The villagers are having a fit, they've found something in the woods!
"Zutul? You mean someone took time to give it a name?"
Maj. Rielle Law
To be “On the road to Shambala” is a metaphor for seeking redemption, purification of spirit, and seeking The Great Divine. It is found in teachings of several faiths of The Great Divine and in the writings of many prophets and philosophers. It is not just a metaphor. There truly is a road to Shambala.
Castle Merciless. Home of He who dwells in nightmares.
Just off the craggy cliffs of Corundum, under the rippling blue ocean waves, seven stones stand. They rise majestically from the ocean floor, references to some long ago civilization. Meaningless, now, to all but the most learned.
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 city of salt and subterfuge.
The Brande Islands are now a hell on earth for the majority of their inhabitants, but it was not allways that way…
Deep in the remote Storm Horns lies an ancient and deserted city of giants.
"Are you crazy? There ain’t no such thing. It’s all fairy tales for the stupid and desperate. Even if it were, they all say it’s cursed or something. Get back to work."
The hallmark of a new Alliance; a safe place for the men of words to meet.
There are many scret places in the old forests; the least of which is by no means Old Stone Face
A rough town which is haven for outlaws is a staple of all adventuring genres. In the fantasy genre the town of Crueloar provides places in which you can share a dinner table with a vampire or learn the ways of dark magic.
The wastes are cruel, and beneath the desolation they hide many secrets.
An ocean of fine silt, shot through with pillars and islands of ancient stone, this realm would be a thing of harsh beauty were it not for the utterly lifeless nature of it.
The Lazy Goat is a wayfarer’s stop, a tavern of sorts out in the dark between cities.
Deep in the rugged Thunderhead mountain range lies the valley of Akelor, once a paradise, now a battleground where reality itself struggles to contain an alien, evil infestation
An adventure, Sourcebook and Monster Compendium set in the Locastus universe
The City of Bells, home of Bornegault’s Tongue.
The Jesk family inn.
It seemed like a great place to camp. The clearing was good sized and sheltered from the wind. The brook just a few feet away. There is a natural hallow to keep the horses.
Then the night came.
It was like it became a different place. The temperature dropped. The wind, which does not seem to disturb cloth, almost cuts through you like an arctic wind. No one can sleep, as the soft ground has turned hard. The horses are uneasy. The Bats are flying over and stopping in the trees.
And then there is the eyes. There are glowing eyes just inside the tree line watching your group. The mages and clerics can detect nothing, but there is still something there.
(yet there is nothing at all... The Darkness will do nothing unless the players do something to it. And even then it will all seem to be a conincidence.)
Of course, in the morning, it all becomes sweet and light.