>>6302051


Your forbidden studies taught you that this apocalypse is not the first. Ages before yours were broken, yet some civilizations clawed their way back by preparing mechanisms to rekindle mana. Those legacies endure, hidden in ruin and myth. To restore magic, you must seize one of these paths.

Each is perilous. Each exacts a price. But without one, the world will remain a barren husk.

The first path is the Red Hand Time Portal. This was a creation of your own order: an immense archway of blood-forged stone, crafted to pierce the veil of ages. Through it, one might siphon the raw magic of distant centuries, bleeding the past to feed the present. It demands human sacrifice on a vast scale—souls offered to rip open the currents of time. If restored, it could quickstart sorcery overnight, but only by drowning the world in blood.

Another path lies within the Crystal Vaults. Beneath the mountains are tombs of obsidian, within which slumber hearts of crystallized starlight. Forged by an elder race, these vaults were meant to capture the brilliance of fallen stars. With them, entire ley-lines could be rewoven, restoring magic through alien purity. But their seals remain unbroken, guarded by watchers who were never meant to sleep.

A third path winds down to the World-Tree Roots. Before men, before demons, the World-Tree bound heaven, earth, and underworld. Though its trunk has long since rotted, its roots writhe deep beneath the crust, pulsing with primal life. To reach them requires delving into black caverns where light never lived, braving beasts born of hunger and madness. If tapped, these roots could flood the surface with untamed vitality, birthing a new age—whether or not it bends to your will.

The last path leads to the Demon’s Shed Skin. Your master is not dead. He has merely moved on, abandoning this world like a husk once it was consumed. When he outgrew his form, preparing to cross dimensions and devour another realm, he sloughed off his immense skin, leaving it stretched across a continent. That skin is not inert; it still hums with residual infernal energy, a grotesque echo of his presence. Harvesting this power could awaken sorcery in a single violent surge, but the price is corruption: anyone who channels it risks becoming a vessel for what he left behind. His shadow may be gone, but his skin still whispers.

>>6302052


What Path Do You Choose?

> The Red Hand Time Portal
Location: The ruins of the Red Hand Citadel, where your order once carved its mark into stone and blood.
Purpose: Rebuild the shattered portal and restore its engines of sacrifice.
Requirement: Gather victims to bleed the past into the present.
Risk: Survivors and rival cults know the citadel well—they may contest your claim.

> The Crystal Vaults
Location: The Blackspire Mountains, their hollow peaks hiding obsidian tombs that shelter crystalline hearts of starlight.
Purpose: Breach the vaults, awaken their cold brilliance, and reshape the ley-lines.
Requirement: Unlock the seals of the precursors, whose guardians still linger.
Risk: Alien purity may refuse mortal hands.

> The World-Tree Roots
Location: The Chasmgate, a colossal rent in the earth said to descend into the World-Tree’s buried veins.
Purpose: Tap into the primal lifeblood still writhing beneath the crust.
Requirement: Survive the depths, where beasts of hunger and madness thrive.
Risk: The roots may flood the land with wild, untamed life beyond your control.

> The Demon’s Shed Skin
Location: The Scablands, where your master’s cast-off husk sprawls across a continent like a mountain range of flesh.
Purpose: Harvest the lingering infernal power woven into the shed skin.
Requirement: Devise rituals strong enough to harness corruption without succumbing to it.
Risk: The skin whispers—those who linger too long may not remain themselves.

>>6302053

Choose your starting resources. You may pick up to three.

> Fanatical Cultists – Three survivors of the Red Hand who still cling to your shadow. They are malnourished, half-mad, and poorly armed, but utterly devoted. They can guard you, fetch supplies, and serve as your first sacrifices if needed.

> Cache of Food – A stockpile of dried meat, black bread, and foul-tasting water, scavenged from old Red Hand stores. Enough to sustain ten people for a month. In a world where famine rules, food is as good as gold.

> Cache of Weapons – Rusted blades, battered spears, and a few serviceable bows left over from the Demon War. They are not elegant, but they are sharp enough to kill. Armed followers are far more dangerous than starving ones.

> Captured Prisoners – Five frightened villagers from a nearby ruin, bound and gagged. They may be sacrificed immediately to fuel your rites, or—if treated carefully—broken and remade as cultists. Their hatred of you burns bright.

> Hidden Library Fragments – A bundle of charred parchment and cracked tablets salvaged from your old sanctum. Deciphering them may reveal rituals long thought lost, granting you faster access to the deeper secrets of restoration.

> Portable Shrine – A small altar of black stone, light enough to move with effort. Consecrated with the blood of your order, it allows you to perform true rituals anywhere, even without a permanent fortress or temple.

> Beast of Burden – A hulking, six-legged pack animal, mutated but docile. Its hide is tough, its jaws strong, and it can carry several times its weight. It may also attract predators or raiders who covet it.

> Safehouse – A hidden refuge in the ruins of the old citadel. Concealed by collapsed walls and wards that still work somehow, it offers safety for rest, storage, and planning. If discovered, however, you risk losing everything inside.

> Ritual Components – Rare herbs, bone dust, obsidian knives, and silver blood-bowls: the tools of sorcery. Enough to complete one powerful working, if the knowledge to attempt it can be found. Once spent, they are gone.

> Local Map – A tattered parchment marked with old Red Hand notes. It shows nearby villages, demon-haunted ruins, and the faint outline of mountain passes. Not all of it may still be accurate—but in a world of ash, even flawed guidance is precious.

>>6302054
>> The World-Tree Roots... at least for now.

We clearly regret what we did at least a LITTLE bit, even if only in the "Ah, shit, everything's fucked now. Bastard was lying!" sense and not the "OH GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE??!?!" sense. We don't want the aliens screwing with reality now that it's laid bare, and now we recognize the folly of trucking with demons (or, for that matter our old cult's grand plans; we just saw how well the LAST time that happened went). I could be tempted to go for the crystal vaults if we find something that makes opening it up later easier.

Question, what kind of rituals will the portable shrine allow? Is it all blood magic or nah? If it's not ALL blood magic;

> Portable Shrine – A small altar of black stone, light enough to move with effort. Consecrated with the blood of your order, it allows you to perform true rituals anywhere, even without a permanent fortress or temple.
> Beast of Burden – A hulking, six-legged pack animal, mutated but docile. Its hide is tough, its jaws strong, and it can carry several times its weight. It may also attract predators or raiders who covet it.
> Hidden Library Fragments – A bundle of charred parchment and cracked tablets salvaged from your old sanctum. Deciphering them may reveal rituals long thought lost, granting you faster access to the deeper secrets of restoration.

We're immortal, so we can tank for our pack animal. Any raiders who come can either be part of our new order or sacrificial fodder to strengthen us on our journey. Or beast feed, as the need may be.

>>6302063
>Question, what kind of rituals will the portable shrine allow? Is it all blood magic or nah? If it's not ALL blood magic;


The magic leylines have been compromised, the demon lord drank all the magic from the planet like one would drink a milkshake with a straw, then moved on. To fuel your magic, you need to find something that still has some magic in it and sacrifice it.

The easiest thing to sacrifice are living people, thus blood magic still works. But you could sacrifice some magical trinket that you find, or a bunch of rare components to make a ritual, it doesn't necessarily need to be blood magic.

>>6302063
+1

>>6302053
> The World-Tree Roots
>>6302054
> Fanatical Cultists
> Captured Prisoners
> Beast of Burden

>>6302081
Do animals work? I imagine that if so, it's at a reduced rate compared to people.

>>6302054
> The Crystal Vaults
> Fanatical Cultists – Three survivors of the Red Hand who still cling to your shadow. They are malnourished, half-mad, and poorly armed, but utterly devoted. They can guard you, fetch supplies, and serve as your first sacrifices if needed.

> Cache of Food – A stockpile of dried meat, black bread, and foul-tasting water, scavenged from old Red Hand stores. Enough to sustain ten people for a month. In a world where famine rules, food is as good as gold.

> Cache of Weapons – Rusted blades, battered spears, and a few serviceable bows left over from the Demon War. They are not elegant, but they are sharp enough to kill. Armed followers are far more dangerous than starving ones.

The wind howled through the Chasmgate depression, carrying with it the dry, metallic scent of exposed stone and distant carrion. You tethered Grusk, your six-legged pack beast, to a gnarled, dead tree at the cliff’s edge. He nuzzled at a patch of brittle grass, gnawing on it with the precision of a creature accustomed to harsh terrain, the occasional clink of gear on his thick hide echoing in the wind.

You climbed the tree for a better vantage, the brittle branches groaning beneath your weight, and there they were—the three paths descending into the chasm, each whispering danger in its own way.

To the left, the Stone Slide plunged sharply in loose gray scree, dotted with jagged boulders that had clearly tumbled from the heights above. A few half-buried stones bore scratches in curious spirals; the marks were crude, almost intentional—perhaps the remnants of recent elf runes, warning or claiming this part of the chasm. Grusk sniffed nervously, ears twitching, sensing the faint, lingering scent of something humanoid—Chasm Elves, perhaps, or trespassing scavengers.

Directly ahead, the Fallen Timber Path twisted between the cliffs, a tangle of charred logs bridging shallow ravines. You could see where the wood had cracked under weight, sharp splinters catching the light. Amid the blackened branches, delicate patches of moss clung stubbornly, glowing faintly in the dim sunlight—Grusk pawed at the largest patch, evidently interested in its aroma, while you noticed faint scratch marks on some of the logs, elf-made sigils almost erased by wind and rain.

To the right, the Narrow Ravine sloped into darkness, the walls steep and shadowed. Streaks of mineral dust caught the light, forming pale lines that reminded you of veins, almost as if the earth itself was bleeding. A gust of wind carried a whisper of movement from deep inside—a flutter of wings or perhaps a tail flick—and you thought you glimpsed tiny figures, Chasm Elves or their scouts, darting between rocks.

>>6302278


From this height, the paths seemed like veins leading into the heart of a living, breathing wound in the world. Loose stones tumbled silently, and the faint hum of latent magic, long dead, teased your memory. You could almost feel the pulse of the chasm, like the echo of some ancient ritual, waiting for hands daring—or desperate—enough to reach its depths.

Grusk shifted, low growl rumbling in his chest as he stared down the ravine. You untied his reins, letting him nibble at the rough grass while you considered your next move. Somewhere in the shadows, the elves watched. Somewhere below, treasures and dangers waited, buried beneath dust, stone, and decay.

> Stone Slide – A sharp scree of loose gray rock tumbles down the cliffside. Jagged boulders litter the slope, and faint spirals scratched into stone hint at recent elf runes. The descent promises hazards, scavengers, and perhaps hidden scraps of treasure.
> Fallen Timber Path – Charred logs form a precarious bridge across shallow ravines. Moss clings stubbornly to the wood, faintly glowing, while scratch marks and sigils suggest Chasm Elf scouts have passed this way. Balance and caution are required, but the path may conceal minor magical finds.
> Narrow Ravine – Shadowed walls drop steeply into a twisting corridor of rock and dust. Streaks of pale mineral dust catch the light like veins, and movement in the shadows hints at elusive Chasm Elf patrols. The route is tight, dark, and full of potential surprises.

>>6302089
>Do animals work? I imagine that if so, it's at a reduced rate compared to people.

Yes, but you'd need an impractically large amount of animals.

>>6302280
>Fallen Timber Path – Charred logs form a precarious bridge across shallow ravines. Moss clings stubbornly to the wood, faintly glowing, while scratch marks and sigils suggest Chasm Elf scouts have passed this way. Balance and caution are required, but the path may conceal minor magical finds.

>>6302280
> Fallen Timber Path – Charred logs form a precarious bridge across shallow ravines. Moss clings stubbornly to the wood, faintly glowing, while scratch marks and sigils suggest Chasm Elf scouts have passed this way. Balance and caution are required, but the path may conceal minor magical finds.

>>6302323
>>6302329


You run your hand over Grusk’s thick hide, the beast chewing lazily at the glowing moss sprouting from the cliff’s edge. His six legs shift restlessly, claws grinding stone, as though he too can sense the precariousness of the Fallen Timber Path ahead. The logs jut over the ravine like bones, blackened and splintered by fire long past, creaking faintly in the wind.

The aether here stirs faintly—whispers of something bound within wood and ash. You feel it tug at the fragments of your hidden library, urging you onward. Magic lingers down this path, however faint. But your companion looms large, his massive weight enough to splinter the bridges with a single misstep.

Grusk gazes at you with dull, patient eyes, chewing his last mouthful of moss, as though awaiting your judgment. To leave him tied here risks losing him to raiders or prowlers. To bring him may mean he plunges with the path itself.

The chasm is silent, waiting for your decision.

> Bring Grusk – Trust your companion’s strength and careful footing. He will carry supplies and the shrine, though every step across the timbers risks collapse.
> Leave Grusk – Tie him securely to the dead tree above and descend alone, carrying only what you can bear. He will be safer here, though vulnerable if Chasm Elves or scavengers discover him.
> Write in

>>6302462

[MECHANICS: If you bring Grusk, he has 5% chance of slipping and plunging down into the chasm with every post]

I feel like running a session this weekend, so I'll be around all day today and tomorrow running this, if someone wants to come along for the ride.

>>6302462
> Bring Grusk – Trust your companion’s strength and careful footing. He will carry supplies and the shrine, though every step across the timbers risks collapse.

>>6302531


You step onto the first charred log, testing its weight with a cautious toe. Grusk follows, careful but heavy; the bridge groans beneath him, black splinters cracking and falling into the depths. Your shrine sways in your pack, and the wind carries the faint scent of moss and ash.

Halfway across, the path narrows sharply. Below, the ravine yawns, its shadows deep and impenetrable. Then, a low clicking sound halts you mid-step. Ahead, a giant beetle, its carapace glinting like dull obsidian, struts across the timber like it owns the place. Its mandibles click, dripping sap-like fluid onto the logs. Clearly territorial, it doesn’t seem inclined to move.

Grusk stiffens, hackles raised, growling low. The air hums with tension, the fallen timber vibrating under the combined weight of beast and rider. You have a decision to make.

> Have Grusk attack the beetle – Let your six-legged companion strike, hoping his strength and size can force it off the path. Risk of being wounded.
> Try to coax the beetle aside – Use gestures and loud noises to scare it off without combat. Risk of being attacked.
> Leap past the beetle yourself – Attempt to vault or balance past while Grusk waits behind. Risky but avoids direct combat.
> Retreat and find another path – Backtrack and choose a different path
> Attempt to crush the beetle with a log – Try to knock the beetle aside with logs from the bridge. Risk of tipping the bridge.
> Ignore it and slowly inch forward – Hope it stays put or moves on its own, proceeding with extreme caution. Risk of being attacked.
> Write in

Rolled 15 (1d100)

Rolling chance of Grusk falling. On 1-5 he falls.

Rolled 49 (1d100)

Rolling for Chasm Elves.

On 1-10 they show up.

>>6302543
> Try to coax the beetle aside – Use gestures and loud noises to scare it off without combat. Risk of being attacked.

Rolled 25, 30, 7 = 62 (3d100)

>>6302597


Rolling 3d100 DC 50, you need 2 successes to pass unscathed, with 1 success you sustain a minor scratch, zero successes and you're severely wounded.

In the fuure I will tell you the DC with each action, I just forgot this time around.

>>6302597
>>6302661


You flail your arms and scream, hoping to scare the giant beetle off the Fallen Timber Path. For a heartbeat, it seems as if your loud protests might work—but then it attacks. Its massive mandibles snap shut around your right arm, and pain lances through your muscle and bone. You cry out, twisting yourself free just in time to avoid being knocked off the logs.

Grusk, startled by the commotion, leaps back and scrambles down the slope. The bridge shudders under your weight, groaning with each careful step. Logs splinter and fall into the dark ravine below, the sound echoing like distant thunder. You press forward, adrenaline pushing you past fear, past the beetle, until the crumbling bridge gives way behind you and you find solid ground once more.

The slope beneath is steep and littered with debris: charred wood, stones, and loose earth. Rodents scatter at your approach, tiny eyes glinting in the gloom. Grusk pads silently beside you, still tense, ears twitching at every sound. You pick a careful path downward and soon discover a crevice large enough to shelter both of you. It’s narrow but deep enough to block the wind. Grusk collapses with a low rumble, curling into the corner and soon drifting to sleep.

You take stock of yourself. Your right arm throbs painfully from the beetle’s pinch. Blood stains your sleeve, and the wound looks nasty. Without medicine, infection is a serious risk, but you have nothing—no herbs, no bandages, nothing beyond what the chasm itself might provide.

As you inspect the crevice, your eyes catch a patch of mushrooms growing in the cracks of the rock. They look edible, at least by the standards of desperate survival. Around the crevice, the scuttling of rodents suggests another potential source of food—but catching them will be difficult.

The night stretches ahead, cold and dark, and your next actions could mean life or death.

> Harvest mushrooms – Forage the crevice for the fungi; may provide minimal sustenance and keep you alive.
> Hunt rodents – Attempt to catch or trap the scurrying rodents for protein; risky and time-consuming.
> Scavenge for medicine – Search the slope and crevice for moss, herbs, or other natural remedies to treat your wound.
> Rest and tend wound minimally – Conserve energy, bandage crudely with scraps, but risk infection worsening overnight.
> Explore further for supplies – Make a cautious excursion down the slope in search of other edible or useful items nearby.
> Use Grusk to help forage – Let your companion sniff out mushrooms or small prey while keeping yourself safer.
> Write in

>>6302664
> Harvest mushrooms – Forage the crevice for the fungi; may provide minimal sustenance and keep you alive.

>>6302689


You kneel among the mushrooms, plucking the largest caps, when the soil beneath them crumbles slightly under your fingers. The mushrooms are festering over the remains of a corpse, long decayed, its bones now brittle fragments scattered among the rocks. A metallic glint catches your eye.

Beneath the rot lies a small Obsidian figurine. You pick it up carefully. It pulses faintly with magic, though the energy leaks away almost visibly, a thin sliver of air around it glowing red in the right light. The figurine is warm to the touch, like it retains some stubborn heartbeat of life.

Magic drains from it at an abnormal rate, the lifeforce of the world no longer sustaining it. You calculate that within a few months, it will be completely spent. Statues like these were often placed in shrines to gather energy from worshippers, bestowing minor blessings in return. Its power is fleeting, but potent—if used wisely, it could aid you in ways you need most.

Your arm aches, the beetle’s wound throbbing, and the chill of the crevice presses against your spine. The figurine could be of use immediately… or preserved for later.

> Break the figurine and use its magic to heal yourself – Sacrifice the relic’s remaining power for immediate restoration.
> Keep the figurine intact for later use – Carry it with you, using it sparingly for a more critical moment in the future.
> Attempt to infuse the shrine with the figurine’s remaining magic – Channel its power into your portable altar for future rituals
> Write in

>>6302701
> Keep the figurine intact for later use – Carry it with you, using it sparingly for a more critical moment in the future.

>>6302701
>> Keep the figurine intact for later use – Carry it with you, using it sparingly for a more critical moment in the future.

>>6302701
>Break the figurine and use its magic to heal yourself – Sacrifice the relic’s remaining power for immediate restoration.

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>6302763
>>6302853
>>6302880


Alright, you keep the figurine. Rolling for infection, on a 1-50 your wound gets infected.

>>6302763
>>6302853
>>6302880
>>6303022


The night was restless. Grusk slept curled near the mouth of the crevice, his sides rising and falling with steady, thunderous breaths, while you kept watch with the obsidian figurine in your lap. Its warmth bled into your palm, the faint red aura shifting in the darkness whenever your fevered eyes caught it from the right angle. For a time, you allowed yourself to believe it was keeping the sickness at bay.

But when dawn came—pale and gray, seeping through the dust of Chasmgate—you knew the truth.

Your arm is swollen, the skin taut and angry where the beetle’s mandibles pierced it. Thin streaks, livid red, crawl upward toward your shoulder, each pulse of blood like fire in your veins. The fever grips you harder now, soaking your clothes in sweat and leaving your vision swimming. The infection is spreading fast. Without medicine—or some desperate gamble—you may not last long.

The crevice feels less like a shelter now and more like a tomb. You step into the chill air of the slope, Grusk lumbering behind you, his heavy head tilting as if he senses your weakness. Below, the endless depression of the Chasm yawns wider. The paths are there—dark, broken, each one promising danger. But perhaps also salvation.

Three lie before you, etched into the jagged terrain. Yet you are not blind to your state. Pushing forward with fever coursing through your body could be suicide. Perhaps there is another way.


> Collapsed Ledge – The broken shelf of a rockslide, descending in a mess of loose stones and shattered boulders. The footing will be treacherous, but the slope itself seems to funnel deeper, hinting at a way forward.
> Overhang Pass – A narrow path pressed against the chasm wall, where the cliff’s face curves outward to form a precarious ledge. The wind whips and howls there, strong enough to tug a man into the abyss, but it might grant you progress without losing altitude.
> Jagged Outcrop – A crag of serrated stone jutting far into the hollow below, like a crooked bridge or a splintered spine. Its angles are harsh and strange, and while it could offer a shortcut—or something unexpected—it might lead anywhere at all.
> Scavenge for supplies – Search the surrounding slope for traces of travelers, lost camps, or remnants of fallen climbers. Rusted tools, scraps of cloth, old fire pits—anything might still linger, abandoned and forgotten.
> Forage for herbs – Kneel among the cracks and shadows, searching for mosses, lichens, or roots that might serve as crude medicine. You know the risk: some are poisonous, some inert. But perhaps one could be made into a bitter poultice strong enough to slow the rot in your veins.
> Write in

>>6303024
>Forage for herbs – Kneel among the cracks and shadows, searching for mosses, lichens, or roots that might serve as crude medicine. You know the risk: some are poisonous, some inert. But perhaps one could be made into a bitter poultice strong enough to slow the rot in your veins.

>>6303033


Alright, we need some dice:

Chance of Grusk falling: 5%

Chance of Chasm Elves finding you: 10%

Chance of finding herbs: 30%

Chance of infection worsening: 50% (25% if you find herbs)

Chance of infection healing by itself: 10% (30% if you find herbs)

So roll me 5d100.

You may also choose to improve the odds of one task by 10% if you worsen the odds of all the other tasks by 5%.

Rolled 9, 65, 11, 67, 90 = 242 (5d100)

>>6303037

Rolled 20, 62, 27, 83, 14 = 206 (5d100)

>>6303037
Is this BO3?

>>6303085
>>6303467


You decide against braving the ledges or outcrops in your condition. Instead, you lean against Grusk for balance and lower yourself carefully along the slope, eyes sweeping the cracks and shadows for the pale flecks of growth that might yet thrive in this broken land.

The wind whistles across the hollow, carrying dust and the faint chittering of rodents. You half-expect to stumble into an elf patrol—or to hear the whistle of an arrow in the gloom—but the shadows remain still.

Hours pass. You scrape at the walls, overturn stones, and finally spot what you seek: a clutch of bitter-stem moss clinging to the underside of a half-buried boulder. Its acrid smell burns your nose, and the taste on your tongue makes your stomach turn, but you crush it into a paste and smear it over your wound, binding it in place with a strip of cloth torn from your sleeve.

The pain is sharp at first, almost unbearable—but slowly, the fire in your veins dims. By dusk, the swelling in your arm has eased, and when you check the wound again, the angry streaks have retreated. The fever breaks in a sweat that leaves you weak but clear-headed. You have staved off the infection.

Grusk watches you with unblinking eyes, chewing idly on the remains of a dried branch he found along the slope. For the first time since entering Chasmgate, you allow yourself to breathe.

The night settles, colder than before, but you are alive, and the path forward still waits.

The bitterness of the moss still lingers on your tongue, but the worst of the fever has broken. You flex your arm, testing the wound, and though tender, it no longer burns with every heartbeat. Relief washes over you, though you know the danger is far from gone.

Grusk shifts his bulk, snorting as if eager to move again. The chasm stretches ahead, paths cut into its depths, each whispering of hardship and possible reward. Yet part of you wonders if this place—where the herbs grew and the stone hid its secrets—might conceal more than you first thought.

> Collapsed Ledge – Descend the unstable rockslide, risking loose stones and treacherous footing to push deeper into the chasm.
> Overhang Pass – Creep along the cliffside ledge beneath the stone overhang, the wind clawing at you with every step.
> Jagged Outcrop – Venture onto the serrated spine of stone jutting into the abyss, a path unpredictable and wild.
> Scavenge for supplies – Search once more for remnants of travelers or lost camps, hoping for tools, cloth, or anything of worth.
> Search further for anything else useful – Examine the area more carefully, following cracks, crevices, or faint trails to uncover resources or secrets you may have overlooked.
> Write in

>>6303641
> Search further for anything else useful – Examine the area more carefully, following cracks, crevices, or faint trails to uncover resources or secrets you may have overlooked.