James Barley is a hard drinking, minimum-effort working hired hand…
I’ll tell you something, there was a demon in Widow Suvar’s Wine cellar. How do I know, ‘cuz I seen it that’s how I know.
The Trollshaw Staff is roughly six feet tall, though if the bends in the wood were pulled out straight, the staff would easily be eight or nine feet tall. As it is, it is twisted as a troll itself.
Quietly situated between chic salons of the nobility and the grand halls of the great guilds is the Tabernacle of Discrete Amusements.
The House of the Duck is a well visited establishment, known for the quality of it’s wine and the clean and friendly vivaciousness of its workin’ gals.
Water drips from the ceiling in a steady rhythm. Water refracts torchlight, illuminating the depths of the pools with reflected torchlight.
Some are called dhampir, others exalt as champions of undeath, and yet neither of these are correct…
A voice as supple as silk, a face hidden in the shadows of a hood, yet the words she speaks are colder than the grave and burn more furiously than any inferno.
There are certain things that need not be said, and events best left in the past, to be forgotten. Be careful what you wish for.
Also known as the Oathbreakers Legion, or the Forsaken, this company is often the last stop for criminals, vagabonds and vagrants before the headsman’s ax.
It is quoted in the Canon of St. Mancel that once in his life, that every devout soul should make pilgrimage to the holy city of Sangreal.
The Sea of Sand is one of the most treacherous and deceitful tracts of waste in the heart of the Djaraha desert.
Once noble and proud, the Cyclopes of the desert are now all but dust on the wind…
Many know the image of the Night-Mare, a sable horse wreathed in a nimbus of hellfire sent from the underworld every night to deliver dreams of terror and fear to the living. While this is not entirely incorrect, the truth is more complicated…
The Latrani are elusive as desert ghosts, dangerous as sand scorpions, and as rare as oases in the wastes.
Brutal are the Seitch raids that come up out of the vast waste of the Calcobrinan desert. They come clad in dusky browns, bearing black iron weapons, raiding for food, water, gold, and women.
It is a common conceit that banks, loans, investment and other features of the banking and financial system are entirely modern. This is far from the truth, as long as there has been money, there have been people who profitted from holding it and manipulating it.
Love is a powerful emotion, perhaps the strongest. Love conquers all, don’t they say; it’s blind too. Love potions, love spells, and the magic of amore could be more common than all the magic swords, rings, and wands of magic missle put together…
Some years ago a dark cult was founded in the Forecastle area of Hahvrensburg. The cultists were defeated by a band of heroes. A month after the heroes left the city and went on about their business, something massive came out of the earth.
In the royal year 451, also known as the year of Red Leaves, something strange occured. A star fell blazing from the heavens, in to the Midlands. Imperial Wizardry could be sent to examine the object. However things changed in the area. Royal Viziers were unable to postulate a cause for the matter, but the fact that none of the countyfolk were alive led to the whisper of one, chilling word. Zombie.
You pass through a woodland with a floor that seems remarkably clean of debris. Suddenly your attention is drawn to a twisted bit of wood by the trail side, a short broken twig with several stubs of branches along its length and most of the bark missing. When you reach it, the twig blurs and turns into a small brown lizard, caught in the middle of its body-twisting run. The little reptile darts away down the trail with impossible speed, no doubt magically enhanced, and is lost to sight in a moment. Now someone knows you are coming...