Albany Institute of History and Art

Scavenging Location

  • Scale: Large (24 items possible with 12 minimum)
  • Item Categories: Utilities, Tools and Kits, Clothing, Junk, Scraps and Art Artifacts
  • Degree: Partly Searched DC 10
  • Level 1

Searching zones include: First floor, second floor and third floor. Each of these 3 areas share the same item categories.

Special search zone: Library. Searching the library will yield 1d6 salvageable books. For every 5 points the party exceeds the DC for the Degree, they find an additional 1 salvageable book.

Special search zone: Cars. There are the remains of several cars parked in the parking lot. The party can search these. With the use of an engineering kit they can scavenge 1d100 credits worth of engineering scraps.

Note: to roll for Art and artifacts simply roll 1d4 to determine the number found. To roll for Junk or Scraps roll 1d100.

Complications

Note: if the party attempts to search the location without having first addressed ART, he will engage them. This will prevent them from being able to spend the required amount of time to complete the search.

  • There are fewer supplies here than is expected: the party cannot find items in a search at this location again, until the location has meaningfully changed (such as having new inhabitants arrive). This means that they can perform a search, but will automatically fail in that search. It will still cost them the time for searching.
  • It took longer to find supplies than expected: increase the time taken by half the original amount per complication.
  • You disturb the location in a way that makes it more dangerous, triggering a structural collapse. The character searching and those that are helping must make a Dexterity saving throw DC 10 or take 1d6 bludgeoning damage from the falling debris.

ART

ART will engage with the party sooner rather then later. They will come to investigate any sounds that it is hearing which is automatic if the party is not attempting to sneak into the museum. If sneaking, ART gets a perception check to see if they become aware of the party. If the party attempts to search any party of the location, breaks anything or engages in combat ART will become aware of them. If the party is searching around the outside of the building, ART will watch them from one of the windows or collapsed walls giving the party a chance to see ART observing them. This is a passive perception check 10 to become aware of the robot watching.

Outside

You step cautiously from the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, the rain-slicked pavement reflecting the orange glow of the storm-choked sky above. Before you looms the dark, brooding façade of the Albany Institute of History and Art, its name barely legible on a battered stone sign, the letters scarred and crumbling as if gnawed by time itself. The buildings rise in mismatched grandeur—on the left, a stately brick structure with boarded windows and the skeletal remains of a twisted tree clawing at its side; to the right, the columned entrance of an older edifice stands grim and silent, its doors sealed shut beneath a rotting arch. Between them, a narrow glass atrium sits like a scar stitched between eras, its panes fogged and dark, with wiry tendrils of creeping vines crawling over the surface. The whole scene hums with an eerie stillness, as though the past itself had grown restless and is watching you approach.

In general, there is nothing for the party to find here. There are cars to loot and possible routes up to the second floor.

First Floor

Entrance

As you step through the fractured threshold of the crumbling building, the scent of moss and mold assaults your senses—earth reclaiming stone. Faint daylight filters in through gaps in the collapsing wall, casting fractured shadows over the cracked marble floor. Giant, abstract sculptures—once celebrated works of art—now lie tilted or shattered, scattered across the chamber like fallen titans. Faded signage clings to the walls, barely legible beneath years of dust and grime. The air is still and heavy, interrupted only by the distant groan of the settling structure and the soft rustle of overgrown grass creeping through the broken foundation. Directly in front of you a stairwell rises, their steps partially blocked by debris and weather-worn rubble. In the center of the gallery, what was once a proud display has become a solemn graveyard of forgotten culture, an eerie reminder of the world that was.

There isn't much in this space. It serves as a starting point to allow the party to access the areas of interest within the museum.

Collapsed Stairwell

Twisted metal railings jut out at odd angles, and chunks of concrete and plaster have collapsed onto the steps. Dust still clings in the air, thick and dry, making every breath feel like chalk. A jagged slab has broken clean through the upper landing, its weight driving debris down into a crumpled pile that blocks the way up. Sunlight pours through a shattered window above, casting sharp lines across the rubble, and somewhere beyond the wreckage, you can just make out the second floor. It’s clear you won’t be getting through without effort or ingenuity.

As the party explores the ruins of the Albany Institute of History and Art, they’ll find their access to the second floor obstructed by a partially collapsed stairwell. This structural failure presents both a physical challenge and a tactical decision, requiring the group to choose how they wish to approach the obstacle. Several options are available, each suited to different skills and resources:

  1. Clearing the Debris by Force – Characters with raw physical power may attempt to shove aside the rubble to create a passable path. This requires a DC 10 Strength check, and a success opens the way for the rest of the party to move upward. Failing has a 50% chance of causing additional debris to fall into the stairwell (adding an additional 10 hit points to the debris pile). If debris falls, the character must make a Dexterity saving throw DC 10 or take 1d6 bludgeoning damage from the falling debris.
  2. Climbing the Rubble – Adventurers with athletic prowess may opt to climb over the debris. This route is quicker but precarious and demands a DC 10 Athletics check to avoid injury or dislodging unstable debris. Failure results in the character falling, taking 1d6 bludgeoning damage. Additionally, there is a 50% chance of causing additional debris to fall into the stairwell (adding an additional 10 hit points to the debris pile).
  3. Finding Another Way In – The party can scout around the exterior of the building in search of alternative entry points. Several damaged walls and broken windows on the second floor offer potential routes. Climbing to one of these openings requires a DC 10 Athletics check. Failure results in the character falling and taking 1d6 bludgeoning damage.
  4. Threading Through the Debris – For the nimble and precise, it’s possible to carefully weave through the collapsed stairwell, maneuvering between broken supports and unstable planks. This option calls for a DC 10 Acrobatics check, representing the delicate balance and movement needed to avoid triggering further collapse. Failure results in the character falling, taking 1d6 bludgeoning damage. Additionally, there is a 50% chance of causing additional debris to fall into the stairwell (adding an additional 10 hit points to the debris pile).
  5. Using Explosives – If the party has access to explosives, they may choose to blast their way through. Explosions automatically deal full damage to inanimate objects. The debris has 10 HP, and destroying it fully clears the path. However, the stairwell itself has 20 HP, and inflicting 20 or more damage will trigger another collapse, adding 20 more HP worth of debris to the pile. This high-risk, high-reward option could either resolve the blockage entirely—or make it significantly worse.
  6. Second Stairwell - There is a second set of stairs up to the second floor that the party can discover with a bit of looking around.

Library

As you step into the room, a thick musty scent of rotting paper and mildew hangs in the air like a ghost of knowledge long lost. Towering shelves stand in evenly spaced rows, their wooden frames bowed and splintering with age. Each is crammed with the decaying remains of books—spines flaking, pages curled and crumbling, titles long faded into oblivion. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the faint creak of the warped floorboards beneath your feet. Against the walls, the remains of desks sit in quiet ruin, some partially collapsed, others covered in brittle fragments of parchment and rusted writing implements. This was once a place of quiet study and preservation—now, a graveyard of forgotten wisdom, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

This room can be scavenged for books, see above.

As the party moves through the room, any character with a passive Perception of 10 or higher will notice subtle signs that this ruin is not as abandoned as it first appears.

Footprints disturb the thin layer of dust that carpets the floor—some booted, others the distinct impressions of something heavier and more mechanical. A few of the books have been recently displaced or knocked over, their positions inconsistent with the stillness of the surrounding decay. Scuff marks along the ground suggest something has been dragged or moved. In a few places, faint scratches along the walls and shelving hint at metal scraping stone—signs of activity that could not have happened long ago. These clues suggest that something—or someone—is still using this space.

Alternatively, they can discover this information if they actively investigate the room for the same DC.

Computer

To the far end of the corridor, a softly glowing machine hums faintly in the gloom, its blue light reflecting off the nearby walls, an eerie and out-of-place beacon amidst the decay.

At the far end of the crumbling hallway, the softly glowing machine is revealed to be a damaged archive terminal—one of the museum’s original data access points. ART, the robotic guardian of the museum, has been diligently working to restore this system in hopes of recovering the institution’s lost digital records. The terminal still hums with power, its flickering screen a stubborn testament to surviving tech, but its connection to the museum’s database remains broken. A character trained in Engineering can attempt to repair the connection with a DC 10 check, rerouting decayed wiring and coaxing life back into the fractured interface.

Once the terminal is restored, the party has two options: they may attempt to hack into the system themselves with a DC 10 Computer Use check to download the archival files, or they may step aside and allow ART to complete the process—no check required. If ART is permitted to access the full database, he integrates the knowledge seamlessly, gaining a +10 bonus to all History checks due to the vast trove of cultural data. Despite his commitment to preserving knowledge, ART is willing to share; he will permit the party to copy the data onto a portable storage device, provided it can be carried out of the facility. Whether the information is hoarded, shared, or used to broker goodwill, this moment may shape the party’s standing with ART—and their future interactions with Camp Hope.

Octagonal Room

As you step into the octagonal chamber, a thick silence blankets the room, broken only by the faint echo of your footsteps on the cracked stone floor. A large spiral staircase dominates the eastern side of the room, its iron railing rusted and stairwell choked with grime and debris—though it still appears passable. Two long-forgotten benches rest crookedly along the western walls, one overturned, the other partially crumbled as if time itself had grown weary of holding it up.

As the party takes in the quiet stillness of the octagonal chamber, those with a passive perception of 10 or higher begin to notice subtle signs that they are not the first to pass through this place in recent days. Dust, which should lay thick and undisturbed, bears faint footprints—some humanoid, others harder to place. Near the base of the spiral staircase, long scuff marks cut through the dirt and grime, as if something heavy had been dragged across the floor.

Closer inspection (Investigation DC 10) of the chamber's cracked walls reveals strange etchings scratched into the stone—jagged and deliberate, circling the room in a rough pattern. Anyone who succeeds on a DC 10 Arcana check recognizes them as magical runes. Though faded, their purpose remains: protective glyphs, likely placed to ward off intruders or conceal something within. The air tingles faintly near the markings, a residual shimmer of old magic hanging like a breath held too long.

Side Room

As you step through the crumbling archway into the overgrown chamber, the air is thick with the scent of moss and damp stone. Fragmented remains of once-proud statues lie scattered across the floor—limbs broken, torsos half-buried in dirt, and faceless heads reduced to dust. Moss and weeds have crept through the cracked tiles, overtaking the space as nature slowly reclaims it. At the room’s center, a broken stone basin brims with tangled greenery, its once-clear waters long vanished. Toppled columns lie like forgotten bones, while a single, eroded statue leans crookedly in the upper corner, its features worn smooth by time. The silence is heavy, disturbed only by the faint drip of water and the distant groan of shifting stone, as if the room itself mourns what it once was.

North Room

As the party enters this long, narrow chamber, the heavy scent of dust and decay greets them. The room appears to have once been an exhibit hall, though now it feels more like a tomb. Stone benches are arranged in disordered rows, some toppled, others chipped and cracked, as if they’ve suffered centuries of neglect or a recent violent upheaval. At the far end, a raised dais still stands, though the exhibit it once held is gone—only the support rails and the skeletal outline of a shattered display remain, suggesting something large and once important was housed here. A pile of rubble rests near the wall, partially burying a rusted metal pole.

Second Floor

Upper Octagonal Room

Cracks spiderweb across the stone floor, and timeworn debris lies scattered—broken pieces of furniture and fallen masonry speaking to long abandonment. A spiral staircase coils tightly in the northeastern corner, its steps descending into darkness below, cloaked in shadows. To the west, a partially intact bench hugs the wall, worn smooth by years of disuse. A toppled lectern and the remains of a shattered chest rest along the southern curve of the room, hinting that this place may once have served as a study or storage area. The stone walls are etched with faint discolorations, like ghosts of whatever purpose this room once served. Despite its ruinous state, there’s a quiet, almost reverent atmosphere, as if the space itself remembers something sacred.

Magic Space

As the party steps into the chamber, the stale air carries a faint metallic tang and a whisper of ancient power. Dominating the northern wall is a crumbling stone statue of a skull with long, curved horns—its once-menacing visage now cracked and weathered with age. At the center of the room sits a small, glowing basin that emits a soft blue light. It appears to be the remnants of a once-grand sculpture, now reduced to a simple bowl shape that hums with arcane energy, repurposed for some unknown magical function. Around it, the stone floor is littered with scattered bones and toppled benches, signs of age and long-forgotten rites. In the northeast corner, a makeshift altar has been assembled: a tattered cloth draped over an ancient bench, a book splayed open beside a glass orb, and a staff propped reverently against the stone, suggesting that someone—perhaps recently—has begun to reclaim this space for ritual use.

The basin holds a shallow puddle of softly glowing liquid, its surface rippling with an unnatural luminescence that seems to pulse in rhythm with some unseen force. This arcane fluid is the culmination of Fenix’s forbidden experiments—magic so potent and alien that it ultimately shattered his mind. Each day, a creature with a vigor score of 10 or higher may place their hand into the basin and attempt to commune with the essence within. This act triggers a sanity saving throw as the mind brushes against the raw, unfiltered knowledge embedded in the liquid. On a failed save, the experience overwhelms the creature, resulting in an effect of indefinite madness. On a successful save, the creature gains a +1 bonus to a random skill as fragments of profound insight are seared into their consciousness. This gift can only be received once—subsequent attempts yield no benefit. Creatures with a vigor score below 10, or those who have already drawn upon the basin's gift, feel only the strange warmth of the glow, with no further effect. Should anyone attempt to remove the liquid from the basin, it immediately loses all potency and light, turning inert. However, consuming the water directly offers a greater reward: a +2 bonus to a random skill if the drinker survives the trial. This method is far more perilous, requiring a sanity saving throw made with disadvantage due to the intensity of the communion.

The Books

Among the scattered remains in the chamber, a pile of books lies strewn across the dusty floor, their pages warped with age and decay. Most are little more than brittle husks, their words long faded and their bindings crumbling, with no clear reason for why they were brought to this place. Amidst the rot, however, are a few volumes that appear newer—handmade, bound in mismatched scraps of leather and cloth. These books are filled with erratic scrawling and bizarre, unsettling doodles: looping symbols that mean nothing, fragments of sentences that trail off into gibberish, and illustrations that defy logic or purpose. The chaotic nature of these writings speaks to a fractured mind, offering a disturbing glimpse into the madness that consumed Fenix in his final days.

The Alter

Atop the makeshift altar in the northeast corner of the room, an unremarkable cloth is draped over the ancient stone bench, stained with age and wax. A book lies open upon it, its pages filled with strange writings—disjointed thoughts and cryptic verses that speak of “the Dark” and “the flow of the River,” concepts left unexplained and maddeningly vague. Nestled beside it is a small glass ball, faintly warm to the touch, which functions as a magical focus for spellcasting. Three red candles, now mostly melted, have fused with the cloth and stone beneath them, their wax dripping down in hardened trails and pooling on the floor. Leaning against the bench is a slender staff made of pale white wood, its surface smooth and slightly luminescent, as though it has been untouched by time.

General Exhibit Area

The space is unevenly shaped, its walls partially collapsed in places, and the cracked floor is littered with debris. To the left, a broad staircase descends into darkness, while near the center of the chamber lies a massive, toppled urn—its contents long since scattered or lost. Across the eastern wall, jagged chunks of carved stone lie in disarray, suggesting something once powerful or ceremonial was violently destroyed. A lone stone bench rests awkwardly against the southern wall, and the entire room exudes an eerie stillness, as though the ruin itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to stir.

Makeshift Bedroom

The chamber is narrow and dim, its stone walls rough and cold to the touch. On the western side lies a strange, jagged sculpture—its geometry too precise to be natural, yet too broken to discern its original form. Nearby stands a single upright stone slab, worn smooth with age, like a marker or a monument. In the northeast corner rests a humble sleeping mat and pillow, draped in a dark cloth, hinting that someone once lived—or still lives—among the ruin

Fenix is hiding in this room behind one of the crumbling sculptures. He will not immediately attack the party unless they come into his home or he is otherwise provoked.

The creature stands thin and sinewy, its gaunt frame cloaked in layers of weathered fabric that whisper like brittle leaves in the wind. Black eyes like dim embers glow beneath a frame of matted fur. Arcane sigils flicker faintly across its skin, tracing the flow of some inner power that pulses with barely restrained intensity. In its long, skeletal fingers, it cradles fire like a living thing—shaping it not with force, but with intent, the way a sculptor molds clay. There is pain etched into its every motion, as though burdened by ancient knowledge or a curse long endured, and the air around it crackles with a quiet, oppressive tension that suggests both danger and sorrow.

ART's Knowledge

If asked about Fenix, ART pauses, the soft hum of its ancient mechanisms briefly the only sound in the dim light of the museum. Its voice, though mechanical, carries a strange reverence as it recounts the story. “Fenix was once a brilliant mind—an arcanist whose thirst for understanding rivaled any I’ve ever encountered.” The robot explains that Fenix came to the museum long after it had fallen into ruin, seeing in its dust-choked halls and forgotten relics the perfect sanctuary for his studies. He became obsessed with the Dark, a mysterious force that had long eluded complete understanding. Day by day, he tore through crumbling texts and scratched maddened notes into the margins of ancient tomes. Eventually, he created something wondrous and terrible: a basin of glowing liquid, drawn from the River that winds through the Dark—a reservoir of forbidden knowledge. ART describes how Fenix, unable to withstand the weight of what he had drawn into himself, slowly descended into madness. The whispers of the Dark grew louder, until they drowned out reason, and his body twisted under the strain of the corrupted magic he had bound to it. “He is no longer the man I once knew,” ART says, voice softening. “But I remember him. And I understand his desperation. The pursuit of knowledge can be a beautiful madness.” ART will share this account only with parties that have not threatened them—or better yet, have earned their trust.

Type
Museum
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Character | May 31, 2025
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First Floor

Albany Institute of History & Art 1.png

Second Floor

Albany Institute of History & Art 2.png

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Dawn of Others © 2023 by Jacqueline Taylor is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

Generic article header, background image and the home page images are photo stock from Adobe Express.

All other images have been created using Dall-E unless otherwise indicated within the specific article.

Dawn of Others is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast, Dias Ex Machina and Eventyr Games. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC., ©Dias Ex Mechina and ©Eventyr Games respectively.

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Building / Landmark
World
Dawn of Others
Category
Wastelands: Albany New York in Important Locations
Author
Piggie4299
Publication Date
27 May, 2025
Creation Date
15 May, 2025
Last Update Date
27 May, 2025
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Battle maps created using Inkarnate and DallE.

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