The tiny shrine doesn’t look like much; a tumbledown temple overgrown with weeds, fading quietly into obscurity. But appearances are oftentimes deceiving.
The Wizards of the Guild have found the remains of the legendary dragon Alturgerax, but they're not sharing!
In the dawning of time, a mighty civilization, mystical and alien, flourished in the oceanÃ¢??s unseen depths. Their day has passed, but their hidden metropoli linger on.
“There’s something not right, up on that hill. Something about that place makes men go mad. The de Lahsk family never should have built the mansion there. That only made it worse.”
The smoky haze that shrouds this volcanic island hides a deadly legend…
Font of Damnable Contemplation
Tower Isle gets it’s name from the tower of gleaming ice that climbs high above the surface.In the summer it gleams in the sunlight and can be seen for miles away.But even in the summer the tempreture never climbs above -5 degrees, and in the winter it is not a place where most people would want to be.Myths say that a king slumbers there waiting for the world to end.
A society lost to its own demands of innovation.
From the Observation Log of the Gnomish Inventor, Scholar, and Sub-Mariner Lezarde Kurye…
The well was dug in years beyond memory. The locals still knew to stay away…
The Moaning Lands of the Dead and Dying. Many foul creatures of undeath roam here and seek living flesh, no one is quite sure what happened to this large desert island. Maybe you could unlock the mystery and free the tormented.
There is a place of mystery and wonder located to the east of the Prosary Midlands. Three towers on a plain of mirror shined obsidian that ring a fourth tower that is entirely supported by nothing more than thin air, above the spires of the other three towers. Volturn’s Towers are considered a magical wonder to behold. Tales of the towers agree on one thing: there’s a lot of strange things happening there!
The Demon gates are all hidden from prying eyes, either under mountains or lost within their vast chasms. In fortresses hidden by magic, or guarded by the unknowing. A single key, if found, will open only a specific gate. However, directions to the gates location are inscribed on each key in a demonic script. Only those loyal to Caedmon, or can understand the ancient written language of the Demon’s are able to read it.
The gates are massive stone doorways standing roughly thirty feet in height and twenty feet wide and made of black granite or onyx, with scenes of a demonic horde flooding through the gate as a wave through a cistern. Horrific images of murder and unspeakable acts toward the mortal races also adorn the doors.
A city lost in time. A city in ruins. Knowledge was they key staple in the city until mortals believed they were smarter than the Gods.
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.
A mystic ruin that is well guarded by the family of Dro’Hizzir a great upper class of Shadow Warriors. This is unknown to everyone except for Dro’Hizzir. Knowledge that is only passed down from his forefathers and ancestors alike. Well underground in the city of Pulca. The entrance is found in Dro’Hizzir’s office in his ancestorial vault (that has riches in it as well). In the back of his vault is a narrow tunnel way big enough to fit a normal man in that leads to a ruin of his dead Ancestors and riches of the deceased.
Some say that Darigus was murdered for his treasure. Others say that Darigus’s court magician did away with the nobleman and ran off with his daughter. And some say that Darigus isn’t dead, and took off with his treasure. But no one knows for sure…
Medieval Britons didn't write contracts. Instead, men making agreements would clap their knives onto an altar and recite the agreement three times to seal a deal. Even after the Normans introduced written contracts, British nobles would wrap the parchment around a knife to authenticate it.