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.
Traps working the good old mechanical way, through levers, ropes and switches. Included are also the beloved pit traps.
Magical implements that trap the unwary.
Traps for the outside. It is not only the dungeons and ancient tombs that are dangerous.
A collection of traps that are located on doors, doorways and portals of all kinds.
The Pelezians, or “clay people” were strongly bound to the earth. In fertile plains and valleys they lived their happy existence, peaceful, yet ever on their guard. Many nomadic attackers they defeated, until a different enemy came; their advanced technology and weapons (and magic) were beyond the skills of defenders. One-by-one their settlements fell, until the clay people were not more.
To the greedy students of the past, their heritage is but not forgotten.
Over three hundred years after the destruction of Linnarson, the ruins of Linnarson remain deserted; the warped magical environs inhabited only by the twisted and bizarre creatures that have been created. Amongst it all, however, the Senior Masters remain, continuing their eternal pursuit of knowledge. (UPDATE IN PROGRESS.)
Graves of a small, little known folk, exotic as dangerous.
The simple graves of a folk long gone, these are still favoured by graverobbers.
Maranesh, God of Magic, wearied of the multitudes of humans who came to him, clamouring to be taught the secrets of magic. So it was that he devised a test that would separate the worthy from the unworthy.
Traps gathered from the remains of a dead site. Honour and enjoy what ingenious traps were created by people unknown…
You have all chosen to follow the Path of the Philosopher. Not for you the warrior Path of the Battlemage, fighter for justice, nor the Path of the Healer, worthy though it may be to heal the sick. Equally you have rejected the Path of the Artificer, the tinkerers, who work on devices and techniques, as well as the Path of the Loremaster, who merely delves and catalogues the knowledge of the past. No, you have decided upon the Path of the Philosopher, the highest calling, the way of true enquiry, where you will probe the realms of higher mathematics, ponder the meaning of truth itself and tease out the deepest secrets of nature and the workings of the world.
There are many organizations that deal with dungeons, ruins, and other places of mystery. This codex is about those organizations.
Glyph and Pylon units are a set of magical mechanism used to create complicated series of puzzling traps.
Small tavern in an out of the way town. Serve a wonderful delicacy that is simply outstanding. It is a creamy white consistancy, sweet, good to eat alone or a sweetener on any dessert.
If the explore or ask they are shown where they get it. They breed a group of large catipillars or some other type of insect that basically spit the product onto a setup that they created for that particular reason. Or maybe the delicacy is the byproduct of feeding them something.