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.
A beacon of brilliant white stone surrounded by black, clutching death..
Celebrations can be found everywhere: from the big city to your local township. Sometimes the smaller locales can have the richest of all celebrations since they are more personal. Dayern’s Hamlet is one of those places.
"It is amazing to me how this one little stretch of water has changed the course of history," History of The New Country by Collen D’Madden Blue Diamond Press
Fewer things under heaven reek
like the lofty spires of Wlatsoom Peak
Vernissage, apprentice bard.
A slightly atypical stinking swamp festering with goblins
- "Arrr! What scurvy dog seeks the Davy Jones’ Locker by comin ‘ere?"
- "Oh, shut it, will ya!"
There are scummy dives, and then there is The Rotten Bastard.
Sort of a collaborative effort to create a world for the Citadel.
"Where do I live? A simple question that doesn’t have a simple answer. A palace in a place beyond place, built in a time that wasn’t a time. Can’t solve my riddle? Really, it’s for the best. You wouldn’t like where I live."
Knowledge is Power. That is, he who makes the knowledge, wields the power.
A moving island, and home to both the honorable Lizardfolk and the evil Cult of Dar’Orgath.
Gartheia - the flower-pot Island
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.