Also known as the Plain of Storms, the Tomb of Taranis, the Graveyard of Thunder, and other colorful names
Atlantis , The Mainland of (India)
Ceylon, The Home of the Barbarians(you)
Latin for literally 'A Pleasant Place'
Seven twisty canyons for the PCs to pass through and explore on their way to carry out their main quest.
In the Cosmic Era, there is one thing that has grown with the advent of arcanotech and hypertech, the gap between the wealthy and destitute. While nations are building space stations and starting terraforming projects on other planets, there are large sections of planet Earth that are still post apoc era.
Perhaps you've heard of Winter's Gem, and of the tragic fate of the Lady Karina. And perhaps not. It is, after all, a tale unspeakably old. Yet the Earth does not forget, and those of us who guard it do not wither...
Nine thousand years she has slumbered, while Winter diminished. So obsessed was He in her care, that He allowed Summer to run unchecked. His power dwindled, and Summer grew. There is a great unbalance in the world, young ones. One that I fear will break the back of the Earth itself, if not addressed. Winter must return. It is the Way.
The road ahead is of the dead
So travelers take heed
And lightly tread o'er those that bled
For lands and kings and greed.
The victor spared no man that dared
To try and take his throne.
So thus he paved a road that's made
Of vanquished soldiers' bones.
The road ahead is full of dread
So travelers beware
And tarry not lest you be caught
By the echoes of despair.
For the road beneath your wandering feet
Of dead men once so brave,
Will clutch and grab and wrench and drag
You to an early grave.
A real-world location fit for filling out your adventure; where norse icelandic fishermen suffered unthinkable conditions throughout frigid winters to harvest the fruits of the ocean.
A quiet island, with a small fishing village, a decent dock, a sheltered lagoon, friendly natives ... and a chilling curse.
A 99 word poem of a small town, and the demon who guards its chapel when the mists rise.
Enclosed in this document is the account of Mr. Johnathan Crewes, who was recently incarcerated in the Psychiatric Ward, of how he was driven insane. He shall be soon shipped to the St. Josephine Asylum for the Mentally Disturbed.
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o'day in a boozing ken
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
drawn from/inspired by Hellfire: the Summoning mobile game
A place where no one knows about or finds until the Circle chooses a person to discover it. For the Circle of Culthus has a purpose for that person, and letting other people know of it or discover it would hinder that purpose.
Sometimes a roadblock is there for a reason. There are some places you don't want to be after sundown.
The Dragon Mines are a place for a free man to gain riches through a hard life and a place to hide those that defy the King, the laws or the Shan.
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.
Madmen, Riddles, and Worms
"Aye, I've been to Bloodmaw. Its out in the ocean, and lies right on the Abez-Evetepor trade route. Or at least where the trade route would have been if it wasn't for Bloodmaw. Its this maelstrom, perpetually spinning and swirling, abou' 50 yards across? And the sea around the whole thing is a deep crimson. The color of blood. And around the whole thing is a storm. Some days the Bloodmaw is sated, and isn't as violent. But some days ye can't hope to survive. On bad days it can take a ship that a mile away. Thank the gods that it didn't take me."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
The People of the pocket realm of Brocschtal are simple folk who live as they have for thousands of years. Farming the land, raising sheep, getting in the occasional brawl. And fighting off the infernal attacks of ghouls.
Finally got the idea for an orcish currency:
A cold-hammered piece of raw iron, resembling some kind of a dagger. The Dagger is easy to carry, hard to forge, may be used as a crude weapon in case of emergency AND the iron being a valuable resource... may be used directly for weapon-making. May be carried openly on the belt of a mighty Orc. A new insult: 'to beat someone with someones money' . Self-explanatory.