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
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,