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 Cursed form of poor Shump Thokk. He will offer helpful advice to anyone who dons the helmet.
The food that eats you back.
Creatures of nightmare, the thankfully rare Mesnoi have unique form and attributes. Only one Mesnoi at a time will ever be "encountered".
In appearance, a Mesnoi resembles a walnut-sized chunk of freshly-roasted red meat from some uncertain yet familiar, edible animal. The insidious creature camouflages itself quite appropriately whenever it can, by slowly making its way amidst feast tables and trays of roasted meats.
Once eaten by the unsuspecting, the Mesnoi sinks down to the stomach, reforming if chewed, and begins to lap up the gastric fluids, digestive juices, and bile that it craves, like a sponge.
The Mesnoi carrier will experience mild to severe stomach pains during this time.
After a few hours of this (this is the only time that the Mesnoi can be purged with magic, or other mundane means), the Mesnoi transforms into its true form inside its victim, that of a miniature, once more walnut-sized, pot-bellied, devil-horned, snake-tailed imp. This horrid little creature then begins to chew and eat its way out of the victim from the inside out with its tiny, razor-sharp teeth, like a rat forced to do so via torture.
The victim almost always dies a slow, agonizing death. That much is certain. The devilish imp then exits its victim and begins its seventy two hour existence of mischief and malevolence, until it once more turns back into a hunk of roasted meat with the movement capabilities of a snail.