Day 3 of the RPG Campaign Tour Challenge asks … where the heck are we?
The Greyhawk ’76 campaign takes place on the world of Oeryth. It’s an Alternative Material Plane version of Oerth, the default world in the classic Greyhawk setting. But the World of Greyhawk is a big place, and we’re adventuring in just a small part of it.
The prompt:
Day 3-Where the heck are we? What is the campaign’s location, and where is that location in relation to other important places.
Visit Nuketown’s RPG Campaign Tour Challenge 2026 Prompts page for the rest of our challenge posts.
You meet a man in a bar…
As you pull up a stool at The Tired Shovel‘s old-and-worn oak bar, you don’t expect the man sitting next to you to talk. With his odd hooded grey and green cloak covering his chest and back, the odd wide-brimmed hat on his head, and the oversized metal walking staff leaning against the bar next to him, everything about him says “ranger”.
Then there’s that multi-pointed star pinned over his left breast, which gleams in the weak light of the tavern. You’ve heard about his kind. Knights of Murlynd. Self-styled keepers of the peace. Wielders of strange technological weapons called “guns”, capable of dropping a man at 120 feet.
No, he doesn’t seem a man for talking, but then he throws back the hood, and gives you a thin smile. “Welcome to High Ery, stranger.” He sips his beer, looking you over, then nods. “Another traveler from a far-off world, seeking the wonders of the Gem of the Flanaess.”
He pauses to scowl at the halfling you didn’t realize was behind you, and you suddenly feel a touch you didn’t know was there leave the purse at your belt. The halfling quickly fades back into the room, wary of the “gunslinger”.
“Rich, but not all too wise, eh?” he says. “You seem the sort that could use a bit of education on our bit of the world. Well, get a beer and get comfortable.”
“Name’s Alain. Alain the Wanderer. And I know a thing or two about a thing or two.”
The Plain of Greyhawk
“You’re walking the Plain of Greyhawk, just south of the Free City of Greyhawk. It’s filled with small farms and ranches, with the occasional country manor house for a Greyhawk noble. Lots of common folk and occasional dastardly lordlings up to no good.
The biggest threat to peace on the Plain is the Burrow Boys. They’re a vicious gang of murderous halflings tired of living in the shadow of bigger folk. They steal, rob, extort, kidnap, and murder, tryin’ to scare respect into folks and get rich doing it.”
Mistmarsh
“East of here’s the Mistmarsh, a vast marsh rumored to hold the ruins of an ancient city, definitely crawling with lizardmen. A couple of keeps funded by the City watch its borders – there’s Blackwall at the northern edge and Marsh Keep to the south. Both might hire sellswords to deal with things try’n to crawl out of the marsh.”
“Deep in the marsh there’s Swamp’s Fork, a meetup for rogues and the like. It’s a ‘if you have to ask where it is, you shouldn’t be going’ sort of place, so be mindful if you’re asking questions ’bout it.”
“On the southeastern edge of the marsh is Greymere, a dwarven stronghold home to a few hundred souls. Good for trade’n. Good for talk’n. Good for drink’n. Mind the hangover, though,” Alain says, with a slight rueful smile, which then sours.
“But be mindful of the Aetharn. Most dwarves are good, solid folk whose word is their bond. The Aetharn? They’re thieves who want profits at any cost. They might offer a good deal, but if it’s too good of a deal, you might find a dagger in your back the next day.”
“The marsh itself? I wouldn’t go without a guide,” Alain says, a small bit of wood appearing from nowhere, which he uses to pick his teeth. “And as guides go, I’m damn good. Reasonable rates too.”
Cairn Hills
“Want to go north? Sure. Over to the northeast, you’ve got the Cairn Hills. They’ve got a couple of mining towns up there, and shafts dug everywhere, so mind where you step. Ton of old tombs up that way too. I’ve heard tell of the Star Cairns, which ain’t no big secret since lots of folks heard of ’em. Not too many folks have found those old Suel cairns, though, and those that do return maimed, dying, or dead.”
Nyr Dyv
“Straight north is Nyr Dyv, the bottomless lake that fills the central Flanaess (that’s what the “civilized” region of Oeryth is called by “civilized” folk). Lots of ships on that lake. Lots of lake monsters too, so I wouldn’t venture too far from shore. And if you go, I’m afraid I’m out. Small boats and big waves aren’t a combination I much like.”
Dyvers
“To the west is Dyvers, a free city and rival to Greyhawk. They’ve got their own guilds, their own thieves, and a feel’n that the world owes ’em something. Best watch your purse strings and backs if you go there. Certainly better than you’re watching ’em here.”
Greyhawk: The Gem of the Flaness
“And then there is Greyhawk.”
“The Free City.”
“The Gem of the Flanaess.”
It is a huge city, packed with humanity and a smatter’n of elves, dwarves, halflings, gnomes, and the like. Less so orcs and their half-kin, given hostilities with the clans living on the Wild Coast, the Pomarj, and other, more lawless places. ‘Course “lawless” is relative. Greyhawk is crawl’n with thieves, and if you think Dyvers is bad — and you should — then Greyhawk might not be the place for you.
“Then again … maybe it is.”
“See, Greyhawk is where you go when you want someth’n. Need someth’n. Or want to lose someth’n. Like some weird magic artifact. Or yellow-slashed slavers who’ve been hunting you since Highport.” Alain smirks. “Yeah, I saw them. Might want to do something about them before you get caught and sold down on the Pomarj.”
“The law in the city is the Lord Major and its ruling council, and you can’t spit without hitting a noble from some country or another. And like I was say’n, the Thieves Guild’s everywhere, sometimes warr’n with the Beggers Guild, sometimes runn’n ’em like puppets. Depends who’s telling the story, but what you need to know is thieves are everywhere – the sewers, the taverns, the libraries, hell, even the council.”
“What about the Circle of Eight?” Alain draws heavily on the cigarette you didn’t see him roll and light. “Want to meet them? Might want to reconsider that. Eight powerful mages. Eight notorious manipulators. Headed up by Mordenkainen, dedicated to helping maintain balance in the world. They’re not about good and evil, black and white. They’re all about the grey, and they’re more likely to use you in their schemes than help you with some fool quest.”
“One thing[s for sure, they ain’t show’n up to help you if you get in over your heads. Unlike some other Realms, wizards in Greyhawk got better things to do than meddle in the affairs of minor adventurelings.” Alain sips his beer. “No offense.”
“‘Course, maybe you’re not headed to the city. Maybe you’re headed to the ruins of Castle Greyhawk. Oh yes, I see that glimmer of greed in your eye. Castle Greyhawk. Bastian of the mad archmage Zagyg. Home to a dozen or more underground levels of death traps, horrible monsters, and unimaginable treasure. And maybe a trapped demigod or two; you never know what the Zagyg might be keeping down there. Not that he’s around these parts much since becom’n a god. Yep, the God of Humor, Eccentricity, Occult Lore, and Unpredictability.
“And you want to go to his basement.” Alain sighs and puts out his smoke on his boot heel. His silver boot spur spins lazily as he does so. “Well, I can get you there. What happens after that is up to you.” The gunslinger-priest downs the last of his beer.
“So about that guide fee you were gonna pay me…”
Featured Image Meta
A black and white map of the Greyhawk region of the World of Greyhawk.