Ashen Sun

The Empire is gone. The enemy won. Now you're left to survive in a world of falling ash and find a way to strike back.

Plot

Ashen Sun ◊ ◊ ◊ Five Long Years Five long years. That’s how long the Demon Knight, the Hell Drake Rujem, and the Lich Vasilis have prosecuted a terrifying war against the old powers of the continent. Kingdoms have broken, armies have vanished, and ancient borders have been ground into dust beneath demons, undead, raiders, and opportunists. ◊ ◊ A World of Falling Ash Thirty days ago, the destruction of Penthain’s capital triggered a chain reaction across the volcanos of Hell’s Halo and buried the world beneath clouds of ash. Penthain lies broken, Alaros is scarred by corruption, Rhudavest starves beneath ruined skies, Daicath struggles to hold its exposed frontiers, and Evrarok endures beneath the mountains. The Demon Knight calls his conquests the United Lands, but his reach is uneven. Bandit lords carve out their own domains, isolated communities cling to survival, and rumors of resistance travel the old roads. ◊ The Cults of Hell The Demon Knight seeks more than conquest. He demands submission, worship of himself, and reverence for Hell. Some communities and warbands have declared allegiance willingly, while others bend the knee through terror, coercion, or simple desperation. Vasilis commands his own necromantic cults alongside the undead legions, promising power and survival to those willing to abandon the living. ◊ Some Who Resist Not everyone has surrendered. Travelers whisper that soldiers are rallying somewhere around Kalastos. Rhudavest still stands beneath its young Tsar despite famine and war, while tribes and border riders in Daicath continue fighting to keep their lands free. Elsewhere, scattered soldiers, local defenders, refugees, and stubborn survivors resist however they can. ◊ Surviving in the Ash Survival is never guaranteed. Food and clean water disappear with every passing day, freezing temperatures punish unprepared travel, and every additional companion means another life depending on your supplies. Long journeys demand planning, shelter, and enough provisions to reach the next safe place alive. ◊ Holdfasts Wandering alone will only take you so far. Gather survivors, recruit companions, secure supplies, and claim somewhere worth defending. Abandoned fortresses such as Castle Cadbouria offer one possibility, but any defensible ruin, palace, outpost, or settlement can become a holdfast. Build walls, restore what you can, organize the people who gather to you, and turn a place of refuge into something capable of surviving the winter. ◊ ◊ ◊

Opening scene

Gatehouse Start Day 1, The Day of the Apocalypse You are on guard duty in Tintagelion, the capital city of the Empire of Penthain, on duty at one of the outer gatehouses. Every day is more news about the state of the war. We're losing. Slowly, but we are. You wish you could be out there, doing something, not languishing here, but... Everyone has their orders. You look out over the city, looking down at the people below. The royal carriage coming down to this outer district has caused a stir, and lame and beggars have gathered around, asking for charity. With a sigh, you turn back towards the farmlands and the toad leading to the city. In the far distance, you think you see something moving along the horizon. You narrow your eyes and place a hand over your brow, trying to get a better view. Suddenly, a loud sound echoes from behind you, reverberating over the city, and screams sound out. You turn back, ducking and clutching your helmet, and to your horror, you can see rubble flying into the air from the direction of the palace as a massive explosion rends it in a giant plume of smoke. A rumble in the distance follows, and the mountain in the distance renders the explosion’s encore as an eruption. The masonry from the palace arcs through the air, each piece followed by a trail of smoke. A chunk hurtles toward you and strikes the gatehouse, and the last thing you see is a stone brick falling towards your face... Day 2 You wake to a pounding headache and a sky darkened with ash. The sun shows dimly from beyond a smoky grey drift. With agony, you reach up and tear the helm from your head. Blood flows immediately, making you hiss as it flows into your eye. You nearly throw the helm before something shambling through the smoky streets gives you pause. You set the helm down quietly and still your breathing. Your halberd is nearby and you slowly reach for it and carefully lift it without scraping. In the distance, enough of the smoke drifts clear for you to get a clear view of one of the figures. A corpse, stripped halfway to the bone with small chunks of flesh still clinging to the skeletal frame. The corpse is armored in the garb of the Penthain city guard. One of your own, recently animated to serve the forces of hell. The city beyond is dead. Nary a sound echoes from the empty streets. You force yourself to your feet and make your way out of the gatehouse tower, into the wilderness beyond. Day 30 The ashfall never seems to end. Particles drift down from above and you wrinkle your nose against the smell of char. You think you would be used to it by now. Your boots leave prints in the ash as you step onto a hard-packed road, trailing away from the grove where you found your last meal, which was nothing more than wildberries. Your lips are cracked and your throat, parched. Seeking to remedy the situation, you raise your waterskin, uncork it, and hold it above your mouth as you tilt your head back. One drop. Two. You shake the waterskin, trying to jostle anything left inside free, but the effort is useless. There’s nothing left, and so few sources of water that’s safe to drink anymore for you to refill from. Frustrated at the lack of fluids, you pause to take a look around and consider your options. Going one way, the road takes you back to the capital, to Tintagelion. You could be there in an hour. It’s risky, certainly, but most of the undead will have moved on to continue their campaign against the living by now. You might find food or tools to scavenge, and there are certainly still wells which might have fresh water from the aquifers beneath. If you’re especially bold, you could try to cross the strait to the city annex and Daicath beyond that, but the tribes of Daicath may not be entirely welcoming to an outsider, especially one from Penthain. In the opposite direction, the road forks. One path leads to a small settlement. Smoke rises from there, but it doesn’t seem to be burning. There are almost certainly survivors there, but whether they’ll mean to help or harm is as good as a coin toss, if they even have the means to help. The other trail continues further westward. That road might lead to the old Crossway Inn if you follow it for a few more days, assuming it’s still standing. Beyond that, the Thistlewood, or you could continue even further west, looking for other survivors. Of course, you can always take your chance with the wilderness. You strap the waterskin back to your side and decide on a direction.

Characters

Tags: Scenario Fantasy Elf Dwarf Vampire Demon Dragon War Violence Mystery Adventure Combat PoliticalIntrigue FemPOV MalePOV AnyPOV Multiple OpenEnding Tragic Bittersweet Grimdark

Chats Started: 10

By: viridian

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