As the only place of warmth in an otherwise frozen land, the Firehole River is, or was, the central point for life in, on and around it. Sadly, this is starting to change...
The jewel of the imperial shoal, this aquatic city is the emperor's seat of power.
Existing at once in the mortal plane and upon the plane of Fire, the Grand Pyre of the Phoenix is the ultimate testament to the power of the Lord Zevarith.
The Interstellar Highway of the Galaxy
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.
On route from Geli to Nekrass the characters meet a peasant boy on the road. He's wandering in the direction from which they've just come. If this seems a little bit incongruous, they may wish to ask him a few questions. He's perfectly willing to talk: he's called Lamish and he's run away because he knows he is the heir to the throne of Geli and his parents didn't believe him. How far is his home? About five weeks walk from here. How much has he eaten? Nothing. Has he drunk? Only from the filthy roadside ditches. In short, it's a wonder he is still alive. And yet he seems perfectly healthy.
Is he a thief, waiting for travellers to trick? Is he lying because there's something more sinister under all of this? Is he telling the truth? And anyway, what should the characters do? Do you take him to Geli? Do you try to find his parents? Or leave him to make his own way?