American Mythology Setting (Help is welcome!)

[Zap Dynamic]

Ugh! I had a big post written up when I got 505'ed!

TheMeMan's Lone Man stuff

I like where this is going. In particular, I like how the Wild Men seem like some sort of radical, fringe group. I picture them wandering around in "packs," preying on every city dweller. Some thoughts:

1. I want to keep the southern technology in the hands of extraterrestrials. I'm not ready to commit to the idea of gods being active/actually existing. Part of the reason why I gave domains to organizations in the first place was to put the power of domains in the hands of faith instead of certainty. I know this won't be Faerun, with gods walking around incarnate and all, but it might not be devoid of divine power.

2. As far as the Wild Men as antagonists goes, I think it would be cool if more and more Village Natives were defecting to the "packs" with the encroaching, society-heavy Empire. Not only does this introduce conflict into the Native side of things (we've already got that within the Empire), but it also creates a hard-to-read situation: Imperials see some Natives attacking them, others leaving them alone, and still other actively helping them, with seemingly no regard to ethnicity/location. Murky waters make for interesting stories!

Ninjadeadbeard's Zorro Blackfox and Lone Ranger Masked Imperial

Ha! I'm linking to that in the first post. Well done!

I found this, and it's exactly what I'm looking for. Booyah.

What we need next:

• Potential Homebrew Stuff: I'm thinking that Pathfinder is the way to go, but ToB is going to have to play a role, too. Since this is Steampunk, does anyone know of any relevant Homebrew? Classes, vehicles, items, you name it.
• More mythic heroes. I'd like to see a few Native heroes. TheMeMan, you seem to be pretty savvy about this stuff. Care to give it a go? I just had a funny idea for a Hiawatha equivalen who's arch enemy is a Lake Monster
• Pictures. I'm a very visual person, so any pictures anyone has/can find that would fit the setting are totally welcome.

[Ninjadeadbeard]

2. As far as the Wild Men as antagonists goes, I think it would be cool if more and more Village Natives were defecting to the "packs" with the encroaching, society-heavy Empire. Not only does this introduce conflict into the Native side of things (we've already got that within the Empire), but it also creates a hard-to-read situation: Imperials see some Natives attacking them, others leaving them alone, and still other actively helping them, with seemingly no regard to ethnicity/location. Murky waters make for interesting stories!

Ooh. Sounds like The Ghost Dance. A sort of religious revitalization occurs among the Natives (The Wild Men) and the Imperials react. The only difference would be that the Wild Men really are starting trouble and revolution, as opposed to starting a Pacifist philosophy like with the RL instance.

Potential Homebrew Stuff: I'm thinking that Pathfinder is the way to go, but ToB is going to have to play a role, too. Since this is Steampunk, does anyone know of any relevant Homebrew? Classes, vehicles, items, you name it.

Well, we could always use Legend. It's a pretty cool system made by Playgrounders. I'm still reading through the core rules, but I hear on this board that it's highly balanced and customizable.

Pictures. I'm a very visual person, so any pictures anyone has/can find that would fit the setting are totally welcome.

Can't help you there. Can't draw .

[Zap Dynamic]

I like the idea of using Legend a whole lot. I downloaded it a few weeks ago, and its exactly what I had been looking for in a system. We'd have to re-skin a lot of stuff (races in particular), but that doesn't take any time at all.

[JackRackham]

You should REALLY incorporate Daniel Boone, David Bowie and Davy Crockett into this world (a single character, an amalgamation of the three, would serve well here). Wild Bill Hickock would be another possibility. Billy the Kid, Jesse James and Doc Holliday could be another character archetype. Wyatt Earp and his ilk would be yet another prominent in the mythos. I would also include a legendary chief archetype like Sitting Bull and a mythic native warrior like Crazy Horse.

EDIT: I realize these people existed (unlike your Paul Bunyans, etc), but they have nevertheless become as big a part of the American mythology as anyone. Moreover, most of the early myths, those not crafted for political reasons (as many of our entirely fictional myths have been), are believed to have come from real people. Solomon, David and Gilgamesh are known to have been real kings. It is believed that Herakles (Hercules) is as well. Zeus and the other Greek Gods are thought to have orginated with mythologized kings of an earlier age (probably on the C. Asian steppe, before the Indo-Europeans migrated to Europe), later evolving into a pantheon from which evolved the Sumerian Gods, Norse Gods, Olympic Gods, and others.

My point is, don't discard anyone because they happened to exist.

Aso, on classes, I'd find a special place for the Ranger, Scout and Swash in this campaign world, to the point of homebrewing them to be more competitive. Lastly, I made a PrC a while back for an NPC, didn't have time for a pretty chart and all that and the class would need some work, but there are some interesting ideas here for a spaghetti-western-esque PrC.

[The Durvin]

I was working on a novel on just this subject up until my old computer died--it was pretty different in tone, so I don't mind pointing out a few sources.

Firstly, get your butt on Wikipedia and look up American folk heroes; there's a lot of minor ones that are largely forgotten nowadays, but they're still prime fodder for this kind of thing. What Paul Bunyan was to lumberjacks and Pecos Bill to cowboys, Febold Feboldson was to farmers, Mike Fink was to keelboaters, Alfred Bulltop Stormalong was to sailors. Homeboy had a ship so big, he kept a stable of horses on board to get around, and the masts were hinged so they wouldn't break off against the moon.

And as for monsters, I recommend you to the notion of Fearsome Critters: mostly made up by lumberjacks, but many came from European legends, like the Sidehill Gouger, a grazing animal with its left legs shorter than its right so it could graze on mountains. There was the Squonk, an animal so ugly it was uncatchable, and one I've forgotten the name of that looks like a fur coat, but eats people when they put it on.

As for settings, you can't do exploration myths without a lost city of gold. There's also an urban legend about mysterious shipwrecks in the California desert, possibly the result of a dried-up river. And this might be giving too much away from my own work, but you cannot forget Big Rock Candy Mountain.

[Zap Dynamic]

My point is, don't discard anyone because they happened to exist.

Noted. In fact, the first mythic hero we wrote up was a play on Nikola Tesla! Any chance you'd like to try and write something up for that Boone/Bowie/Crockett character? Sounds like a pretty good idea to me!

Aso, on classes, I'd find a special place for the Ranger, Scout and Swash in this campaign world, to the point of homebrewing them to be more competitive. Lastly, I made a PrC a while back for an NPC, didn't have time for a pretty chart and all that and the class would need some work, but there are some interesting ideas here for a spaghetti-western-esque PrC.

Well, I'm pretty sure we're going to end up using Legend for this setting, and they've got a pretty good handle on all kinds of ranger-y, scout-y, swashbuckler-ish stuff. As for myself, I'm a HUGE fan of dextrous combat and gunslinging, so I couldn't agree more!

Heroes, monsters, and settings.

Ha! My great grandfather was a Swedish farmer in the midwest, so that Febold story is completely awesome. Mike Fink would make for a good captain of a ship in the big gulf (I guess we need a name for that... "Fink's Drink?" ), and Stormalong was something someone suggested earlier. Now all I need to do is the gruntwork. Thanks for the suggestions!

As far as monsters go, I have literally no experience homebrewing monsters, so that is something that I'm putting on the back burner for now. That said, your suggestions are great!

A lost city of gold might fit somewhere in the Place of the Gods. Maybe a jungle oasis in the middle of the desert? I also like the idea of derelict ships in the middle of the desert. Maybe there was a big airship battle between the Empire and the New Boradoans, and the wreckage of that battle has formed a huge airship graveyard? Maybe it's a home for bandits?

[Zap Dynamic]

Well, looky there! Mulletmanalive done drew up a Thunderbird!

I don't know how that's going to translate into Legend stats, but I have a feeling that it will be pretty easy to translate. Legend seems to be all about putting creative power in the hands of the consumer.

[JackRackham]

I can probably bring something to the table, a character concept (I'm familiar with Legend), a kind of plot overview for his myth, and some general guidelines for how the character would act. For any more than that, I'd really need to understand the setting and geography better.

EDIT: Off the top of my head, I'd go with a kid who learns to hunt from frontiersmen and Natives, runs away from home to escape trouble at school (kicked out for fighting), comes back and starts a family, then progressively migrates West as each of the areas he opens up become home to successive waves of settlers and game becomes scarce (and he gets lawyered out of his claims to land).

Key to the mistique of the man is the 'long hunt.' He disappears for months at a time (occasionally years, if something goes wrong, or the hunting is unusually good), into the wilderness, returning with hundreds of furs to sell and trade, and possibly with some new land he's scouted. In the military, he is the ultimate scout, guerilla fighter, marksman, and small settlement defender. He would be a captain (later colonel) in the militia in each of the periodic wars and acquit himself well. He may die in a heroic last stand against a native group or some old-world imperial force.

This character should be functionally literate, but just barely, not especially educated, but very quick-witted and well-versed in the ways of nature and frontier society. He should also be liked and respected, he should be a leader, but he shouldn't fit in too well.

At some points he might also serve in the frontier government, though he's periodically in debt, and he is by turns friendly with (even adopted into) and at war with (the equivalent of Native groups). He becomes a legend, but remains a vagabond, continually growing tired of an area, as it becomes civilized and going to find a new fronteir. I'll add more later.

EDIT 2: In Legend, he is a full buy-in Ranger with Professional Soldier, Reign of Arrows, Battle Tempering and Tactical Insight. His stats are prioritized: DEX, INT (due to ranger, if you can switch the D track to wisdom, this makes more sense), CON, STR, WIS, CHA. His Legendary Abilities are: Magic bullet, Plot Armor, Awesome Presence, Old Hero. Possible Feats include: By Will Sustained, Sniper, Musketeer, Big Damn Hero, Fish In Water, Monkey Business, Breakneck Pace, Exit Stage Left, and Sinister Sinews. Trained Skills: Athletics, Stealth, K. Geography, K. Nature, Perception, and either Acrobatics or Ride. He fights with a Rifle and has a big Bowie Knife (it would be named after him) to skin animals and defend himself at close quarters. His name: Bowie Boone? Daviel Boonkett? Daniel Brockett (my name!!)? Daniel Bowie? Jim Boone? I don't know. It depends on your naming conventions. "King of the Wild Frontier" is the best of any of their nicknames.

I'd like to give you specific stories, but I don't know your world well enough. I would direct you to the story of "The Sandbar Fight," however. There was a duel in which Jim bowie was not involved. It ended peacefully. A fight broke out afterward, however, amongst those in support of Bowie's friend and those in support of his rival. The other side focused on Bowie who was shot, stabbed, run through, shot again, and shot again, all while managing to be on the winning side, disembowel a man with his knife, cut off part of another man's forearm and survive, somehow.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandbar_Fight

Boone had two interesting stories. In one, he was defending a town called Boonesborough against the Shawnee (who were pissed about Boone leading the settlement of their land - we call it all of Kentucky). They were under siege and the shawnee were wrecking their crops. Boone led an expedition to get salt to preserve their meager food supply, but was captured. He convinced the Shawnee not to attack, saying the settlement couldn't last the Winter and would surrender in Spring. He was then adopted into the tribe. When they went to claim the town, he stole away in the night, warned the town and saved their bacon - then he was tried as a traitor (acquitted and promoted), since he'd not had time to tell anyone of his plans. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Boonesborough

In another Story, his daughter and two of her friends were kidnapped by Shawnee and Boone tracked them down over three days, killed two of them and brought the girls back unscathed. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Capture...f_Jemima_Boone In another incident, his son and another boy were captured and tortured to death. Two of his brothers also died with him during the Indian Wars.

Stories of Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone keeping the military units they fought in alive with their hunting prowess are also prominent, important, and probably true. There are also a lot of stories about being tough as sh*t. Boone, for instance, was shot in the kneecap (shattered, btw) less than a year before he led the expedition to get salt.

Also, the Alamo happened. Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie were both there and they both died there, Crockett bravely defending a church full of non-combatants, Bowie sick in bed (....probably, he was very ill. Some say he sucked it up and fought hard in their last stand, but who the hell knows?).

[Zap Dynamic]

Wow! Somehow I missed this amongst all of my subscriptions. I LOVE the character!

If you're all right with it, I think Daniel Brockett is just similar enough to clue people in, and just foreign enough to be an original name. Mind if we use it?

As far as the character goes, all I can picture is this Fiftysomething who's past his prime, but he's so tough and energetic that he's still the most powerful figure in the world. Something like an old, gruff Goku. I think that--with the three stories combined--he's the perfect "trickster" character.

[JackRackham]

As long as he's in the woods, sure. He'd probably have a hundred "old hunter's tricks." As to the name, sure. Use it. Just make sure he's badass. For what it's worth, if you're going with a 50-ish character, I'm picturing kind of a Clint Eastwood-looking older guy - weather-beaten, squinty face, heavy scruff. Yes.

[Ninjadeadbeard]

As long as he's in the woods, sure. He'd probably have a hundred "old hunter's tricks." As to the name, sure. Use it. Just make sure he's badass. For what it's worth, if you're going with a 50-ish character, I'm picturing kind of a Clint Eastwood-looking older guy - weather-beaten, squinty face, heavy scruff. Yes.

I'd say make Clint a separate character. Daniel Brockett strikes me as a ranger, like you said. Well, if that's the case, Clint Eastwood (or Grit Westfield) tends to play misanthropic or cynical men. He's less about surviving in the natural wilderness and more about surviving in the human wilderness. He's the Old Man who long ago gave up his idealism and occasionally performs petty cruelties on those he feels earn it, but he can't shake the fact that deep, deep down he is a moral person who is willing to take the fight to corruption in all its forms.

Grit is (with only a cursory glance at the rules) a Full buy-in multiclass Rouge/Esoterica/Discipline of the Crane/Acrobatic Adept/Reign of Arrows. His KOM is Intelligence, and his KDM is Constitution. I don't much feel like going through and looking up all the possible feats and items and such he'd have, but he's probably got guns in there somewhere.

Discipline of the Crane, I gave him because...well...

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Pale Rider and Highplains Drifter make a lot more sense if ole Grit reached the 7th circle, if you catch my drift. Plus he tends to wander in his movies, so high movement works.

I was originally gonna suggest making him a multiclass full buy-in Paladin with a bit of Ranger and Monk, but the alternative is easier.

[Zap Dynamic]

OK! I'm going to link to those two characters in the OP, but first I'll cook up a guy for a Pecos Bill substitute.

There are cattle barons on the range today that are said to turn lush prairie into desert and dry up rivers with the size of their herds. They rule some parts of the West with a rawhide fist, but none of them can boast such success as Concho Tex, the wildest cowboy ever to sit a horse.

They say he was raised by a pack of giant wolves, and that set him to lookin' down on cats of all stripes. They say some wagon train "rescued" him from savagery on his 10th birthday, but by then he was already full grown and riding a cougar bigger and meaner than any that's been seen before or since.

He tends to show up after a hard days' work in the field, sittin' down at the campfire bold as you please. He waits until everyone's eaten their fill and warmed themselves against the night, then sets to munching on the charred logs in the fire. He says nothin' else is spicy enough for his digestion.

By the time he was 16 years old, they say he used his rattlesnake lasso to rope and brand every single bull, heifer, and calf across the whole of the New World. He lets 'em all divide up as they please, and doesn't mind other folks takin' care of 'em and turnin' a profit from it; he doesn't have time enough to keep track of all of 'em, anyway.

They say he's only ever loved one woman, a fiery, brazen vixen of a gal by the name of Tribulation Jenny. Her tale's told elsewhere, but they say the two of had an arm wrestlin' contest for her hand in marriage. Since that day, Concho Tex has courted half a hundred fine young ladies, but none would ever match the only woman, man, or beast to best him in single combat.

----

I want to make it clear that "Tex" does not refer to "Texan" in this world. Instead, it's just a normal given name, albeit one that's far more popular in the West than back East.

[Zap Dynamic]

Tribulation Jenny is the most beautiful creature that ever set foot West of the River Manifesto. She's also the toughest, meanest, sharp-shootin'est broad ever to sit a horse, and all men would do wise to remember just that.

She got her start in a traveling circus, going from town to town to lift the spirits of hard working pioneers everywhere. Until they laid eyes on Jenny, no man had ever loved, and no woman had ever known true jealousy. Neither had any man, woman, nor child ever seen a woman shoot the center out of a flipped penny while blindfolded and riding a horse backward.

Tribulation Jenny's been tangled up with near every creature of note in this wild frontier. From the cowboy Concho Tex, to the feared lawman Slate the Killer. The former she fell in love with for his deeds, but couldn't marry him because he wasn't as strong as her. The latter she fell in love with because--alone for all the world--he was her equal with six gun and rifle both. All the same, she's too wild to settle down for long.

Today she spends a fair amount of time over in Tree Island on the Western edge of the plains. Her residence there is Diddlin' Deenas, where she works as a painted woman and will entertain any man that can outdrink her first.

[Zap Dynamic]

Grit Westfield

I love this idea, but I want to emphasize the Pale Rider/High Plains Drifter Stuff. This guy needs to be the Ghost of Killers. He needs to be the Spirit of the West. He needs to be this spirit that is fueled by the the killing of lawmen and bastards alike. I just got a plan for him.

Now you have to ask yourself one question: Can I do it? Well? Can ya?


Punk?

[Zap Dynamic]

QUAAAADRUPLE POOOOST!

James Justice Edison, better known by the moniker Slate The Killer, is the finest lawman and gambler in the New World. The only thing more formidable than his poker skills is his moustache, and the only thing more formidable than that is his skill with a gun.

After fighting with the army for a number of years, Slate took up resident on the plains, finding work as a traveling gambler, winning huge pots in noteworthy saloons, and winning pitted gunfights when he was accused of cheating. A fearsomely stern but honest man, Slate was eventually approached by local law enforcement to help wrangle outlaws wherever he went. He soon gained a reputation as an arbiter of law, and chose to wear a Sheriff's badge for the rest of his days.

He takes residence in the city of Tree Island, near the foothills of the Great Western Range. Singlehandedly, he has turned the city into a gambling paradise, and a bastion of law in a lawless world.

His greatest goal in life is to track down and bring to justice a figure known only as Grit Westfield. Though Grit has been known to come to the aid of the poor and downtrodden, he is nevertheless as ruthless killer and vengeful outlaw. Slate the Killer will not rest until Grit lies in a pine box.

[Zap Dynamic]

Quintuple Post. Here we go.

The next time I post, I'm going to transfer the stuff about Dr. Steam to its own post. The format right now is a little distracting.

While I'm thinking about it, though, I think I want whatever Eastern continent the Empire came from to be controlled by vampires. I was watching Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" video, and I realized that young, attractive, well-dressed, gothic Europeans pretty much all look like vampires. This probably won't have much effect on the game, but it makes for a pretty compelling reason for the Empire to have left. It takes the "freedom" the Empire espouses to a whole new level when they fled from being literal cattle.

[Landis963]

While I'm thinking about it, though, I think I want whatever Eastern continent the Empire came from to be controlled by vampires. I was watching Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" video, and I realized that young, attractive, well-dressed, gothic Europeans pretty much all look like vampires. This probably won't have much effect on the game, but it makes for a pretty compelling reason for the Empire to have left. It takes the "freedom" the Empire espouses to a whole new level when they fled from being literal cattle.

I'm assuming these are the badass, Dracula-classic vampires? Not the namby-pamby-yet-somehow-invincible Twilight "vamps"?

Also, I like the setting very much thus far (interplay between legends is convincingly realistic and highly interesting, if a touch conflict-ball-ish in the case of Slate's Javert-esque pursuit of Westfield), However I'm seeing a lot of Wild West-derived stuff (Tribulation Jenny, Slate, Grit Westfield), and not too much John Henry or more East Coast stuff. (EDIT: Concho Tex is the spitting image of Bunyan, and Daniel Brockett the spitting image of Davy Crockett (I see what you did there), both of which count as Midwest IMO)

[Zap Dynamic]

I'm assuming these are the badass, Dracula-classic vampires? Not the namby-pamby-yet-somehow-invincible Twilight "vamps"?

Correct. And they may not rule openly. It's hard for me to think about vampires without thinking about puppet rulers.

Also, I like the setting very much thus far (interplay between legends is convincingly realistic and highly interesting, if a touch conflict-ball-ish in the case of Slate's Javert-esque pursuit of Westfield), However I'm seeing a lot of Wild West-derived stuff (Tribulation Jenny, Slate, Grit Westfield), and not too much John Henry or more East Coast stuff. (EDIT: Concho Tex is the spitting image of Bunyan, and Daniel Brockett the spitting image of Davy Crockett (I see what you did there), both of which count as Midwest IMO)

Bunyan? He's supposed to be almost exactly like Pecos Bill.

And I agree with you on all points. For the East, we've got Dr. Steam (Nikola Tesla with a steampunk twist), and we've hinted at the existence of others, but we haven't actually developed anything yet. I was thinking that we need a solid political hero (whether it's a senator or the Emperor himself), a hero for the Romantic movement (someone like a cross between Johnny Appleseed and Henry Thoreau would be awesome), and I'd really love to see an homage to Poe. I'm tempted to say that I'd love to see a mashup between Poe and Lovecraft, but I don't think the world is ready.

[Ninjadeadbeard]

I'm assuming these are the badass, Dracula-classic vampires? Not the namby-pamby-yet-somehow-invincible Twilight "vamps"?

Of course, of course. But the French ones do sparkle.

I kid! I kid!

Also, I like the setting very much thus far (interplay between legends is convincingly realistic and highly interesting, if a touch conflict-ball-ish in the case of Slate's Javert-esque pursuit of Westfield), However I'm seeing a lot of Wild West-derived stuff (Tribulation Jenny, Slate, Grit Westfield), and not too much John Henry or more East Coast stuff. (EDIT: Concho Tex is the spitting image of Bunyan, and Daniel Brockett the spitting image of Davy Crockett (I see what you did there), both of which count as Midwest IMO)

Conflict is good. RL America is defined by conflict.

Correct. And they may not rule openly. It's hard for me to think about vampires without thinking about puppet rulers.

I'd have Pseudo-Continental Europe run by Werewolves (especially Pseudo-Germany), and Vampires in Pseudo-Eastern Europe and Pseudo-Russia, although maybe in the latter they are a repressed minority.

“Vampire Vorkers ov de Vorld, UNITE! Down vit humanity! Ve shall be vone people! All equal in the Wampyric Identity! Every Vampire gets his share!”

So, yeah. I got some more Mythic hero types:

Thomas “Tommy” Oakenstride

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Tommy Oakenstride was born sometime after the Founding, though no-one knows quite when, and some even say he's as old as the world itself. In truth, know one knows, 'cept Tommy. Perpetually youthful, Tommy was said to have grown up on the eastern edge of the Middle Plains. As a child he played in the forests by his home, and in time he knew the secret names of every tree, bird, squirrel and grass blade.

Then, while out running errands as a young man, he saw the plains for the first time, he very rarely leaving the forests near his home for any reason. As he saw that complete flatness, Tom was compelled by a voice inside him. Gathering up as many acorns from every tree in the forest as he could carry, Tommy went wandering off into the plains. For years he wandered westward, walking paths untrod even by the Natives of his day. But everywhere he went, his trees would not grow. He would plant them, whisper their names to them, but the trees would not grow. The earth there wasn't meant for trees.

Many years passed like this, until he finally reached the Westron Range. But when he started to plant trees, the Mountain Natives demanded he leave. It did not matter to them that he came to grow trees and make the earth bloom. He was an Imperial, an outsider. So, Tom left again, this time going south by Coterois.

In the southern marshland his trees were too heavy for the soil. They'd sink down to the bottom just as soon as they'd rise. It got so bad that at one time he was furiously putting down whole forests at once, and then watched them immediately disappear into the bayou. In an fury he lashed out at his sinking trees, demanding that they stay up, but to no avail. In fact, his thrashing is said to have broken several trees, whose bark started swimming away, turning into the first alligators.

Tom traveled deep into the deserts of Barado, but there his trees had no water. He backtracked north and around the mountains, but found that the snow was becoming too heavy. His trees would break from the weight of the snow as soon as they shot up.

Finally, nearing the end of his days, Tom went around the mountains and found the western coast. And there he found a land rich in soil and people. He dwelt there among the fishermen and grew vast forests for them to enjoy. His trees spread all up and down the coast, and sometimes he spent so long caring for his trees that they'd grow near to the clouds. Tom would have been happy to set down roots for what time he had left and simply enjoy the company of his trees.

But then word came from the East. The Second Revolution had hit the Empire hard. Though the Empire successfully defended their sovereignty, the retreating Old Worlders cast a terrible curse that killed all the trees and forests and animals east of the mountains.

Old Tom wouldn't stand for that. He sent the word to every tree and bush and sapling he had ever laid in the ground. The Last March of the Forests began. Led by Tom and bolstered by the sheer might of his love for growing things, the forest followed their friend across the mountains and plains. With every bit of effort he could muster, Tom brought the Empire back to life with mighty words and powerful song. In the end, the New World blossomed once more with trees and growing things, but Old Tom was spent.

The trees, bursting with lamentation and sorrow, lifted their caretaker on high and carried him to the highest peak of the Westron Range, where it is said that he was buried as a Native Chieftain, the only Imperial ever granted the honor. His trees live on, and some summer nights there are stories of an old man who wanders the old forests and helps guide travelers to safety.

Tom Oakenstride in Legend:

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I have no idea. We probably need to write up some new tracks for this guy.

And my old suggestion (in a more proper form):

Usher Ravenholme

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Possibly the finest Imperial Poet ever. While his works are legendary (particularly the dark, Gothic Deepcrow), in life he was anything but. As a young boy he was always rather sickly, and was forced by his father to undergo particularly experimental medical treatments, including forced Vampirization. This last one failed to take as young Usher proved one of those few immune to Porphyric Hemophilia. Compounding things further was the sudden death of his mother due to the vampiric blood disease Porphyric Portus (or, Blood Cannibalism, where the blood in a body actually consumes itself. Medical Science/Magic has no answer currently as to where the devoured blood goes). As it tragically turns out, Ravenholme was a carrier for the disease, although midicine being what it was he never knew.

Ravenholme worked furiously at his craft, but found little financial success. His poetry was, as one editor put it, “nice, but a touch gloomy for our readership”. In his early years a dear friend, Henry Isinger, a prominent doctor in his day and a leading authority on Porphyric Hemophilia, died suddenly. It was concluded he died from Porphyric Portus, assumed to have contracted the disease in his lab. Ravenholme had lost another dear friend.

For a number of years, Ravenholme tried his hand at investigative journalism, always turning a keen eye to the underbelly of his hometown, Innmont. A part of the reason his journalism career failed was due to the fact that everyone knew Innmont was a perfectly normal, even exemplary town, and so his outlandish tales of bloodthirsty cults and cosmic monstrosities had little traction.

According to Ravenholme's writings he supposedly worked for an Imperial Bureau whose existence has been denied by authorities. In any case, Ravenholme claimed to have seen beings of such hideous visage and eldritch fashion that even the stars began to tremble as they turned their faintest attention to the mortal world. These “journal” entries were all confiscated shortly after his death. Ravenholme was sent to an asylum shortly before his twenty-seventh birthday.

He was released three years later and spent the rest of his life writing literal tomes of poems and novels. His life, as it turned out, would only last for another two years. His fiance, Alianore Fairweather, died suddenly (suspected Porphyric Portus), and it left the man distraught.

As it would most tragically turn out, Usher Ranvenholme was one of those few individuals that atheists point out while saying, “See? What sick God would ever do that?” Ravenholme was not only a carrier for Porphyric Portus, but was also a latent psionic. His repeated brushes with madness and despair had finally led to a condition known as “Mindbreak”, where (in short), he decided that the universe had to die. The hills which bordered Usher's home are much closer together than they were in his day, because his “Break” was so severe it collapsed spacetime around himself. His house was swallowed by the earth and no one lives near the site. People who do visit the area tend to disappear as they sometimes step through reality and fall into Usher's mind, dooming themselves to forever roam the halls of an infinite house of despair, desolation and death.

Usher Ravenholme in Legend

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Again, no clue.

"Mindbreak" is a good word. I would guess Mooky came up with it? Dunno. Giving credit. Correct if wrong.

[Landis963]

Correct. And they may not rule openly. It's hard for me to think about vampires without thinking about puppet rulers.

That's a good point. I always just kind of assumed that vampires would either rule openly, or stay out of human affairs to lull us into a false state of security, when there's no reason for them not to use us to their advantage.

Bunyan? He's supposed to be almost exactly like Pecos Bill.

Not that either wouldn't work: As I recall, Bunyan and Pecos Bill are cut from the same cloth.

And I agree with you on all points. For the East, we've got Dr. Steam (Nikola Tesla with a steampunk twist),

I actually didn't see a post about him, maybe I missed it on an earlier page?

and we've hinted at the existence of others, but we haven't actually developed anything yet. I was thinking that we need a solid political hero (whether it's a senator or the Emperor himself), a hero for the Romantic movement (someone like a cross between Johnny Appleseed and Henry Thoreau would be awesome), and I'd really love to see an homage to Poe. I'm tempted to say that I'd love to see a mashup between Poe and Lovecraft, but I don't think the world is ready.

And Ninjadeadbeard provides.

Of course, of course. But the French ones do sparkle.

I kid! I kid!

Good thing you put up that disclaimer. I almost thought you were being serious there. [/sarcasm]

Conflict is good. RL America is defined by conflict.

I know that, but there's a difference between normal conflict and conflict-ball conflict. Conflict ball conflict is much more contrived and pointless. Something about Slate's monomania (as I read it) rubs me the wrong way. If there was a personal grudge between them (maybe Grit killed a wrongdoer who Slate promised to bring in unharmed, for example) I could understand it, but right now it's unclear as to why Slate just doesn't ride him out of his jurisdiction with a few warning shots (or "warning" shots as the case may be) and leave it at that. Maybe I'm missing something about this.

I'd have Pseudo-Continental Europe run by Werewolves (especially Pseudo-Germany), and Vampires in Pseudo-Eastern Europe and Pseudo-Russia, although maybe in the latter they are a repressed minority.

“Vampire Vorkers ov de Vorld, UNITE! Down vit humanity! Ve shall be vone people! All equal in the Wampyric Identity! Every Vampire gets his share!”

First off, I see what you did there. Second off, Vampires are veeerrry much an aristocratic monster in the way that werewolves are veeerrry much a lower-class monster. If anything, Werewolf packs should rule Germany, and Vampire bloodlines should rule everything else, but those werewolf packs that are in the pseudo-Russia should be subjugated along with the humans.

So, yeah. I got some more Mythic hero types:

Thomas “Tommy” Oakenstride

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Tommy Oakenstride was born sometime after the Founding, though no-one knows quite when, and some even say he's as old as the world itself. In truth, know one knows, 'cept Tommy. Perpetually youthful, Tommy was said to have grown up on the eastern edge of the Middle Plains. As a child he played in the forests by his home, and in time he knew the secret names of every tree, bird, squirrel and grass blade.

Then, while out running errands as a young man, he saw the plains for the first time, he very rarely leaving the forests near his home for any reason. As he saw that complete flatness, Tom was compelled by a voice inside him. Gathering up as many acorns from every tree in the forest as he could carry, Tommy went wandering off into the plains. For years he wandered westward, walking paths untrod even by the Natives of his day. But everywhere he went, his trees would not grow. He would plant them, whisper their names to them, but the trees would not grow. The earth there wasn't meant for trees.

Many years passed like this, until he finally reached the Westron Range. But when he started to plant trees, the Mountain Natives demanded he leave. It did not matter to them that he came to grow trees and make the earth bloom. He was an Imperial, an outsider. So, Tom left again, this time going south by Coterois.

In the southern marshland his trees were too heavy for the soil. They'd sink down to the bottom just as soon as they'd rise. It got so bad that at one time he was furiously putting down whole forests at once, and then watched them immediately disappear into the bayou. In an fury he lashed out at his sinking trees, demanding that they stay up, but to no avail. In fact, his thrashing is said to have broken several trees, whose bark started swimming away, turning into the first alligators.

Tom traveled deep into the deserts of Barado, but there his trees had no water. He backtracked north and around the mountains, but found that the snow was becoming too heavy. His trees would break from the weight of the snow as soon as they shot up.

Finally, nearing the end of his days, Tom went around the mountains and found the western coast. And there he found a land rich in soil and people. He dwelt there among the fishermen and grew vast forests for them to enjoy. His trees spread all up and down the coast, and sometimes he spent so long caring for his trees that they'd grow near to the clouds. Tom would have been happy to set down roots for what time he had left and simply enjoy the company of his trees.

But then word came from the East. The Second Revolution had hit the Empire hard. Though the Empire successfully defended their sovereignty, the retreating Old Worlders cast a terrible curse that killed all the trees and forests and animals east of the mountains.

Old Tom wouldn't stand for that. He sent the word to every tree and bush and sapling he had ever laid in the ground. The Last March of the Forests began. Led by Tom and bolstered by the sheer might of his love for growing things, the forest followed their friend across the mountains and plains. With every bit of effort he could muster, Tom brought the Empire back to life with mighty words and powerful song. In the end, the New World blossomed once more with trees and growing things, but Old Tom was spent.

The trees, bursting with lamentation and sorrow, lifted their caretaker on high and carried him to the highest peak of the Westron Range, where it is said that he was buried as a Native Chieftain, the only Imperial ever granted the honor. His trees live on, and some summer nights there are stories of an old man who wanders the old forests and helps guide travelers to safety.

Tom Oakenstride in Legend:

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I have no idea. We probably need to write up some new tracks for this guy.

And my old suggestion (in a more proper form):

Usher Ravenholme

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Possibly the finest Imperial Poet ever. While his works are legendary (particularly the dark, Gothic Deepcrow), in life he was anything but. As a young boy he was always rather sickly, and was forced by his father to undergo particularly experimental medical treatments, including forced Vampirization. This last one failed to take as young Usher proved one of those few immune to Porphyric Hemophilia. Compounding things further was the sudden death of his mother due to the vampiric blood disease Porphyric Portus (or, Blood Cannibalism, where the blood in a body actually consumes itself. Medical Science/Magic has no answer currently as to where the devoured blood goes). As it tragically turns out, Ravenholme was a carrier for the disease, although midicine being what it was he never knew.

Ravenholme worked furiously at his craft, but found little financial success. His poetry was, as one editor put it, “nice, but a touch gloomy for our readership”. In his early years a dear friend, Henry Isinger, a prominent doctor in his day and a leading authority on Porphyric Hemophilia, died suddenly. It was concluded he died from Porphyric Portus, assumed to have contracted the disease in his lab. Ravenholme had lost another dear friend.

For a number of years, Ravenholme tried his hand at investigative journalism, always turning a keen eye to the underbelly of his hometown, Innmont. A part of the reason his journalism career failed was due to the fact that everyone knew Innmont was a perfectly normal, even exemplary town, and so his outlandish tales of bloodthirsty cults and cosmic monstrosities had little traction.

According to Ravenholme's writings he supposedly worked for an Imperial Bureau whose existence has been denied by authorities. In any case, Ravenholme claimed to have seen beings of such hideous visage and eldritch fashion that even the stars began to tremble as they turned their faintest attention to the mortal world. These “journal” entries were all confiscated shortly after his death. Ravenholme was sent to an asylum shortly before his twenty-seventh birthday.

He was released three years later and spent the rest of his life writing literal tomes of poems and novels. His life, as it turned out, would only last for another two years. His fiance, Alianore Fairweather, died suddenly (suspected Porphyric Portus), and it left the man distraught.

As it would most tragically turn out, Usher Ranvenholme was one of those few individuals that atheists point out while saying, “See? What sick God would ever do that?” Ravenholme was not only a carrier for Porphyric Portus, but was also a latent psionic. His repeated brushes with madness and despair had finally led to a condition known as “Mindbreak”, where (in short), he decided that the universe had to die. The hills which bordered Usher's home are much closer together than they were in his day, because his “Break” was so severe it collapsed spacetime around himself. His house was swallowed by the earth and no one lives near the site. People who do visit the area tend to disappear as they sometimes step through reality and fall into Usher's mind, dooming themselves to forever roam the halls of an infinite house of despair, desolation and death.

Usher Ravenholme in Legend

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Again, no clue.

Tommy Oakenstride's bio sounds like a legend in itself. I don't think that his legends need repeating, unless we think of something cool to put in there.

Usher Ravenholme... Wow. I count no less than four campaign hooks ("someone got lost in Usher's mind, get him out", "party is contacted by third party, told to go to Innmont", "Deepcrow was inspired by a real monster, go kill it.", "party is contacted by Usher's former employer, embroiled in extradimensional horror story.") with many, many, MANY different permutations based on DM and PC group. And all of it has easily traceable roots to Poe and to Lovecraft. Kudos.

[Ninjadeadbeard]

I know that, but there's a difference between normal conflict and conflict-ball conflict. Conflict ball conflict is much more contrived and pointless. Something about Slate's monomania (as I read it) rubs me the wrong way. If there was a personal grudge between them (maybe Grit killed a wrongdoer who Slate promised to bring in unharmed, for example) I could understand it, but right now it's unclear as to why Slate just doesn't ride him out of his jurisdiction with a few warning shots (or "warning" shots as the case may be) and leave it at that. Maybe I'm missing something about this.

Don't think of Slate as a monomaniac. Think of him as Inspector Javert, a persistent hound of justice, though perhaps an obsessed, antagonistic one. Still, a personal grudge might be good. How about we take a page from The Outlaw Josey Wales and say that Grit and Slate were on opposing sides of the civil war, but one took everything from the other? Or one betrayed the other.

First off, I see what you did there. Second off, Vampires are veeerrry much an aristocratic monster in the way that werewolves are veeerrry much a lower-class monster. If anything, Werewolf packs should rule Germany, and Vampire bloodlines should rule everything else, but those werewolf packs that are in the pseudo-Russia should be subjugated along with the humans.

True enough. Very well, I concede the point. I was drawing more off of culture (Werewolves West, Vampires East).

Tommy Oakenstride's bio sounds like a legend in itself. I don't think that his legends need repeating, unless we think of something cool to put in there.

Well, I kinda wrote it as a Legend.

No! Bad Ninja! No puns for you! Also, what? I don't quite follow your meaning.

Usher Ravenholme... Wow. I count no less than four campaign hooks ("someone got lost in Usher's mind, get him out", "party is contacted by third party, told to go to Innmont", "Deepcrow was inspired by a real monster, go kill it.", "party is contacted by Usher's former employer, embroiled in extradimensional horror story.") with many, many, MANY different permutations based on DM and PC group. And all of it has easily traceable roots to Poe and to Lovecraft. Kudos.

Thank you. I rather like this character, and I hadn't even noticed the plot hooks for what they were.

And Ninjadeadbeard provides.

Would you mind if I use this in my sig?

[Landis963]

Don't think of Slate as a monomaniac. Think of him as Inspector Javert, a persistent hound of justice, though perhaps an obsessed, antagonistic one. Still, a personal grudge might be good. How about we take a page from The Outlaw Josey Wales and say that Grit and Slate were on opposing sides of the civil war, but one took everything from the other? Or one betrayed the other.

Fair enough. I can get behind those details as justification. Although IMO Javert was a monomaniac in his own right. And if Grit is as, well, gritty (see, I can make puns too. ) as the Man With No Name, I see no problem with letting him screw Slate over at a pivotal point.

Well, I kinda wrote it as a Legend.

No! Bad Ninja! No puns for you! Also, what? I don't quite follow your meaning.

Basically, what I meant was that you've already written all the biggest legends that we could need about Tommy Oakenstride, and any others would involve specific events a la Johny Appleseed tricking a bunch of settlers into clearing land for orchards.

Thank you. I rather like this character, and I hadn't even noticed the plot hooks for what they were.



Would you mind if I use this in my sig?

You're welcome, and sure.

EDIT: Oh hey, I'm an Orc now. When did that happen?

[Ninjadeadbeard]

Fair enough. I can get behind those details as justification. Although IMO Javert was a monomaniac in his own right. And if Grit is as, well, gritty (see, I can make puns too. ) as the Man With No Name, I see no problem with letting him screw Slate over at a pivotal point.

Unless Slate pulls a Zenigata and becomes a begrudging friend to his quarry (but continues chasing him due to the challenge).

Basically, what I meant was that you've already written all the biggest legends that we could need about Tommy Oakenstride, and any others would involve specific events a la Johny Appleseed tricking a bunch of settlers into clearing land for orchards.

Hmmm. I suppose the bio could use some pruning!

[Landis963]

Unless Slate pulls a Zenigata and becomes a begrudging friend to his quarry (but continues chasing him due to the challenge).

A consummate gambler, who has never cheated once, successfully defended his honor against numerous opponents after numerous poker games, and carved out a similarly lawful yet betting-happy town, where he presides as sheriff, becoming a Zenigata? I don't see that happening. Especially not if Grit's crime(s) burns strong enough in Slate's memory.

[Ninjadeadbeard]

A consummate gambler, who has never cheated once, successfully defended his honor against numerous opponents after numerous poker games, and carved out a similarly lawful yet betting-happy town, where he presides as sheriff, becoming a Zenigata? I don't see that happening. Especially not if Grit's crime(s) burns strong enough in Slate's memory.

Missed that. Withdrawn.

[Saladman]

You should check out From the Sorceror's Skull. He's been working on broadly the same pitch for quite a while, with the difference that he's playing it more "straight," adapting the D&D rules to support a kind of gothic/supernatural/depression-era americana feel more than trying to make a fantasy America to fit in D&D as published. But there's still some great inspiration there.

Also, I'll second reading American Gods if you haven't already. So much there that's up your alley. And that leads me to a particular approach to mythological figures. Paul Bunyan, Johnny Appleseed and others might be small gods/eikones in their own right, forces imbued by common belief with a certain amount of power, perhaps simply to walk the earth fighting their own battles if not necessarily powering clerical spells. Uncle Sam and the Yankee Doodle Dandy are also good candidates for this kind of elevation. (Maybe the Dandy is fading away again by the time of the campaign though?)

If you did adopt that approach, it would follow that other nations and cultures would have their own champions, usually at some remove, but possibly dangerous if you trespassed on their turf. Also! Ghost shirts might have really worked, either from common belief or direct divine blessing. That potentially changes expansion quite a lot. If you don't want expansion to grind to a halt, one solution is to say your Empire was forced to come to a more just accommodation and carve out indigenous states from desirable land instead of reservations from the worst land. That gets you to patriotic Indian soldiers a few generations later right on schedule. Picture Indian Senators showing up to claim their place at the Capitol in full traditional regalia, with a few men welcoming them and others grinding their teeth in frustration at first.

Also, I'm puzzled by the need to combine Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, or rename Tesla and others- no-one's alive to come after you. But that may be an aesthetic quibble more than anything meaningful. Anyway, that class of famous people, after death or even at the height of fame in life, are good candidates for a kind of very minor deification or informal civic sainthood through the "belief" of common knowledge. I'm thinking Crocket, Boone, Tesla, Thomas Edison, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin*, Teddy Roosevelt, maybe Henry Ford and others would get elevated in old D&D terms to immortals or 21st level characters. I'm thinking these civic saints/immortals should be in a different class and have different mechanics than the more elemental and spectral mythological figures.

*Franklin's an under-told legend in his own right. Not just a founding father who flew a kite in a storm, he was a genuine polymath famous as an inventor in his own day, for the lightning rod among many other things. I have a memory of a story that after the rebellion, on the way to France, the British wouldn't let him off his ship when it docked there, fearing he literally did have "lightning in a bottle" and was liable to unleash it on people if allowed in the country. But I can't find any citation now, so that may be apocryphal.

Also, something regional: the Oregon Country was at different times the subject of competing claims by Russia, Spain, France, Britain and the US. That wasn't finally settled in favor of the US until Britain bowed out in 1849 after a surge of late-comer settlers starting in the 1830's. Especially with that big inland gulf on your map, the resolution could have been delayed quite some time, with competing claims from trappers and fur traders, settlers and gold miners from different countries. For that matter, Russia might have held and reinforced Alaska and used it as a base for expansion or harassment- they only sold because they didn't think they could hold it in a war and decided they might as well get something for it while they could.

[Landis963]

Also, I'll second reading American Gods if you haven't already. So much there that's up your alley.

Thirded.

Also, I'm puzzled by the need to combine Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, or rename Tesla and others- no-one's alive to come after you. But that may be an aesthetic quibble more than anything meaningful. Anyway, that class of famous people, after death or even at the height of fame in life, are good candidates for a kind of very minor deification or informal civic sainthood through the "belief" of common knowledge. I'm thinking Crocket, Boone, Tesla, Thomas Edison, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin*, Teddy Roosevelt, maybe Henry Ford and others would get elevated in old D&D terms to immortals or 21st level characters. I'm thinking these civic saints/immortals should be in a different class and have different mechanics than the more elemental and spectral mythological figures.

The point is that this is a different world entirely, not alt-universe Earth with D&D rules. Hence, figures are not copied wholesale, they are copied, made larger than life, and given actual magic powers. Exhibits A-C: Dr. Steam's underwater city, Tommy Oakenstride's tree transfer, Iron John's self-destruction against the automatic rail-layer. Compare with Tesla's exploits, Johnny Appleseed's exploits, and the tale of John Henry. Also, there are some steampunk elements that did not appear in real life. (For example, Iron John is a warforged, not a dark-skinned human)

*Franklin's an under-told legend in his own right. Not just a founding father who flew a kite in a storm, he was a genuine polymath famous as an inventor in his own day, for the lightning rod among many other things. I have a memory of a story that after the rebellion, on the way to France, the British wouldn't let him off his ship when it docked there, fearing he literally did have "lightning in a bottle" and was liable to unleash it on people if allowed in the country. But I can't find any citation now, so that may be apocryphal.

Oh, definitely. However, this is based on the early 1820s, so the Franklin-analogue would be long dead. I see no problem with him maybe inspiring Dr. Steam, though, if you're listening Zap.

[Zap Dynamic]

Wow! Lots to respond to! Let's see if I can get to everything on my lunch break.

Ninja: While it would certainly be possible to go into detail about each of the overseas regions, I think I'd rather keep them vague for now. I want to flesh out the New World as much as possible, and if we find that more diversity is needed, we can add it afterword. For now, I think it would be best to say that "somewhere across the sea" a lot of people are secretly ruled by an expansive vampire society. Maybe some historical Ben Franklin equivalent masqueraded as a foreign diplomat so he could be a Lightning-shooting Vampire slayer?

I LOVE those heroes! I had forgotten all about Usher. I'm going to copy/paste those into their own posts, for each of linking in the OP. I need to do that for Dr. Steam, too.

Landis: First off, thanks for being such an advocate for the setting! Even though you've only just recently joined the conversation, I feel like you have a solid grasp on what I'm trying to accomplish.

Second, I agree with you about the "conflict ball" nature of the Grit-Slate relationship. When I came up with it, I had these two separate characters in my head, and one of them could have benefited from a mortal enemy. I smashed them together, and that was that. That said, I think it can be salvaged with minimal work. I'll think on it, and probably be able to post something by tonight.

Saladman: That link didn't work for me. However, just from your description I can definitely see how it would be a helpful resource. That said, I'm really trying to stick to a Steampunk 1860s feel, so I'd like to discourage later material from the RL timeline.

I guess you're right about American Gods. Someone recommended that I read it in college, but I never got around to it. I'll put it on the list!

That Ghost Shirt idea is completely awesome. The easiest way to balance it is to say that it's an extremely rare magic item, but I like where you're going otherwise. I picture a dozen or so major Native groupings. Some of them are Imperial Allies (showing up to the senate in full regalia...with mixed reception, just like you said), and some are not only opposed to the Empire, but are fighting with them on more-or-less even footing. Not only that, but there are plenty of those Native groups that are in the middle ground, not taking a public stance.

[Zap Dynamic]

Thomas “Tommy” Oakenstride

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Tommy Oakenstride was born sometime after the Founding, though no-one knows quite when, and some even say he's as old as the world itself. In truth, know one knows, 'cept Tommy. Perpetually youthful, Tommy was said to have grown up on the eastern edge of the Middle Plains. As a child he played in the forests by his home, and in time he knew the secret names of every tree, bird, squirrel and grass blade.

Then, while out running errands as a young man, he saw the plains for the first time, he very rarely leaving the forests near his home for any reason. As he saw that complete flatness, Tom was compelled by a voice inside him. Gathering up as many acorns from every tree in the forest as he could carry, Tommy went wandering off into the plains. For years he wandered westward, walking paths untrod even by the Natives of his day. But everywhere he went, his trees would not grow. He would plant them, whisper their names to them, but the trees would not grow. The earth there wasn't meant for trees.

Many years passed like this, until he finally reached the Westron Range. But when he started to plant trees, the Mountain Natives demanded he leave. It did not matter to them that he came to grow trees and make the earth bloom. He was an Imperial, an outsider. So, Tom left again, this time going south by Coterois.

In the southern marshland his trees were too heavy for the soil. They'd sink down to the bottom just as soon as they'd rise. It got so bad that at one time he was furiously putting down whole forests at once, and then watched them immediately disappear into the bayou. In an fury he lashed out at his sinking trees, demanding that they stay up, but to no avail. In fact, his thrashing is said to have broken several trees, whose bark started swimming away, turning into the first alligators.

Tom traveled deep into the deserts of Barado, but there his trees had no water. He backtracked north and around the mountains, but found that the snow was becoming too heavy. His trees would break from the weight of the snow as soon as they shot up.

Finally, nearing the end of his days, Tom went around the mountains and found the western coast. And there he found a land rich in soil and people. He dwelt there among the fishermen and grew vast forests for them to enjoy. His trees spread all up and down the coast, and sometimes he spent so long caring for his trees that they'd grow near to the clouds. Tom would have been happy to set down roots for what time he had left and simply enjoy the company of his trees.

But then word came from the East. The Second Revolution had hit the Empire hard. Though the Empire successfully defended their sovereignty, the retreating Old Worlders cast a terrible curse that killed all the trees and forests and animals east of the mountains.

Old Tom wouldn't stand for that. He sent the word to every tree and bush and sapling he had ever laid in the ground. The Last March of the Forests began. Led by Tom and bolstered by the sheer might of his love for growing things, the forest followed their friend across the mountains and plains. With every bit of effort he could muster, Tom brought the Empire back to life with mighty words and powerful song. In the end, the New World blossomed once more with trees and growing things, but Old Tom was spent.

The trees, bursting with lamentation and sorrow, lifted their caretaker on high and carried him to the highest peak of the Westron Range, where it is said that he was buried as a Native Chieftain, the only Imperial ever granted the honor. His trees live on, and some summer nights there are stories of an old man who wanders the old forests and helps guide travelers to safety.

Tom Oakenstride in Legend:

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I have no idea. We probably need to write up some new tracks for this guy.

[Zap Dynamic]

Usher Ravenholme

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Possibly the finest Imperial Poet ever. While his works are legendary (particularly the dark, Gothic Deepcrow), in life he was anything but. As a young boy he was always rather sickly, and was forced by his father to undergo particularly experimental medical treatments, including forced Vampirization. This last one failed to take as young Usher proved one of those few immune to Porphyric Hemophilia. Compounding things further was the sudden death of his mother due to the vampiric blood disease Porphyric Portus (or, Blood Cannibalism, where the blood in a body actually consumes itself. Medical Science/Magic has no answer currently as to where the devoured blood goes). As it tragically turns out, Ravenholme was a carrier for the disease, although midicine being what it was he never knew.

Ravenholme worked furiously at his craft, but found little financial success. His poetry was, as one editor put it, “nice, but a touch gloomy for our readership”. In his early years a dear friend, Henry Isinger, a prominent doctor in his day and a leading authority on Porphyric Hemophilia, died suddenly. It was concluded he died from Porphyric Portus, assumed to have contracted the disease in his lab. Ravenholme had lost another dear friend.

For a number of years, Ravenholme tried his hand at investigative journalism, always turning a keen eye to the underbelly of his hometown, Innmont. A part of the reason his journalism career failed was due to the fact that everyone knew Innmont was a perfectly normal, even exemplary town, and so his outlandish tales of bloodthirsty cults and cosmic monstrosities had little traction.

According to Ravenholme's writings he supposedly worked for an Imperial Bureau whose existence has been denied by authorities. In any case, Ravenholme claimed to have seen beings of such hideous visage and eldritch fashion that even the stars began to tremble as they turned their faintest attention to the mortal world. These “journal” entries were all confiscated shortly after his death. Ravenholme was sent to an asylum shortly before his twenty-seventh birthday.

He was released three years later and spent the rest of his life writing literal tomes of poems and novels. His life, as it turned out, would only last for another two years. His fiance, Alianore Fairweather, died suddenly (suspected Porphyric Portus), and it left the man distraught.

As it would most tragically turn out, Usher Ranvenholme was one of those few individuals that atheists point out while saying, “See? What sick God would ever do that?” Ravenholme was not only a carrier for Porphyric Portus, but was also a latent psionic. His repeated brushes with madness and despair had finally led to a condition known as “Mindbreak”, where (in short), he decided that the universe had to die. The hills which bordered Usher's home are much closer together than they were in his day, because his “Break” was so severe it collapsed spacetime around himself. His house was swallowed by the earth and no one lives near the site. People who do visit the area tend to disappear as they sometimes step through reality and fall into Usher's mind, dooming themselves to forever roam the halls of an infinite house of despair, desolation and death.

Usher Ravenholme in Legend

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Again, no clue.