Gregory Merchant is an art dealer in Daggersford. He is well-versed in art, history, and art history, but rarely brings these subjects up other than in context of a sale. His sales technique is very low-pressure, and he is content to let people browse his shop. There are a few small statues available, but the shop focuses on paintings of various sizes, values, and significance. He seems perpetually distracted. Is it a ruse?
Some people are going to be the “new guy” all their lives.
Every troop has a shifty eyed grumbler. This is ours. He is also The Captain’s Second.
A natural leader of men, his troops would follow him to the nether realms, because they knew he would bring them back.
The Moaning Lands of the Dead and Dying. Many foul creatures of undeath roam here and seek living flesh, no one is quite sure what happened to this large desert island. Maybe you could unlock the mystery and free the tormented.
The Arcade is a long narrow entertainment district built upon the dried up Arcadey creek. This jurisdictional no mans land has become a vibrant section of the city.
This little quarter of the city is a quiet one. It is where the “other people” live, those who do not have enough numbers to “take over” a given district in the city like The Orcen or The Chinese.
It is often a colorful part of the city, flags waving everywhere. The People there are always seeming to have a good time. They should, this faire like atmospher is their lively hood.
The Grey District was once a prosperous inner district in The Hill City of Frankard. It is an erriely silent place now, where people make little in the way of noise or light. It’s district walls are now painted with a Grey Line, a warning as to plague. However, it is not the plague you would expect.
The weapons of the Ankorill Warriors and their uses.
Pu-Da are called Clubs in the rest of the world. Among the Ankorillian weaponry are different types of clubs for use in close combat.
Ankorillian warriors carries, on a regular basis, Na-ha (spears) and many different types of Pahas (daggers). However, these are not daggers as most people think of them.
The City Fathers decided decades ago to build a Grand Temple. The Faiths gave their blessing. Taxes were raised. Land was purchased and dedicated. Supplies began to be procured. People poured in to do the work. The Broken Ground is the neighborhood around the construction site.
It seems odd to a number of travellers that several towns and cities along The Marches have small neighborhoods with the same name. "The Royal Majesty’s Most Beautiful Road" linked all the various town and villages in the Marches. The road is not gone, but only these remnants remain.
Religions. Sigh. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them. They have been such an intergral part of Human existance, that ignoring them is something you do at your own peril. A lack of religion (even hidden away in the background) can completely destroy the verisimiltude that a world designer desperately works so hard to achieve. So here is brief outline of various kinds of theisms.
Haio-Mano means “A shark’s lei”. These Ankorillian weapons are particularly effective and devastating.
This sword is unique, made only for the Merchant Prince of [insert city] and his loyal band of mercenaries. The Cruaunte is a hand and a half sword, capable of being used with one or two hands, and from horseback or on foot. Thus, the merchant can save both time and money equipping his men with a universally usefull weapon.
A simple net made of strong jute,this otherwise innocous looking object when combined with the amazing Ahal paste used by the tribsemen of the Powi,can be a serious threat to any warrior who finds himself menaced with this traditional Powi wepaon.
A spear that reflects the life of it’s owner trough small Haiku like poems. As the soldier lives his life the spear casts a shadow of his great exploits. Small runes are carefully etched in the ash shaft after a great battle or another important event in the warriors life.
Khartand is the oldest and most characteristic of the Taklamar knife weapons.
The Pcs discover an ancient, dusty oil lamp, somewhere in the bowels of a dungeon. Naturally they "rub it", and out pops a wizened, old djinn. So far so good. Then it speaks...
"Ah at last, at last I am free! Now grant me my wish!"
When the PCs explain that they are the ones that should be granted a wish, the malignant djinn explains to them that his particular oil-lamp has a curse placed upon it. Whomsoever releases the entity inside shall be geased to grant the djinn's wish to the best of their ability.
Groans ensue from the party. The djinn rubs his wrinkled hands, grins, and proceeds to name his wish. What could it be?