An introductory text to the demands of demon summoning.
Ostensibly but a rock, a chunk of metal, it has one extraordinary use: randomly, the Igneus Saxum issue flames.
The ruin that birthed a society; the Life and Times of a city in the throes of death.
Barathra is quite simply the Land of the Dead, the Afterlife. It, simply put, defies the Atheians' expectations. After all, for most, it is Hell.
The most influential event in Atheus is the Year of the Exile. It set up the division of the world into east and west, the human's side and the barbarian's side, respectively. But how did it actually happen? How did one race manage the incredible feat of the exile of four other races?
The Fae, they are called, though the reason they are not called by their true name, the Fairies, has been lost to the ages- at least, by the humans. The other races know, the other races know well of the Fae.
Humans have a very short memory. The elves, the dwarves, the goblins, the orcs, they don't. They remember of the interactions between Atheians and the Fae all those years ago in that other age. They know what happened. But the humans... they have forgotten.
This is why they will be the first to die.
The Reposians, unlike the rest of Atheus, respect rather than fear the sea. In fact, this respect has grown to border on love and dependence. It is a fact, naturally, that most of Reposian exports are seafoods, and most of its income is from sea-based reasons, from oceanic trading vessels to fish.
Tauria is a republic, and has experimented with the ideas of democracy. That is, it used to be a republic. Now its a dictatorship, masquerading as a republic, with laws permitting the army to be thugs.
A statue with the power to fix your mistakes.
Sometimes Utopias should stay as mere legends.
A man approaches you with a proposition; a cult that seeks to only protect the weak; plots mingling and causing destruction.
Death, it seems, shall stalk the land of Merthia tonight- unless, of course, the PCs can stop it.
"Protect us, oh holy one,
from the dangers of the night
may your smoke and ashes
to our souls with clarity ignite"
Trapped in Atheus, blocked from returning to their home of Congeria, the daimon is (usually) a minor demon- though this does not mean that they are not a highly deadly adversary.
No where else in the world of Atheus is the maxim "Power is money" so readily apparent than it is in Obstaria. And since, as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely, decadence and corruption has crept into the kingdom of Obstaria.
In the place where Atheus lies, there are three separate planes, three realms for the intrepid to explore. One of these is Congeria, land of the demons. The home of darkness, the mount of Chaos, Evil's Playpen, all of these are names drawn up by the Atheian peoples.
As is the norm for cases such as these, they could not be further from the truth.
Jacob Latris was a Taurian immigrant to Obstaria. Now he is a man who has severed his connections to sanity long ago, and is searching for something that probably doesn't exist.
With many legends and myths attributed to it, the Shield of St. John was wielded by the Prophet and bears the curse of fame for bearing holy magic. However, the only benefit the Shield could bestow upon the wielder is psychological.
The Prophet John's life and, indeed, death was a mystery. Some say that the gods placed him on this earth for his purpose without a past, and others, a rare few, claim that he was a god himself.
"And Lo; today Alea Waxes, and she shall blesses us. For soon a great change is upon us, for soon our beliefs shall be hallowed! We as a group, we as a people, we as a religion, shall be acknowledged. Our efforts shall no longer be in vain!"
--The Prophet John, Sermon to the Capitol
A place where no one knows about or finds until the Circle chooses a person to discover it. For the Circle of Culthus has a purpose for that person, and letting other people know of it or discover it would hinder that purpose.
Stormbound, the ship rolls hard over to once side. All that is not strapped down is tossed violently overboard in a splash of freezing water.
There, on the horizon- a tower. Squat, it stands alone on a tiny island. However, it's the only land in sight, and any more of this ferocious storm will crush the boat to splinters.
Taking shelter within the ornate entryway of the squat tor, the party notes with interest that no signs of life break the silence of the stone tower. As they take another step forward, they realise why.
This is the fabled tower of Brenji, a rich merchant who wished none to share his enormous wealth. He constructed this tower to store his gold- trapped and ready for any potential thieves. But the ingenious pitfalls and scything walls are not the only dangers within the silent walls of the building. A guardian, left behind by Brenji, still stalks these very halls.
A rattling hiss echoes somewhere from below...