To be “On the road to Shambala” is a metaphor for seeking redemption, purification of spirit, and seeking The Great Divine. It is found in teachings of several faiths of The Great Divine and in the writings of many prophets and philosophers.
It is not just a metaphor. There truly is a road to Shambala.
Ruled with an iron fist by the famed Admiral Sir Korak Dragonslayer, Earl of Kaldi, the city of Maskholm is one of the great ports of the northern shore of the Kingdom of Warwik; here are some of its notable seaward businesses.
Twenty nautical minded businesses from the Mariners’ Quarter of sprawling Warwik City, useful for any fantasy port city.
Not every temple is a monument to grandeur, a pilgrimage site of legendary sanctity or a repository of lore, power or influence. Sometimes they are small parishes, doing their best on the scanty tithes of the poor to cherish their flock. St. Taria’s is one of these.
Out of the way of general traffic, tucked against the old wall of Warwik City’s Mariners’ Quarter, Tyraesa Square used to be a pleasant place for locals to gather. The neighborhood has a darkening reputation, though, and some of these establishments are the culprits.
The Sign of the Violet Beaker, in Warwik City’s Mariners’ Quarter, is certainly *the* place to go for healing potions and other alchemicals. All you have to do is bring enough gold ... oh, and survive the experience.
The hub of the Mariners’ Quarter of Warwik City is the sprawling quays and wharfs of North Quay, situated by the Sea Gate of the walled Old City. The goods of a hundred ports pour into North Quay, and in the imaginations of newcomers seeing it for the first time, the white shell paving gleaming in the sunlight is in truth the silver with which their fantasies deem it strewn.
Symbol of the faith of Ratri, goddess of the night, in the Old City of Warwik City, the Cathedral of the Black Dagger holds more than an ancient, mysterious tomb - it holds fanaticism in its grasp.
The vast, soaring twin-towered Cathedral dominated the skyline of Warwik’s Old City, evidence of the sway and majesty of the faith of the Sea Lord Manannan. A line of penitents shuffled up the walkway to the main sanctuary, giving me time to pause, and think. Cardinal Eliana was not going to appreciate the news I bore ... and I had long since ceased to be in a rush to deliver it.
“To old Haven town, we’re bound to go, halloo! To old Haven town, we’re bound to go, halloo!”
The singing near to shook the stucco off the Venturers’ Hall, and I shook my head. Damnall luck was I going to have in filling out Redwave‘s crew in Storm Season, and every sailor I could hear was half in the bag ...
“From some old seaport town, on the west coast of Hell! We’ll drink dry the taverns and wish ye all well!”
Still, I had it to do, and I had enough silver - and gold - to stir the dregs of the Guild. Perhaps it’d be enough.
“Tow ropes, haul yer bars - heave her, hi oh, now fend off, halloo!”
Beneath the swaying sign of the mouse holding a flagon, the racket of the rundown Mariners’ District of the great port of Warwik City is drowned out by the raucous singing and carousing from inside the District’s oldest tavern ... and ‘tis a bold wanderer indeed who’ll set foot inside unbidden.
"Are you crazy? There ain’t no such thing. It’s all fairy tales for the stupid and desperate. Even if it were, they all say it’s cursed or something. Get back to work."
A rough town which is haven for outlaws is a staple of all adventuring genres. In the fantasy genre the town of Crueloar provides places in which you can share a dinner table with a vampire or learn the ways of dark magic.
Deep in the rugged Thunderhead mountain range lies the valley of Akelor, once a paradise, now a battleground where reality itself struggles to contain an alien, evil infestation
An adventure, Sourcebook and Monster Compendium set in the Locastus universe
Located on a world near the heart of Kel’Regar space, Nath’ar’Selass’Resan is a world renowned amongst that kind for it’s beautiful art, high technology, and the absolute lack of things that can kill a woman in dignified fashion.
Drachinacht, City of the Dragon King.
Glistening in the light of Acheron, the crystalline structure of the Atrium is a fragment of Earth, carried across the void; a snapshot of green and blue amid the pale tans and reds of Tarterus, a promise and a dream.
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The jewel of the imperial shoal, this aquatic city is the emperor's seat of power.