Latin for literally 'A Pleasant Place'
A 99 word poem of a small town, and the demon who guards its chapel when the mists rise.
The Forgotten Cemetery is famed throughout the world as a monument to the World War. Only the survivors of the Forgotten Battle and the cemetery's caretaker remembers its true purpose.
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But it’s home to me and I walk alone
Most cities have long and storied histories, tales of nobles and intrigue, places in cultural, social, or military history. Gaberlunz in one of those places that by various circumstances has avoided any pretense of greatness.
"A-Wan, A-Wan, A-Wan". Awanggis is an unassuming place blessed with good clean water from a subterranean source.
There are two “villages” here. They are totally different, yet totally linked.
Deeping Steppes as named by Dargain the Gnomish adventurer who happened upon this place when attempting to find lost friends in a nearby series of caves and was swept in by the unexpected surge of an underground river, perhaps due to shifting of plates or erosion of a natural barrier. The cavern was sealed and unknown until being discovered by Dargain.
This is a region of the underdark where a series of very large plateaus occupy a huge underground cavern. The cavern is situated near a very common and sometimes treacherous underdark route know as The Underway (in my version of the world) which reaches from the Dales to Silverymoon regions in the Forgotten Realms.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman