Eledryll

For some, it's a stronghold of cut-throats and thieves, for others it is THE place to get work done efficiently... but for them, it is a home. A place to forget the dangers of the road and bond around strange stories and a warm meal.

The Professor always liked the mastered chaos of her amphitheatre. Among hastily opened crates filled to the brim with dubious content and dusty shelves, rows of seats were always ready to welcome all manners of pupils.

The arcane is a fleeting and strange force, ethereal like a butterfly yet able to cause destruction on par with a meteorite. No mortal should wield such a complex and destructive power. Maybe that is the reason why most try : prohibition.

Countless hours, unending work, the hushed sound of thousands of footsteps amidst the wooden halls. You can barely imagine the true value that holds the Corridor of Many Records.

The hammers fell rythmically on the hot anvils' surface. Metallic clings echoing through the gargantuan chambers of the Arkynforge. Fire and steel, stone and crystal.

You never know when you'll need a good old fashion army camp for your campaign, with reinforced palisades, ditches, watchtowers and plenty of tents to take a well deserved nap.

You found yourself deep beneath enemy lines, in the bowels of the ground. The walls around you pulse in rythm with the distant pumping of an abnormally sized heart. The air vibrates with the constant buzzing and gurgling of unearthly creatures.

Passed the Ether of Dreams, above the Tangle of Nightmares, at the foot of the Peaks of Ideals... sprawl the Astral Shores. All dreams, great and small, wash up on these cliffs. There, all memories turn to sand and ash.

Undisturbed by sunlight, these sprawling caverns have a distinct touch of Faerie. In spite of the lack of sunlight, a rich variety of flora managed to develop down there.

In the dim glow of the moon lit windows, you approach the table of the count. It was set for nine people. You wonder if the other guests will be as delightful as he is between his fits of feverish monologues.

You traveled far and deep into the parasite-ridden fen. Leeches, ticks and mosquitoes have been your ever-present companion on this journey. You don't have time to worry about the disease-ridden bites or your itching, likely infested wounds.

Over the crumbled rempart, a decrepit bastion barely stands, reclaimed by roots and vines. Its cracked walls let you peer inside at the stiffled corridors and the silent rooms. A proud lord and his family lived here, before the "incident".

The long winding path slithers amidst the muddy thicket. Tracks of carts and various forest animals are still imprinted in the soil. Vestiges of broken wheels and forgotten equipment litter the road. You hear a distinctive howl in the distance.

The lighthouse on Blackreef was built on top of a harpy nest destroyed ages ago by adventurers of old. The place is surely a little decrepit and ominous, but it does its purpose well enough.

The buzzing of winged parasites fills the still air. Your soaked feet struggle to go through the bloody mud. Yet, in this most disgusting of places you can find kid toys and sweets littering the dampened ground.

The locals usher you towards a lonely hill, lost in the middle of the woods, with great merriment. Garlands of flowers, carefully woven by the women, decorate the rocky projections.

As you navigate the sinuous paths of the cliffside forest, you notice an opening in the dense array of pines and treacherous mountainous slopes. It seems the local banditry made their camp up head, using the nearby cave as their lair.

Away from the everchanging politics and complicated plots of the bustling city, the truculent lord of Brior Keep rules over his land with an iron fist.

The ravine fell silent as you passed through the remnants of decrepit and long forgotten fortifications. Corrugated shields and plate armor litter the ground, their mission of protecting whoever carried them evidently failed.

You huddle together around the dancing flame wavering in the dark. As you try to cheer yourself up, you cannot but hear hostile murmurs behind the creeping fog, getting louder and louder still.