Messes cleaned, maintenance conducted, problems fixed.
Better known as the Ghost Suit
An explorer gone missing. A king in panic. A treasure to find.
Welcome to the Craggy Peaks. We hope you don't freeze to death.
That would mean we couldn't... play.
More than one convoy crossing the Southwest, traveling through the Republic of Texas and Rocky Mountain Republic has found themselves in the crosshairs of a heavy black transfer truck and it's deranged driver.
"Surely, you wouldn't deprive an old man of his walking stick?" Uh, yeah- you probably should.
The city of Nausopol is built on stilts. Lots of very sturdy stilts and butresses, of course, because it rises about five hundred feet from the ocean. Even the most terrific of storms is only heard in the city as a distant cacophony of blasts as waves strike the solid stonework fathoms below. It has never been attacked because of its isolation and impregnability.
It's not a place for the faint-hearted: vertigo and sea-sickness are not desirable traits. But when you are standing in the middle of the city there is no way you could tell that you were standing above an ocean, separated only by a gulf of air and a few stones.
A thousand steps lead down from Nausopol to the floating docks. These docks are pitch-coated wooden and can be raised by winches during squalls. Trade with other cities and countries is good: Nausopol is built over a sunken atoll whose minerals are still mined by divers, and it was from this that it originally derived its wealth.
But the principal method of getting to and from the city is by riding the giant sea-eagles which have been captured and bred for that very reason.