- "Arrr! What scurvy dog seeks the Davy Jones’ Locker by comin ‘ere?"
- "Oh, shut it, will ya!"
Home of the Krylastys. Visitors allowed in the neutral zone only.
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.
These are the worlds and planets encountered by daring space explorers.
A small valley that leads nowhere… why is it so important to the locals?
This is a scroll of locations that are somewhat out of the normal.
Settled two hundred years before, the people were fleeing war and tyranny. Establishing a comfortable existence in the fertile, but empty valleys, they soon learned who the lands belong to. A mighty dragon called only Death, came and burned the city to the ground, and later again, and again, sending with fire also his (hers?) evil laughter and shouts of pleasure at the destruction. The survivors did not wish to leave, and decided for a new strategy.
It was some sixty years ago, a great flood on the river caused a lot of damage. The baron ordered masive works to be undertaken, to widen the river’s channel above its usual level. The “over-channel” spreads a few hundred yards on both shores of the river. This was to be a sufficient safeguard against any flood.
Finghaart’s sausages hasn’t moved since its founding. For all its reknown, it is quite a poor neighborhood.
The siege was bad, and with fire decimated a large part of a town. As life returned, several people returned to their roots and prospered.
Oh yes indeed, there was a circus here! Some hundred years ago…. or so the tale goes.
The Calm Alley, and a few small insignificant streets nearby have always been calm, some would say boring. There are few people in those narrow passages, and no one looks into your eyes as you pass them…
Long ago it was the ‘Sleeping Bull’ or something, but everybody calls it The Chimney nowadays. All because of the atmosphere, it is thicker than the soup they serve here, as some patrons like to claim.
To the primitive tribes on the plains of North, life changes rapidly from season to season. In summer, food is abundant. In the winter, death from starving is never far. A natural phenomenon helped one such tribe.
It is said that there is always night, even during the day it is dark. Undead prowl around freely, and pity to those living that end up there. Still, lucky are those eaten by the hordes, some fools get deeper and their very souls are consumed by the nameless horrors that lurk in some hidden spots. And still more serve as new material for the Necromancers, the only living creatures there, as they say at least…
Nearly every primitive culture has had rituals and celebrations to guarantee the proper passage of the seasons and to ensure the fertility of crops and animals. Oversight of these ceremonies was generally the provenance of local kings or priests.
Suppose that the adventurers dispatch one of these fellows. The local peasants may become hysterical, fearing famine and death will stalk the land. Alternatively, they may want one of the new heroes to become king. For a while, this can be a good thing, but the first time that the crops fail, the superstitious locals will want to sacrifice their new leader.