"Is it just me, or is this cave moving?"
- Obin the Spelunker's last words

As Sir Uthman lay dying, after a long and not allways well-behaved life, his wife placed onto his finger a Ring of Heaven, to ensure that if his soul was indeed dammed, the demons could not take it and instead it would enjoy the blessings of it's own personal heaven for eternity.

An Elven made memory stone

It is said of the mighty Banhammer that it will send those who it hits, body and soul, to the depths of Hell. The truth, however, is rather more prosaic...

The Earth-That-Was got used up.

The folk that could made for the sky, and made themselves a new home out here. They made a dozen worlds and all their moons just like Earth, but it weren't all roses and sunshine.

The government, in their vast and mighty wisdom, made the worlds of the Core great havens of culture, medicine, and trade, then dumped everyone else out on the rim with nothing but forty acres and a donkey, and expected them to be happy about it. Eventually, they decided even that was too much, and took back the one thing they'd let the Rimworlders have - their independence.

So naturally, there was a War. The people who just wanted to be left alone, versus the big bosses who wanted to control everything. The bosses won, of course; now everyone's part of the Alliance and supposed to love, honor, and obey them, 'til death do us part.

But that was six years and a few million lives ago. Purple or brown, we're all just folk now. Out here on the Rim, we just do what we have to, take what we can, and thank Whoever every time a new day sees us still flying.

Except for the few of us they took everything from, whose daily prayer is just for a chance to get some of it back.

We'll fly as long as we have to, but we're looking for a place to land.

On their beacon, such that it was, we came in from the east, low across the wet and mud. When you get close to the Pielshome Field, the beacon is pretty useless. Visibility was good and I saw the oil lamps that lit the green circle we had been assigned by the controller. As soft as a leaf, I sat us down. A perfect landing graced with a perfect sunset filling our windscreen. The sun set rose, as the sinking began. The paving bricks they use to line the landing circles they only hold so much weight. The mud is everywhere here.

As the Earth That Was was being "used up", the Dysporia began. Any Rocky World in the Lifeband were made to be habitable by people. This produced a huge number of barely habitable planets, most of which are out on the frontier.

Madeira is not one of these world. It is a rich and lush world where the fine arts of wine making have been reborn, along with a culture of civility and honor.

All through the Alliance there are those that follow the Shepherds of The Book. The Book is old and came from many Great Teachers of the Past that walked The Earth that Was. These folks have followed a Great Shepherd into the Desert that is The Rim and have been given the Promised Land.

Nob was a fairly developed colony world. It had a few cities, some manufacturing, and something that passed as a space port. Then a wonderful disaster showered riches and power upon it.

I was watching one of those famous sunsets while I was waiting for the Mule to come back. I saw the spot in the sun. I thought it was a bug. My gut knew what it was. I was running for the cockpit before it registered in my brain. It was time to get off this planet, as the soil was about to run red with blood.

Hot Dang, we are going to LaVenda!

Flying into Lewiston, once you get low enough, is difficult, captain. There is constant wind sheer through the valleys. You have to fly careful, as the wind will slam you into a mountain side faster than a card player tossing in a bad hand. Of course the town you want to get to, Porsen, is the very worse. So best we land in Ramsy territory on the Blue Diamond Lake there, and take the mule up the "road" to Porsen. I just hope the Ramsy and the Regina towns arent feuding any more. I hate dodging bullets that arent even meant for me.

Sticks.. vines.. simple engineering... hut! Coconut... scry magic.. Radio!!

All living things must strive. Nature knows no harmony, only war for the privilege to exist. Maug of the Bitter Spirit, the Albatross God, promises no intervention nor advice to His worshippers, just a silent approval of those of you strong enough to help themselves...

The Book of Salts, Ch. 7, verse 12

..and from the heaps of the fallen burst a nightmarish creature, sinuous death, like a snake with legs, the dying fires of the battlefields reflecting in its glittering scales. Mounted on its back, in dark, light-absorbing armour and wielding a lightning-wreathed lance, sat a monstrous knight, the horns on his helmet marking him as a Knight of the Locastrian Heron Guard.

He and his mount fell on me and my unit and from that encounter; I was the only survivor....

Excerpt from A Soldier´s Tale by Sgt. Amonar Trask (ret) of the Home Guard of Akral Tel

If ever you need a random-roll for what type of knight a character faces in tournament, or just new ideas, what follows is a great big list (some with further descriptions and nicknames) of different sorts of knights.

Some of the names of locations & faiths are from Midian, but these are easily changed to fit different campaign settings.

There are a lot of bad people out there. That is why we must torture you: to keep you safe.

Many and varied are the ways of extracting a confession or ending a criminal's life, and the one usually follows the other.

This is a quartet of low-magic rings that can be used separately or as a set.

"Gak! Cough! I just swallowed a bug."

This random-roll chart is designed for those times when a player unexpectedly misses a game session. What is their character doing while everyone else is out on an adventure?