The hyperborean realm of the Eternal Flame
A city made of ice, in a chasm where sunlight is missing, that trades in one of the most unusual, but useful natural resources in the world.
Welcome to Jirix traveler. I hope you enjoy your very colorful stay.
The City of Bells, home of Bornegault’s Tongue.
Deep in the frozen north, facing the northern sea lies Corpsehaven a city built into a sheer cliff, a walled city that extends to the sea. This city is a silent place, filled with the dead and those that would consort with such creatures.
Avon is the southmost city state in Thirdland, built in a natural protected harbor. The climate there is colder and wetter than most parts of Thirdland, so the buildings are sturdier and more utilitarian than in Amar or Antioch even.
These magical boots empower the wearer with several abilities at once. Wondrous leaping, water-walking, and even flying! Yet the boots possess an insidious curse upon them as well. A deep and almost unfathomable (by others) feeling of listlessness, boredom, and even apathy affects the boots' wearer at all times whenever they are donned. Magic will not dispel the effects.
And so while the wearer of the boots can perform great feats of action during combat or at other opportune times and key moments, they'll never really want to do so, complaining "Meh, what's the point of it all anyway?" or "I would fly up and save us all guys, but sigh, maybe uhm, soonish, mkay? Bit bored by this whole burning tower at the moment."
Naturally the boots wearer's fellow PCs will grow quickly frustrated with this arrangement. There have been numerous occasions when one angry PC literally tears off the boots from his companion's feet in anger, and dons them in turn, only to immediately suffer from the same effects.
The solution lies in constantly "motivating" the boots' wearer with successful rolls, involving threats, flattery, fiery speeches, or even bribery.