years. Adventures like these are what he’s always known, exploring the unknown. He gave quick breath as he stepped forward, his coat flaring behind him as he crossed the threshold of cobblestones into the light.
hi