The jewel of the imperial shoal, this aquatic city is the emperor's seat of power.
Existing at once in the mortal plane and upon the plane of Fire, the Grand Pyre of the Phoenix is the ultimate testament to the power of the Lord Zevarith.
The Interstellar Highway of the Galaxy
The villagers are having a fit, they've found something in the woods!
"Zutul? You mean someone took time to give it a name?"
Maj. Rielle Law
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.
Castle Merciless. Home of He who dwells in nightmares.
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.
Tucked back in the corner of Kiskedee square, off of Aasvogel, is the Hornless Goat. The tavern is as non-descript and plain as any business can be and still maintain itself in passable fashion. No one notices the patrons of that small overlooked place.
A city of salt and subterfuge.
The Brande Islands are now a hell on earth for the majority of their inhabitants, but it was not allways that way…
Deep in the remote Storm Horns lies an ancient and deserted city of giants.
"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."
The hallmark of a new Alliance; a safe place for the men of words to meet.
There are many scret places in the old forests; the least of which is by no means Old Stone Face
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.
The wastes are cruel, and beneath the desolation they hide many secrets.
An ocean of fine silt, shot through with pillars and islands of ancient stone, this realm would be a thing of harsh beauty were it not for the utterly lifeless nature of it.
The Lazy Goat is a wayfarer’s stop, a tavern of sorts out in the dark between cities.
An insidious creature, most likely somehow "related" to trappers and lurkers, the Dead Leaves (for no other name exists as of yet for this foul thing), hibernates for three of the four year's seasons, deep underground. Its active time is Autumn, when trees shed their leaves, depositing colorful carpets across the ground. The terror then emerges and blends in with the surrounding leaves, perfectly camouflaged, waiting patiently for unsuspecting victims. In appearance it resembles nothing more than a ten foot square, six inch thick, layer of bright yellow, orange, and red leaves. The only hint that someone is walking on top of it, comes in the form of an unusual amplified sound of leaves crunching underfoot. Too late usually, the victims notice this additional "crunch". The Dead Leaves will then swirl and "rise" up to smother and suffocate the victim, like a colorful, malevolent, boa constrictor.
Fire, as can be imagined, is particularly effective against this creature, but one has to *know* it's there before putting it to the torch. And there's the rub. The creature is impossible to "identify" in a large patch of fallen leaves by eyesight alone.