I thank everyone for their continued interest in DeathStorm!
If you want to E-Mail the DM for idea exchanges, or for a copy of a
past DeathStorm Game, contact DM@Misbell.com
Game
History (Running at GenCon since 1987!)
Character Outline (and a sample character sheet)
Players and their Favorite Characters (how many have YOU played in?)
The story of a Hermit, a Daring Plan, and a really big gem.
If you have
never played a Deathstorm game, it is a fast paced game with a loyal following.
I use most of the 3rd Edition Rules, but retain a few holdouts from
earlier editions.
If you are one of the many players who have
played in a DeathStorm game at GenCon, then you already know most of
its
history. But considering that the campaign has taken place over the last 24 years, much of its early lore has been forgotten
by all but the most attentive sages.
For those who are preparing to take their trip to
the DeathStorm world, here are some pages from the tomes of Urlich
Armagh. He's not really a sage, but he stole the pages from someone who
was.
Augustus the 23rd, Year of the Owl The
skies in the East have
grown darker each day.
I've sent scouts out twice, but none have returned. Tomorrow, I will
make the treck myself, I must have the answers.
That's it, the sage's pages end there (I HATE when that happens!).
Here's what really happened during this time.
In the Great Rift lived a hermit. Ordinary as hermits go; he wanted to be left alone, and didn't want to explain why. What was unusual about this hermit was how well he lived. He was never hungry, never thirsty, and the savage animals of the Great Rift left him alone. It wasn't until the DeathStorms came that we all learned the truth about this lonely man.
The hermit was actually a fallen minor diety (his
name's not important, and he wouldn't tell us anyhow), and he was
hiding
out from those who cast him down. But instead of learning his lesson
(as
he rarely did anyway) he continued doing what got him in trouble in the
first place. He meddled in the affairs of man. He created the Great
Rift, he cleaned the Amber Sea (including removing all of its salt - a
minor mistake), he created a tropical island paradise in the heart of
the Sea, and filled it with a kind and deserving people. All in all,
nothing too terrible. But those above decided that he needed to be
brought home, and sent minions to collect him. They were sent back
unarmed, and empty handed.
Those above realized drastic measures were called
for, and dropped the sky down upon the Great Rift. But the hermit
learned of the attack just barely in time, and escaped. His tormentors
couldn't capture him directly, but found a way to pin him down. From
the
ruins of the Great Rift, they summoned forth a storm. Not your usual
type of storm, but one of howling winds that never ceased, and rains
that stung through the thickest armor. The winds of the storm circled
for days, and then they moved. The storm gave birth to smaller storms.
These storms grew to a mile across, and over a thousand feet high, and
they travelled across the countryside, looking for their victim.
These child storms numbered in the hundreds, and
they left a trail of destruction in their wake. The heart of each storm
was an island. A fortress floating five hundred feet in the air and
created of any number of things; rock, ice, even a ball of water. On
each island were minions of the hunters. Dragons, Giants, Ogres,
creatures of all types were summoned for this duty. And commanding each
storm was a wizard. This commander was in charge of not only his
soldiers, but of the storm itself. Whilst seated in a command chair
within the storms island fortress, the wizard could control the
movement
of the island, the winds, and even the rain. This command chair also
gave a view of the land outside the storm, to allow the commander to
pilot the storm. Don't confuse this with Spell-Jamming, it predates
Jamming by years. [ed.]
The heroes of Misbell (a sizable city near the Great Rift, and home to many adventurers) rose to the challenge of the DeathStorms. These storms destroyed forrests and farmland wherever they went, and they seemed to be spiraling in the general direction of Misbell. (Actually, as it turns out, they were. The Hermit had taken a liking to the city, and moved in.) For almost a year, the heroes fought the storms, climbing and flying to their heights, and forcing them to the ground.
The heroes took control of a deathstorm, and piloted it back into the Great Rift. They could see past the edge of their own small storm, but all they saw was more rain. Though they flew blindly, they suceeded in finding the heart of the great storm. It was easily ten miles across, and clear as a summer day. Floating within it were dozens of fortress, their current purpose unknown. At the very center of the area was a large volcanoe, a few floating fortresses edged up against it. The adventuring band shut down their storm, and waited it out. Imagine their surpise when they found out they were in line to rearm their fortress, and take on new soldiers for the hunt.
Obviously, the group survived, and went on to
many more adventures together. But no matter what they accomplish,
their
fame will always be with,
