Go forth to war my son, and be absolved of your transgressions.
St. Acre the Just, Confessor General
“Listen to the Wind! Listen to Crackling Fire! Listen to the Groan of the Mountain! Listen to my Voice! Listen and you will See through the Smoke! See the Old Ways of our Forefathers! See the Glory of our Clan! See the Might of our Race!”
—Horn-Of-Plenty, Shaman of the Thorondrim Minotaurs, leading his people in the Khuugrad
Hot fry here, get your hot fry!
Isolated at the southern most portion of Falhath, the Bosques are considered bumpkins and backwater-folk
I bring the sword, nothing more…
Come ye who HUNGER!
In the great city of Ozea, the funeral processions of the dead are followed by the Chalice Bearers, mourners who gather their tears to annoint the deceased.
Most knights at least pretend to be on the side of Good and to defend the weak. Not so those of the Order of Rightous Victory-they are openly on the side of Evil and make no bones about it.At least, that is what they say to outsiders, but the truth is not quite as clear-cut as that.
‘‘From the great home land above, do we desecend to this dark world to civilize long sundered kindred that have relapsed back into the degraded state of barbarism. For it is only on their humble backs that the splendours of noble Zor-Tanis can once again be revived to their former majesty. Then shall we resume our rightful place as the keepers of the flame of high civilization in the entire mass of creation’‘.
The House of the Duck is a well visited establishment, known for the quality of it’s wine and the clean and friendly vivaciousness of its workin’ gals.
One of the mercenary circles who can trace their origins back to the Greater Comet School.
Legends claim that in the far south, men made of ice roam…
In the vast Sun-Ocean lies spots of perfect green. The Ankorillian Islands. The “Jewels of the Blue”.
The natives there are strange and wild looking.
Here is the only existing work on how they live, their customs, beliefs and rituals.
Everyone has strings. You just need to know how to pull them. *cue evil laugh* With this “string” of agents, who will respond perfectly to my careful manipulation, the safety of the Kingdom is ensured.
Warriors or bandits, terrorists or freedom fighters - depends on your point of view really
Sitting in a gloom lit by a single candle, the masked and robed figures shuffle into the room. Some are tall. Some are short. Some are round. Some are thin. They are all different, yet they are the same… those that organize and run the city from behind the scenes.
This is the order of the Three Kingdoms, each kingdom volunteering men to serve in the Order. Each of the members must be an expert woodsman: able to survive in the Great Dark Oak Forest that borders all three Kingdoms.
The members of this obscure order specialize in growing funghi. Growing, researching and studying many kinds, they even try to create new ones.
The Bowmen of Love are a more or less secret organization found within the larger towns. For a price, they can be hired to drop a love potion into someone’s drink or shoot them, not with a bow despite their name, but with a tiny blowpipe that fires a dart with a love potion on it.
The third son of a candle-maker, and secretly a spy, Tsiao Fong Wei betrayed his family, clan, and town to the merciless Qongg Dynasty, causing the deaths of his own family members. He survived to an old age hiding out in the country side and keeping a low profile. One day however, the “Paper Knife” finally found Tsiao Fong Wei , and exacted his revenge on behalf of the folk, dead and tortured.
After a furious struggle, the “Paper Knife” plunged twin burning candles into the eyes of the traitorous old man and laughed, as Tsiao Fong Wei howled in dismay and pain. Some say Tsiao Fong Wei died that day. Others say that the old man somehow escaped despite his sudden anguish and utter blindness.
The truth is lost to time.
But to this day the children of the Red-Ridge County towns and villages are told by their parents to always beware twin lights in the darkness and to never venture into the woods at night, and to keep an ear open for the Groaning Ghost, for somewhere out there Tsiao Fong Wei the Traitor, now a vengeful spirit, stumbles about the darkness moaning and wailing, candles still sticking forth from out of his otherwise empty eye sockets. And though the candles plunged into his eyes all those years ago were a’flame going in, now the wax protuberances are somehow lit from within and burn without, and two flickering lights in the darkness, always portend his coming.