Where is your Campaign Set?

I always wanted to do a Kozak campaign set just after Yezdigerd becomes king of Turan. Bit of a Taras Bulba job.
Mine is in Zamora (Shadizar to be precise), set around the time Conan was in his 20's (though as of yet, he hasn't come up, since the PC's are going through most of his adventures ;))
Mine is in the Nordheim region, headed through the mountains and eventually Hyperborea. The party (well 2 of them) were captured by the Nordheim and forced to fight to the death in the pits. After being healed for reasons yet undisclosed to them, they ended up joining with another group of Nordheim barbarians after a standoff in which death was iminent. They ended up joining them on a quest to retrieve their lone kidnapped scholar, whom without their society will turn to chaos once again. SO away we go. Oh yah he was kidnapped by Man Apes.
Since my PC's started in Zamboula, they have a slight inkling of how mean the Turanians are going to get. Yezdigerd hasn't come to power yet, but I might just allow the PC's to find Teyaspa after his exile and play kingmaker themselves ;)
Shadizar the Wicked... in this mode:

In the darkness, in a city, on the edge of the known world... I'd fallen pretty far in my life, but this miserable room, in this miserable guardhouse, in this most miserable of cities was by far the furthest.

From Thieftaker-General of Aquilonia to the most miserable Guard of Inquiry in the Wicked City of Shadizar. But I didn't know what it was to fall then... not until She walked in.

She didn't belong in a place like this... she belonged in a pallace (or a whorehouse) or at a sacrificial stone- and whether she was the one on the stone, or the one holding the dagger I didn't yet know. He perfume proceded her, a curling lure of lotus and jasmine and something else- her own musky scent.

When she opened her mouth though, and that voice rolled out, I knew. Knew like I know how to kill a man with a knife or how to brew strong tea or how to tell if an informer was lying... I knew, she was the one holding the bloody dagger, and I was the one on the stone.

Hyborean Noir

Heh. Cute, I like it. Then again, Conan would be more of the type to pick her up, crush her lips with his fierce kisses, and immediately melt her icy heart and provoke an extended bout of nookie, followed by much decapitation and evisceration of multiple hired goons.
Johannixx said:
Heh. Cute, I like it. Then again, Conan would be more of the type to pick her up, crush her lips with his fierce kisses, and immediately melt her icy heart and provoke an extended bout of nookie, followed by much decapitation and evisceration of multiple hired goons.

Exactly why such a one as this wouldn't go to a Conan... unless she wanted some killing done.

Inns-Moth, a small and lonely fishing village 60miles N. west of the Thundar River inlet in the kingdom of Argos. Where the local villagers exibate strange and mysterious "fish" like features and behaviors :twisted:
I'm starting things out in Shadizar, and then moving the action to Arenjun circa The Tower of the Elephant. After that the campaign will probably shift to the south - Zamboula and then Khoraja and Koth (the PC's have a Khorajan Prince to kidnap... :wink: )
Had another idea- 'Dark nights in Stygia' in which Akivasha successfully seduced Conan and made him into a vampire... Conan then did what Conan does, and took over Stygia... a 5-level Vampire class will tempt players over to join Conan's army of undead boyers and swordsmen, but they might rather plot against the self-made king as members of the now underground Black Ring.

Eruk, Shem to Akhlat, Shem to Zamboula to Yaralet, Zamora to Arenjun, Zamora. On the move, just like Conan. Giving a whirlwind tour of the setting. Likely on to Koth next to fight in the civil wars against Strabonus.
Not a clue! Since I just got my book yesterday! (WOOHOO!)

Inns-Moth, a small and lonely fishing village 60miles N. west of the Thundar River inlet in the kingdom of Argos. Where the local villagers exibate strange and mysterious "fish" like features and behaviors

Ordovician said:
Haven't started a game yet, but I may set it somewhere in Brythunia or Nemedia.

Conan And The Amazon has a nice Brythunian "wild west" border town run by thieves detailed well in the first few chapters before the action shifts elsewhere. Conan The Defender is set entirely in and around Belverus, Nemedia and centers on a conflict for the Dragon Throne between nobles.
The campaign is based in a sorcerer's tower somewhere in the deserts of Shem. The PCs are his hirelings and they don't know exactly where they are because he brought them here via a demongate from Arenjun. Having served him for a few years, this happens:

The tower stood, dark and menacing in the sweltering desert, casting a foreboding shadow upon the shifting sands. Like a massive fang it jutted hundreds of feet above the desert floor…jagged and unnatural it was, and feared by all who lived near it. The old ones of the local tribes, they could recall the tales of their grandfathers, tales of a time when no tower stood amidst the endless dunes. But then the sorcerer had come, a dark and sinister Stygian, his face jagged and angular like the tower he would build.
For years, summoned creatures did his dark bidding, wielding the power of the earth itself, molding the very bedrock into this massive spire. A few daring warriors were brave enough to challenge the invaders, but they were no match for the Stygian’s evil sorcery. Fortunately, the sorcerer, like others of his ilk, cared little for the trivial creatures that lived in the desert. So they left him alone, and he didn’t trouble them. Oh, from time to time a new generation of tribesmen would assault his tower, but they found only death beneath the dark spire.
And yet, though their efforts came to naught, the frightened Shemites’ fears of dark and unspeakable evil were well founded. For on the Night of the Jackal, the Stygian sorcerer, an ancient outcast named Thutmose-Sobek, made his way to his summoning circle in the bowels of his tower, bent on a diabolic scheme. In his company were a young man and woman, one an apprentice, the other a slave. The man was a Kushite Witchman, a powerful weaver of spells in his own right, and the slave was a former Stygian noblewoman, well versed in the sensual nature of demonic ritual.
The three took their places in the circle. The lamplight painted the sorcerer’s creviced face in an eerie reddish hue…his expression was that of a living corpse, nearly devoid of the emotions that had once made him human. The Kushite, equally frightening in appearance with his many tattoos and ritual scars, began to hammer a slow, pounding beat on his drum. The slave woman shed the tiny wisp of silk that was her only garment and began to dance, her shapely body moving with serpentine grace through the flickering lamplight.
Thutmose-Sobek’s deep voice filled the chamber, speaking an ancient and alien tongue…an incant that was first spoken when man’s ancestor’s had scarcely begun to walk upright:
“Gib, Thothnath, Yog Nashpur!” He chanted.
“Gib, Thothnath, Yog Nashpur!”
The slave and the Kushite both shuddered as the incant drifted across the stale, dry air. Though neither recognized the spell, the words betrayed it’s vile and inhuman nature. But both realized and feared the power of their master, and they did precisely as they were bidden.
“Gib, Thothnath, Yog Nashpur!”
The sorcerer lit a brazier. The smell of dried lotus petals from the tombs of ancient Acheron filled the room. He lit a second, and a third, and a fourth…each igniting a unique alchemical compound as the spell built towards it’s climax. The tempo quickened to a frantic beat, like the pounding heart of a sacrificial victim the instant before the blade is plunged into her heart. The slave woman spun and gyrated, sweat pouring down her luscious curves, moaning like a whore at the edge of ecstasy.
“Gib, Thothnath, Yog Nashpur!”
The fifth brazier was lit. Thutmose-Sobek’s serpent eyes gleamed with deadly fire…he had waited for decades to collect the knowledge…the components…the raw magical power to cast this spell. Far away, werewolves went on a killing frenzy, succumbing completely to bestial viciousness. Vampires the world over fed like starving animals, bathing themselves in the blood of their victims. And thousands cried out in fear as Set swallowed the moon.
“Gib! Thothnath! Yog Nashpur!”
A swirling mass of black tendrils began to form within the circle. The chant continued, now echoed by other voices…distant…chilling…inhuman. The slave and the witchman, in spite of their previous experience in things arcane and demonic, shuddered with apprehension as the nameless horror began to take shape before their eyes.
“Gib! Thothnath! Yog Nashpur!”
The ancient Stygian lit the sixth and last brazier. The black tendrils had now coalesced into a tangible darkness that swirled about in the circle like a living thing. Wisps of greenish smoke coiled about him as the spell reached it’s climax…and then, he caught the scent of something…something unfamiliar…and his dark eyes went wide with fear.
“My servants!” he cried. “Set preserve us! Flee!”
As the words left his mouth, a massive clawed hand burst forth from the darkness and seized Thutmose-Sobek, it’s talons rending robes, flesh and bone. The Stygian woman screamed in terror, recoiling from the horrific sight. The Kushite hesitated, torn by a desire to help his master and the knowledge that there was nothing he could do.
“Flee!” The sorcerer screamed. “I am lost! Fly before HE takes you! I shall wait for thee, my servants…in Hell!”
The slave needed no further prompting, and the Kushite was close on her heels. The tower quaked as lightning gashed the heavens asunder. Hideous, gibbering laughter echoed through the tower and across the swirling sands. Storm clouds appeared from nowhere and blood fell from the skies. A terrible cry echoed through the halls, and Thutmose-Sobek was gone.
Apparently not very original... mine is set on the Pictish border! :D A town has been attacked, the population massacred or enslaved by a Pictish warband.

But the action will quickly shift from there to an Aquilonian city as the PCs try to discover not why the Picts attacked, but who paid them... and why were they paid in coins with an arcane symbol etched into them?

Sewers, corruption, cults, and carnage ensue.