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LamentoftheLost's Profile

Our Author's latest news and articles.

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LamentoftheLost - Social Profile

- Master of the Plain Thought

For Next Level: 175xp of 970xp complete.
175xp

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Locations | 170xp

A Night's Rest

At the end of a long day it's always nice to run across an unexpected inn...

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“ The Single creature game> Where there is only one type of Creature to fight other than humans Werewolf> This is one I've worked on a little>there would be one common one and then regional variation Gnoll> racial differences like humans only a little more severe. Dragon> you could make them more common and w a lot of younger ones”
Aramax
“ A supposedly empty desert on the far side of the mountains has started growing. No one knows why. At the center of the desert lies a tall rock outcropping, hundreds of feet tall. Dust storms shroud the outcropping constantly, except for one night a year.”
amphibianJani
“ Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat. Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the 'Ash-Wind' comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.”
Murometz
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