A dangerous, alien plane where glowing frog-slimes slither and slurp, metal-skinned bird people rebuff diplomacy, and only the endless subterranean tunnels are safe (just mind the gravity-bending moles). Visitors will have to skulk around in the dark to avoid the curse carried by the sunlight. Because (have I mentioned?) the sun is the source of a powerful curse--one that covers the whole planet.
The People of the pocket realm of Brocschtal are simple folk who live as they have for thousands of years. Farming the land, raising sheep, getting in the occasional brawl. And fighting off the infernal attacks of ghouls.
"Living in a town that sits on a dimensional nexus can wear thin after a while. It's not so much the crawling shadows, bizarre weather, or late night visitors from places that never existed; but carrying on with your normal life and trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary is going on in your little corner of the world that gets to you."
A small rural town with surreal secrets, that happens to be situated on a dimensional crossroads, suitable for modern day supernatural/mystical/horror campaigns.
Mondaloa is a name shared by both a city and a deity. Mondaloa, the city, is built on layers of crypts and tombs that are far more opulent and majestic than the city that covers them. Mondaloa, the deity, is the god of rest, peace, and death. There is nothing Mondaloa desires more than to see the dead buried deep in their tombs where they can rest in honor and peace. But there is trouble: something is torturing the dead of the city, and driving them to madness and rage. Now, 500 years of honored ancestors are trickling into the city above, seeking blood and pain and death.
"Greetings travellers! You must have had a harsh journey through the desert."
"We didn't see this city was on the map."
"We're just a few like-minded folks trying to keep the world out."
"How many people live here?"
"Just a few of us, and now you."
A build a mile tall with 50,000 people in has a lot of room for action and intrigue
"Deepbend, the toughest place to live south of the wastes. The inmates are tough, so we gotta be tougher. They may complain of 'abuse' and 'cruel and unusual punishment' but you know, they deserve every last kick"
-Darner Gearbend, Warden.
Deep within the heart of the Great Woses, lies an inland sea that few care to visit. Nevermind the ogre-infested swamps that surround it, the place is just disgusting. While known by many names – the Belching Sea, the Eternal Loogie, Gluumraag's Blessing and sometimes, the Slimy Deep – most simply call it the Sea of Snot.
Within these Towers reside some of the most feared sorcerers ever to have blighted the lands of men.
The Rock of Gibraltar, once a stalwart of British power, the gate to the Mediterranean, now is a fortress for the Eurasian Alliance. It's fair teeming with neo-Soviets and submarines.
"Ye thought the orbital penitentiary around Venus was hard ta endure? That place is a vacation spot compared to Davy's Lockdown! If the guard borgs can't find an excuse ta peel the skin off yer bones and the inmates don't use ya for their bettin pool, the pressures o' bein that far beneath the waves will drive ya to the brink, mark my words!"
An underwater prison with a dark past, suitable for any sci-fi, neo-dystopian, or cyber punk setting.
A subterranean prison complex, meant to incarcerate those who need to be removed from society.
A realm of unending darkness, pitch blackness, where even light refuses to shine.
They should have spoken up sooner and saved poor Harold from certain embarrassment.
The Road to the Hundred Angels
Sid and Jir were childhood friends growing up in the same town on the ocean. Both creative geniuses, both with the need to be better than the other. Many will tell you that this friendship created their genius while others realized, in hindsight, that it spelled the lands doom.
"Today the name Abydos belongs to a small town built on the edge of the deep desert, but this was not always so."
A 100 word Location
100 Word Castle
An African tribe called the Ik throws their children out of their homes once they turn 3. They are left to fend for themselves with no help from their parents at all, and to survive, form groups with others their age. These groups only last a few years, and every so often the individual will join a completely different group.