It is a colorful shop, full of dolls, puppets, mannequins, small statues, and other things that are just "shadows" of a human. That is what this shop sells.
It was a single store that sold a variety of good made by a variety of people. It was such a novel concept that most people will dislike it. "It is just not the way we do things around here", they would say. Yet they still buy things here.
Argus is like most of the carter’s in the city. He works out of one of the inns, where they actually prepare the food. (It is loaded into the cart there and kept warm by stoked coals and ash.) The Blue Rose carts are served by a consortium of inns, while a bit more expensive than standard cart food is well worth the price.
The city has clay tiles on its roofs. This is the bane of sneaky thieves in the city. So where do these tiles come from? And why does anyone think there might be an adventure related to this.
Adventurers love sharp objects: knives, swords, spear tips, arrow heads, and so on. So where do they go to get these items? A sharpshop, that is where.
Helioglyph (his magical name) is a Talismonger, a maker of charms, talismans, holy items, and so on. This is the place where those seeking fine craftsmanship and good symbolism come. If you are looking for enchanted items, go elsewhere.
Cashmirius’s is one of the finest cafes in the city. It is does not have a large indoor seating area. The small tables with their crisp creme linens are crowded with stools. If you sit inside, the host will often sit other people you don’t know at your table. This is great for meeting new people, but it is tough if you are trying to have a private talk.
Every city, town, or large village will have businesses. Some will be inns, some stores, some people providing a service. They are all places for characters to get what they need, spend money, and a chance for the GM to hook the PCs into a new plotline. So we are looking for distinct establishments, ready to be pushed in a not-yet-complete place.
In the great town plaza the magnificent edifice of the Basilica of Kestidel has stood for many generations. This elaborate gothic structure is the hub of power of the clergy. It has been a bastion of faith for the surrounding lands. Not only have the spiritual affairs of the populace been governed here but also it is a centre of the community that has proved resolute in time of crisis, whether through war, pestilence or famine. In the myriad of crypts beneath its sanctified grounds lie interred many thousands of bones of the dead, as these crypts are the place of burial for the worshipers.
The Ellis of Kestidel is the main building to register as a citizen of Kestidel. It is located outside of the city and thus must have its own defenses.
There is a place of mystery and wonder located to the east of the Prosary Midlands. Three towers on a plain of mirror shined obsidian that ring a fourth tower that is entirely supported by nothing more than thin air, above the spires of the other three towers. Volturn’s Towers are considered a magical wonder to behold. Tales of the towers agree on one thing: there’s a lot of strange things happening there!
The Demon gates are all hidden from prying eyes, either under mountains or lost within their vast chasms. In fortresses hidden by magic, or guarded by the unknowing. A single key, if found, will open only a specific gate. However, directions to the gates location are inscribed on each key in a demonic script. Only those loyal to Caedmon, or can understand the ancient written language of the Demon’s are able to read it.
The gates are massive stone doorways standing roughly thirty feet in height and twenty feet wide and made of black granite or onyx, with scenes of a demonic horde flooding through the gate as a wave through a cistern. Horrific images of murder and unspeakable acts toward the mortal races also adorn the doors.
The Road… traverses Time—Time past, Time to come, Time that could have been, and Time that might yet be. Some people have the ability to access the Road and travel it from Time to Time and world to world.
A city lost in time. A city in ruins. Knowledge was they key staple in the city until mortals believed they were smarter than the Gods.
The street is wide, and smoothly paved, with trees planted along the sides. The houses are mansions and palaces, each surrounded by stone and ironwork walls that are as much decorative as they are protective. These are the summer homes of the Princesses, and ladies of privelage.
Nestled among the smaller and less noticed store fronts, hidden among the sundry vendors, and purveyors of beads, cheap jewelry, and meat-on-a-stick products in a small building that smells strongly of hot linen, cotton, soap…and goblin.
To refer to Rubens a inn is an insult. There are no battered bars, or heaving bosoms, or the scent of stale beer and tobacco smoke. There are no crowded common rooms, or cheap entertainment. The flooring is plush, the rooms are exquisite, and the bill is out of this world…
This large shrine the god Sunglory, is not famous for religious reasons as for architectural reasons.
Over three hundred years after the destruction of Linnarson, the ruins of Linnarson remain deserted; the warped magical environs inhabited only by the twisted and bizarre creatures that have been created. Amongst it all, however, the Senior Masters remain, continuing their eternal pursuit of knowledge.
...In the hallowed halls of the University of Linnarson a glimpse may sometimes be caught of the Senior Masters, learned sages and masters of knowledge. They seldom leave their dusty studies full of learned tomes, other than to dine - each evening they will be found shuffling down the dimly lit corridors to the dark and shuttered Great Hall. After feasting at high table by candlelight they will be gone, returning once more to their studies. None but they know of their pact with death, how they have willingly embraced an eternal undeath in which to pursue knowledge, yet this is the reason for the darkened corridors and the shuttered hall, for those who are undead cannot abide the light of the sun…
A tribal society which lives on the harsh Northern Plains consider it dishonourable to slay an enemy without looking it full in the face. Any missile weapon is treated with derision and contempt, while rangers and other archers are denied entrance to the tribal villages.