Legend of the Zinn

L'morte de Oberon
Or How I learned to stop worrying and actually kill a player.

It began with a chance meeting in a dungeon. An uppity druid with a childlike attitude named Ky, trapped, awaiting his fate. A Soulbound, beguiled and captured by a witch, who broke free and tore her hideout apart. Oberon never thought he would travel with anyone, but here he was, taking this young gnome under his metal wing and teaching him how to stand up for what he believed. It seemed like coincidence that he was sent to the gnomes in the jungle, with this youngling at his side. It had to be fate, but he wouldn’t let it happen. He would do what he had to, do drive the Drow back to their dank hole, but he wouldn’t let Istus win.

Within a few days they were in the gnome’s Hometree, fighting off a drider attack. His gnome pal had seemed different since coming to Tig, the largest of the gnome cities, and here he truly showed it. With one final wave of power, the druid had tapped into the tree’s power, and crushed the abomination like a bug, leaving him exhausted and unconcious.

This wasn’t good, Tig’s Root (the leader and spiritual liaison to the entire jungle) told Oberon that his young friend would die, unless he took up his destined post as Sylvone’s Root, where his friend was born. Ky was revived, blissfully unaware of his impending doom, or the necessity of facing the destiny he had fled from so recently.

After some adventures on the road to Sylvone, and difficulties with the lifts that bring visitors onto the city, Oberon and Ky found themselves in front of the very chair that would seal the young gnome’s fate. It was said that no one had ever sat on the seat that hadn’t been chosen, as Ky had. Oberon was warned, and pleaded with, and still he sat. He sat to save his friend. He sat to tell Istus, the god of Fate, that he wouldn’t succumb to her designs. He sat, and the Tree probed him, tried to determine his worth. Oberon’s soul could not withstand the mental or physical onslaught, and he perished, his energy harvested for the tree, giving Ky a couple more days as a free gnome, before he was bound to the tree, as Fate had dictated from the start.

Oberon found peace in the eternity, and a new story is born from his ashes, so as the eons turn, each story leads to another.

Falling into the Widow's Web
An Experiment in Using Spellcasting Monsters

Having helped Morwilde, Oberon makes his way into the great forest, following the trail on his way back to Embury. Along the trail he encounters a pair of giant spiders, one of which he dispatches with ease, the other he marks and tracks into the forest, following it until he reaches a cottage in a forest clearing. He’s greeted by a seemingly beautiful young woman who invites him in. His natural instincts prompt him to continue searching around for the spider, and in the process the woman manages to prey upon his vision. When he turns his back to fire upon the illusion she takes the opportunity to unleash a storm of energy, right into his back, nearly knocking him down and out. With one final insult, she renders him unconscious, and claims possession of him for her foul experiments…


The Pit, the Cave, and a very Dumb Giant

This is a bare bones account of events for the sake of posterity. Any are welcome to embellish it at a later date.

Oberon “Deadlocke” was contracted to rid the village of Morwilde of a giant. He managed to wrangle the help of the village guards and almost trapped the giant in a pit of his own design. Things didn’t go according to plan, the giant easily escaped and knocked both him and Lafis (the captain of the guard) out cold. They woke in the giant’s cave, outside of which he was enjoying a nap. After a silent retreat, they made their way back to the village to prepare for the final stand. Creating mock villagers out of hay and old clothes, Oberon and the other able villagers hid atop the roofs and waited. Soon the giant came, fooled by the ruse it started to destroy all the “people” it saw. As soon as it did, however, Oberon dealt massive damages to it and the villagers followed suit. After a couple good men were lost, and Lafis unfortunately missed with two of his spear throws, Oberon brought it down with two excellent uses of his Hail of Thorns spell, rendering the giant dead, and the town in a state of celebration.

Fable of the Zinn

Built on the backs of Zinn, the world is one fraught with the latent magics of these once colossal titans. Their bones built the land and their spirits birthed life and death.
Eons before our modern world there was one race inhabiting this plane. They were the Zinn. The Zinn┬áhad a society in which creation was borne of thought. If one could think the very thought of something it would come into existence. For the sake of peace and utopia, it became taboo to imagine anything living with its own consciousness, for such thoughts would breed more thoughts and would continue ad infinitem. The Zinn┬ásubsisted on thoughts of little wonders, devices with no purpose, or magical essences and the study of them. Life was peaceful, slow and steady. They as a race felt that they weren’t doing anything worthy. Life, while peaceful, had no purpose. With everything they could ever want the Zinn had no reason to create, they had no struggle, they had no drive to succeed or the fear of failure. They wished to know these things, these simple but (to them) unreachable motivations. As a result they formed a world by laying their bodies together along their home plane and becoming earth and water, deserts and plains, fields and forests.
On their backs they imagined men, elves and a whole host of races which would call it home. In the secret and the dark they created monsters and demons. On other planes they made abominations and linked all these worlds together, for the sake of giving their new creation depth and discovery. They put ideals of good and evil in all hearts. They loosed their creations into the world with the hopes of observing them for a blink of their time and seeing what makes motivation worth living for. They set this very world into motion to observe the rotation of life.

This is but an old fable told to young children, ones too little to tell the difference between folly and truth. Those that hold the stories dearest, those that desire to speak to or meet the Zinn, they are the men and women who explore this land, taking jobs and adventures in hopes of finding those secret, hidden places where the Zinn are said to communicate with us. These brave explorers are called the Zinnic. The rest of the world tolerates this belief, because these people also help to clean up the dark, fend the demons off and protect civilization. In some towns “Zinnic” is referred to with derision, in others, reverence, but in all places they are given respect.


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