Clock Tower of Elmwood - It appears ready to topple, but it has always appeared that way as far back as any living could remember.
A college campus for modern day settings, where things are more than they seem at first glance. (Good for a horror or mystery setting)
Castle Strelock is well known from the crimson banners on the towers and the vines on it’s walls, and from the rumours and tales of the beautiful damsel trapped within it.
A rundown shop of old joys, now just a wreck, with a little touch of mystery.
A small village situated near a medium lake,with inhabitants and history that is more unique than one might expect. Suitable for any fantasy/low tech setting.
Here am I, floating in a tin can, far above the moon, Planet Earth is blue, and there’s nothing I can doo.
A fey kingdom fallen, with winter triumphant. A dream frozen, to be thawed by might and heroic deed.
A salvage and scrap yard of the UFP
Of old, this city was the home of a coven of the Sarkukai, foul devotees of Sarku, Lord of Worms, the God of Rising From The Grave. Though they were driven out, the city remains tainted by the memory of that ghastly cult.
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.
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.