"Get me the sugar!" called Jack's wife. His heart skipped a beat as he stood before the cabinet. Holding his breath, he slowly opened it.... Dangit! A baby!
The ruin that birthed a society; the Life and Times of a city in the throes of death.
Things are not what they appear in the Cognitive Network
The city of pigs
The fictitous state that I have been developing for my CoC/Vampire cross-over home game.
Barathra is quite simply the Land of the Dead, the Afterlife. It, simply put, defies the Atheians' expectations. After all, for most, it is Hell.
You walk into the room and it is like stepping into the grand library. Wall to wall and floor to ceiling is taken up by leather bound loaded bookshelves. All of the tomes are in varying states of decay and none of which are new.
An Amazon nation in the Cosmic Era
The Reposians, unlike the rest of Atheus, respect rather than fear the sea. In fact, this respect has grown to border on love and dependence. It is a fact, naturally, that most of Reposian exports are seafoods, and most of its income is from sea-based reasons, from oceanic trading vessels to fish.
A Sundered Realm, flotsam of a world.
The fort seemed like every small boys dream, but in fact it was a very well made magical prison, and the young prince only learned the truth when it was too late and the magic sucked him inside, his cries from his now inch high body too quiet to be heard.
Tauria is a republic, and has experimented with the ideas of democracy. That is, it used to be a republic. Now its a dictatorship, masquerading as a republic, with laws permitting the army to be thugs.
The term is archaic, calling upon the ancient language of the magi, and those versed in the eldritch arts. In the more vulgar argot, terms such as scrying room and equally mundane names are bandied about. The fact that such limited terms are used to describe the proper mystic's psychomanteum demonstrates how little they actually know about what occurs within.
Sometimes Utopias should stay as mere legends.
Moderators of the wildly popular VORPG, Polyworld, had no idea that one of their most famous cites Edotown had been stolen and for quite some time. No wonder there were so many complaints and bug reports coming in.
In a world where teleportation magic doesn’t exist, the opportunity to travel a few days journey in moments is beyond value. With only a simple toll, you can be practically on the doorstep of Nizul-tibi before you know it.
How long they carried him through those back tunnels, illuminated only by the flickering of torchlight, he had no idea. Then light seemed to explode when they reached the massive chamber. All around, unbelievably large red crystals captured the light of the flames and seemed to multiply it.
There are few places more treacherous than pools of quicksand save for a sea of quicksand. Those who tread here quickly find that the lust for adventure or coin might leave them with a sinking feeling of despair.
Efeterthrop is one of those places that may well be a bottomless pit of sin and squalor to most who speak of it, but to those that live and raise their own there they can see no freer place in existence. Ironically, cloaked behind a fierce sense of freedom is a strict social code none break thoughtlessly.
No where else in the world of Atheus is the maxim "Power is money" so readily apparent than it is in Obstaria. And since, as they say, absolute power corrupts absolutely, decadence and corruption has crept into the kingdom of Obstaria.
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?