Wheatsword has the reputation of being the dullest city in the world. It is surrounded by miles of flat farmland. The buildings are big, square, and boring. The streets are well paved. It looks like someone in the Military designed the city. And they did. It is the largest military establishment in the world.
Welcome,o distinguished traders to the Great Market of Ushart! Here you will want for nothing when it comes to the exotic and wonderous!
Just mind that you have a strong stomach…
Concealed in a fold of space, there, watching, lies, a haven - refuge for a select few, as well as the most precious thing in the world.
Once the shining hope of the region, the grand city is now, on the surface, rotting away in the floodwaters. But beneath the surface, not all is what it seems.
Looking for a wild time on an exciting vacation? Head down to Ceriloth, the party nation on the south side of the continent. Every sin of the flesh can be found there, but be aware, you better bring your weapons.
How many years have passed since these stones were cut? Haw many apprentices have swept these floors? Many, yes. Many.
In a country without real law, the Courthouse, a wondrous ampitheater of death, is the only place the commoners will recognize that disputes are settled permanently.
Deep in the heart of the primal Slumbering Woods lies a magic-laden swamp, forgotten in the centuries since the first primitive land creatures crawled from its teeming depths.
The air is chilled and causes goosebumps, while not a sound stirs across the glass smooth surface of the water. The Inn rises three stories above the bank of the river, a single lantern lit on the quay.
An island of stone above the valley, the Manor Home D’Marsarac sits upon a green promotory above the farming valley below. From this island in the sky (an illusion created by the thick morning fog) various noble families have administered to this fertile valley for centuries.
In the great town plaza the magnificent edifice of the Basilica of Kestidel has stood for many generations. This elaborate gothic structure is the hub of power of the clergy. It has been a bastion of faith for the surrounding lands. Not only have the spiritual affairs of the populace been governed here but also it is a centre of the community that has proved resolute in time of crisis, whether through war, pestilence or famine. In the myriad of crypts beneath its sanctified grounds lie interred many thousands of bones of the dead, as these crypts are the place of burial for the worshipers.
The Ellis of Kestidel is the main building to register as a citizen of Kestidel. It is located outside of the city and thus must have its own defenses.
Below the white spumes of the wind blown sea, in the inky depths of the oceans vast domain, lie fantastic cities and civilizations undreamt of by surface dwellers. While most think tales of such are legends, the sea faring folk know better.
In the Great Blue Bay, there is a deep undersea drop canyon that leads to a great aquatic plain. Both surface dwellers and sea dwellers utilize the great aquatic forrest and harvest its bounty. Here the Lands of Men meet the Kingdom of the Deep. The place that they meet is called Neptune’s Court.
It has been many years since the War of Decay, but the fallen still keep steadfast vigil over the border, even if they were once fallen enemies.
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!
Spires of crystals reach in the barren sky, glittering like the teeth of some long since slain carnivore god…
A place more holy than any other
Seemingly cast out of vast sheets of crystal, glass and ice, the Sorcerer’s Palace is a breath taking wonder of the city. Few doubt the benevolence of Emet the White who makes his abode within the palace that is as much a work of art as it is a home.
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.
Built to house riches that never came, the ironically-named Treasure House now lies in tumbling ruin.
One day a year is the Day of Turning where those on the bottom of the heap for the rest of the year get to live like Kings. Privates question Generals, the people get a say in running things and there is great merriment and gift giving.