The magical instruments that created the world, long since scattered. Fortunate is the player who finds them, and great is the band that can make them sing again.
It's always the creepy little kids
Also known as Moon the Loon, Goon Beard, and Who?
A well-loved and somewhat crudely hand-crafted tribal drum owned by the Tribal Half-Orc, Somnak. It is said that Somnak possessed the ability to call upon the spirit of any creature whose skin was pulled over the drum to aid him and his allies in battle, as well as curse his foes.
An underground club, meeting place, and fortress
Its old and battered exterior hides a subtle, and finicky, magic.
An enchanted forest where music permeates the fabric of life, leaving its mark on fauna and flora alike.
The City of Bells, home of Bornegault’s Tongue.
"Music is the wine which inspires one to new generative processes, and I am Bacchus who presses out this glorious wine for mankind and makes them spiritually drunken." ~Ludwig van Beethoven
The haunting, eerie ‘songs’ of the Thoron.
the sounds of war
The food that eats you back.
Creatures of nightmare, the thankfully rare Mesnoi have unique form and attributes. Only one Mesnoi at a time will ever be "encountered".
In appearance, a Mesnoi resembles a walnut-sized chunk of freshly-roasted red meat from some uncertain yet familiar, edible animal. The insidious creature camouflages itself quite appropriately whenever it can, by slowly making its way amidst feast tables and trays of roasted meats.
Once eaten by the unsuspecting, the Mesnoi sinks down to the stomach, reforming if chewed, and begins to lap up the gastric fluids, digestive juices, and bile that it craves, like a sponge.
The Mesnoi carrier will experience mild to severe stomach pains during this time.
After a few hours of this (this is the only time that the Mesnoi can be purged with magic, or other mundane means), the Mesnoi transforms into its true form inside its victim, that of a miniature, once more walnut-sized, pot-bellied, devil-horned, snake-tailed imp. This horrid little creature then begins to chew and eat its way out of the victim from the inside out with its tiny, razor-sharp teeth, like a rat forced to do so via torture.
The victim almost always dies a slow, agonizing death. That much is certain. The devilish imp then exits its victim and begins its seventy two hour existence of mischief and malevolence, until it once more turns back into a hunk of roasted meat with the movement capabilities of a snail.