There are two types of P’nash trees that survive, the Red berry tree, and the White berry tree. Both can be picked and, other than some mild psychological effects, are rather benign. Combined in the right situation ... Well that’s something else.
In the words of the Great Bard Taslinus Excellencus . . . yet on entering The Embassy one is conscious of calm and complete beauty echoing the mood of majesty and peace that is the essential quality of The Valley and Greater Elven Kingdom. . . . against a background of forest and precipice the architect has nestled the great structure of granite, scaling his design with sky and space and stone. To the interior all ornamentation has been confined, and therein lies a miracle of color and design. The Ancient Elven motifs, primitive yet timeless, are supreme . . . . The designs are stylized with tasteful sophistication; decidedly Ancient Elven, yet decidedly more than Elf, they epitomize the involved and intricate symbolism of Man . . .
There has been a city on this site for centuries. Cultures/ societies have come and gone, but the city site remains as it is a crossroads. Those gone by have left their marks upon the city. The city has grown and fallen numerous times. The last time, it was nearly destroyed, yet a few pieces remain.
In the center of the plaza is The Bell. The large iron Bell is covered by a small slanted roof held up by four pillars. These pillars rest upon a square raised foundation. There are small stairs that lead up to the level of foundation. The foundation also has four strong iron loops towards the edges. If one does not know the two traditions, this arrangement makes no sense.
In the western part of the city is a large neighborhood. It is this good sized old walled neighborhood that gives the city is reputation for education, wisdom, and enlightenement. It is called The Quadrangles by locals and those of high education.
Coastside Park—the ultimate haven away from urban chaos—was deeded to the people over one hundred years ago out of the prescient notion that the city folk would one day feel overcrowded. The city has spilled over three sets of defensive walls and is now reaching water to water on its hilly sandy peninsula. This foresight proved invaluable.
The Plaza of Tarnished Entertainments is a large, circular plaza, built in the formerly-affluent Saeppellion district of Hartacon, capitol of Mysia.
It was some sixty years ago, a great flood on the river caused a lot of damage. The baron ordered masive works to be undertaken, to widen the river’s channel above its usual level. The “over-channel” spreads a few hundred yards on both shores of the river. This was to be a sufficient safeguard against any flood.
Beacon’s Hill is a two and a half century old downtown residential neighborhood situated directly north of the Common and the Public Garden.
Hexagon Plaza is a “zone” in a cluster, not far from a gate. This is because gips are herded to the plaza, the shortest distance possible is the best for creatures, handlers, and people nearby. Note: For this area to make sense, check out the Encyclopedia Kernnica for details on gips, hard and soft leather.
Hy-Pointe or “High Point” gets its name for being the highest point of the city. The Pointe is also the name of the signal tower (now in disrepair) that stood on the hill.
In more magical areas, not all the citizens are full sized and landwellers. In worlds where pixies, nixies, gnomes, lepracauns, faeries and other fey, batkin, catkins, and ratkins, all exist, there will often be Cotery Neighborhoods in the city.
The Guide said, "The Asrolith predates the comming of Men as we know them. It is an ancient place with an ancient wisdom." Looking back at his current employers, he sighed. "And it is just two blocks down on the right, by the big temple. "
Somewhere towards the mountains, something subterranean occured. A while later and many miles away, the two large eastern quarters in the city change. The soil became damp for reasons beyond divination.
It seems like nothing more than Walls, Gates, and two long windy roads. The Walls are nearly taller than the city walls. The Gates, they are manned with real soldiers. You can’t see what is going on here. They don’t want you to see either.
The courier looked at the address again. It did not make any sense. There was no Skydistrict street in the southern part of the city, or any part of the city. He jumped a bit when he saw a winged figure fly over his head. His eye followed the figure up to the tall towers above the buildings. He had seen them over city the city. He thought they were decorations. He was wrong. Scratching his head, he wondered how he was going to get up there.
This strange tobacco mixture that natives of Ankorill use
for both traditional ceremonies and everyday events.
This might not be suitable for the squeamish or easily offended.
A new Take on Dwarves should hit the following key points Short (After all Dwarf means a short person), Underground (traditional living arrangements), Artificers (Maker of things, use of forge), and Good Combatant. They don’t have to be short vikings.
When looking for an Orc substitute in a campaign, one should think about just a violent ethnic group of people. Huns, Goths, Visigoths, Franks, and Mongols, have all the same campaign effect of Orcs and other “monster races” that fight in large groups/ hordes. And it has the added bonus of people not being able take the moral high ground when they kill an intelligent being… because it is a people… not just a worthless Orc.
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