A city lost in time. A city in ruins. Knowledge was they key staple in the city until mortals believed they were smarter than the Gods.
A tool of war, given free will to foster stife and conflict, that used that very same free will to become a messenger of peace.
The BRS Gwynith is an air ship of the Byrlothian Resistance. She is sentient, needing no crew to fly or man her, though she generally has a crew aboard for doing repairs and to go where she cannot.
Rurik was a powerful Necromancer, but he didn’t want to be evil.Just because he knew the Dark Arts, he did not think that he should be harming others all the time.Mostly, he wished only to be left alone…
What is it that hangs from such a fine belt? Tis a sword of Righteous Slaying, and a Mace of Disintegration. A pouch of Perfect Invisibility Dust, and a wand of Endless fireballs?
Good sir, This must be the Belt of Munchkin-kind
Michaela is a strong, fair minded woman. She isn’t afraid to work or to get her hands dirty. She is honest and tries hard not to judge someone on first glance.
In the middle of nowhere, followers of nature religions meet for a great festival. Also, the new druid for that region of the world is going to be “elected”. Not all of the 4 contestants are initiates, however…
It can be dangerous trying to send someone a message. Spoken words may be overheard, written correspondence may be intercepted, and body language may be seen. Did you ever wish you could think the words and they would be known?
"When our barbarian ancestors first arrived on the plains of our homeland, they found them covered in dust inches thick. They named them Muranvan, the Dusty Plains and armed with spades they cleared the dust heaving it off the edge of the world. For they had been chasing the Prey for long aeons up the face of the cliffs at the edge of the world, and in the chase had tired of their nomadic ways. They wanted a stable home. So they founded Takvanak, the City on the Plains. In the long silence after they had cleared the dust from Muranvan, rang out the deep and unforgettable tones of the Iron Heart, Saekeri, and the barbarians knelt and felt resounding reverence."
- The Saekeran, book 1 verse 1.
Cities are dynaimc organisms, alive in their own right. They grow and develope their own natures and their own cultures that are unique to them. Some are eloquent and grand, while others are slightly dirty, and willing to be bought. But anything alive can die…
Tired of people that just don’t keep their word? Well, with a Binding Oath Ring, that’ll be next to imposible.
This creation of Necromancy allows a true Necromancer access to certain powers engineered specifically for the spread of the practice. Created in the Forgotten Realms, a mysterious item ideal for the young or old.
Full Powers and the Full History of the item are included.
An item that can be used at any distance when the wielder is in favor with the owner that allows the user to cast spells, even in a null-magic zone.
A powerfull Orb made by Hardom, the Elven god of the crafting of magical items. Its porpose was to stop the constant requests by the Elves.
Tired of the constant harassment from human hunters, Cobrais took upon him a human form and sought to dissuade the humans from seeking out his people ever again.
Gareth turned and squinted uneasily over his shoulder. He could have sworn he heard a high pitched hiss. He turned back to continue through the dim underground passageway. It was then that he saw them. A pair of ruby red eyes, glowing faintly a few feet front of him. He had to look up to see them, and that is saying something, given Gareth’s generous stature. The strike was quick…he had no chance. The last thing he remembered were the eyes hovering above him and the fangs dripping venom. And was that a second set of eyes gleaming beneath the first…?
With her gray hair in a grandmotherly bun, and wont to wear grey dresses with lace and floral brocade, few would suspect the kindly Mistress of the bakery and part time apothecary of being a child of dark magic…
Blackrose Academy was built as a center for anyone wanting to learn. It houses some of the most intelligent and brilliant minds of its time. People would come from all around to study magic, languages, warfare and tactics, among other things. But that has changed.
There are sewers beneath the cobbled stone streets, carrying the filth of society away, rather than letting it pile up into steaming heaps of refuse. Something has moved into the sewers and is now coming to the surface to feed.
Most see the hunch-backed girl with the black hair, and give her a few copper pieces out of pity or mercy. These she spares from her nightly rooftop hauntings, as her hunch holds a darker secret than a deformed spine.
Jemas Lorne, the most celebrated poet of the age, was found dead, clutching a fragment of verse torn from his journal. The tantalizing fragment spoke of wealth:
Golden sands, empty and cold,
Treasure's crypt, forgotten gold.
Under stone, ancestor's doom,
Noble's prize, troubadour's tomb.
Rumours claim that the poet's father, an eccentric nobleman, had hidden much of his wealth before his death. Perhaps the missing journal has more clues?