The large blades slowly rotate, feeding on the wind, you have seen the image before. But could these be feeding on something more?

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

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

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

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

A small valley that leads nowhere... why is it so important to the locals?

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.)

"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."

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

As if there was not enough siliness around...

The members of this obscure order specialize in growing funghi. Growing, researching and studying many kinds, they even try to create new ones.

Magical implements that trap the unwary.

This is a scroll of locations that are somewhat out of the normal.

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...

'That was the second lynching this month. And last week they haven beaten some old sod that could barely crawl home.'
'Well, he was a drinker and bad to his wife, sir. It is really hard work they do, and not for much pay. But sir, we are doing wonderfully, all is going as planned and better!'
'Yes, the cathedral could be built months before expected, if we can keep up this speed. You are all doing great work, I'll be sure to inform the Patriarch. Just take care no accidents happen anymore.'

What is the worship of knowledge for some, can be revenge for a few, and unwanted revelations for others.

Tales are leaking from below the Iron Hills, that an unnamed winged terror can be seen on the sky on the darkest of nights. What creature it is, nobody knows, but some of the disappearances in the harsh place are said to be its work. If the moon is hidden, nightly travellers are warned to stay from roads and open places.

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

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

The most disgusting fungus in the world.