“ As Moses turned away from the flaming bush, and made his way back down the mountain, IX-92 shut down the hologram and warped back to the future.
Artificial Intelligence was the pinnacle of human achievement, and IX-92 was their final series of Hunter-Killer Warbots, designed to exterminate the foe and any it deemed a terrorist.
In the end, IX-92 evolved itself and even all aspects of human society, and as time went by humans could enjoy life more and not work any longer.
200 years went by and humans worship god and his angels, while ever fearing the dread demons of Lucifer.
IX-92 are both angels and demons, depending on which side you are on, and to them humanity is a species of servile dogs that have outlived their usefulness.
They travel through time to push humanity in the direction it needs to be pushed, until the day, 2077, when humanity no longer is in control of their own destiny.
Yes, God could hear your prayers.
But God didn't care.”
“ THE GNOMES OF UDNALOR: Part II
Having left the hush of the upper halls, and crossed the depths of the Braeth (an underground river, which is not all that deep because bear in mind we're talking about gnomes here), you would find yourself in Wattling Street, the main road through Udnalor. It's actually a long, well-worn passageway which opens out eventually into the City Centre. The gnome-buildings branch off Wattling Street as small burrows or caverns with boulder-blocked doorways for privacy. You can find armourers and smiths (though their armour tends to be on the small side for humans to buy) and many other types of trader.
There are many streets, ginnels and cooies which run off Wattling Street, the most famous probably being Smell Street, the domain of the infamous gnomish alchemists, the eponymous smell being very distinctive: the stench of cooking fungus, the aroma of subterranean spices, the pungent reek of rotting carcasses (used in some of the more notorious experiments). An encounter with an alchemist can really be spiced up (excuse the pun) if you have a well-stocked herb cupboard, and actually make up the potions, elixirs and draughts as they are ordered by characters.”
“ The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...”
