The dread pirate Corvorane was legendary even after his capture and conversion to a privateer. His secret fortress and hidden treasure are of equal fame. But more than gold lurks in the depths of Corvorane’s Cave.
A single room in the lair of those cast away by the gods, this place of worship is nothing the adventurers are likely to expect here.
In the trackless Frozen Waste, at the heart of the Sra lands lies the sacred glacier Ganamed, wherein lies Illyana’s Palace, the great ice necropolis of the Sra tribe.
You follow the map your purchased. It is to lead to the lair of Tergars the Dark. You follow through the woods, and find the rocks that lead into the hillside. The troupe creeps inside. Inside you find burned out candles, recent trash, and a few broken kegs. It is not Orc remains… there are funny and obscene things written on the walls with charcoal written in the local tongue. It is strange… unless….
A long forgotten city, with surprising inhabitants.
Deep below the small, peacful country of Vorbild is a dark, impossible maze filled with the countries bad-eggs.
The Repository of the victorious dead…
Sometimes a painting is just a painting.
This is not one of those times.
The First Men buried their Kings and “Big People” (Nobles and other Important people) in underhills - tombs made under hills of earth called Barrows. While this custom seems quite common, the First Men were not. The First Men were closer to The Mythics - The Shidhe (Elves) and Dwarves - and The True Dreaming Magics than Modern Men. Thus entering their barrows means you are entering a different world and time.
As with any eco system, there is a pattern of life and death. Unfortunately when there is death, there is often trapped emotions, suffering, and other things that “complicate” the process of transition. Add to this mix the presence of magic and gods and the chances of complications multiply. These complications are known to the mortals as Ghosts, Spectres, and various forms of material Undead.
"The Pegoran saw the circle as the link between this world and the next," the mage said. Before he could pontificate further, "So the door rolled in Raygar to send him to the next?" the rogue blathered, "What a mad peoples!"
The dread Tower of Inversion, lair of the vile lich Zarakoth Xorast, contains five layers, each containing different tools of dark magic.
Enacted roughly 4 years ago, the Dungeon Preservation act sought to map out and better understand the dungeon ecosystem, and to protect it.
Department of Dungeon Preservation
From a low hillock in a vast plain, the entrance to the Noil Ruins is as unobtrusive as it is a gateway to wonder…
Through mud and hate and rain,
Through blood and rot and pain,
The bell tolls for victim next,
To save Saint Ithiel, the Ashfeather Hex
The Lost City of Paldor was never really lost. Everyone knew where it was. However, nobody could get to it. Unknown to most, recent Land-Waves (Earthquakes) have opened up the paths to Paldor.
Nothing but snow, nothing but ice and snow. I fear we will all loose our minds out here. Even the caves have frozen into ice…
from the collected notes of an unknown explorer.
It’s cold up this high, the air is thin and hard to breath. We should find the entrance in the next day or so. I can’t eait to find it, I can’t wait to be out of this wind…
Water drips from the ceiling in a steady rhythm. Water refracts torchlight, illuminating the depths of the pools with reflected torchlight.
Many traps are not designed to kill or maim, but more to disgust or annoy, or even to put a smile on the victim’s face… this is a scroll of such traps.
Oazduke's Vengeful Head.
The head haunts all headsman and executioners.
A floating, bloody head, long separated from its body, is a particular legend among a very particular group of people, executioners, specifically those that chop heads from a block for a living. It was that infamous highway robber, Oazduke the Vengeful, who when finally captured and put to the axe, screamed his foul hex, seconds before his head flew off.
"You will know it is me when I'm through
A curse on your ilk and on you!
May my severed head haunt you eternal
Frightening you headsmen infernal!"
Years later, not one but two(!) weary, puffy-eyed, spooked, headsmen, haunted day and night by Oazduke's insufferable severed head, approach the party cleric in order to hire him to exorcise the ghost head once and for all.