A dialog concerning the origins of the Trinitine Faith,

Kastraad is a Keep and Bailey upon a good sized hill in the mid country. While there has been several battles not far from it, it has been a quiet location for a generation or two. Recently it was taken over by a New Lord, Sir DuKon. He and his few men at arms took the keep from the previous owner (a lazy braggart called Lord KelSen the Fat). After setting himself up as a Lord, he found himself in a difficult position of needing money and being unable to take it (or lands) from his better fortified neighbors. Thus the founding of New Pastello.

Where the ships float, empty, and the ocean lay wide and empty, where the northern lights shine and the winds chill live the Gesthari. Wraithlike predators who ride the storms.

Blibs are generally genial in nature, posessing malicious thoughts only for the flying insects they eat. But regardless of their peacful predispositions, bodily harm is inevitable if one happens to be standing in a blib’s shadow as it falls out of the sky.

Magic has brought us to this point of self-destruction,' the Captain said. 'It's the dichotomy of our curiosity and greed, which are ingrained—greed, because we had to survive because we were always hungry, so we had to gather things, and curiosity, which brought us out of the trees

When L'ruhk was banished to the Nothing Beyond Creation, he returned at the head of a demonic army, wielding a spear black as his corrupted soul.

Sometimes, the simplest things are the ones that get you in trouble...

Blessed enough to enjoy friendly relations with many nobles, some of them very close to the king of Haracon himself, the Guild leaders of the Keepers are the criminal big-wigs every wealthy and famous animal collecter wants to invite to the grand opening of his exotic zoo or animal park.

The focus of discontent between Vandergraff and Powlgraff, the Cathedral was built of ambition and rose marble.

Ma-O was a major God once, or so it is said,and whilst most of his worshippers ceased to worship him after his fall from grace, a very few remain, and can and do cause trouble out of all proportion to their numbers...

Once Ma-O was a god in his own right, now he is the most reviled of all Infernal Beings, held responsible for so much of the death and destruction that happens on Acqua...

Powlgraff, The Fowl City.

It's cold up this high, the air is thin and hard to breath. We should find the entrance in the next day or so. I can't eait to find it, I can't wait to be out of this wind...

Few would guess that this kindly old man with the uncombed hair was the willing accomplice in many of the assassinations in the last two decades.

A crude and appearently worthless trinket, this tawdry bit of finery would attract no notice at all, disregarded as as just foolish vanity on the part of an improvished peasant or labourer.

But mind you don't lose one of these when you're on the errand of some powerful guild leader. He'll be sure to skin you for that.

Milord I do present a uniquely industrious city located on the periphery of the Sea of Grass and the bawn of the Ganhojol Forest.

The point of the submission is quite simple: man vs nature is a common conflict in fiction, but not so much in gaming, this submission is a step to correct that.

The Purple Bowl is a very nice place in a very bad part of town. From the outside, it seems like nothing but a grungy tavern. The inside reveals much more.

He was frantically pointing towards the glowing mountain. 'We need to cast The Spell!', Bothar screamed!

I held up the scroll we all had risked our lives to get. 'Nobody can cast this spell without a prepared mystic space and ritual equipment. It would be suicide,' I said. 'Not even him,' I jerked my thumb towards the Magi who smiled slyly.

Silently, he unstrapped that bolt of cloth he had been carrying since I had known him. He unfurled it, tamped it down, with small spikes, pulled a small apothecary chest out, placed and lit four candles on the cloth, drew some lines with some handy chalk, unpacked his remaining tools, then he held his hand out expectantly for the scroll. It took a fraction of a candle mark.

'Solomontic Rug,' he said quietly. 'The key to mastery is knowing and having the right tools, be they physical, mental, or magical, and having them ready when you need them.'

This acting troupe travels across Calcobrina, delivering their own interpretation of popular plays, almost always to a standing room only crowd.