“ What to export or import....
Fabric: wool, linnen, silk...
Wood: raw-material, furniture
Stone
Marble
Coal
Metals: iron, gold, silver, copper...
Wine, beer, mead, spirits...
Animals: horses, sheep, swine, cows...
Weapons
Armour
Slaves
Salt, spices
Cheese
Grains
Coloring-powder (for fabric, ink...)
Yarn
Raw-material to make fabric: unprocessed wool, linnen, silk...
Leather
Glass: Windows, figurines, glasses, raw-material...
Shoes, clothes
Tobacco
Medicines
Poison
Coins
Pottery
Musical instruments
Tea (not sure about my spelling here, but I mean the hot drink Englishmen drink instead of coffee!)
Gem-stones: diamonds...
Dried meat
Dried fish
Dried fruits
Flour
Chocolate”
“ Urbants-Creatures that move quickly around on their massive arms, and their 'legs' dangle about from their torso, at about elbow length. They can move fairly quickly, but not as fast as an obese human, and can 'jump' fairly high. Their 'legs' are very powerful, and can kill with one blow. The bad thing is, Urbants cannot block attacks at their heads, which have relatively no neck, from the length of their legs being so short.”
“ Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the 'Ash-Wind' comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.”