“The last thing we ever saw was its inky tail as it swept under the door. I fear the scions of Durnthar have taken yet another piece of us.” - Gould Maran, Keeper of the Throne Seal
Skeletons are weak. The armies of darkness made them into something much more suitable.
A set of laws that could be used for any feudal fantasy kingdom. Throw it into a library or a courthouse if you want!
Have you ever been confused by the mess of rules and philosophies concerning death and the undead? Here’s an attempt to lay down a set of rules to end all confusion.
Upon the fourth night of Winterkiss, a lord of the land was visited by four Magi.
This tavern is the place-to-be establishment of Shorenar Vas, a bustling riverside trade town of Veldea. Each night the tavern packs full of practically every man with a heavy pocket and a round stomach in the town. Should you be in the area, there’s no place better for some good slop and a quick flop than the Golden Frog.
A closed fist and an open palm can solve all problems, at least according to the Jack of Irons. If you walk into this tavern, you might just receive both.
Although the stink and slime of the swamp is not the perfect habitat for dry plants, within forests of the Mura Katur can be found a respectable variety of lichens, mosses, and ground covers.
From the Black Marsh to the Glowing Swamps of Luminiall, the Mura Katur is home to a great abundance of funghi. Enclosed is a sampling of the many species found in its dank mires and soaked forests.
Which is worse - a foolish mage or a drunken wizard? When halfmage Rolan Haraweir settled down to found a tavern in the Jewel City, this question became the basis for its name. The answer is still hotly debated over steaming mugs of spice-wine to this day.
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.