A realm of unending darkness, pitch blackness, where even light refuses to shine.
Bob and Alice are being chased by something/someone dangerous. They move into a new area, and the pursuit suddenly is nowhere to be found. What does the pursuer know that our heroes don't?
Casting spells is a difficult, oftentimes dangerous task. Power can be attained in spades by those so inclined, but controlling it once unleashed is something else entirely. There are a number of different ways that the form of the spell, the spell matrix, can be encoded, each with their own advantages and disadvantages.
30 books to be found within a steampunk setting. Manuals, tomes, and blueprints galore!
With bright light and 5 minutes burn time, this is required equipment for any cave-diver worth his salt.
A name shrouded in the mists of time. A scheme of pure genius. A relic of the Mage Wars.
Fire is best kept in the boiler; it's much too dangerous to be using for something as simple as lumination.
Not all hammers are tools of creation. Some are made for destruction, and some rare few truly excel at it.
That Which Kills Without A Touch. The Sorrow of Aler.
The sky is drab and gray, almost completely covered in rainclouds. What gaps there are open up to show yet more gray. Much like mortal demesnes, the weather is unpredictable, but every so often the clouds unleash their burden of water on the residents of this boring land.
Welcome to the Hell of Half-Nothings. Your stay will be boring, we guarantee it.
Once little more than a standard place of higher education, now the University of Firdon sits at the heart of the magidustrial revolution soon to sweep through Ryngard.
"The wind-driven snow parts for the barest of seconds, revealing a glimpse of refuge from the deadly storm. It’s a massive sapphire pyramid. Yet you know of nothing like it in this area…"
"And 3..2..1..Smile!" *flash* *thump* "Mwahaha."
A flower that blooms in honor of the sun itself.
The followers of the mechanogod Whrrrm, those who could never have come about until the advent of steamtech.
Ether, magical energy condensed into liquid form, is the fuel powering the magidustrial revolution on Ryngard.
The fey are strange, but occasionally, just occasionally, their actions make sense.
Yar…I do indeed know of Crossbones Isle, stranger. But ye’d be better suited to avoid that place like a widowed wench.
The stream of time can suddenly be breached. What happens now?
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A subterranean prison complex, meant to incarcerate those who need to be removed from society.