Nestled in a little valley among the ruins of Oldtown rests a small encampment composed of discarded RVs and shipping containers among the heaps of ancient, eroding metal. This is the Scrap Pile, a little outpost for survivors and travelers who come to rest their weary heads and aching feet and find peace from the dangers of the surrounding wilds. Shipments of supplies come from across the Craterlands every two weeks or so, but the rest of the time the Scrap Pile makes do with whatever is on hand, which typically isn't much. Regardless, this little slice of solace is more than welcoming to any and all that arrive at its gates: Provided they aren't a Grafted, that is.
Welcome to the Scrap Pile! I designed this tavern to be a unique and engaging experience, where PCs can band together to ride out the STORM. The goal is, and often will be, survival: Between monster attacks, scarce supplies, and the ever-looming threat of the STORM, teamwork and careful planning are practically required. Anyway, let's get on to the rules:
No excessive swearing (if you swear, censor it with [1GP]), vulgar content, or aggression towards other players. Be nice to each other, and keep things PG-13 at minimum.
PvP isn't allowed inside the Scrap Pile. If you want to fight another PC, make sure that they agree to the fight, and take it outside.
Have a backup character ready in case things go bad. This isn't an actual rule more than it is a recommendation. The wilds are a deadly place, and the tavern is... slightly safer.
Don't destroy or damage the Scrap Pile or its defenses. You'll need them if the STORM comes...
The first 3 in-game days this server is online will have enough supplies where everyone can have adequate food and water. After that, you will need to find supplies on your own.
No PC is allowed to bring rations with them into the experiment.
If everyone in the tavern dies, or the Scrap Pile is destroyed, the experiment is concluded and the tavern closed.
Tips for Survival (You don't have to follow these, but don't expect to live long if you don't):
Wandering out into the wilderness without a compass is a death wish. Just make sure you don't leave your compass for something else to find.
The Swamp is especially dangerous, but rewarding to explore. Just don't enter without a weapon.
The Craterlands are a desolate waste with nothing of value. Don't go that way. Especially if its to investigate any mysterious towers.
If you see a suspicious-looking pile of scrap metal, or worse, a deactivated robot, leave it be and try not to make any noise.
If you find a Grafted, and it doesn't know that you're there, quietly leave the area and DON'T LOOK IN ITS EYES.
If a Grafted spots you, RUN. Don't reply to anything they say to you, or your life is forfeit.
Make it back to somewhere safe before nightfall.
If you hear the horns of a Hunt, hide somewhere and stay there until dawn.
Every 10 days, the STORM arrives. Make sure you, your teammates, and the Tavern are all prepared to fight.
With all that being said, get out there and survive, and more importantly, have fun! Good luck... good luck... By the gods, good luck.
And remember, A.X.I.O.M. is watching!
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
A muscular young man (22 ish?) arrives at the Scrap Pile. He's wearing a battered Forest Ranger hat, and his arms are bound by cloth strips. He looks very much like your typical tough guy.
A towering (and I do mean towering) figure in a long yellow coat and a cylindrical metal helmet covering their entire head and face almost glides in. He carries a large, T shaped piece of wood with a standard flying from it. He stands at a little over 9 feet tall, and you can tell by the mismatched fabrics that the creature's coat has been extended multiple times. It looks almost like they are on stilts.
A muscular young man (22 ish?) arrives at the Scrap Pile. He's wearing a battered Forest Ranger hat, and his arms are bound by cloth strips. He looks very much like your typical tough guy.
The Scrap Pile is a rather disheveled-looking place: Pieces of scrap metal and wood are roughly welded and nailed and bolted together to make crude fencing and walls, and the 'buildings' are made of broken-down RVs and shipping containers stacked on one another, with scrap stairs and platforms reaching some of the ones higher up. The ground is barren earth, hard and cracked from the intense morning sun, with some clearly dead vegetation around the more shaded corners of the camp. However, you can't get inside yet, as there is a crude gate denying you entry.
A rusty-looking robot is sitting on an old armchair that was dragged over beside the remains of a campfire, sharpening a knife. They don't seem to notice you.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
A towering (and I do mean towering) figure in a long yellow coat and a cylindrical metal helmet covering their entire head and face almost glides in. He carries a large, T shaped piece of wood with a standard flying from it. He stands at a little over 9 feet tall, and you can tell by the mismatched fabrics that the creature's coat has been extended multiple times. It looks almost like they are on stilts.
You see a muscular-looking man in front of the gates to the inside of the camp. 'Hey!' you hear him grunt.
A muscular young man (22 ish?) arrives at the Scrap Pile. He's wearing a battered Forest Ranger hat, and his arms are bound by cloth strips. He looks very much like your typical tough guy.
The Scrap Pile is a rather disheveled-looking place: Pieces of scrap metal and wood are roughly welded and nailed and bolted together to make crude fencing and walls, and the 'buildings' are made of broken-down RVs and shipping containers stacked on one another, with scrap stairs and platforms reaching some of the ones higher up. The ground is barren earth, hard and cracked from the intense morning sun, with some clearly dead vegetation around the more shaded corners of the camp. However, you can't get inside yet, as there is a crude gate denying you entry.
A rusty-looking robot is sitting on an old armchair that was dragged over beside the remains of a campfire, sharpening a knife. They don't seem to notice you.
'Um, robot guy? How do I get into this place' He sees the robot and shivers. He's had enough experience with robots, none of it good.
A tall, winged figure descends into the Scrap Pile. Their gender cannot be determined, but they seem to be wearing the attire of an ancient civilization, close to Greek or Roman during the Age of their gods.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Fully Homebrew Campaign, feel free to explore it! (Otherworlds inaccessible) YonStore/Wolf&Rat - Siberius "Sie" Phynxx, Zalanthaar Heavensfield, Keilynn Othraph; Fallout D&D - Zach Koch; Last of Us D&D - Leveth; Town of Agreal - Zalanthaar Heavensfield; Scrap Pile - Æshe; Site-72 - Dr. Elias Shaw; The Electric State - Zachariah; Eris' Fortune - Magi (Maykaa, Mage, Sage); The Nightmare Hold - Keilynn Othraph; Lord's Rest Inn - Lokan'Ahri
A muscular young man (22 ish?) arrives at the Scrap Pile. He's wearing a battered Forest Ranger hat, and his arms are bound by cloth strips. He looks very much like your typical tough guy.
The Scrap Pile is a rather disheveled-looking place: Pieces of scrap metal and wood are roughly welded and nailed and bolted together to make crude fencing and walls, and the 'buildings' are made of broken-down RVs and shipping containers stacked on one another, with scrap stairs and platforms reaching some of the ones higher up. The ground is barren earth, hard and cracked from the intense morning sun, with some clearly dead vegetation around the more shaded corners of the camp. However, you can't get inside yet, as there is a crude gate denying you entry.
A rusty-looking robot is sitting on an old armchair that was dragged over beside the remains of a campfire, sharpening a knife. They don't seem to notice you.
'Um, robot guy? How do I get into this place' He sees the robot and shivers. He's had enough experience with robots, none of it good.
The robot lifts up their head to address you, and walks over to the gate, their metal joints creaking as they walk. "Well, what business are ya seekin' round these parts?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
'Somewhere away from it all. Where I can work hard and honestly in the burning desert heat. And where the demons of the dark can't follow me. You got that here?'
A towering (and I do mean towering) figure in a long yellow coat and a cylindrical metal helmet covering their entire head and face almost glides in. He carries a large, T shaped piece of wood with a standard flying from it. He stands at a little over 9 feet tall, and you can tell by the mismatched fabrics that the creature's coat has been extended multiple times. It looks almost like they are on stilts.
You see a muscular-looking man in front of the gates to the inside of the camp. 'Hey!' you hear him grunt.
The creature bows. "I would like to request entry. My abilities would likely be very beneficial to your organization."
'Somewhere away from it all. Where I can work hard and honestly in the burning desert heat. And where the demons of the dark can't follow me. You got that here?'
"Well, ya came to the right place. And I s'pose if ya were Grafted, you'd be clawin' at me through the gate, so I guess you're alright." The robot pushes a large wooden box over to their side of the wall, and a little eye-slit slides open. They look at the giant figure and the winged newcomer.
"An' whaddabout you two? You got some business 'ere too?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
Fully Homebrew Campaign, feel free to explore it! (Otherworlds inaccessible) YonStore/Wolf&Rat - Siberius "Sie" Phynxx, Zalanthaar Heavensfield, Keilynn Othraph; Fallout D&D - Zach Koch; Last of Us D&D - Leveth; Town of Agreal - Zalanthaar Heavensfield; Scrap Pile - Æshe; Site-72 - Dr. Elias Shaw; The Electric State - Zachariah; Eris' Fortune - Magi (Maykaa, Mage, Sage); The Nightmare Hold - Keilynn Othraph; Lord's Rest Inn - Lokan'Ahri
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Nestled in a little valley among the ruins of Oldtown rests a small encampment composed of discarded RVs and shipping containers among the heaps of ancient, eroding metal. This is the Scrap Pile, a little outpost for survivors and travelers who come to rest their weary heads and aching feet and find peace from the dangers of the surrounding wilds. Shipments of supplies come from across the Craterlands every two weeks or so, but the rest of the time the Scrap Pile makes do with whatever is on hand, which typically isn't much. Regardless, this little slice of solace is more than welcoming to any and all that arrive at its gates: Provided they aren't a Grafted, that is.
Welcome to the Scrap Pile! I designed this tavern to be a unique and engaging experience, where PCs can band together to ride out the STORM. The goal is, and often will be, survival: Between monster attacks, scarce supplies, and the ever-looming threat of the STORM, teamwork and careful planning are practically required. Anyway, let's get on to the rules:
Tips for Survival (You don't have to follow these, but don't expect to live long if you don't):
With all that being said, get out there and survive, and more importantly, have fun! Good luck... good luck... By the gods, good luck.
And remember, A.X.I.O.M. is watching!
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Ooo, going to make a character...*
Back for the sleepover!!!
A muscular young man (22 ish?) arrives at the Scrap Pile. He's wearing a battered Forest Ranger hat, and his arms are bound by cloth strips. He looks very much like your typical tough guy.
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
*When I get the time...*
Back for the sleepover!!!
A towering (and I do mean towering) figure in a long yellow coat and a cylindrical metal helmet covering their entire head and face almost glides in. He carries a large, T shaped piece of wood with a standard flying from it. He stands at a little over 9 feet tall, and you can tell by the mismatched fabrics that the creature's coat has been extended multiple times. It looks almost like they are on stilts.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
'Hey' grunts the guy in the Forest Ranger hat
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
The Scrap Pile is a rather disheveled-looking place: Pieces of scrap metal and wood are roughly welded and nailed and bolted together to make crude fencing and walls, and the 'buildings' are made of broken-down RVs and shipping containers stacked on one another, with scrap stairs and platforms reaching some of the ones higher up. The ground is barren earth, hard and cracked from the intense morning sun, with some clearly dead vegetation around the more shaded corners of the camp. However, you can't get inside yet, as there is a crude gate denying you entry.
A rusty-looking robot is sitting on an old armchair that was dragged over beside the remains of a campfire, sharpening a knife. They don't seem to notice you.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
You see a muscular-looking man in front of the gates to the inside of the camp. 'Hey!' you hear him grunt.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
'Um, robot guy? How do I get into this place' He sees the robot and shivers. He's had enough experience with robots, none of it good.
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
A tall, winged figure descends into the Scrap Pile. Their gender cannot be determined, but they seem to be wearing the attire of an ancient civilization, close to Greek or Roman during the Age of their gods.
Fully Homebrew Campaign, feel free to explore it! (Otherworlds inaccessible)
YonStore/Wolf&Rat - Siberius "Sie" Phynxx, Zalanthaar Heavensfield, Keilynn Othraph; Fallout D&D - Zach Koch; Last of Us D&D - Leveth; Town of Agreal - Zalanthaar Heavensfield; Scrap Pile - Æshe; Site-72 - Dr. Elias Shaw; The Electric State - Zachariah; Eris' Fortune - Magi (Maykaa, Mage, Sage); The Nightmare Hold - Keilynn Othraph; Lord's Rest Inn - Lokan'Ahri
'Am I hallucinating? Probably. Is it the sun, or is it my... no. It had better not be that.'
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
The robot lifts up their head to address you, and walks over to the gate, their metal joints creaking as they walk. "Well, what business are ya seekin' round these parts?"
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
'Somewhere away from it all. Where I can work hard and honestly in the burning desert heat. And where the demons of the dark can't follow me. You got that here?'
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
The creature bows. "I would like to request entry. My abilities would likely be very beneficial to your organization."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
'Don't ask me, I don't live here. Yet.'
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
"Well, ya came to the right place. And I s'pose if ya were Grafted, you'd be clawin' at me through the gate, so I guess you're alright." The robot pushes a large wooden box over to their side of the wall, and a little eye-slit slides open. They look at the giant figure and the winged newcomer.
"An' whaddabout you two? You got some business 'ere too?"
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
'Grafted? What's Grafted?'
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
"Apologies, I was under the impression that you were a gate guard. I am Adonis of the Post-Mortal Union."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
'I'm Ben. Ben Mayfield' He seems strangely emotional just saying his own name
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature
"My, If I may, Strange Automaton, What have I been brought here for?"
Fully Homebrew Campaign, feel free to explore it! (Otherworlds inaccessible)
YonStore/Wolf&Rat - Siberius "Sie" Phynxx, Zalanthaar Heavensfield, Keilynn Othraph; Fallout D&D - Zach Koch; Last of Us D&D - Leveth; Town of Agreal - Zalanthaar Heavensfield; Scrap Pile - Æshe; Site-72 - Dr. Elias Shaw; The Electric State - Zachariah; Eris' Fortune - Magi (Maykaa, Mage, Sage); The Nightmare Hold - Keilynn Othraph; Lord's Rest Inn - Lokan'Ahri