Synonymous with poverty…
The beginings of a new campaign…
‘‘There were five of them all together, these monstrous walking trees! Yep, trees that walked! By the look of those nasty things, they were probably trees that ate people as well. Tried to kill us with those giant rubber balls, they did, those hell-spawned overgrown bushes…
Cut that laughter out, damn you! We weren’t drinking salt-water when that happened! Those crazy things are real! And if you don’t believe me, sail there yourself, you lousy land lubber! Don’t tell me I didn’t say ‘‘I told you so!’‘, when those vicious monsters finally squish you with their roots’‘.
Strawberry Fields would be nothing more then a swamp if it were not fore those who raised it through the sweat of their brows.
This is a novelty among the population and visitors alike. It is a freeform entertainment where those in the audience have the opportunity to get up on the stage and be an actor for the night. This has brought many would be actors who are trying to get hired by practicing their skills here. Entrance fees are larger than average but the entertainment is well worth it.
You are sailing along the sea when you see a lighthouse in the deep blue middle. It is a lone light house, built on a rock not much larger than the tower itself. It is an oddity.
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.
While Ozea, Dreifach, and Sangreal are the main cities of Falhath, they are by no means the only ones.
Many who have landed upon this island’s golden sands have never escaped alive, hence it’s name.Only fools, it is said, will attempt to take the island’s gold.
As the officer strides into the thick and oppresive pitch-black gloom of the jungle, he silently signals to his men to fan out in a classic Quarsooth battle-formation with a nervous hand-gesture. He is very tense, almost afraid. The soothing, omnipresent presence in his mind tells him that he has no reason to worry, assuring him that victory will belong to those noble warriors that carry the standard of the invincible race of Zor-Tanis.
But there is something else cutting through the easy promises offered by that pleasant, gently commanding entity in his mind, as if determined to seize all his attention and use it to torment his imagination until it begins to scream for mercy. This something he cannot define and put words to, but it makes his skin crawl nevertheless. Despite the heat of the jungle, his blazing gold body-armor had suddenly become a chill prison that raises uncomfortable goosebumps along his chest.
Woried muttering from the rear tell him that his men like him, are unsettled. Turning aound in irritation, he begins to hiss at them to remain silent, afraid of alerting the very band of murdering monstrosities they have finally tracked into this eerie wilderness. It would be a rather embarassing matter for their commander if the very quarry they had been relentlessly pursuing for the past week or so, were to suddenly turn around and massacre all of them.
Too late he feels a something slithering around his neck. Fearful that it might be a pyhton, he reackes for his massive ‘‘fire-bow’‘, determined to incinerate the scaled menace before it can crush his larynx. But before his fingers even have a chance to close around the handle of the weapon hanging from his belt, another coil slithers out of the darkness and out of the darkness and pinions his arm, holding it in a painful crushing crip. As agony swamps him, he can vaguely hear a grim sound of cracking bones through the pain-filled haze that now holds him. His arm is being crushed. And then so quickly that his stunned mind has no time to register this new fact, there is no time left for more thought. The coil looped around his throat begins to squeeze, suffocating him. As the officer’s head begins to swim in the final moments of his life, he finally gains an excellent look at the thing that is stealing his life.
It is not a snake, but a vine. As if in response to this discovery, a now terrifyingly familiar roar of bestial fury rings through the gloom of the jungle..
The sea is calm, the morning mists clear, the seagulls cry out, and land comes into view
At the end of a long day it’s always nice to run across an unexpected inn…
The Eye is known by a number of names: The Eye of Motoss, Eye of Argus, Night Eye of Day, Eye of “Insert God”, depending on the local legend. Motoss is the most common of names, based on the story of a man who could look into a box with a hole in the top and watch an entire land, its history unfolding before his eye.
ACL INC -Arthur & Clark Labs (NasdaqNM ACLU) is an electronics and computer technology developer that specializes in cutting edge hardware and specialty appliations. There are fifteen ACL sites around the country. The local one is in the architectually notable Water Column Building.
A society lost to its own demands of innovation.
From the Observation Log of the Gnomish Inventor, Scholar, and Sub-Mariner Lezarde Kurye…
From a former Imperial Satrapy to the Kingdom of Trinistine, Falhath has had a colorful and varigated history.
O Jewel of the Mountain, forget not your storied splendor…
quote of Darak One-Eye, historian
The Whales Graveyard.
The Continent of Bylarian is much like the European part of the Eurasian continent. The Lands, which are west of The Great Divide Mountains are considered part of Bylarian.
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?