Long ago there was a cult who worshipped Bast, the fickle goddess of Felines. Their temple has fallen, and the cult dispersed and all that remains is a silver wand adorned with the holy symbol of bast, a cat with emeralds for eyes...

Three days from the nearest shore, nestled on top of a small heath island stands the Tower of Thunder and Gold. More than one hundred wizards and sorcerers live here year round, devoted to the continuation of the magical arts. There are many times more students, consors, and things only describable as others

A sage is a well known repository of knowledge, a researcher of ancient lore. But knowledge is power, and a commodity to be brokered and sold to the highest bidder. The meershaum smoking man is such a dealer of antiquities and of lore unknown, but he is wrapped in a shroud of secrecy of his own. Can the PCs divine his ulterior motives, or is he a wizened, albeit elusive, sage?

Where many a woman's heart is filled with longing for love, or the comfort of the hearth and home, this arrogantly beautiful woman is consumed with but one thing. Ambition. Born without a heart, but with the grace and genteel manners of the aristocracy, she is the iron fist in a lace glove.

An area known for sweeping mountain vistas, and sleepy alpine hamlets has all but exploded with miners, adventurers, and thieves. Dwarves are showing up in troops, while orcs are churning towards the valley. The reason? Simple...

There's gold in them thar hills!

To refer to Rubens a inn is an insult. There are no battered bars, or heaving bosoms, or the scent of stale beer and tobacco smoke. There are no crowded common rooms, or cheap entertainment. The flooring is plush, the rooms are exquisite, and the bill is out of this world...

A potentially devastating foe with arms, and fists of living stone...

For years trading ships have come to the Islands of Teanoi seeking treasures of gold, pua shell, and exotic herbs and spices. Trade has dwindled, and ships vanish without a trace, but the trade is too valuable to give up, and thus the ships still come. The islands also lay close to a shipping lane, and are a regular stop for ships seeking only to take on fresh supplies of foodstuffs and water.

Soon merchants begin seeking outside aid to protect their ships from the unknown menace that the islanders call Teanoi...

Sometimes a sword's value is not determined by magical properties, of gilding and jewels. Sometimes it's value comes from it's deeds and it's history

Many of the worlds woes can be laid at the feet of deranged, socially blind, and irresponcible wizards. The doddering old mage locked away in his tower, answerable to no one but himself is a hazard to himself and to those unfortunate enough to live close by. The Upright Society of Civic Mages plan to change this problem...one way or another.

All of the world is an adventure, and Aunt Queen, as she likes people to call her, has experienced alot of it. Old age has confined her to her home, and curio shop where she collects and sells cameos, books, and antiques.

An oval a full mile and a quarter in circumfrence, infield thick with dark grass, surrounded by white fences and stands enough to seat two thousand spectators. The smell of hay, horse sweat, and excitement is strong in the air...

Forget the white mare with swan wings, Spellshaper is a completely different kind of pegasus. He is a hell raising, head tossing, hot blooded beast with one driving passion...to race.

The most important horse race of the year is fast approaching, thousands are expected to attend. Too bad that the horse favored to win has gone missing...

Small bits of precious metal, and flawless jewels woven into the mane of a noble steed