As if there was not enough siliness around...

'Did ya hear that? There's riches found every night, all over the town! No way you can miss that!'

It is a small, lively town like so many others. Do you wonder who are the movers and shakers here?

Perhaps not quite what you would expect. Certainly it is a sword that can produce flames at will.

The mountains are often a desolate place, but not without dangers, or opportunities.

How could a single building produce so much strife?

Globs are a partially amorphous life-form of the shape-changing kind.

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...

Some items simply go wrong, that happens from time to time. But some are created by weird minds, even downright deranged ones, minds too sick to be healed. Guess where this one comes from.

The lowly Undead cannot be a true replacement for a living well-motivated workforce. But Undead do not tire, they do not have moods (well none worth marking), they do not require pay or lunchbreaks, and can work 24/7, if properly controled. So until activists start to fight for Undead rights, they are an interesting option.

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.

Half-serious, half-silly, a scroll of cosmetic and related products for the undead amongst you. Use and abuse at your own risk.

The pride of this tribe has led it to ruin. The only thing that remains is to die with pride.

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

These are the worlds and planets encountered by daring space explorers.

Are you a friend of adventures that bring you closer to the ultimate truth, that help you to learn your world, and teach you a valuable lesson? Or at least provide you with useful means upon your further journey? Then, my friend, better stay clear of the following things...

"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."

When want and famine stalk the land, a strange tower of ashes appears in the village common, a tower holding the sacrifices of the unworthy. Those who have the courage may reclaim these treasures...

"That book?" sighed the librarian. "That one is hard to find. The priests say it is heretical. But," he continued more quietly "word is they have a few copies, and study them very carefully. That even they consider it true."

Invented by the Pelezians, the ceremonial bowl became a part of the holy tradition, coupled with a most practical purpose.

(Made for religions of agriculture.)