The Imperial city has been sucked into hell and the rest of the world has been ripped apart. And tying it all together is the Crystal Tower. The Tower lives in all realms, a needle piercing the fabric of each reality and threading them all together.
What lies under the turf deep in the earth of that grassy mound? The PCs would very much like to know...
The adventurer rode into the golden-hued glade, looking around. If the tribesman he had 'persuaded' to help him hadn't been lying, it should be here. Ah, there it is, he thought. A small pool, with no inlet or outlet. Dismounting, he looked into the crystal-clear water. He could see goldfish swimming around, and beneath them the bottom was covered with golden statues of men and women, mostly nude but some with a kilt or loincloth.
“I'm rich,” he exulted. “That damn tribesman didn't die in vain!” He stripped off his clothes and armor, noting in passing that the ground was mounded, here and there, with weapons, armor, and other items, mostly rusted or rotted by time, and dove into the pool to begin gathering up his wealth.
Silence fell over the glade as the new statue settled onto the others littering the bottom.
I did not think there was a crime heinous enough to deserve this place as a sentence..
An enchanted forest where music permeates the fabric of life, leaving its mark on fauna and flora alike.
"Hey, Hultz. What are you doing in here?"
"It's gonna move. I don't like it when it moves," the stableboy replied, sitting by the hearth with his arms wrapped around himself.
"What's going to move?"
"The Inn. I don't like it when it moves."
Five minutes later, he gets up and goes back outside.
"What was he talking about?" the newcomer asked a burly fighter.
"Go outside and take a look."
He goes over to the door and flings it wide. "See, it's all still ... Wait! Where did the town go!"
"Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Wild Geese." The fighter comes over with a mug of ale. "Here, you'll probably be needing this. I know I did, when it happened to me."
The 5757h layer of the Infinite Abyss. A land of charred black metal and the stench of ever-burning flesh.
"Telportia is a marvel natural world, a true testament to our arcane understanding."
-General Ayanda to Lord Reidwald in the meeting to decide on the matters of the war.
An ancient people built mystical fortresses made of melted stone; from the wall’s these fortresses defenders appeared to burn with a powerful energy and strike at their opponents with a supernatural force. Today most of these forts are abandoned and the art that made them lost.
“The perfect execution, painless, quiet, and beautiful”
No shadow may find a home within its walls.
Once little more than a standard place of higher education, now the University of Firdon sits at the heart of the magidustrial revolution soon to sweep through Ryngard.
It was never really that nice of a place, but the orbital bombardment, viral bombing, and nuclear war didnt help anything.
Tidal Forest/Water Hazard
Some notable locations in the city.
One day nothing, two weeks later they had a pre-con base deployed and instead of a stagnant zone we had a category three offensive breathing down our neck, damn the bastards who came up with that monstrosity, and our own bastards for not having any of our own!
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.
A brief discussion of the prevailing level of technology in the city of Teleleli and the islands around.
We charged their walls but the defenses held us off, hidden bunkers sprang out of nowhere and turrets wreaked havoc on our forces. Gun pits blasted our army to pieces and we pulled back a shell came out of the sky and destroyed several siege towers, we where finished.
"Captain's log, date unknown. We have been exploring a region of dead space, wandering between the dull cinders of dying suns, looking for an explanation to what happened in this sector of space. Our charts show that this sector should be bursting with life - young stars and verdant worlds - but all we have seen is a stellar wasteland." -Log entry recovered from a derelict exploratory vessel on the fringe of the Miros Waste
A town has a festival every year in the dead of winter. The festival of birds. The towns folk dress in feathery robes and beaked masks and dance and frolic in the belief that the changes of the seasons are controlled by the presence of birds. According to tradition, the festival tricks Spring into coming early because the birds have returned.