To fight the Evil, you must learn of The Evil, master its skills, know its techniques, and be able to use its tools. Only then can you train others to fight The Evil.
—Ilvantus of the Black Robes to the general floor at the Creedos Convocation 1137 DO

Wheatsword has the reputation of being the dullest city in the world. It is surrounded by miles of flat farmland. The buildings are big, square, and boring. The streets are well paved. It looks like someone in the Military designed the city. And they did. It is the largest military establishment in the world.

Literally, Campaigns are like plants. They can only grow if the conditions are right. The GM must plant them in the correct place and right environmental conditions (i.e. the players must like the ideas behind the games and be willing to play in them). Just like the gardener must prepare the soil and growing environment, the GM must create the basics of the campaign before play.

It was quite the odd sight, clusters of people dressed like jesters, or prancing devil, or one group were in badly done Lyran dance costumes, all dancing, running about, making noise or music (well, the music was mostly noise), all on the day after the New Year's Birth. It is quite sobering. I should know. I was there staring out at it from my inn window. I soon got dressed, moved myself slowly downstairs, and made "sophisticated and urbane sounding inquires" (which were neither thanks to the amount of mead the previous night) of the Inn Keeper. He who told me all about this mad tradition of his city's while I had bread and beer for breakfast. Baldius and the Trader's Way Blue Press 1524

You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia.' But only slightly less well known is this: 'Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.'

This work is a real book. It should give you an idea of what people in your historical analog/ fantasy worlds should be expecting to eat. (Or at least if they are English.(

These specially made candles are favorites of wives, lovers, and mothers who see their loved ones off to battle or to trade in far away lands.

Some cities have more spirit than others.

It is December 24th. People around the world are doing last minute shopping, traveling, and getting their work done. The world is filled with moments of joy and amusement as the world is desperately getting ready for a joyous holiday (or going to the movies or Chinese food w/ the family… depending on the tradition).

Then, the Gates open and the world changed. Mythics began to appear. However, out of the gates, yes those magical gates, out pours death and mayham into the Malls and Streets. They don’t have a name, nor do they give one. Some call them demons, aliens, or experiments; others just call them Monsters. The Elfs, they call them Grinches.

Continued Below...

"Okay, I didn't like Thanger", I thought, "He was a punta of epic proportions, but nobody deserved to die like that." These thoughts were crowding out the screaming in the back of my head that we were all still in danger if we did not move.

I saw Peeth kneel down besides the biggest chunk of remains, where the heart was. He reached in under his leathers and pulled out a piece of jade on a simple chain. He placed it on the remains reverently. It was fitting, Thanger died stepping in to protect Peeth.

"He needs this more than I do. Maybe it will keep him out of The Hells."

The city of Caulderon is the mythic flying city. Once a magnificent city on a cliff, it was saved from being lost to the sea by being lifted by alchemical means. It was filled with impossibly tall shining spires standing above golden domes. The sunlight striking it is said to blind those who come to invade the city. The people lived in this magnificent city in health, wealth, and safety. They rode Griffons and created all sorts of creature. Caulderon was known for its magic, its alchemy. In the old tongue, the word Caulder means alchemey, from the word Cauldron. It is from their alchemey that their great wealth and comfort is derieved.

Legends (and Elven History) states that the floating city would visit The Lands once every few years, blown by the winds. They would trade for things and sell their magikal goods. After a year or so, their cities would be be blown to other places. It has been over four hundred years since any credible source has seen the floating cities. It is the thing of legends.

Then why has one been seen over the Land?

Starting a Campaign the MoonHunter way, what more is there to say?

The young priest had been healing in the market place for free. Someone seeking bounty gold had told someone at the temple. "Hut. Hut. Hut" The Temple Knights in formation came marching down from the temple.

The young priest stood up. He reached into his pouch. With a smile he put the top into the Bey. With a spin, the 1000 prayers to the spirits came forth. The spirit responded. The wind whirled and buffetted the troops. They fell into each other and were having trouble getting due to the wind that only they felt.

The priest picked up his top and ran away. They would not catch him today.

Kerren is the common/ colonial name for Kerros IV. Kerros is a G3 star in Sector 460. It is a Early Series System off the Bael Line. To players, Kerren is the home to an Against the Storms Campaign. Planets and Places of Kerren is a scroll and codex that will include information about the Planet, the Places, and the Clusters/ Warrens/ and Villages of Kerren.

Everyone has their own take on what roleplaying games truly are. This is mine.

A small pantheon of deities worshiped by Orcs (or other barbarous races) through their shamans. This write up shows the Orc view of these things, rather than the relative view.

Follow in MoonHunter's Footsteps: 10 Steps to Better Posts MoonHunter Sayeth to do these and be a really useful member to this and other sites.

The Grey District was once a prosperous inner district in The Hill City of Frankard. It is an erriely silent place now, where people make little in the way of noise or light. It's district walls are now painted with a Grey Line, a warning as to plague. However, it is not the plague you would expect.

They stood on the crest of the rise, three men deep. Their banners, Golden Lions Rampant on a split field of red and blue, fluttering on long poles in the wind. They were silent. By some signal, they all began to rush forward screaming their battle roar. Halberd and blade coming open on the move. The enemy line broke under the power of the Lion's signature charge.
Major Advarete, Memoirs of the Twin Rose Wars 1320 Greenfield Presses

Mitrall was a Guardian Deity of the Dead, who would watch over the Dead and their tombs until the time of their return (physical or re-incarnation). The culture that worshiped Mitrall has been conquered and destroyed a few centuries ago. Yet the Cult of Mitrall continues.