Be it salt, wheat, silk or gold, money is money lad.
A creation myth that sets up a Job like contest between the gods for the souls men. It explains the origins of monsters, magic, death and demi-humans.
The Sea that touches all shores.
A composite calendar devised by magi based on the movement of the stars rather than the movement of the moon or the sun.
Doom and hope, misery and joy, are but two sides of the same mirror to this ancient force that has withstood the annihlation of an entire culture..
The Earth Mother, Spirit of Life
The Sky Father, the Star Lord.
The Moon Lady, Sea Queen, Water Mistress
The Sun King, Lord of Fire, The Blazing Sage
Welcome, Gentlemen. I’ll be brief about this. As you already know, as of 07:12 yesterday, we are at war with the bloody granola eaters of West Sylvania. I’m here to tell you how these elves fight.
All that was, all that is, all that will be, all Creation is formed of the Five Elements.
Ritual Magic, a viable (albeit forgotten) alternative to Kren.
This is the music played by the music box of Mordalin. It can be downloaded and comes in two mp3 versions: a repeatable version, and a non-repeatable version.
Worshipped by the barbaric warlike people of the southern deserts this sun god takes on the cruelety of the desert sun.
The hideous and hairy Houtsunomuh is the mythological Stalker of Graveyards and Eater of the Dead, one of the Eight Great Monsters of Enohountsun mythology.
A set of laws that could be used for any feudal fantasy kingdom. Throw it into a library or a courthouse if you want!
One spellcaster cannot achieve very much, but many minds can. Like insects, spellcasters are at their most formidable when they are united.
The Omen Plague has other names. It is known as The Star Plague and even The Mundane Plague. It is still with us today, now known by the common name of the Shaking Death. To set the stage, the stars were aligned in all the wrong signs. Everyone new something bad was going to happen. When winter set in hard and early, they thought that was it. They were wrong.
Those who have created the world. Those who are few but seem like many. Those who will be worshipped forever, if but in a different guise.
The Old One is the living core of Tarrod.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.