Welcome to the Soul’s Fury Campaign Setting
Aeldur looks to the dark ominous clouds above him. He can smell the sulfur in the air, hear the crackle of lightning and feel the ground begin to shake below him. He stares out into the distance, looking over his vast kingdom. The tall, slender Elven God-King looks down, from the top of the tallest tower in all the world, at the sprawling city before him. His thoughts wander to those of his citizens that he has used, essentially as slaves, to make his kingdom even greater. The might has consumed him, he turned his back on the Gods, proclaiming himself as one.
Silo, exhausted, makes his way to the top of the mountain. He has climbed up the dangerous precipice. He collapses from exhaustion as he reaches the peak. The view from here his breath taking. The wind howls around him as he looks over the mightiest city in all the land, the breath taking capitol of his elven people. ‘If I hurry,’ he thinks to himself, ‘I might make it before the rain makes it, this will be my first good meal in a long time.’ The way down the mountain is always easier on the body, and Silo forces himself up. He looks at the single, white tower that rises above the city. The young elf smiles. “Home at last,” he says out loud, even though there is no one around to hear him.
Voxado sits quietly at his desk. His quill slowly caresses the scroll he is making. Misericordia et lux, the words flow nicely across the page. ‘Such a minor healing spell,’ the avenger thinks to himself. ‘It is sad that so many of these will be needed if the High Priest is correct.’ The ground begins to shake. A cleric runs by, “It is happening! We are all going to die!” The clerics footsteps can be heard running off in the distance. Voxado leans back in his chair. He lights a cigar and puffs on it, a smoke ring dances away. “May the Gods have mercy on us.”
Silo takes one step and watches as a fireball screams towards the city. The sound is deafening, Silo can feel the heat on his face, burning painfully. The meteor strikes the ground at the base of the tower. Aeldur’s scream of defeat and rage and be heard, even from this far away as the tower crumbles and the city burns. Silo struggles to keep his feet as he watches the horrific sight of his home crumbling. The ground crumbles beneath him and he falls. There is nothing for him to grab onto, he looks up as he yells. Meteors of flame come falling down all around, lightning crackles, thunder rolls through the mountain, and then the darkness falls.
The Soul’s Fury Campaign Setting
Welcome to the Soul’s Fury Campaign Setting. This setting is one built by both the players and dungeon masters who have participated in the setting. The setting is mostly a play by post these, but has survived through four table top campaigns, seven play by post games, four dungeon masters and over fifty players since its inception in 2010, spanning over 125 years of game play. Each of the characters played in the setting have a way to uniquely change the setting in ways that appeal to the players and the dungeon master that broadens the history and cultures of the world. Almost every village, town and city was created by a player, not just thrown down by a dungeon master. Many of the worlds factions, cultures and districts were player created and controlled. We are always looking for new dungeon masters and players, especially for new play by post campaigns. Games take place at The Giant in the Playground forum.
The Soul’s Fury Campaign Setting takes place mostly on the world of Padonthia, as it is known to the mortals that inhabit this plane. However, to the gods it is known as the Lost Plane of Creation. This plane of existence was the first prime material plane, the one the young gods practiced on, perfecting their skills of creating the races, monsters, and even honing their skills at the basic laws of physics. When this plane was created, the Gods did not create planets yet, or suns, or moons or stars. Eventually, Creation was abandoned. For countless ages, the mortal beings were left to their own devices. Kingdoms and empires rose and fell until one being seized control. Aeldur, the God-King, Ruler of the Empire of a Thousand Nations, Sole True God of Padonthia. He ruled from the highest mountains to the deepest oceans, he banned the worship of all deities but himself. He ruthlessly purged the world of anyone worshiping the old gods. His reign of terror lasted for more than a thousand years, before he was able to garner enough power, and magic, that he was going to transcend into a true god.
The true gods had cared little about Creation, but this act quickly brought about their attention, and their wraith. The gods brought down their might, hurling great, powerful fireballs and the world, scarring it with their holy symbols. Storms raged across the world, destroying nearly every ounce of civilization. Tsunamis flooded continents, earthquakes swallowed nations, and volcanoes covered the world in ash. The cataclysm struck with such powerful force, the devastation can never be rivaled.
The gods returned, each influencing their own section of the world. Some how, through the ash rose one civilization. When it originally formed it was nothing more than a village of elves and goblins working together to survive sitting atop Bobcat Hill, over looking Meteor Lake. Through courage, love and the will to survive, it is now the heart of civilization. Padonthia City is the epitome of hope in an otherwise dark and uncivilized, uncharted world.