''Rrrbit! Rrrbit! Great Jove has found you unworthy, human! Now prepare to die !''
As the only place of warmth in an otherwise frozen land, the Firehole River is, or was, the central point for life in, on and around it. Sadly, this is starting to change...
Jade Alksnis was born a princess of the highest rank, and none of the Canbu tribe to which she belonged could have dreamed of the disaster that her birth would bring to her people. Had they known what she would do to them, they would put her to death by freezing when she was just a baby. Her very name is now equaled with the word "traitor".
Inhabiting the waters of Tarrod, the Organi is a dangerous creature.
The men cheered as their X1-gunner scored a direct hit on the mainsail of the ship that they were chasing. They drew their cutlasses and readied their C-47 Thaumatech rifles, for with a huge hole in the sail, the ship was forced to slow down and could not stay ahead of them for much longer.
As the sun set, the holy monk of Jove muttered a word and the tip of his staff flared into flame like a torch, without being burned or scorched in any way by it's own holy fire. He carried on his way without fear of being sneaked up on or stepping off the path in the dark.
This sea monster seeks to devour more than just mere flesh..
The Deathstick is a potent weapon, but it may well do more damage to it's user then the target, as it has not been perfected by it's creators yet.
Morcar’s ring is a marvel to behold, capable of healing wounds…but be sure that you do not tax it’s powers too far and die wearing it, or you will become a true horror to behold.
Unkown to anybody but a handful of people, this pretender has taken over a superpower and is leading it into a disastrous war to serve the interests of his foul god, Ma-O, the Great Demon of the Ocean
The famed Sigil Swords were a great help to the naval forces of those who served Big Red, and their magic would only serve their owners, much to the anger of the Admirals of the De Madden Company.
The Staff of the Swarm is a potent artifact in the right hands, but few can truely control what they summon.
A rare form of Undead seeks the help of a band of PCs. Will they be up to the challange?
Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms, greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge has marked the upward surge of mankind
Pismir the Miser
For want of a nail a horse was lost
For want of a horse a rider was lost
For want of a rider a message was lost
For want of a message a battle was lost
For want of a battle a kingdom was lost…
Which serves as a warning not to get on the wrong side of the God of Smalll Things.
The island of Redhaven can be seen from miles away in summer as the sun gleams on the marble villas of the rich, and it’s main port is said to be the most busy in Acqua during working hours.
The Pocket Ironbones, whilst not quite the war machines that they were intended to be, have been useful in the service of Banhosea all the same.
There was a mage once who dreamed of magic being there for everybody, and with his "Leveler" wand he might well have turned his dream into reality.
On the surface, these white calfskin gloves appear ordinary, until another human or an animal is touched, when they reveal the mysteries of the mind.
THE GNOMES OF UDNALOR: Part II
Having left the hush of the upper halls, and crossed the depths of the Braeth (an underground river, which is not all that deep because bear in mind we're talking about gnomes here), you would find yourself in Wattling Street, the main road through Udnalor. It's actually a long, well-worn passageway which opens out eventually into the City Centre. The gnome-buildings branch off Wattling Street as small burrows or caverns with boulder-blocked doorways for privacy. You can find armourers and smiths (though their armour tends to be on the small side for humans to buy) and many other types of trader.
There are many streets, ginnels and cooies which run off Wattling Street, the most famous probably being Smell Street, the domain of the infamous gnomish alchemists, the eponymous smell being very distinctive: the stench of cooking fungus, the aroma of subterranean spices, the pungent reek of rotting carcasses (used in some of the more notorious experiments). An encounter with an alchemist can really be spiced up (excuse the pun) if you have a well-stocked herb cupboard, and actually make up the potions, elixirs and draughts as they are ordered by characters.