'We came expecting a broken moon or wayward asteroids, but this... I don't think anyone's seen anything of its like. There's an astounding amount of material here. We're looking in the records, trying to match some of the artifacts, but there's nothing like it. I don't know what most of this does, but my God is it complex. We're looking at, at least, what, two decades of potential salvage, maybe more, then the cartography of the local moon for more. We're definitely here to stay.'

- Phaeton Venator, recovered personal log

Also known as Chromatics, polychromes, rainbow people, or smurfs

Slumbering within a prison of ice and snow, adrift in the oceans of the north, Gundrak dreams without end.

All Maire wanted was to give her husband a child. She wasn't about to let death stand in the way.

Programs, HoloFeeds, and S3 Sims from the Cosmic Era

An industrious colony of Gnomes have managed to turn a hostile environment into a bread basket.

The hyperborean realm of the Eternal Flame

An explorer gone missing. A king in panic. A treasure to find.

Welcome to the Craggy Peaks. We hope you don't freeze to death.

That would mean we couldn't... play.

'And Arathinos brandished the Foe-Reaper, and let loose a battle cry. He stood, with rain pouring out of the heavens, on a mountain of bodies. The rain washed the blood through channels in the corpses. Arathinos raised the Foe-Reaper and saluted the fleeing enemies before him, as lightning crashed around him.

The Foe-Reaper is a great blade. With the years spent in Arathinos's hands, it has taken up a myriad of powers. And most prominent among those powers is dramatic effect. What is more morale-sapping than seeing your enemy with a backdrop of lightning, as if the arrows of the heavens stand with your foe?'

Lavish glade and lush green field,

Wizen'd oaks; to the blight all yield.

Weeping trees of crimson blood,

the Fields of Flesh turn life to mud.

Will you tread and smile and sleep

where devils dance and angels weep?

Captain Blackthorn grimaced against the salt air that sandblasted his face. His men were weary, his ship was falling apart and the hold was replete with treasures beyond counting. It was time to head home and enjoy the bounty that years at sea had brought them. As he braced himself against the pressing squall he considered the conundrum of converting said bounty into a transferable asset that could easily be spent without arousing suspicion of the local militia or the jealousy of rival pirates. If only large amounts of wealth could be represented on something as light and unobtrusive as a piece of paper. But then Blackthorn had a idea:

'I know what we'll do! We'll bury it!...'

Not all magic items are for humans. Rewrite of my original and premiere submission, Horse Brass

100 word submission, rumors from the Burning Lands, south of Abodroc

100 word submission. Rumors of the lands sounds of Abodroc

Once upon a time this sword may have been a sight to behold, but no more. Rust and decay now tarnish the metal of this forgotten relic, and those who stumble upon it are more likely to toss it than use it.

The founder of Procrastinamancy was a man called Frederick Johnson. A normal guy who grew up in a place without Mathom, Fred had one 'flaw.' It was procrastination. Fred took the art of Procrastination and turned into magic.

'Alzim, now that's a name! Leader of the Alten Mercenary Corps, master tactician, ex-general of the Cadmury Kingdom's forces, slayer of entire brigades, or perhaps most notable is he is a master Weilder. Sadly many of the young do not remember him.'

Old man at the local pub

'O Divine Broker, merchant of souls, bless our transaction, make it holy and righteous in Your sight. May those that profit from it be ever prosperous, and earn our reward in Your Sacred Market. Release us from our debts, and grant us lucrative exchange now and forever.'

- Prayer before a trade, from Bashad the Spectacular's 'The Handbook of Divine Wealth'

Any number of clergymen might be accused of putting their demands for secular wealth over their spiritual needs. Even these, however, would never claim to worship their prosperity. Yet such is the case with the followers of the Way of Divine Wealth, a religion of uncertain history and unabashed cupidity.

Ghorion was once one of the Three Troll Kings of the Cloudsteeth Mountains. Undeath has only made him crueler, and much, much more powerful.