Just off the craggy cliffs of Corundum, under the rippling blue ocean waves, seven stones stand. They rise majestically from the ocean floor, references to some long ago civilization. Meaningless, now, to all but the most learned.
The Brande Islands are now a hell on earth for the majority of their inhabitants, but it was not allways that way…
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.
One of the few cities in the world where the ability to swim is more than just recommended.
Beachcombing and coast-hugging, fantasy style. Animal, mineral, and vegetable. Sea-Junk. Flotsam and jetsam. Encounters and other oddities.
- "Arrr! What scurvy dog seeks the Davy Jones’ Locker by comin ‘ere?"
- "Oh, shut it, will ya!"
Yar…I do indeed know of Crossbones Isle, stranger. But ye’d be better suited to avoid that place like a widowed wench.
Behold yonder hut floating on the island? An abandoned fisherman’s dwelling, you say? Nay, tis the Temple Of Inaha.
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.
According to the legend, Dread Velsparge, Daemon Prince of the Myriad Hands, plunged into the Tarakhen Sea in a blaze of scarlet flame, throwing the whole world into ruin.
To be sure, the Dirdums are fair teeming with goblins.
Captain Wandern, ship’s log.
An exotic and oddly beautiful city unlike any other.
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