"Reills. E'en the name makes me shudder. That there is unholy ground, cursed by most gods. Not even the demons and devils and the incarnations o' evil dare step foot there. Reills. You know me, I think money likes it in my pocket instead of wherever else it is. But, and I've heard rumors that say this, if theirs treasure on that ground, it ain't going in my pocket on pain o' death."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
"Aye, Averoth! Land of banditry and corruption. Not a place for the faint o' heart, let me tell you. So's me and me mates went for a spell in them plains. We was lookin' for treasure, see, and them rovers and corrupt barons had it. So's we went, killed a bandit or two, maybe a couple o' orc tribes, and we made a fortune. 'Course, when we hit the Capital, we lost it all to thieves, hookers, and drink, but still, the memory of the weight of that sack..."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
One of the largest and most important military bases of the Atlantic Federation
30 locations of interest in the Cosmic Era
City of Kings, City of Angels! Baisaltir welcomes all!
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.
Don't be fooled by their size and their somewhat intrusive wit, they're the best cooks you can find! - Ulrich Seidenhemd, Chief Magistrate of Neureik.
Telchar, the half Orchish ruled planet similar to planet Earth.
The island city state of Seng Chiu is perhaps better remembered as Singapore
A dangerous, alien plane where glowing frog-slimes slither and slurp, metal-skinned bird people rebuff diplomacy, and only the endless subterranean tunnels are safe (just mind the gravity-bending moles). Visitors will have to skulk around in the dark to avoid the curse carried by the sunlight. Because (have I mentioned?) the sun is the source of a powerful curse--one that covers the whole planet.
The People of the pocket realm of Brocschtal are simple folk who live as they have for thousands of years. Farming the land, raising sheep, getting in the occasional brawl. And fighting off the infernal attacks of ghouls.
"Living in a town that sits on a dimensional nexus can wear thin after a while. It's not so much the crawling shadows, bizarre weather, or late night visitors from places that never existed; but carrying on with your normal life and trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary is going on in your little corner of the world that gets to you."
A small rural town with surreal secrets, that happens to be situated on a dimensional crossroads, suitable for modern day supernatural/mystical/horror campaigns.
Mondaloa is a name shared by both a city and a deity. Mondaloa, the city, is built on layers of crypts and tombs that are far more opulent and majestic than the city that covers them. Mondaloa, the deity, is the god of rest, peace, and death. There is nothing Mondaloa desires more than to see the dead buried deep in their tombs where they can rest in honor and peace. But there is trouble: something is torturing the dead of the city, and driving them to madness and rage. Now, 500 years of honored ancestors are trickling into the city above, seeking blood and pain and death.
"Greetings travellers! You must have had a harsh journey through the desert."
"We didn't see this city was on the map."
"We're just a few like-minded folks trying to keep the world out."
"How many people live here?"
"Just a few of us, and now you."
A build a mile tall with 50,000 people in has a lot of room for action and intrigue
"Deepbend, the toughest place to live south of the wastes. The inmates are tough, so we gotta be tougher. They may complain of 'abuse' and 'cruel and unusual punishment' but you know, they deserve every last kick"
-Darner Gearbend, Warden.
Deep within the heart of the Great Woses, lies an inland sea that few care to visit. Nevermind the ogre-infested swamps that surround it, the place is just disgusting. While known by many names – the Belching Sea, the Eternal Loogie, Gluumraag's Blessing and sometimes, the Slimy Deep – most simply call it the Sea of Snot.
Within these Towers reside some of the most feared sorcerers ever to have blighted the lands of men.
The Rock of Gibraltar, once a stalwart of British power, the gate to the Mediterranean, now is a fortress for the Eurasian Alliance. It's fair teeming with neo-Soviets and submarines.
The Wizard-Brewers of the Old Empire stored memories in bottles of mead, passing their brightest ideas, most subtle magics, and most important decisions on to their heirs in bottles of oddly-flavored honey-wine. A cache of these ancient magical vintages has been unearthed, but does anyone dare drink from it? The ancient mead's creator is a complete mystery, as are the thoughts he left behind.