Home of the Krylastys. Visitors allowed in the neutral zone only.
This was such a nice place to spend a good evening. Now, everyone who wins a little money is found dead the other day! I bet the owner is up to something…
"...a process of planetary engineering, specifically directed at enhancing the capacity of an extra-terrestrial planetary environment to support life. The ultimate in terraforming would be to create an uncontained planetary biosphere emulating all the functions of the biosphere of the Earth, one that would be fully habitable for human beings."
"So you have burned down the village?"
"Speak no more! I see the guilt in your eyes. Prepare for your punishment!"
So what is the difference between worlds and planets?
The product of anti-sound research, the Silence Field or "Silencer", became arguably one of the symbols of 21st century.
Was the treasure horde too large? Or the employer too generous? Ohhh, there are so many ways of depriving heroes of their more or less deserved wealth.
The lowly Undead cannot be a true replacement for a living well-motivated workforce. But Undead do not tire, they do not have moods (well none worth marking), they do not require pay or lunchbreaks, and can work 24/7, if properly controled. So until activists start to fight for Undead rights, they are an interesting option.
"What, never heard of it? I thought a young hacker like you would already know. Well let me tell you…"
The mountains are often a desolate place, but not without dangers, or opportunities.
When want and famine stalk the land, a strange tower of ashes appears in the village common, a tower holding the sacrifices of the unworthy. Those who have the courage may reclaim these treasures…
It is a small, lively town like so many others. Do you wonder who are the movers and shakers here?
“I… I only wished to help. But… I had nothing to give… save me… and this… unclean thing took advantage of it. And now I have given birth to another of the creatures. I cannot take care of it. My family would… I just can’t.
May gods have mercy with it.”
The peasant girl puts the little bundle to the convent’s door, rings the bell, and flees.
To be a detective is not the fun it seemed.
”...but bad news sells much better than good news. And no one can deliver the bad news as we can, senator.”
There is trouble in the mines, claims your employer. And you are just the people to solve it.
Masters of the sea, men of courage and honor, these you will find here and none other.
Behind the plains, beyond the mountains, and far after many leagus of the sea, is a place like you wouldn’t believe… (STUB)
Some places are too dangerous to enter, even approaching them can mean adventure. What is forbidden is forbidden for a reason.
The fine scent of sea, and the less fine smell of the fish… isn’t there something else smelling, too?
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.