”They say our small world of men is built on the backs of dragons, gone from the world aeons ago.”
So last month, I took part in the Mapvember 2017 challenge.
I don’t like the usual “top-down gridmap” -style at all personally, so I figured that I’d make each map an adventure on its own, with some notes and annotations included.
Tools used were my Micron pens, a single wide-brush Copic, and ink and brushes.
Here you have the maps I drew, pulled into a little PDF, with a tiny bit of commentary. Make them into stories! (And tell me how it goes!)
Fantasy Resource – Mapvember 2017 Adventures
“The past is a vaunted wonderland of hidden secrets. Whoever digs deep enough can uncover them. But beware! The arcana of the past is not without danger!” Continue reading “The Sign of the Sanctum”
“Hitting the road, with your wagons and followers in tow, you wonder what the winding way has stored for you this time?
Wolves? Trolls? Something altogether more sinister? There’s no way to know. You can only push forward.
And that is precisely why you push through this bleak landscape. To surprise yourself.
There was nothing new to find under the cold soil of your father’s fields, so you took the risk to become a delver. A reaver. A knower of things, a finder of secrets.
The road is your home, the inns on the way are the closest you want for a restful place.
You can never go back home again. But what is home anyway?” Continue reading “Random Encounters, in a Weird World”
The air is dry and unusually warm. Clouds of dust rise from the trail upon each step. “Only the vultures dare that far into the hills”, he recalls hearing in the village while drinking with the unshaven brutes the night before. “You´ll get yourself killed up there, lad!” But a promise is a promise. Even though given to a tavern wench begging on her knees in the calm of a dark bedroom.
He lifts his head and feels the wind through the visor of the helm. He can still remember the soft scent of the wench as she sobbed beside him. But now there is a stench of rotting meat in the air and faint barking sounds can be heard coming from the rocky terrace above. Something is lurking there. Beyond that old mud-brick wall. Something uncivilized and unclean. A wild dog perhaps, or a scabby wolf with a broken tail-bone. Whatever it may be, the missing child is up there.
Or what’s left of her, anyway.
Suddenly, a cracking sound from the left. In the corner of his eye he sees seven grimy apparitions charging down the slope, weapons in hand. They approach drooling and barking, like beasts in heat. The dog-people of which that old fool with an eye-patch was raving about back in the village. He realizes that venturing this far into the wilderness may indeed have been a mistake.
But a promise is a promise.
He draws his steel and turns to face them. Continue reading “The Shrine of Ni Ussa Mah”