...In the hallowed halls of the University of Linnarson a glimpse may sometimes be caught of the Senior Masters, learned sages and masters of knowledge. They seldom leave their dusty studies full of learned tomes, other than to dine - each evening they will be found shuffling down the dimly lit corridors to the dark and shuttered Great Hall. After feasting at high table by candlelight they will be gone, returning once more to their studies. None but they know of their pact with death, how they have willingly embraced an eternal undeath in which to pursue knowledge, yet this is the reason for the darkened corridors and the shuttered hall, for those who are undead cannot abide the light of the sun…
To the primitive tribes on the plains of North, life changes rapidly from season to season. In summer, food is abundant. In the winter, death from starving is never far. A natural phenomenon helped one such tribe.
Deep in Throck forest there is a small valley filled with boulders. It is an uneasy place, full of invisible eyes. In the damp behind one of these boulders is a wooden door, virtually impossible to find, which leads down into the Kingdom of the Gnomes.
The home of the reclusive Monk-Smiths of Moldan, unparalleled practitioners of the art of smithing.
The ruins of the lands that bore the confrontation between the Mad God of Avarice and the Storm Queen, this place has been soaked by the divine essence of two of the most chaotic gods.
Ringed round by ancient political foes, this ancient nation finds itself dealing with a powerful foe, one with far more sinister hungers than money or land.
It is said that there is always night, even during the day it is dark. Undead prowl around freely, and pity to those living that end up there. Still, lucky are those eaten by the hordes, some fools get deeper and their very souls are consumed by the nameless horrors that lurk in some hidden spots. And still more serve as new material for the Necromancers, the only living creatures there, as they say at least…
Vernae is a forested island which, centuries ago, became the home to refugees from the civilised lands far to the east.
Where is the Land That Forgets? Nobody can remember…
A beautiful, broken land tended by feudal families. Densely forested, this land holds many mysteries in the areas not cleared, and some mysteries are dangerous.
This village is at the far northen extent of civilized lands. Far Tragin is within the Northern Wastes and is constantly plauged by danger. The folk who survive here are the hardest you will find.
New Herbia is a new expanding town founded by a two adventurers who accidently destroyed the town that used to be there. Now it is larger and more popular than ever…
The forest of HalÃ«fas is a strange place indeed. It has long been inhabited by the forest elves, a race of elves descended from the high elves that have lived for over 9000 years isolated there. This wood is patroled by a groupe of expert rangers who know the forest well, Tred lightly and unthreateningly here for you may find your end in Hathil’S arrow.
The beautiful garden underground in which the Understar and her 9 Monsters are imprisoned.
There lies a valley, far to the west, on the shores of The Great Northern Sea, that has a mist that is both blessing and curse. All those that breath the mist heal with remarkable speed, so fast that only the mightiest blow or the truest strike can fell the smallest beast. The warriors who settled this land became soilders of great renown, for not only were they impenetrable defenders, they were warriors whose aim and might were unsurpassed.
The city of Caulderon is the mythic flying city. Once a magnificent city on a cliff, it was saved from being lost to the sea by being lifted by alchemical means. It was filled with impossibly tall shining spires standing above golden domes. The sunlight striking it is said to blind those who come to invade the city. The people lived in this magnificent city in health, wealth, and safety. They rode Griffons and created all sorts of creature. Caulderon was known for its magic, its alchemy. In the old tongue, the word Caulder means alchemey, from the word Cauldron. It is from their alchemey that their great wealth and comfort is derieved.
Legends (and Elven History) states that the floating city would visit The Lands once every few years, blown by the winds. They would trade for things and sell their magikal goods. After a year or so, their cities would be be blown to other places. It has been over four hundred years since any credible source has seen the floating cities. It is the thing of legends.
Then why has one been seen over the Land?
In an ancient cycle of time, an empire of sun worshippers ruled the world from their great holy city.
A mystic ruin that is well guarded by the family of Dro’Hizzir a great upper class of Shadow Warriors. This is unknown to everyone except for Dro’Hizzir. Knowledge that is only passed down from his forefathers and ancestors alike. Well underground in the city of Pulca. The entrance is found in Dro’Hizzir’s office in his ancestorial vault (that has riches in it as well). In the back of his vault is a narrow tunnel way big enough to fit a normal man in that leads to a ruin of his dead Ancestors and riches of the deceased.
The Old Kingdom, a realm in a four-hundred year quarantine.
Pulca is a average Elvish town of about 300 people. They are some of the most peaceful and kindess Elves one will ever meet. They have never battled any outlanders or waged war with anyone.
There are those as rich as kings but dress as peasants and worry not about funding. To visit their true homes one would see wealth of untold value scattered as dirt is in a hut. They know the monetary value of their possessions but they have long lost any true value to their owners. Experience is their currency and their curse. They dispense secrets of the ages as if discussing the weather. Few things have they not experienced so that very little gives them joy. They are the lost ones looking for new life while humoring the mortals around them.