A great bird so rare (according to some legends only one exists), that with its high intelligence and uniqueness it deserves the status of an NPC.

A race of little peoples, that have found the key to immortality. Sadly, it has evolved to more of a curse than of a blessing.

Where will we be one day, and what will we believe? How will we consider the world around us, and the people? How will we treat the known and the unknown, and possibly other intelligent lifeforms?

Whether close or distant future, something will be similar, and something... is very likely to be different.

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...

Mathom, the God of Delays, is an overlooked but powerful entity. Few worship him, but many remember him with word and deed.

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

'The Welcoming Ones' are the first contact many people will have with the spirit world. Actually, for many they are the first creatures they meet after death.

The task easier than usual, escort a group of pilgrims from the sleepy town of A to the dwarven forges of B, get the bell and return. But...

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

This tree has a somewhat unclear bush-like appearance. But so far, nothing special. The actual reason why is it called after medusas, is his power to deter any hostile creatures, and to be sure, all creatures

"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."

Do you need a change in your normal gaming pace? Bored or simply needing something different? Then come here.

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

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

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.

Magical implements that trap the unwary.

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.

These are mystic traditions and their attendant sources.

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

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.