Hathalfar holds the writhing troll down with his gloved fist and sword. The beast squirms at the touch of metal. “How far is Kolm?” he demands for the third time. “I said! A long way away,” replies the troll.
The Carycian calendar has been adopted by many countries since its invention by the Blue Monk, Frezzi Alberto, in the year 1. It evolved from the wonderment Alberto felt for the natural cycles and his attempts to understand and predict them.
A transcription, beyng the seminal introduction by Mr S J Ponsuler to the theory and praxis of Dracapodemy, the studie of Dragons’ migration patterns. This tome ys to be founde in the librarie of Anserne University, alonge with many years of copies of the Dracapodemyst’s Almanac not to mention verious othere tomes on the subjecte.
(Another submission I’m transferring over to the main site from the fora).
This thread is for the development of rangerspeak, the dialect of the mountain rangers who guard the passes, known as munnum to those who hear it, for its resemblance to a mumbling noise…
Following a discussion we had on the site, I thought we could start up a thread to post the pre- and post-apocalyptic effects of a comet/minor planetary impact on a campaign world.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.