The focus of discontent between Vandergraff and Powlgraff, the Cathedral was built of ambition and rose marble.

It's cold up this high, the air is thin and hard to breath. We should find the entrance in the next day or so. I can't eait to find it, I can't wait to be out of this wind...

Few would guess that this kindly old man with the uncombed hair was the willing accomplice in many of the assassinations in the last two decades.

Milord I do present a uniquely industrious city located on the periphery of the Sea of Grass and the bawn of the Ganhojol Forest.

This acting troupe travels across Calcobrina, delivering their own interpretation of popular plays, almost always to a standing room only crowd.

The endless dark of the depths, the strength of the tsunami, the drowning embrace of the cold, these are the

According to Ars Geotia the standard formations of power consist of ley lines, confluences and founts. this system has been long accepted, and is quite incorrect...

The Mines are quite old, but even after 700 years, they still produce the Queen's best iron ore...

In too many games, role-playing takes a back seat to Kewl Powerz, a tag given to the multitude of spell lists, special abilities, and innate powers claimed by a character. Many times this is a problem of munchkins, or blowing up stuff becoming more important in a game than role-playing though alternate personas.

The Land of 1,000 gods, Calcobrina burns under the gaze of the Lion's Eye.

Most Dragons live to accumulate wealth and crouch upon heaps of gold, content to slag troublesome heroes into cinders and distaining the company of men to absolute solitude. Vychan is not such a dragon.

James Barley is a hard drinking, minimum-effort working hired hand...

I'll tell you something, there was a demon in Widow Suvar's Wine cellar. How do I know, 'cuz I seen it that's how I know.

The Trollshaw Staff is roughly six feet tall, though if the bends in the wood were pulled out straight, the staff would easily be eight or nine feet tall. As it is, it is twisted as a troll itself.

Quietly situated between chic salons of the nobility and the grand halls of the great guilds is the Tabernacle of Discrete Amusements.

The House of the Duck is a well visited establishment, known for the quality of it's wine and the clean and friendly vivaciousness of its workin' gals.

Water drips from the ceiling in a steady rhythm. Water refracts torchlight, illuminating the depths of the pools with reflected torchlight.

Some are called dhampir, others exalt as champions of undeath, and yet neither of these are correct...

A voice as supple as silk, a face hidden in the shadows of a hood, yet the words she speaks are colder than the grave and burn more furiously than any inferno.

There are certain things that need not be said, and events best left in the past, to be forgotten. Be careful what you wish for.