A cul-de-sac in arcanotechnology, the Singularity Plant is a power station that is more dangerous than it is valuable.
Remember those cliché taverns the storyteller took you in a hurry? With the fat bartender who's just cleaning a mug as you enter? Yeah, none of those here...
You walk into the room and it is like stepping into the grand library. Wall to wall and floor to ceiling is taken up by leather bound loaded bookshelves. All of the tomes are in varying states of decay and none of which are new.
The term is archaic, calling upon the ancient language of the magi, and those versed in the eldritch arts. In the more vulgar argot, terms such as scrying room and equally mundane names are bandied about. The fact that such limited terms are used to describe the proper mystic's psychomanteum demonstrates how little they actually know about what occurs within.
Did you ever wonder where the moon comes from?
This dusty, delapidated building appears to have been abandoned for some time. Within it is a plethora of ancient tomes and ancient knowledge, however rumours of a deadly curse keep curious scholars at bay.
"The perfect pet at the perfect price -- guaranteed." Creature Dex at the bottom of the sub, if you want to include "relatively harmless" alien critters in your campaign.
"Bristlebane ale. Tall."
Mathus looked up. He didn't recognize the man ordering, but he seemed the type: muscles beneath a layer of fat, a snarling expression with most of his teeth missing, fists like summer hams. "You want it in a bottle?"
"From the tap."
Mathus nodded. "This way," he said, stepping from behind the bar and into the back room, the "customer" following.
A fresh-faced young man sitting at the bar looked around, confused. "Bristlebane? Sounds adventurous."
"You couldn't handle it, son," an older man said from across the plank bar with a hint of derision. "It'd right kick your ass."
The head office of the Guild, which has now spread to have a branch office in almost all countries. The idiot elves won't let us map out there forests!
Come, join in our discussion. We're composing a list to categorize the different lunatics that spill their inane natter here. You fit in where did you say?
Inns and taverns give everyday citizens somewhere to go to relieve the stress of a hard day, to meet with friends, and to get stinking drunk.
Each town has a House of the King. This is the main one, and by far the largest, set in the heart of the capitol's temple district.
"Whosoever shall brew ale in the town with intention of selling it must hang out a sign, otherwise he shall forfeit his ale."
King Richard II, 1393
"Hey, Hultz. What are you doing in here?"
"It's gonna move. I don't like it when it moves," the stableboy replied, sitting by the hearth with his arms wrapped around himself.
"What's going to move?"
"The Inn. I don't like it when it moves."
Five minutes later, he gets up and goes back outside.
"What was he talking about?" the newcomer asked a burly fighter.
"Go outside and take a look."
He goes over to the door and flings it wide. "See, it's all still ... Wait! Where did the town go!"
"Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Wild Geese." The fighter comes over with a mug of ale. "Here, you'll probably be needing this. I know I did, when it happened to me."
No shadow may find a home within its walls.
Tucked back in the corner of Kiskedee square, off of Aasvogel, is the Hornless Goat. The tavern is as non-descript and plain as any business can be and still maintain itself in passable fashion. No one notices the patrons of that small overlooked place.
A villain’s lair is more than just a safehouse or stronghold, it can be as much a part of their persona as any powers, henchmen or nefarious plans
A random generator to create variable merchants shops, stores, and stalls.
The most expensive tavern in town boasts the finest of fare, entertainment, and more importantly, decor.
"Look children! Is it the Fun Faire, Extreme Sensations, or Tabs’ Insanity today?"
The Jiangsi was the name of an undead being in Chinese folklore and mythology. Usually translated as zombie or vampire for Western palates, the Jiangsi was really neither. They appeared as simply risen, fresh corpses. They moved (peculiarly!) by hopping rather than walking, and sought out the living to suck the Qilife force from their victims.
Perhaps significantly more interesting than the Jiangsi itself, was the lore surrounding them. "Zombie wranglers", or "Corpse Herders", usually Daoist priests, were men tasked with delivering these undead beings back to their respective home towns. Tradition in China placed great importance and emphasis on the return of the dead to their homes and families, and thus the corpse herders came to be. By using magick words and talismans they would animate the dead, and by placing specially inscribed parchments of paper over the Jiangsi heads and faces, the corpse herders would be able to control the hopping corpses. Then like pied pipers, they would lead processions of subdued undead, across many miles, rhythmically chanting and ringing tiny bells.
Special inns were built across China to house these undead caravans, as the zombies could only travel by evening and night, the sun anathema to them. Rows of doors opening to barely a closet-space, lined the walls of these special establishments. Behind these doors, the corpses would be stored upright while the corpse herders rested in rooms.
The Jiangsi under the control of a corpse herder were quite harmless, merely hopping after him, silently and without complaint, for weeks and months. If however, the magicked parchment would somehow be removed from their faces, the creatures would immediately seek living humans to kill. Their thirst for Qi was unquenchable.
The job of a corpse herder was an interesting one to say the least.