All of his life Fflam lived in the shadows of greater and more terrible demons than himself. One day he would show them all…
When did it all start? He would never know for sure, although he traces it, like a finger on a map following the broad river back to the invisible thread of the beginnings, to one evening early winter.
A great demon of death and destruction.
A man of the city in the wild, a man of coin stands at nature’s side? Can this go well, can it bear fruit? Will he be worthy, will duty take root?
Have you or anyone you know ever been accused of a crime you didn’t commit? Been sent to the Hangman knowing you were innocent? Have you ever welcomed the noose to prove it?
The leather has held out nicely over the years, of course, it’s magical. And their surefootedness is quite remarkable. Pity everyone thinks you’re daft for wearing them.
A slightly worn looking, and rather thin book. Its cover is red, but also holds some inset jewels, and the words “Eventful Evenings with Magic” written on the cover in gold leaf. While not a misnomer, it is interestingly deceptive.
This small orb, perfectly spherical, a deep, but transparent red, and very reminiscent of a standard marble, but also holds and imp who can also speak to the mind of whoever holds it. It is one of a set.
A place more holy than any other
Seemingly cast out of vast sheets of crystal, glass and ice, the Sorcerer’s Palace is a breath taking wonder of the city. Few doubt the benevolence of Emet the White who makes his abode within the palace that is as much a work of art as it is a home.
Destined am I to hunt down and slay the half breed called Rachat, for only his demise can bring me what I yearn for…
My dark past will never let me rest, the only solace I find is bathed in the light of the moon. Tell me, have you ever danced with a devil in the pale moonlight?
The Grand Arm is a weapon without peer, there is naught a blade nor shield that can withstand it’s mighty blows. This ornate weapon is surely the divine tool of the god of war…
(Name translates directly from ancient Egyptian as: Strong Protector, the Hidden One.) A mysterious shaman appearing without regard to wheres and whens, upon the divine bidding of other Realms. An entity of legend, belonging to a legendary and ancient sect.
Built to house riches that never came, the ironically-named Treasure House now lies in tumbling ruin.
A magical beacon designed to attract minor spirits to the mundane plane
Lying forgotten on the ocean floor by the children of Acqua,reposes the very monument that commemorates the passing of the islands from the hands of the Old Ones into those of their ancestors who sailed out of the mists long ago to claim them for their descendents.
But in a twist of extreme irony,others have come to venerate this creation abandoned by the race of man that built it. They are the Old Ones,the very same race whose defeat this statue is supposed to represent.
Cornelia served the Grand Wizard Elkhorne for many years, tending dutifully to his laboratory and making sure his robes were properly cleaned and mended. That was until Cornelia slipped and fell down the spiraling staircase from the orrey and broke her neck…and died.
Good luck, and good fortune favors those who possess the Pillars of the Alchemist.
The earth is bleached white, and brittle underfoot. Ribs and vertebrae litter the ground like driftwood and in the distance, colossal bones of slain giants rise like hungry fingers clawing at the iron grey sky. The wind rises, howling through the empty eye sockets of hollow skulls. A rain of hail begins, pelting the ground with fingerbones and teeth.
Welcome, ye miserly sinners. Welcome to Hell.
Minor Cultural Modifier: The culture believes, for the soul to leave the body, the corpse' eyes must be open. So any member of that culture takes care any dead body they find has its eyes open. Doubly true for those they kill themselves, for then the corpse will surely rise as an undead hunting him.