When wizards go mad, what curious ruins do they leave behind?
Beachcombing and coast-hugging, fantasy style. Animal, mineral, and vegetable. Sea-Junk. Flotsam and jetsam. Encounters and other oddities.
Once merely a minor Realm of an ambitious Prince of the Nether, the Gloom has been conquered and now lies ruled by Winter’s cruel grip.
The establishment is run by an elderly goblin named Sax Stoneswiller. Providing this service to non-goblins is much more lucrative than what he was able to receive with his clan.
While every ship has antigravity engines in this day and age, leaving a full gee planet can take most smaller ships quite a while. The presence of numerous anti-gravity fields can cause interference and fluxation in power broadcast, some comm channels and of course, cause "traffic control issues" as they are flying out. There is a better, safer way to launch them.
Maxwell Cyler, Developer, to the Congessional Areospace Committee
These are minor things that can be dropped in anywhere to add "narrative flavor", to make it more than just another road, field, forest or beach.
A world of drifting sky islands and air ships
In the summer there is a small stone jail for those who are caught breaking the rules of the Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin, but in winter they are imprisoned within the warm waters themselves. No bolts or bars are needed, the cold takes the place of prison walls.
Alia exclaims, "What a gruesome sight!" and points to a brook filled with gravestones - some still upright while others are knocked over.
A gigantic, warped edifice, towering over the dark, soot-stained Witherdowns, where human corpses are turned into Deaders.
The industrial district of Locastus, where huge, cathedral-like factories rise over the low brick houses, and tall ivy-choked chimneys spew out black smoke, day and night.
The Obtort Ward is all that remains of what was once an ancient battlefield that was afterwards converted into a mass grave.
A quintessential seedy dive, catering to the lowest of the low, but harbouring a few nasty secrets
The headquarters of the WhoresÃ‚Â´ Guild
101 plug and play communities in 10 sub-categories
The slums of Locastus
30 villages ready at the disposal of the Gamemaster.
The cultural nexus of Locastus and the final resting place of its founders
Spots of perfect green. The Ankorillian Islands. Jewels of the Blue.
The greatest city on Neyathis - not built by the hand of man, but by long-gone giants. It is a city of superlatives and place of new beginnings.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.