The land of Vartanadel is full of twisted and fabricated truths. To stay in power, one must play the game.

A long forgotten and abandoned mine has been recently rediscovered by a local village.

A substance, born of the cold and adapted to the warmth of the human world. Its natural state is a mercury type liquid but when held in frozen conditions the wielder may will it to take any form desired. Their only limit is the amount of liquid they have.

An awesome demon illustration by Jack Holliday which was used in our art quest.

The entire city is in an uproar. Two factions proudly identify themselves to each other by wearing red or white scarves or handkerchiefs on their bodies in plain site, or hanging them from their place of business identifying themselves and their belief. Apparently a very respected high priest of the local religion has recently disappeared and so has the entire church coffers leaving it penniless. A city divided on the possible guilt of the missing.

In time long past the Citadel was new and innocent. As the years went on much was added to include the ability to vote and comment. Ever since then there has been prosperous periods where the votes and comments were just a tool and the Horde was happy. But subtle battles raged, sides were taken and votes were interpreted as acts of aggression. Much dread and drama followed these battles and authors were lost. So was birthed the Law of the Hammer.

A very ornate and very old looking spell book. Chock full of spells, most of which are unreadable by any magic user. The ones that can be read, unfortunately, don't have the affect the mage is looking for.