If you know books, you know what they can do with you.

It is said that there is always night, even during the day it is dark. Undead prowl around freely, and pity to those living that end up there. Still, lucky are those eaten by the hordes, some fools get deeper and their very souls are consumed by the nameless horrors that lurk in some hidden spots. And still more serve as new material for the Necromancers, the only living creatures there, as they say at least...

The sum of all spellcasting traditions of one world - or most of them - in one place.

The simple graves of a folk long gone, these are still favoured by graverobbers.

What happens if you actually get what you have been looking for, all the time ?

'The only creature, that can be victorious on any battlefield, is the raven.'

How could a single building produce so much strife?

One player. One Game Master. Roleplaying in this way is slightly different than with a group.

"I walked through the poor's quarters, and my eye was not harmed. All functional, and simple, and crude, made on the whims of fate and delivered by immediate need.
I walked through the merchant's quarters, and my eye was bored. Pretensions where nothing backed them, striving for appearance without substance, evidence of changing wealth, too much only began, too much never finished.
I walked through the place where the powerful lived, and my eye was tired. Too much of attempted beauty turned hideous, and a lack of taste was made worse by willing lackeys.
But then I've seen the treasure of the city. A cathedral, that was part of the sky, columns, and arches to carry the weight of the world, shapes to let your mind fly along, and ornaments to stop by. A place to ponder, to be pleased to be alive, to accept suffering, and to realize your mistakes. This is a place I could learn from."

- "Course heading, Captain?"
- "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning."

Too many are the spirits of the Spirit World, these are only a few better known types.

Masters of the sea, men of courage and honor, these you will find here and none other.

On an outlying farm, the sick grandfather of a family was kidnapped. Can the kidnappers be stopped before they deliver him off-planet?

Of fire, but not elementals. Short-lived, yet intelligent. Bound to this world they are, more than most of its mortal inhabitants.

A misnamed and probably overrated item, a topic of many a rumour to the folk of King Stymian. They all say it can foretell future, none is certain how.

We have all seen articles on how Dungeons don't work. I've seen such articles before. But this time, an idea struck me: Why not do a dungeon that really works? Where creatures live their lives in harmony; just the right ecological way?

The hooded man leaves the tavern. The group had been assembled. They had recieved the map. 'Now it begins,' he said. He vanishes.

This was such a nice place to spend a good evening. Now, everyone who wins a little money is found dead the other day! I bet the owner is up to something...

Traps need to make sense. Somebody must of made it for a specific purpose.

The Pelezians, or 'clay people' were strongly bound to the earth. In fertile plains and valleys they lived their happy existence, peaceful, yet ever on their guard. Many nomadic attackers they defeated, until a different enemy came; their advanced technology and weapons (and magic) were beyond the skills of defenders. One-by-one their settlements fell, until the clay people were not more.

To the greedy students of the past, their heritage is but not forgotten.