Places to go, things to kill:

On request, a brief listing of places where high adventure wait, or gruesome deaths...


The Ruins of Ysithideri:

Built after the Warlord's March, at the very apex of 'The Scar' of Kerkesh, on a small peninsula, and destroyed by Dragons some hundred years ago are the white marble ruins of the greatest city of the age.   It must be understood that Ysithideri was the first, and only, city built by and four the three great races: Men, Dwarves and Elves, and the combined influences are unmistakeable, and have since been copied by most cities of the Nornsan regions.  

If one follows the Scar to its tip one would find the Great Gate of Ysithideri at its end. This is a purely symbolic gate, as the Scar is far to dangerous a wound upon the face of the world for anyone to traverse. The actual gates of the city could be found to either side of the Great Gate, and the rotted wood timbers still hang open.   It is a testament to the fury of the Dragons that the destruction was caused in a single night, leaving the city and the surrounding lands virtually untouched and unoccupied since.

The ruins themselves are remarkably preserved, all that could burn did, leaving stone buildings virtually intact, fire scoured bodies still laying in the streets. The great quietness of the ruins however has less to do with the dragons and more to do with the mighty Sepulcher, the Tomb of the Warlord at the cities heart, where the Dragons found Death waiting for them.  The Tomb itself is mostly buried under the clean bones of dozens of dragons, no rot or decay, they were blasted clean by the Ender of All as they assaulted the Tomb. Death itself guards the door to the tomb quite frequently, slaying, all who approach close enough to see the tomb... all but one, a witness to warn other would be robbers away.  Such witnesses report that Death apparently enjoys a leisurely picnic rather than an eternal vigil, while other, more timid souls report that at times the tomb appears unguarded.

What of the wonders to be found? What threatens those who disturb the peace of Ysithideri?   The city was fabulously wealthy and there are many temples to be looted, palaces filled with golden treasures, or molten remains of such treasures.   As might be imagined in a city where Death lounges, the restless dead are utterly absent, not even ghosts linger.  There are, however, a number of magical and alchemical constructs still guarding the place, along with a large number of trapped or warded vaults, for the Dragon's assault did little to disturb such things.  Not surprisingly various spirits of fire and servants of Death, the Psychopomps, may be found wandering the empty streets.  Some of these spirits may even animate the bones of the dead, though it must be made clear that these are not 'undead' creations at all, and various rituals and magics designed to reproach the undead will not work on such creatures, nor will destruction of the bones themselves as one must deal with the animating spirit.

The Wastes of Irem:

To the north, beyond the last civilized nations of the world is a massive spur of land thrust out to sea, covered in a corrupted and destroyed wasteland, and in the very heart of it lies the Sea of Chaos, home to the fabled city of Brass, Irem.  The entire peninsula (for reference, think the Indian Subcontinent) was once their Empire, and is now inhospitable to men or even natural beasts.  

While the city itself is lost beyond salvaging in the Amorphia, items from that earlier age that can resist the corrosive nature of the Sea occasionally wash up upon its shores, at least in part.  One must be wary when trying to scavenge such things for there are several threats to those that do.

First there is the Amorphia itself, which is a psychoactive liquid, drawn to living minds, and who's merest touch is incredibly destructive.  Those with powerful wills may, with effort, repel the stuff, even transform it to harmless substances, but even they risk much for the 'shores' of the sea are not sand but a strange supernatural rock, slick and treacherous and not even the greatest of men could swim the Sea.   Those touched by the Amophia may be luck if they but lose a limb or are merely slain, for its corruptive influence will turn their very souls away from the Gods ere long, such maddened beasts are known as the Forsaken and they are among the other threats posed by the Wastes. Occasionally the Amorphia will spit forth some maddening beast unlike any in the world, ranging from nuisance creatures like the Waste Wasp, a flying lizardlike creature who's very touch is toxic, and flies in great swarms, to threats to all of Haven, demons of nearly godlike power and alien minds.

There is a monastery built on a cliff above the sea occupied, it is said, by decendents of Irem and the Tuathan Elves who warred with the City of Brass. These monks refuse access to the Sea to all, and patrol the wastes vigorously looking for thieves and scavengers.  They do not talk, it is said they cut the tongues from their heads to remove any chances they might accidentally reveal the secrets of the Sea and most hold them to be madmen at best. Certainly even the presence of the Sea can drive ordinary men mad.

So, if the threats are so insurmountable, what could lure men to the Wastes?  One need not tempt the Amorphia to make his fortune in the Wastes, for the land itself is littered with battlefields of a bygone era, forgotten relics of not one but two great Empires of the Mythic Age may be found by chance. A single working artifact from the Wastes can make the poorest beggar as wealthy as a king, and rich men occasionally lavish great wealth to fund expeditions to sites suspected to hold such treasures. Ruins of Tuathan siege fortresses or Iremi border outposts are occasionally uncovered by shifting sands or mudslides.   As the Iremi are still considered the foremost masters of Magic in the world, their artifacts are most prized by wizards and sorcerers of all sorts.  The Tuathan elves are considered the finest warriors, and like all elven artifacts from the Mythic age, they are prized for their great, even impossible, beauty as much as any utility.

Most famous of the artifacts from Irem are their fabled Servants. Quite often appearing as automata of brass and crystal, with a host of other appearances known but not cataloged (it was said any shape or manufacture was possible to the savants, even living forms unlike any in nature).  Most are damaged or even destroyed military automata, and should a merely inactive one be found much care should be taken that it is not accidentally awoken, for they are impossible to control without knowledge of their command words, and remarkably violent.  Of course, the lucky might find a menial servant or a lore-beast, which are perhaps more valuable than the war machines, as they are remarkable docile and even useful to any.  

Less famous, but more useful are the variety, staggering in its breadth and depth, of arcane focusing devices, tools and yes, even weapons.

Of the Tuathans, only weapons and armor remain in the wastes, ranging from fantastic swords to small warmachines of incredible power.  As appropriate to the old descriptions of Shining Danu, their home, much of their works were in silvery metals, including mithril of unsurpassed quality, and white ceramic or shell material, often pealscent. The warmachines are valuable to any city or general for obvious reasons, the weapons valuable to collectors and adventurers of all stripes, but the armor is sadly only useful to art collectors or the extremely rare individual who might fit them, even the modern elves, with perhaps the exception of the reclusive Siti are not so tall and slender as the Tuathans were.  Of course, a variety of lesser artifacts, rings and amulates and diadems of fearsome power maybe found, just as many being purely decorative.

To be Continued...

Aside from bloodthirsty monks, ancient war automata and various spawn of the Sea of Chaos there are a few unique threats to the wastes.  Goblin hordes, hardy orc tribes and even the verminous kobolds all make their homes in this land forsaken by the more civilized races, though one might note that only the hardiest and most fearsome examples of the breed, whichever breed, can survive here.  Do not forget that the Nornsan regions that immedeatly border the Wastes consider Orcs as little more than lapdogs of the Warlord, barbaric tyrants or escaped slaves... or worse.

It can also be said that in the Wastes Demons can walk the surface of Haven without fear of the Gods.  There is but one thing they might fear if so...

There is one more notable danger in the wastes, the Fabled Behemoth. This is, to be sure, the original Behemoth from which all lesser forms gain their name. If a mighty bull auroch is called a behemoth on account of unusual size... well, you get the picture.

What, pray tell, is the Behemoth?  Some call it the Godslayer, and well they might for it's presence alone has kept the worst creations of the Sea of Chaos from ravaging the lands of men.  It is said that at the end of Mythic Age, even as the Armies of the Tuatha laid seige to the City of Brass, the mighty Savants and Sorcerer Kings, intent on whatever fell thaumaturgy they wrought feared not the shining hosts outside their walls but the interference of the Gods themselves.  And so they summoned their arts for the grandest working of the age, mere days before the end. The Behemoth appeared above the city, dwarfing it.  The Tuathan's feared this mighty beast, this city spanning creature, who's very size defied all further description, and they turned their mightiest seige weapons and war wizards against it... and were ignored.  Messangers were sent forth, it was they who provided what little we know of the last days of Irem, and the Behemoth itself.

The presence of the beast seemed to spur the Gods into action for the blasphemes of the Sorcerer Kings, for a number appeared before the Host to assualt the city and the beast which guarded it.  The Gods scarcely appeared when the Beast struck out, and so it got its lesser name.

And when the Sea of Chaos formed, the Behemoth crawled forth from the Amorphia, dripping the viscous stuff from its massive shell, and it wanders the wastes still.  

It is said that a bold man might climb the beast's back and find a chink in its hide. If he were to enter that crack he could find himself inside and slay it from within, earning the gratitude of the Gods, releasing the essences of the slain.

No one in living memory has ever tried, none have survived even seeing it so closely, for it is best seen from a great distance as a massive shadow moving through the perpetual dust cloud it creates.  

There are those who suggest that, were it slain and the shell somehow moved over the chaos sea it might reduce, if not destroy, the sea itself.  Of course, those who suggest it also suggest that an army of specially trained men might push back the sea's border's many hundreds of feet within the span of a human lifetime, thus we know they are madmen and ought to be shunned.

Compared to many major cities, Paravail is a largely lawless place, with people banding together for their own protection or  hiring mercenaries to protect their valuable goods.  Quite a large number of the citizens, and non-citizen denizens are inclined to less honest forms of income, for reasons that are best left to speculation.

The denizens of the Under Docks are particularly notorious for suggesting the best means of looting the various treasures of Paravail, modern or lost antiquities, are the famous Sewers.

One must understand that while Paravail is built upon the river Erd where it eventually leads out to sea, the modern city was built of yellow or dun stones by the dwarves, who also dredged the river plate to allow ships access. They, and most occupants of hte city, have little desire to refill the river with refuse, so when the city was first built it included a marvelous series of tunnels to channel waste away from the occupied portions of the city out to sea beyond the harbor. As the city sunk into the swampy land and was built over, the former roads and basements were modified to add to this tunnel system, though somewhat haphazardly.  While the uppermost levels lead to well protected, or at least solidly walled off, vaults and basements, the deeper one goes the less likely it is that any security measures beyond long forgotten and half ruined ward spells exist at all.

Of course, the deeper one goes the greater the dangers. Some tunnels are flooded and filled with filth, others are virtually dry, and the state is constantly in flux. What might be a dry passage one moment can be filled with a torrent of water directed by some ancient dwarven means the next.  Then there is the risk of toxic gases and evil spirits of the dark places.

And that's just the environmental hazards.

The Tunnels are known to be occupied, at least in the upper levels, by a tribe of lizard folk displaced from teh far south, and they are rumored to be quite hostile and bloodthirsty savages.  There is also an ancient population of the kobold vermin who have plagued the city since it was built, and unbeknownst to most wage a savage war against the lizardfolk.  Then too you have dark cultists who worship old bloodthirsty gods, or worse... the Demons who keep temples, and of course various wanted criminals of all stripes find 'mostly' safe refuge from their enemies in the dank corridors.

As one gets away from the 'populated' regions of the tunnels, heading deeper to older sections one begins to find old and massive river gods (crocodiles/Gator analogs), and in the permanently flooded regions you will find any manner of terrible aquatic beings, maneaters, fish men and tentacled things of all sorts... all of which would be quick to make a meal of men.

What lies deeper than that? Who knows? Legend has it that the city was built over a sleeping Dragon, entombing it.. accidentally or on purpose varies with the teller. Some say it dreams of being a man, and wanders the city for a time as a man, and when it awakes it devours its man-flesh, and all who decended from it.  If one goes deep enough into the Sewers one might find its mythical lair...

So why go? If nefarious criminal acts are not your style there might seem little reason to brave the depths, but as one goes deep beneath the city there are long forgotten, unclaimed treasures to be found.  In the very deepest vaults one might even find lost artifacts from the Mythic age, once common in the world, and traded heavily in Paravail and beyond.  Keen treasure hunters might hear of a dozen or more lost vaults said to be buried, including some in the deepest sub basements of Clanhold Paravail, lost even to the dwarves.  There is little glory to be had in such endeavors, it is true, which may be why such treasures remain unclaimed for so long, but the wealth is genuine, and even if one fails to find that great treasure that makes a pauper a king, there are men who make fair livings plumbing the deepest depths and retrieving more mundane wealth in the form of lost gold and gems.... at least for a time for invariably the day comes when the dangers grow to great and they retire, or they don't and one day they fail to return...and the treasures of the depths gain a little more.

The Ruins of Danu, the Sea of Grass and the Barrens:

If one heads south from the heartland of the Tenebrian Empire one eventually enters a sparsely populated plains, the domains of various lords grow increasingly massive and uncontrolled, and tinier and tinier pockets of peasant farmers and subsistence villagers eke out a living until, eventually it seems that there is no sign of civilization, or even life, at all. Only grasslands.  This is the Sea of Grass, from whence the Tenebrian Horde once rode.

It is said that all of the Tenebrian Empire and both of the Nornsan empires could be shoved into the Sea of Grass and there would still be room for more.  Perhaps this was once true, but time has worn the edges away, from the Dragon Sands to the distant west, to the muddy barrens to the southeast, and the every growing, however slowly, Empire to the north which slowly tames the Sea.

Why, one might ask, is such a lush open land so unpopulated? Civilized men might ask that, thinking of soft green grass or perhaps tamed meadows.  The Sea is another beast entirely. The grass itself grows, depending  upon the species to six or more feet, often hard and sharp, capable of drawing blood if passed though carelessly.  Most species grow quickly if mown down, springing up to full height in days, and much of it is all but inedible to even the most determined herd beasts.  Some say that all things in the Sea of Grass grow larger, others suggest only the largest of any breed can survive... surely the great herds of wild Aurochs that roam the great plains are twice the height of men, and the stalking predators that bring down such massive beasts are things of nightmares.

*If you're game includes centaurs, the Sea of Grass is an excellent place for them. I personally have little use for the buggers (Do like wemics from time to time...but that's me)*

It is whispered that somewhere in the vastness of the Sea is a single herd of flesh eating horses, fanged and clawed. These massive beasts are the original stock used by the Horde millennia ago, twice the size of the beasts used today by the Thousand. A brave man might capture and tame one of the fiendish creatures and so become a legend, or he might become their next meal for they have a taste for the flesh of men.  

Once one has left all signs of civilization behind it is possible to find scattered about the grasslands the occasional stone keep, home to one of the terrible Fortress Elves and their immediate kin and slaves.  In the main these are ancient survivors of lost Danu, millennia old and paranoid, with little respect or love for younger races.  In the main, for every so often one might die to assassination or misadventure and the oldest and most ruthless of their descendents might take his place.  While lacking the ancient cunning and magics of their forebearers, such newer Fortress Elves are still old and formidable beings, and typically far more ruthless and cruel in their dominance.  Their slaves are whipped and cowed men and orcs, originally captured from the nomadic tribes that wander the grasslands, but now utterly dependent upon their merciless lords for protection from the horrors of the surrounding plains.  Within the walls of the fortress and rarely without they farm and herd to feed their masters and themselves.  Most of the Fortress Elves, if not all, are the inheritors of otherwise lost magics and artifacts from the Mythic Age, survivors of that era.  While they are difficult to treat with, the fruits of such entreaties can be well worth it. More aggressive souls might be inclined to steal their host's treasures and secrets instead, though one should recall that no matter how the lord of the castle might deserve a violent death the slaves and lesser inhabitants are unable to survive the plains around the fortress, and without the lord's magics and artifacts unable to keep the grass at bay.

In the south half of the Sea, not to far from the center of the Sea is a small forest, unnatural, grown by the Tuatha with wood imported from their old homes in the Hydimenoi.  These days the wood is haunted by the ghosts of the lost city of Danu within, and home to debased tribes of goblins, far more feral than most of their admittedly barbaric kin.  The perverted magics of the forest have bred spiders of unusual size which some of the goblins worship as totemic gods, driven madder than usual by ritual consumption of the venom, others tame the beasts, ride them into battle... or ambush anyway.  All the beasts of the woods may be found here, all grown to terrible size and form to survive, and entirely different ecology than the grasslands, trapped in their pocket forest, and guarding the ruins of lost Danu.

Danu was one of the crown jewels of the Mythic Age, and by many accounts the age prior as well.  The Tuatha were always the most militant of the Elves, for Danu was first destroyed at the very beginning of the Mythic age by the Goblins, and the Tuatha disdained the Siti for bending a knee, even in gratitude, to the Dwarves. A proud people, the Tuatha were no less the inheritors of the grace of the Elves. Their works tend to be the most enduring of all their race, despite the losses they suffered.  Of import, they were entrusted by their forebearers with the security and sanctity of one of the four horrors of the Titans. If it was the same as the one they sought to recover from Irem or another is unknown to modern sages, not even the elves remember for certain anymore.   The Armies of Danu were called the Shining Host, and the artifacts that survived from the Tuathans are made of silvery metal and gleaming white ceramics and bonelike substances unknown to modern scholars and craftsmen.  Such items are virtually indestructible, though it has been noted by scholars arcane that they are terribly vulnerable, far more than normal, to Amorphia.   It is said that somewhere within the ruins of Danu lie the strange ships the Tuatha used to cross the Sea of Gattipol, giant shells pulled by wonderous beasts, capable of travel upon land and sea alike.

Not all the survivors of the Danu retreated to black stone fortresses, many formed nomadic bands that still prowl the plains, on foot or on the back of various beasts.   Some ride two legged lizards of fearsome speed and voracious appetite, others ride strange flightless birds with long legs and necks, but the most dangerous are those who mount not at all but creep through the grass like ghosts.  The same can be said of all the nomad tribes, many of whom treat not by race but by shared homes on the plains, shared totemic gods and so forth.  Many of the tribes congregate regularly, be it yearly or less often depending upon the tribe at the Great Mother of the Plains, a giant outcropping of rock, a veritable mountain that is thrust up from the Sea like some spindle point, what some claim is the very axis of the world, though the Elves would disagree strongly, as that honor lies with the heart of the Hydimenoi.

To the south of the Sea lies the Border Range, mountains created by the sorceries of the Titans themselves some claim.   Between the two, where the grass meets the preternaturally calm ocean (some refer to it as the Sea of Glass, though only informally as all map makers agree that such a name is rather too confusing when placed in conjunction to the Sea of Grass) to the east, lies a wedge of muddy, broken, poisoned land where once lay, according to legend, a league of Orcish cities, destroyed by the same Goblins who first destroyed Danu before the Mythic Age.  Such tales are held in low esteem to the north, where Orcs are viewed as little more than beasts and monsters, but in the south where they are held in some esteem there is much evidence to suggest such tales are not lies. Certainly the barrens, as they are occasionally referred to, are heavily populated with the hearty orc tribes that seem to survive everywhere men do not go, and small ruins may be found here and there.  Though no artifacts are known or sought after (we are speaking after all of Orcs...) if any can be found they would be truly ancient and potent objects dating from the so-called Shining Age, or Silver Age by some... dating to before the Mythic Age, when the Titans were not quite a distant memory and the dwarves were little more than a myth and Man existed not at all.  Certainly rumors persist of strange works of black iron thrusting from the acidic mud before being buried again under a new tide.  If legends are true the legendary Mirror of the Soul, now lost in the Underworld, was possibly of Orcish make, coming as it did from the distant south, though this too encompasses the temples of the Lizardfolk, who were reputed to be powerful sorcerers in the Time of the Titans many eons ago.  

Still if one were to make an educated guess, free of prejudice, then a number of artifacts of some repute may be linked to this lost Orcish land and some guesses about their nature may be made.  Great power, certainly, as is to be expected, but always with a cost.  The Mirror of the Soul could grant one god-hood, but was far more likely to rend one asunder, body and spirit alike.  The Eye of the King, another work of rough black iron replaced ones natural eye, and was too large for a normal man's skull, causing unending pain to the bearer, but granted one the ability to see lies, treachery and guilt, along with the allotted span of days remaining in the lives of those around the bearer. The fabled breastplate of Hurunan, named after it's most famous bearer could ward off any blade, break any enchantment, but could never be removed, indeed the interior of the armor was laced with tiny barbs that, it is said shot through the chest of the wearer, trailing fine wires, weaving the armor into the man.  It did not however protect from poisons or diseases, and Hurunan famously died of a childhood illness he had long since recovered from.

All of these artifacts shared more than simple power or even cursed natures, for all were wrought of rough black iron, unappealing to the eye, though not without an artistic flair.

The barrens however, are dangerous enough in their own right. The orcish tribes consider all trespassers an insult to their ancestral homes, as well they might having fought Goblins and Elves both in genocidal wars all through the mythic age. Goblins are still a major threat here, tainted and poisoned by the land. Dwarves are welcome, oddly, but only if they bring trade goods, and as many Dwarves make their homes in the border range, though they are much unlike their northern cousins, this is not uncommon.  The land itself is harsh, impossible to map as frequent mudslides and shifts of the many poisonous streams and rivers occur, altering the landscape wildly.  Even the orcs do not head too deeply into the barrens, living on the skirts of the Sea of Grass or the mighty ocean.  Strange warped creatures wander the land, mostly insects of incredible size and ferocity, though what they survive off of is anyones guess.  At least one species of insect is rightly feared throughout the world, for it makes its nest in the skull of living beings, slowly devouring the mind, replacing it with its own.  The host has no memory of the creature attacking him, and remains his own man for quite some time, but day by day he becomes the bug, and eventually is lost. Then the creature, still living his life is ready to reproduce. The memories are said to be the last thing to go, allowing the creature to survive hidden for quite some time, and in some cases entire villages have been purged to cleanse an infection.  It is said that some alchemists and wizards alike have sought ways to cleanse the man of the bug so that innocents may be saved, it is also said that many of the researchers have been secret hosts to the parasites and have suppressed their own works...

If one follows the river Erd through the plains of Melitior east, where it borders the desert Hesh to the north and the Pepper Savannahs to the South, one may see many wonderous sights, though none more impressive, nor more dangerous than the so called River Gods.

One might say that a Dragon is a more impressive and more dangerous thing, and one would not be wrong on the very face of it but; dragons are uncommon things and even the great flight of them that destroyed Ysithidieri was but twenty or thirty beasts strong all told.

The River Gods, each very nearly as magnificent a beast from our limited perspective number in the thousands.

Their name comes from the Heshites, ranging from the barbaric nomads to the bronzed temple builders, even the lizard tribes venerate the beasts, viewing them as progenitor beings.  

But the reader may feel some confusion at this point, for there has been no description, no detailing of what, exactly a River God is. Allow, then, a minor digression to discuss the mundanities.

Each of these great beasts is a massive reptile, a crocodilian being if you will, capable of spending all its days in the water, yet no less capable of walking upon the land in the pursuit of prey.  Though their legs may seem short, awkward and stumpy, in fact on land the greatest of these beasts stands tall enough to tower over a man.  In length the smallest specimens are some twenty feet long while the longest range up to 50 feet from snout to muscular tail, each foot covered in thick armored scales and every part of it a dangerous weapon.

The Heshites, of all stripes, view the beasts as Divine and view any attack upon the persons of the Gods as blasphemous, and any attack BY the Gods as divine right.

Conversely the peoples of the Savannahs are more pragmatic and mostly avoid the creatures where possible and are quite content to fight for their survival against them...

However, it should be noted that the city of Wei, built as it is upon a great lake, has made repeated efforts to secure a breeding population of the beasts for their own waters, and thusly hold at least some measure of divinity for the creatures, though not to the degree of the Heshites to the north.   Of course, a number of issues compound the problem, not the least of which is the fair distance such a massive creature must be carried, as Wei is very much a southern city in the Savannahs, and of course a lack of wood or expirence with cart building, meaning that any prospective mercenaries must, perforce, acquire their own suitably giant wagon or, as the Wei do, attempt to bring hundreds of hunter/porters to carry the subdued beasts by hand... and naturally earning the ire of the Xibaltci to their north at this 'invasion'.

The Podhotz Murders:



Beginning before the Warlord's Rise in the minor Melitioran Kingdom of Podhotz, the Podhotz Murders are a series of 'unsolved' murders covering centuries, if not longer.  While every city has its murders, and since the time of the Warlord many cities even have gruesome serial still killers from time to time Podhotz is particularly cursed.

Podhotz is a the capital of an old kingdom, now part of the Holy Flame Empire. Podhotz is near the desert of Hesh and a minor tributary of the Erd crosses through the city, dividing it north and south.  There is an extensive sewer system, or rather two extensive sewers systems, considered by some to be templates for more famous sewers throughout the Melitioran Plain.  

The sewer dwellers speak of the Ticktock Man, so called for the sounds of his footsteps through the sewers, heard for miles as he hunts, supposedly every Moon.  He knows those that've seen him and will hunt them.  In ages past he would take dozens of victims every hunt, in more recent times he is believed by unwise sewer dwellers to be nothing more than a myth, a boogey man, but if they hear his step and do not hide or avert their eyes they become victims when he inevitably returns.  Ancient legends say he wears a tall hat and carries a cane and wears a cape, but no one can say more. Many of his victims simply disappear, all others were killed with magic.

The Hobnail Killer is believed by those aware of the Ticktock Man to be one and the same, though details between the two vary.  The Hobnail Killer preys mostly on prostitutes, and takes his victims in the streets... mostly... removing a few organs. He takes far fewer victims than the Ticktock Man, only a handful a year, though often in bursts of activity, and every decade or so will trap a victim in her chambers, removing all semblance of humanity from the victim in an orgy of bloodshed.  However, the Hobnail Killer has left survivors, and they reported that he was very tall,very aristocratic, except for his heavy boots and breath that stank of rotten meat.  Over the three centuries that he has been 'known', for gruesome murders of prostituites are disturbingly common, he has been chased from a handful of kills and is believed to have 'taken' two different guardsmen that followed his work too closely.

The gypsies that used to camp near Podhotz, and still wander the Melitioran Plain, speak of a slayer of children that would attack their camps in the night when they were near Podhotz.  They consider those ancient camps cursed and will no longer use them, which is a minor relief to the denizens of Podhotz.  This killer was found to use necromantic spirits known as Bonesnakes to do the gruesome work, and reportedly stole ritual implements from the gypsy camps, implements that were recovered, at least in part, by adeventurers.

Tying these three killers together is an old tale, a tale of a knight of the Four Stars and his companions, who tried to free the city of the killer.  It was they who defended a blinded prostitute who had been given succor by the Sisters of Mercy, devotees of the Goddess Elamitte, who cares for the hopeless.  The Hobnail Killer attacked the temple and was driven back, followed to a manse in the northern half of the city, and there 'slain'.

According to the legend he was reported to have been the long dead son of the Lord Mayor of the city, second only to the King of Podhotz, and that his 'abandoned' mansion was a horrific necromantic 'pit', where the remains of a city guard were found on a strange mix of surgical table and sacrificial altar.

The body was given up to the City Guard and the local wizards guild for investigation, but, again according to legend, simply got up and walked out, killing all that opposed him/it and disappeared.

The killings did stop, however, for a decade at least.  However, during the Warlords March, they began again and have never stopped since.

And while the most frequent victims of the killer are the sewer dwellers and prostitutes, no citizen of Podhotz is truly safe, for the Ticktock Man, or the Hobnail Killer, or the dead son of a long dead nobleman, or whomever is responsible, still strikes at will, and victims have been found in the high manses and the meanest docks alike.

The Beasts of the Wilderness:

The Korribe
A great feline beast common on Eastern half of the northern continent, though a larger, more fearsome version may be found in the Sea of Grass. The Korribe is a massive beast with tawny fur, wicked fangs that don't fit inside its long snout and a crest of stiff hair running down its spine. It is as large as a horse, though longer. The korribe is a solitary beast, thankfully. It has a fearsome roar that it uses when it is hunting to terrify its prey.  

The Maxcai ritually hunt the Korribe, alone and with a spear as part of their manhood rituals, but they are alone in this risky hunt as most others avoid the Korribe if they can, or hunt them in large, heavily armed groups.  The Huron will occasionally hunt the Korribe with large packs of fierce, semi-feral dogs... losing many in the process. The Huron will make every effort to capture the Korribe alive, intending to use it in their ritual sacrifices to their dark gods.

In the South, the larger, fiercer Korribe is known as the Demon Ghost, hunting the tall grasses by scent.  A Korribe with the taste for the flesh of men can, over a period of weeks, empty even one of the black keeps of the Fortress Elves.

Wolves:

Wolves are particularly blessed by the Gods among animals. The vast majority of wolves are not terribly different than their terrestrial counterparts, being pack hunters, yet even the common grey and red wolves are blessed divine endurance, no beast or man can outrun the wolves of Haven.  However, there are unusual breeds of wolves, much larger and feircer than usual, to include the tundra wolves of the far north, said to be as large as a mammoth, solitary and immortal.  

What is of note, aside from their divine endurance, is that it is commonly known that wolves are occasionally used by the wilderness and beast gods to punish men for various sins, and so they are viewed as divine messengers of retribution.  If a farmer is plauged by wolves, he will often be shunned by the local commmunity until he has either solved the problem himself, or died.  If he is particularly well liked, or the wolves are a problem for the entire community it is not uncommon for rural communities to turn to human sacrifice to propitiate, if not the offended god, at least the divine masters of the wolves (who always appreciate human sacifices).  Those who are slain as wolves are said to come back as wolves themselves.  

Most civilized folk view wolves as something evil, little short of demonic, though more than a few noble families use wolves in their heraldry, or appropriate the name for themselve to demonstrate their ferocity.  

The Hydenimoi forest is home to a large number of wolves, and they are among the top predators of the forest. The Siti elves, while the oldest, are not terribly civilized and have a wary respect for the wolves of the forest.

The dwarves of Haven, it should go without saying, hate wolves with a passion surpassed only by their hatred of goblins.  The Dwarves are, of course, among the most civilized of races and tend to view untamed wilderness as a challenge or a blight to be overcome and tamed.  Dwarven merchants pay good money for wolf pelts, and will normally burn them in sacrifice to their gods.

I like these a lot, man.

Edit: Also, to paraphrase Cao Cao to Liu Bei, you and I are the only two roleplayers on this site compared to those wankers shitting up the main forum.

(Whatever, Pseudo.  Every time I start to like you again in one thread you get your high horse out of the stable for no damn reason.)

Spike, these are quite nice.

Quote from: VectorSigma;497486(Whatever, Pseudo.  Every time I start to like you again in one thread you get your high horse out of the stable for no damn reason.)

I can live with that. Really, he has done more to interest me in trying 4E again with his homebrew using that system than all the 4vengers combined being assholes

Quote from: VectorSigma;497486Spike, these are quite nice.

They are. You should do more of this.

Thanks for the love, guys. I try to add to this thread every so often. I hoped to do more on the korribe and less on wolves, but it just worked out oddly for some reason.

Apologies, all. I've a mind to expand Haven more than I have been the last couple years, but currently I have four hours of power a day, aside from work, and the connection at work is... words do not convey the atrocity that is my internet connection at work. 56k seems fast by comparison.  As I also have Skyrim (at last!), there is some serious competition for my power usage...

The Great Southern Death Frog:

At the tip of the southern continent is a great swamp, protected by the Barrier Mountains from the rest of Haven.  Recently a combined trade post, established by the Academie of Renbluve and the Dwarves of Clan Gael-Khos, has been established using a naval route, and have been conducting trade with the comparatively friendly Lizard people of the swamp.  A thousand dangers have been discovered in the swamps (not least of which are more hostile tribes of Lizard peoples and feral halflings who have crossed the mountains... and hostile dwarven clans protecting their exclusive trade contracts from under the barrier mountains...), but none have captured the imagination more than the Death Frog.

In appearance the Death Frog is not terribly interesting, a dull greyish colored amphibian, the size of a large housecat. The most interesting part of its appearance, other than its prodigious size, is the darker markings on its back that are occassionally described as 'skull like' by explorers, though many merely see abstract dots.  Like many swamp creatures, the Death Frog is highly poisonous, enough so that the lizard people are not above rubbing their claws on its skin to envenom their natural weapons... the Death Frog's venom affects the nerves, causing numbness, paralysis and, if injested, hallucinations. If the skin is carefully peeled, however, the meat is both edible and, reputedly, delicious.  Fried Deathfrog legs are quite popular in the Upper City of Renbluve, and the eyes are reportedly prized by the Fortress Elves of the Sea of Grass, candied as a dessert.  

The Death Frog, however, gets its name not from the poisonous skin or the pattern on its skin, but from its other defense mechanism. While normally a fairly docile and quiet creature, when threatened by a larger animal, the Death Frog undergoes a unique transformation, the bony mouth ridge normally used to crush the bugs and small fish that make up its diet actually grows into an impossible mouthful of fangs, the spindly front legs swell and lengthen, and cruel, poisonous talons sprout from all four feet. The transformed Death Frog gains a vicious, rabid temperment, and an aggrieved Death Frog has been known to kill entire hunting parties.

THe transformation is one way, and should the enraged Death Frog manage to survive its attack, the beast will surely starve, for its fanged mouth can no longer close, making it impossible for the beast to eat.  That said, a few enterprising fools have manage to capture an enraged Death Frog, and in captivity it can be kept alive for some time by carefully dripping liquified meat into its maw.

If a group of Death Frogs are startled, only a small number will transform, allowing the rest to flee. However, a few instances have been noted where the entire 'pod' of Death Frogs have all transformed at once, laying waste to entire regions.  

Despite the risk of enraging the Death Frogs, they are remarkably easy to hunt, as their peaceful demeanors border on apathetic... a death frog can be caught up in a net, transported in an open basket and eventually placed in a pot of warmish water, alive, all without triggering the transformation as long as the hunter himself remains calm and easy going around the frog.  The frog may be boiled, alive, provided no one looks in the pot until it is dead... but should someone brandish a weapon, shout at the frog or otherwise menace it... well... profressional Death Frog chefs are very well paid.

Great stuff Spike. Keep it coming.

Thanks. I'm trying to work on a big post for the Demon Realm actually, and I still have two incomplete posts for the Kra and Ventimigla in the Tenebrian Kingdoms that I need to finish up... plus half complete ideas for the rest of the northern kingdoms to be fleshed out.

At some point I should put some actual rules down for these. I run this setting using Runequest, but it was and is meant to be useable for people running the system of their choice.  Ironically, the more time I have to work on this, the less able I am to post the end results...

Also: I do take requests.  In mah stickeh I have a cultural study that was done purely because people asked for it (The human one...), and this thread came about because people were asking for, well.., places to go and things to kill.  I'm probably going to do more posts on the Swamps soon... flesh out the gauzy descriptions of them I've given in the past... but it'll probably be here and not a specific thread, since they are concieved of as a place to adventure more than a place to hang out and horse swap.