Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer Creatures
Frozen Sick
D&D Beyond Basic Rules
Basic Rules (2014)
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Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer CreaturesFrozen SickD&D Beyond Basic RulesBasic Rules (2014)Sign in to view your library & saved favorites.
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*the above is a placeholder name until somebody thinks of a better one*
LOCATION:
As sunset extends its beckoning hand across the murky waters of what was once known as the Bay, patrons and guests begin to gravitate towards the remaining dimming rays, scooting their rusted beach chairs across the sandy pavement in search of some dying warmth. The buzzing LEDs strung up around the pool area begin their hum, throwing a gentle glow upon those who've chosen to remain in the frigid water.
Soon, it will be time to go and rest, or that is what they tell themselves. There is no such thing as rest, merely that of concealment---safety comes where you cannot be seen, since the barbed-wire fences surrounding the deteriorating building provide no protection from an enemy that does not feel pain.
For now, all is calm. Angela, the place's generous proprietor, sips juice out of a coconut half, eyes closed, and all the others---regulars and newcomers---enjoy themselves as the sun flickers and the moon rises. Here is a respite from the tumult and confusion that wraps its sinews around the West Coast; from the proselytizing and control inflicted upon the citizens who unwarily seek any form of protection. This is the Waypoint, and here, the compass of life points in all directions.
PREMISE:
In 1907, Doctor Duncan MacDougall, a Scottish physician residing in Haverhill, Massachusetts, unwittingly ended society as we know it. His curiosity, and what stemmed from it, was ultimately the greatest act of creation and destruction that humankind has ever seen.
In an experiment conducted across several dying human patients and later, animals, he attempted to measure the patient's weight before and after death to determine the weight of the soul [as well as if there was a soul at all]. Although, throughout his six subjects, only one experienced a change (which was later attributed to external factors, Roberts et al 1996), that of a 21.3-gram decrease.
However, that was not enough for Duncan MacDougall. Refusing to believe that that would be all, he managed to acquire five more patients (somehow), in an attempt to trap the soul as it left the body. Although four of the patients died without any meaningful result, and the capturing machine showed no increase in mass, the fifth was different. Upon its death, MacDougall instantaneously reported a 21.3-gram increase in the capturing mechanism. And, through this, he created the first Soulless, as they have come to be known.
Soulless are only formed once a person's soul is trapped or devoured, whether upon death or not, but they suffer no physical change---actually becoming more physically evolved as they become more predatory beasts---but they are consumed by a vicious hunger for souls---and are wracked with pain if they are unable to acquire any. Through manipulation, exploitation, and general skullduggery, they've built an empire around soul-trafficking and stealing. Although medicines have been developed to safeguard one's soul, they are withheld by big pharma for the rich---and regularly fail anyway.
Now, New York stands as a beacon of hope for those who have none, a safe, walled city that promises protection from the Soulless and a 'normal' life. However, the West Coast has fallen into shambles as a series of warring factions battle over territory and resources, while only exploiting those who innocently sway to their side. Although safety comes in numbers, some might say that it's better to be alone.
The Waypoint stands as one of a series of patched-together inns and hotels spread along what was once the Californian coast, operated by a neutral group attempting to recover some of what society once was. Although it's only meant to be an oasis for those passing through, its larger size and generous reputation have led to it becoming popular among many travelers---some opting to stay with those they meet instead of ambling onwards to whatever's left down South.
RULES:
No different from other taverns, here they are:
-- No discrimination, ostracization, and/or untowardness towards someone because of their gender identity, sexual orientation, religion, ethnicity, etc etc. This is the most enforced rule.
-- I was gonna put only humans, but where's the fun in that? Play whatever you want, and we'll say that humankind has grown up alongside many other species. :D
-- Oh, yeah! Keep quote chains to a minimum (10 posts or less), since they do really kill those on mobile.
-- If something makes someone uncomfortable and they ask you to stop, please do not continue.
-- Keep it PG-13, since there are underage users here, but take it to PMs if it somehow comes up.
-- Work "Hotel California" into your first post to show that you've read these rules.
-- More of a note/reminder for me: I'm gonna be working on familiar faces/quest board-ish/other stuff around the hotel soon, so expect that to be a bit more fleshed out.
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
*Angela?*
Hello! Call me Tana
My pronouns are She/Her
I have Autism. And, you would probably call me Trans Femme, Pansexual pancake, and Ace
I will always support you. To the best of my ability. Because that is my way of showing how much I care
Current Dice Code: [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] + [roll]1d4[/roll] = [roll][roll:-6]+[roll:-5]+[roll:-4]+[roll:-3]+[roll:-2]+[roll:-1][/roll]
Current List of Children: Golden, Salem, Wes, Aspen, Link, and Foalin.
*Quoi? Definitely didn’t take the idea from anywhere…*
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
*A Hotel? In California? Hmmmm...*
Approaching from the Southeast. A person.
They wear an orange prison uniform, a pair of large, cracked glasses, a crude, black-and-pink striped trenchcoat, and a similar hand-crafted top hat. They carry a briefcase in one hand, labeled "WILEY INSTITUTE OF TOXICOLOGY."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
A short, plump woman, carrying wire-rimmed glasses and all the poise of a dancer with her, approaches the man, smiling. She too carries a bag, a fine work of alligator skin and metal, into which she digs her hand, rooting around for some trinket or oddment.
While she fishes, she glances up at the man, her face a mess of insomnia and port-wine stains. “Who’re you?” she inquires, voice crackling with the air of a thousand puffs.
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
Seemingly overnight, a massive circus-like structure had popped up; the area was gated, but the chain-link was decorated with balloons and paper flowers. There were four main tents, with the colors being: black and gold, black and green, black and red, and black and purple. There were two smaller ones, black and blue, and blue and white, respectively. Also, there was a seemingly empty pink one. people in pink and white striped clothes, short fool hats ("horned fool hats"), and masks with simple smiles and eyes painted on, running the area, selling popcorn, caramel apples, and more. at the front under an arch was someone in a black and white suit, their face mask-like with seemingly pure white paint, their eyes a dark blue, and they also had a similarly striped top hat. On their suit was "ticket taker."
he/him|call me Chara (more known), or void
PM me the word AVACADO
LORD AND MASTER OF THE VOID.
A man warily approaches, his eyes lined with the sorrows of a thousand sleepless nights, feebly stumbling through the sandy grass on down towards the tents in the early morning. Donned in a bright-green shirt and forgettable black pants, he approaches the ticket-taker, mumbling something between his clenched teeth.
He then repeats it once more. "You aren't supposed to be here."
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
"I'm... Wiley, pleased to meet you!" The rail-thin individual bows. "I am a confectioner from Texas. Business hasn't been too good, what with the soul-eating monstrosities and the economic collapse."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
the ticket taker just smiles "im afraid i dont catch you meaning, however would you like to buy a ticket? our shows happen all evening, and the times are on the backs"
he/him|call me Chara (more known), or void
PM me the word AVACADO
LORD AND MASTER OF THE VOID.
"Nice to meet you, Wiley. Been hard for all of us, that's for sure. I'm Angela, the proud owner of this here---" (she gestures back towards the dilapidated building) "---hotel." Then, after a pause, still rummaging through her bag, she lowers her eyes to the briefcase, frowning. "Do confectioners usually specialize in toxicology? Were people poisoning your candies?"
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
*honestly i like the waypoint for a name.*
he/him|call me Chara (more known), or void
PM me the word AVACADO
LORD AND MASTER OF THE VOID.
*also wes, i kinda lore dumped on you in the PM just so u know*
he/him|call me Chara (more known), or void
PM me the word AVACADO
LORD AND MASTER OF THE VOID.
They laugh, not derisively but as if she had made a good joke. "No, no, not at all. I actually used to work as a pharmacist, and I used sugarwork to make medical lozenges before moving away from pharmaceuticals. My toxicology specialization is curing drug overdoses, since non-opioids can not be fixed with a basic narcan and with the oncoming apocalypse there's been a lot of, uh, less-than-safe needles going around. I also know how to detect and deal with common poisons, from household chemicals to natural toxins like strychnine, ricin, muscarine, stuff like that."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I saw.*
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
She purses her lips---not in doubt, but in interest. "You're going to be a fun type to have around," she laughs. "Had a cousin who helped me run the place, once upon a time. She actually owned it before I came and---never mind, it's a long story. Things got too overwhelming, what with the apocalypse and all, and she just couldn't take it anymore. Would've loved to have you around then."
She pauses for a second, remembering her loss, and then gestures back towards the hotel. "Let's not let me bore you with stories. Get you all settled. This here is the Hotel, but it's most properly known as the Waypoint. You interested in a room? Got plenty of space."
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
Wiley nods solemnly. "I would love a room. Anywhere I can rest and ply my trade is welcome."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
he flicked a hand and a ticket appeared in it before he offered it to the man "and this one can be on the house for you, being the first to get one"
he/him|call me Chara (more known), or void
PM me the word AVACADO
LORD AND MASTER OF THE VOID.
“I know your type. Those who come and attack a space with their spectacle. The lights and smoke will hide everything going on backstage.”
He grins, somewhat maniacally, and takes the ticket—somewhat roughly—from the ticket-taker. “So, fine. My family disappeared with your kind. But I’ll take a ticket and see if I can find them as well.”
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig
*What a lovely Californian hotel!*
Heyo! You can call me Link. Here’s a bit about me:
Roomba Knight, Architect of the Cataclysm, Foxy Lunar Archpriest. Dubbed The Fluffy Bowman by Golden. He/Him
Theatre Kid, Ravenclaw, bookworm, DM, Lego fanatic, mythology nerd, pedantic about spelling. I also love foxes, cats, otters, and red pandas!
I love K-pop Demon Hunters and Korean Mythology. If you want to ask me about something, send me a PM!
I try to keep the peace and be neutral most of the time…
Angela smiles in return, then finally pulls her hand out of her bag, scattering oddments around her feet. Standing up, she offers Wiley a key. “Good for any room. Rent is on the house, since money can’t do much for a person anymore.”
When you left this town, with your windows down
And the wilderness inside
Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass
'Til the road and sky align
extended sig