Skyfell, My Homebrew D&D Campaign



Welcome to Skyfell

“Beyond this land be uncharted skies infested with nightmares.”


This is the only truth a traveler will find at no cost when risking respite in the knavish airship harbor known as Highwater. It can be heard from every pirate, mercenary, adventurer, outcast, and rogue skulking about the shady taverns and inns that litter its sprawling urban landscape. A few drinks might summon a tall tale from the talkative; a warning about the gargantuan sky monsters that sail out of The Tempest to ruin the bodies and souls of the unfortunate for example or a yarn about a vast treasure jealously guarded by tribes of feral gnomes and tree-hugging firbolgs on one of the thousands of islands of the Piruna Fields. A few coins tossed into the mix might manage to loosen foolish lips, bringing light to a bit of political intrigue, lost lore, or arcane secrets best left to the shadows. Such indiscretions, however, are likely to earn an arrow in the back, a dagger through the throat, or a blast of necrotic force to rot the flesh of all parties involved.


Highwater spills across the peak of Doraku, the most remote continent on the eastern frontier of the Known Skies. Lord Ko-maht-aa, the kenku crime boss who came to power the old fashioned way (through bribery, murder, and lies), rules from The Aerie, an imposing fortress/palace rising above the heart of the city to command a view of the tiny continent. The only structure willing to challenge The Aerie’s grandeur and authority is the Wyrmking’s Sanctuary, a vast temple complex devoted to Bahamut. Make no mistake, while in many ways the temple is a beacon of goodness in an otherwise reprobate town, its golden walls have seen their fair share of dark intrigues and bloody coups. After all, Highwater does eventually tarnish everything and everyone, faith and the faithful included.


The continent of Doraku generally, and Highwater specifically, might feel utterly isolated, left alone to consume itself from the inside out, but its politics and power do not exist in a vacuum. Very little goes unnoticed by Tescalain. The ancient copper dragon rules the Known Skies from his palace in the heart of the grand continent of Akima Prime. While he and his court take a laissez faire attitude towards Doraku and its internal operations (there is profit to be had with such an approach), his claws and acid are quick to reach those who would threaten the stability of Skyfell or his power. His agents patrol Highwater’s streets and stalk its dark alleys as a friendly reminder of who really is in charge. His dragonborn armies are fortified behind the thick-walled fortresses that dot the landscape, there to protect the continent’s inhabitants from themselves as well as from the outsiders who would ravage its land and the creatures that haunt its jungles.



Garrison Market

Given its situation as the final hint of civilization standing against the open skies of the east, it should be no surprise to hear that Highwater’s denizens are a wild collection of individuals all bumping against each other as they act according to their personal needs and aspirations. Some arrive seeking adventure, glory, or other opportunities unavailable to them in their native lands. There are those who are lonely refugees, finding Doraku the only place willing to ignore their questionable heredity and let them put down roots. Some set foot upon the continent with dubious intentions, a cog in a vast conspiracy with grand goals. Nowhere else in all of Skyfell do so many people of so many races from so many lands mix so readily. And nowhere else on all of Doraku is this made so obvious than at Garrison Market where just about anything can be had for the right price.

At high noon, when the ambient glow of day is its brightest, Garrison Market is an industrious hive of commerce, intrigue, and entertainment. Nobles indulging in their wealth mingle with common folk gathering necessary supplies to a melange of sounds, smells, and sights. Vendors of every race shout out in their native tongue the merits of their wares to these passersby. Many hope to sell off their inventory early so that they might retire to a tavern for a drink or two before heading home. Restaurateurs prepare every conceivable dish for a hungry clientele, from simple street foods whose only purpose is nourishment to rare delicacies meant to delight the taste buds. The tantalizing aroma of spices and flame-kissed meats fill the market alongside the pungent odor of stale urine, rot, and other filth. Street performers joke, sing, dance, tell stories, and otherwise make a spectacle of themselves to anyone willing to throw a few coins or even just a bit of attention and praise their way. Carts pulled by pachycephalosaurs and hadrosaurs laden with shipments from the docks are urged by their handlers to plow through the crowds, knocking over anyone stubborn enough to refuse to move out of the way. Clockwork automatons run errands for their masters, their ticking gears and hissing valves blending with the surrounding voices so that one might easily believe the mechanical inventions were trying to carry out a conversation in code. Agents pace the marble terrace known as The Job Boards, enthusiastically advertising work in need of contractors, from menial labor to a bit of fighting or adventuring. Market guards with leashed dilophosaurs patrol the bustle; they are always on the lookout for anyone who might cause a ruckus or threaten the safety of someone important. All the while, crews of kobolds, unnoticed by the masses, scuttle about cleaning up after everyone. Gangs of young kenku slip through the crowds pick-pocketing the oblivious in the hopes of collecting enough coin for a good meal and a little street cred. Packs of stray velociraptors scavenge forgotten scraps or pick at the occasional unattended child or unconscious drunk.



The School of the Weave

Piled onto an island off the edge of the continent is the Kalraka School of the Weave. It's the oldest fortified structure in all of Skyfell, portions of which hint at an origin predating The Cataclysm. Its blackened, barbed walls and spiraling towers house a collection of lecture halls, laboratories, and other facilities where academics and students delve into arcane mysteries too dangerous to explore in more civilized settings. Unnamed creatures, some playful undead others quite deadly aberrations, haunt corridors that breathe with raw magic and rooms that do their best to keep visitors from ever leaving. Perhaps that close connection with the Weave explains what is common knowledge, and is readily noticed by anyone spending any time there. The school has a soul of its own, capable of any deed to sate its hunger for knowledge.


Sundry Notes Regarding the Environment

Skyfell is primarily open air with just a handful of floating continents and a few much smaller land masses. It is bounded by The Tempest, an inhospitable sphere where thick clouds roil with eternal storms. No one knows what lies beyond The Tempest. Only a few have ever attempted to pierce its veil in part because it requires a dangerous journey through vast regions of uncharted sky to even reach. None of the brave, or perhaps foolhardy (the difference can be difficult to tell at times), souls who have attempted the journey have returned to tell about it.

There is no absolute up or down in Skyfell. They are relative only to the land mass upon which one stands. The same is true of gravity. The open sky between land masses has no gravity at all. The ships that travel between continents mush generate their own. Every land mass, regardless of its size, has a gravitational center toward which objects fall. These centers occur beneath the land at some distance away in open sky and exert their influence in a sphere around that point. It is possible to leap from the edge of a land mass, plummet toward this center, have one’s momentum carry one past it, only to be pulled back to it from the opposite direction in ever shrinking loops. Thrill seekers have turned this into a sport. 


There is no sun in Skyfell and so there is no stark contrast between day and night. There is only a waxing and waning of ambient light referred to as full-bright and mid-gloom respectively.

It's tropical climate sees little variation in temperature throughout the day. It should be no surprise to hear that snow and ice are unknown in nature. They can be conjured by magical means to be sure and the very wealthy can indulge in tinkercraft that freezes water (the Box of Colding being a popular example) but snow and ice as a natural phenomenon simply do not occur.

That's all for now. If this topic gains any traction I can write up more on future posts.



Update: Sept 19, 2021

It's important to notice that the above dives into a lot of detail about one location in Skyfell. Doraku is a land on the very borders of not just civilization but the Known Skies themselves and so has its on peculiar culture. Other areas of Skyfell are not so roguish. Since originally writing this, I have written a number of additional posts regarding this setting. I am also blogging the sessions of the campaign that I am currently running.

What follows is a laundry list of these additional posts. I'll continue to add new links here as I write up more about Skyfell. Until then, Enjoy!

Reference

These are posts that are specifically about the setting. Many of my session posts (in the next section) include "cultural notes" that provide additional details about the setting.

Session Summaries


Gadget: The Mae Vest

The number one danger of any airship travel is falling off the ship. It's a fate that's possible even in becalmed skies; add a bit of turbulence or introduce a combat situation and it becomes a very real possibility that someone, maybe even you, will take that long drop to a crushing stop. For most, it's not the best way to end an already difficult workday. 

The Mae Vest is the gold standard of deep sky travel worn by every airship crewman with any common sense about them. The vest, more of a backpack really but who’s to criticize naming practices, is packed with a set of blades and control mechanisms. When one finds oneself involuntarily disembarking one’s ship, simply activate the gadget to deploy the blades on a long pole above the head. The blades spin at ridiculous speeds providing just enough lift to keep the wearer afloat for up to an hour. A distress beacon at the top of the pole also flashes at regular intervals, providing a nice visual aid to any would be rescuers. The entire system relies upon a cocktail of flammable chemicals rendered into a thick paste whose combustion is used to produce steam inside a sealed network of pipes. That steam powers the gearwork that turns the blades and generates a bit of bottled lightning for the beacon.


The following is the stat block for this gadget, using the rules in my Epic Gnomish Inventing supplement available on the DM's Guild (link below).







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Comments

  1. Nice! Takes me back to the Princess Ark Chronicles from Dragon Magazine and Champions of Mystara. I used a world like this as a brief stop-over for one of my Spelljammer segments during "Caimpaign II" which had the unfortunate trend of visiting all the cool settings getting released during 2E.

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    1. Thanks! I had writing this. I'm chomping at the bit to play some Spelljammer (or Dark Sun)...this setting was mostly inspired by dinosaurs and a desperate need for air ships. :-)

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