“ The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... 'Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate' reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...”
“ All magic is suddenly gone. No mage can sling sorcery anymore. This upsets all empires and civilizations. It is soon discovered though, trough the combined work of mystics, scholars and dreams, that all the magic has been drawn into a single orb in a vast tower located at one of the poles. Whoever gets there first wins the greatest price in history, access to all the magic in the world. But who owns the tower?”
“ Suppoki-
These creatures are desert animals that are much like huge, quadripedal sloths. They have a hide made of heavy scales to keep out gritting sand, and over that, a thick coat of fur.
During sandstorms, and when they sleep, Suppoki bed down in the sand, covering themselves up until they are miniature dunes.
Suppoki derive what sustenance they can from water sinks, dew, and underground insects.
Suppoki are often ridden by desert tribesmen. They are stubborn and slow, but are often the difference between life and death out on the sands.”
