Completely isolated from the rest of the world, the House of the Abbot is possibly the most remote location that can be found.
Who would have thought a key would be this big?
The city that many adventurers seek to drink from the Fountain of Youth…..
Once Vandersil was a rich city. Too rich for it’s own good. It was born when gold was struck in the Northern Polar Mountians. The gold ran out within a few years but veins of other minerals both common and rare were discovered. Coal, silver, star stones. The city grew rich through trade and the streets were paved with bronze, at least, in the richer areas of the city. And then it fell into captivity because it neglected it’s defences…
Bromine Lake is a lake that is almost a very small inland sea. It is also special for other reasons. It always has the warmth of a living Human, no matter what the season. It is not a hot spring with its sulfuric chemicals. There are hundreds of theories, but no answers.
Even if they did, they would never believe it, as it has ties to the time of legends, to the time of Corvus.
Caladin, a country where people hate magic, where the sword is the most reliable weapon and where war and death not a uncommon word
The Haven Fortress, the name suggests protection and vacation, but it is far more then that…
Nestled among the smaller and less noticed store fronts, hidden among the sundry vendors, and purveyors of beads, cheap jewelry, and meat-on-a-stick products in a small building that smells strongly of hot linen, cotton, soap…and goblin.
The Deepening Gloom is an old forest, with deep roots, and deeper memories of the elder days.
After an age of war against the enchanted Fay a dark demi realm of chaos was created, Inhabited by twisted insane denizens with the increasingly rare bastion of sanity, A place to truly frighten an bewilder any unwary adventurer
Far to the north, past the cold, vast plains and tangles ancient forests, past even the brooding Deadfire Mountains, lies a real of ice and bitter cold. Barren and stark, few have ventured in to this icy realm. Hunting here is scarce and the wind seems to howl with the voices of demons. Yet there are rumors of a citadel in the heart of the ice field, rising above the wind-swept whiteness and glittering in the pale sunlight. Some say that the citadel was built of block of ice by giants. Others claim that some wild magic caused the structure to grow from the very ice. Yet others state in low voices that it is not ice that shines so, but a fortress of diamonds, built in ages past to guard the most powerful of magics in the world.
Three days from the nearest shore, nestled on top of a small heath island stands the Tower of Thunder and Gold. More than one hundred wizards and sorcerers live here year round, devoted to the continuation of the magical arts. There are many times more students, consors, and things only describable as others
The ice lands…. A place where the forces of ice and frost hold power eternal over the lands,a place where the life giving rays of the sun are smothered and mocked by an eldritch ice mist.. For these desolate,frozen plains are home to the dread Ice Worshippers,a race of savage and feared nomads who are as merciless and relentless as the sinister ice that dominates their lands,the same ice they revere and hold in awe. Held in terror and loathing by the folk of the fair south,they eagerly await the day the ice sends them forth to unleash upon the civilized lands, a demon winter that yearns to consume all life..
Serenity Cove is a picturesque coastal town once thriving and prosperous. Now finds that it is in the grips of a terrible evil.
To refer to Rubens a inn is an insult. There are no battered bars, or heaving bosoms, or the scent of stale beer and tobacco smoke. There are no crowded common rooms, or cheap entertainment. The flooring is plush, the rooms are exquisite, and the bill is out of this world…
This is a city deep in the hills of old Aviansis. The path to Merideth is magically obscured, so only those with the pathfinder’s gift can find it. The city is still bustling with souls after all these centuries. They trade with each other, make deals, sell things, and even send messages. Unfortunately only a few of them have warm bodies or heartbeats.
Deeping Steppes as named by Dargain the Gnomish adventurer who happened upon this place when attempting to find lost friends in a nearby series of caves and was swept in by the unexpected surge of an underground river, perhaps due to shifting of plates or erosion of a natural barrier. The cavern was sealed and unknown until being discovered by Dargain.
This is a region of the underdark where a series of very large plateaus occupy a huge underground cavern. The cavern is situated near a very common and sometimes treacherous underdark route know as The Underway (in my version of the world) which reaches from the Dales to Silverymoon regions in the Forgotten Realms.
The Barbaric vampire/demonic tyrant Bankskin is responsible for raising humans as livestock for his evil minions. The once prosperous valley has now turned into a tainted death hole fit for no one.
An oval a full mile and a quarter in circumfrence, infield thick with dark grass, surrounded by white fences and stands enough to seat two thousand spectators. The smell of hay, horse sweat, and excitement is strong in the air…
Dark Lands is a dark magical prison/labrynth created by a long dead Dark Mage. His secrets were kept alive by his followers and they sold enchanted artifacts to those with enough riches to purchase them. These artifacts contain the power to spellcast the target into the deadly prison where it’s victims worst nightmares are manifested into reality. Read more in the full version!
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman