Spots of perfect green. The Ankorillian Islands. Jewels of the Blue.
Fewer things under heaven reek
like the lofty spires of Wlatsoom Peak
Vernissage, apprentice bard.
- "Arrr! What scurvy dog seeks the Davy Jones’ Locker by comin ‘ere?"
- "Oh, shut it, will ya!"
A moving island, and home to both the honorable Lizardfolk and the evil Cult of Dar’Orgath.
Yar…I do indeed know of Crossbones Isle, stranger. But ye’d be better suited to avoid that place like a widowed wench.
The Dragon Isles consist of no less than thirty or so separate islands, of varying sizes, in a fifty-mile chain running on an approximately north-south line about thirty miles off of the eastern coast.
The Wastes can be beautiful. Here the land is toxic: slowly corrosive to the touch, causing illness and death with prolonged contact. The bubbling sulfur and ectomass pools (HellPits too) are especially lovely, if you have the right aesthetic. The soil is soft and any heavy object slowly sinks. If it was not for the special resources here (dyes, alchemical elements, resins, Grimrock, Verner glands, etc), it would be a place that no one would come.
To be sure, the Dirdums are fair teeming with goblins.
Captain Wandern, ship’s log.
The Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin is a place of bubbling magical water, as every individual spring or pool has it’s own magical power. It is a place of great wonder and for the careless, great danger too.
For centuries, sailors have told the tale of this isle’s sole inhabitant, a madman who searches for the solution to an ancient puzzle.
"Summon the Legions! We shall offer battle within Bleak Vale! This time, OUR cause shall triumph!"
In an age of sail, one of the most important of resources is a source of tall, straight and strong trees for use as masts. Mastwood island is one such location.
Sometimes, gentlemen, you must find yourself a location beyond the reach of the law. I’m sure you understand. Those dreadful precautions, the endless nagging, sometimes it’s simpler to just do what you need to do.
Sailors long to visit the idyllic islands of the generous Zwitter folk…
The valley of the elves between Night and the Waterfalls
Behind the plains, beyond the mountains, and far after many leagus of the sea, is a place like you wouldn’t believe… (STUB)
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In the summer there is a small stone jail for those who are caught breaking the rules of the Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin, but in winter they are imprisoned within the warm waters themselves. No bolts or bars are needed, the cold takes the place of prison walls.