There is a place where only the foolhardy and the greedy dare to go. Why do I say foolhardy, because of all of the poor souls who have entered that dark place...none have yet to return.

A sample of helmets

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

The whales of the deep are not to be trifled with, those who hunt them are as mad as those who think to slay dragons.

We all go a little mad...sometimes

Named Timberwings; for the girth and strength of their wings were as elder oaks, thick and tireless

No long names, just a quick list of 30 archetypal Lords of Terrasquestone

Lacking in ornamentation, the Black Spear is a relic more than 8000 years old

The legacy of K'ton can be seen in the spinning gear, in the spring, in the sliding weight, and in the wonderous ships that glide through the air.

An unusual spell

For twenty seven years I lived a strange and unimaginable life, and one morning I woke up divorced from life. I was awake.

I wish I could go back to sleep

Neither here nor there, the City of Shadows borders on the twilight of existance...

Recently unearthed this gem of mine, and thought to post it. Its writing predates my joining of Strolen, and I found quite a few interesting bits in it. It is nearly completely written and I am going to endeavor to finish writing it out. Until then, I plan to post it here, perhaps a section a day or so. Enjoy, expand, criticism, comment.

To many, the clerics of the Gods of Death are reviled as evil monsters, conspirators of demons, and raisers of undead armies. How often is the common perception wrong?

Via Humanitae - For Humans to live and thrive, non humans must be removed.

The land of Airithrin is a horrible place, a land of reeking fumes and geysers of flame, lakes of lava and the strange life forms that emerge when elementals breed with mundane creatures

A gun made by the God of the Dwarves

The hyperborean realm of the Eternal Flame

These items, potent wards against spirits, were once commonplace. Following the end of the old Empire the methods of their manufacture was lost and none new have been made in the intervening centuries.

The township of Ormiros, nestled on a river and in a valley of the same name, is home to an Adventurer-upon-return guildhouse, and more importantly, an academy. Trouble comes when a charming rake defiles the school, defies the guild, and seems poised to take the entire valley as his own.