An ashen grey willow with pale leaved tendils obscuring it's gnarled trunk. Sitting in the mire of great swamps, rare even in it's natural environment. The Banshee Willow's bark is known to have magical properties. Travelers beware, these trees seem to attract ghosts and other unsavory undead.
A mighty Dragon that once spread it wings over the swamp moon of Dire
Some field notes on Trolls, courtesy of T.H.I.S.
This frightening creature has some rather cruel methods to torture its prey
A haunting remnant of the infernal realm, caught and exiled to suffer for eternity in the swamps of the mortal plane. Now it toys with mortals; luring them from their paths into it's light. Once in the boundaries of it's aura, the FlickerWikk will feed.
A Remake of the Will'o'the'Wisp/Jack'o'Lantern
Found, normally, deep in the swamp, the Friar's Weed's poison is something to be watched for.
a.k.a. Mosquito Man, a.k.a. Stirgili, a.k.a. Mansquito.
A strange magical plant known for it's psychosis-inducing effects, commonly used in poisons, alchemy, rituals, and illicit drugs.
Includes: Appearance, Toxin Information, Harvesting and Uses, Signs, Plot-Hooks.
A big flock can suck a cow bloodless in a few minutes, yet your doctor shows up carrying one around a small birdcage in the tip of his staff. Maybe you're better off just learning to live with the kidney stones. . .
A blue green jewel, Beta Delphini II, home of the turtle like Chelonians. The world is old, and bears many scars, the craters from orbital bombardment and high power explosions, rings of dust and debris that were once starships, habitats, and fighter craft. But the world below remains tranquil, its wounds covered with blue seas and green forests.
Hailing from the giant swamp planet of Acadia, the Leech Lords rule with a mighty will. And slimy green tentacles.
In the dank,dense areas of the world where the vigorous and the decaying are intertwined and indivisable, lives the wise bagabond. But getting him to impart his knowledge is quite a chore.
A reclusive race, the Ragori live deep in the heart of the Purvis Swamp.
A higly misunderstood flora.
The muggers cornered the little goblin against the wall, when with a hissing noise he suddenly grew to double his size. Muscles bulged out from his body and they lokked at each other, then turned and ran. The Sproggan watched them go and grinned at the thought of how well he had fooled them, and when they were gone he deflated back to his normal size and went on his way.
You hear a loud electronic buzzing, almost as if a runaway lawn mower mated to a taser gun is rampaging through the slimy cattails and weeds towards you before a swarm of huge flies erupt from the low scrub in front of you, electricity dancing between their mandibles.
The Yang to Lutazum’s Ying, the grand totem of the Maletanalu, the 5th tribe of the Hanaset.
The Broan, an enigmatic, amphibious species of unknown origin, that lives in the salt-water marshes to the east of Locastus.
Mark woke up and groaned. His breastplate felt heavy on him. When he looked at his arms and legs he began to cry. His wonderful muscles, earned through excersise, running, fights and several quests, were gone, leaving him with no more muscle power then a young girl. He had heard the tales of the Muscle Flies but had not throught they were true until it was too late. He could move, but it would take a very long time to get his muscles back into good condition again.
Now, this ol' ramblin fellow tends to walk his talk a bit too far down the train sometimes.. So I'll be brief in my recantin' of how it was my Tavern "came to bein'" on the multiverse as a weave of it's own spell.. And how I'm even alive to tell the story!
You see it's simple really, trust me.. that's my specialty, keepin it elementary. And you can trust this old Bard.
Anyway, this one night these wizards get a ramblin' on about the temporal exististance of space and time and how it could be manifested in a weave of super dimensional space. whereupon the folded space would give rise to an infinite number of entrances and exits to one or many spaces. Now, seein' how my talkin' sometimes get's locked into the way us folks used to talk back in the ol' west. These wizards didn't know I was a master of the word. and I had heard everything they said. They were also a bit over the wagon, while I was steerin' the show.
So that's how it came to pass, I struck a bargain with the wizards. They come to me in the morning and conjure up their idea into reality and I'd pledge them my life, my existance.. in essence my soul. but in a much nicer sense of the word. So they came by in the morning a half remembering our talks the prior evenin'. And I recanted their words verbatum, and that's how it came to be. The spell was complete that afternoon. My tavern would be the super dimensional cube that would exist in this weave of space and time, folks could come and go as they please, knowin in mind some of the rules and limitations set forth.
A few of 'em as follows.
No feller can be causin a ruckus inside any of my fine establishments, as always rule number one god damnit.
n' second the portal works kinda tricky. When ya outside ya cast the spell and lend your will to luck a bit and regardless the doors to the bar will appear, the windows a luminescent amber.. you can hear the chattee but ya can't see in. And the catch is the door might be locked, in which case you chalk it up to lady luck and go walk off and try again in an hour. Now most times the door pops right open and from the outside you always come in the front door, immediately greeted by myself or one of our many fine patrons of Hooper McFin's Ale & Steakhouse.
Now when ya cast the spell from inside the Tavern, another catch comes up. The back door is mainly a secret for the non-initiated staff and the regulars but for sake of the prose let's assume we all know there's a secret door in the back with a portal there. Now when you go on through this one, you got two scenario's you oughta be aware of. One is ya pop outside relative to the same spot you came out. The other is, you walk back on into this one or another of our many Hooper McFin's Ale & Steakhouse.
so it's a clever quantum railroad I got my tavern and my people's caught on. But, Hey the show's sure as always goin. ohhh' rutin tootin skidoodle -
** And that's it.. that's the only notes I found on the spell, apparently out there somewhere is a Tavern caught on the mighty ebb and flow of the multiverse. Well. at least I can put to rest my torment as to the condition now referred to as "Hooper McFin's Teleportation Paranoia".
Dr. Clarke T. Mulligan - Professional researcher of Time & Space.
Hooper McFin's Ale & Steakhouse