Location idea resource

[Tonguez]

Crochuk's Codex

"I have seen the Codex that once was held by the gnoll Crochuk and indeed it is both beautiful and terrifying. It is claimed that within its pages is told all the history of the world from the birth of the gods and even forward to the end of creation. Noone knows how the gnoll Crochuk came into possession of the codex but when I saw that poor pathetic creature he was blind and insane, his body wasted to nought. indeed I thought him dead until he raised his unseeing eytes at me and laughed his most hideous laugh. In mercy I killed him.

Where? You wish to know where I saw the codex. Yes it was still held clutched in the creatures hand. Beyond the marsh near the ruins of Aztaclán - the City of the Herons- is a deep and narrow cave which leads by narrow passages and crawling to a mighty cavern of twisting columns and high vaulted ceilings. All the walls of that cavern are painted with the same hieroglyphs as are in the codex and also scrawlings by the hands of those who have tried to claim the knowledge of the codex as their own.

I would have claimed it for my own if I had not seen the gnoll Crochuk rise even though the blood had gone dry within him and with him in the shadows the walking things - the bodies and the souls of all who have tried to take the codex are there with Crochuk. We tried to escape but only I survived - all my companions and we were five in number became victims to the codex and its keepers..."
- Evidence given at the Trial of Michel Don Carlyon

NEXT: The City of the Herons

 

[DethStryke]

Aztaclán - City of the Herons

Once known as the World's Scroll, the city of Aztaclán was a center of learning for the Nahuatl kingdom. Mastered by the High Priest Chitockwa and his acolytes, the libraries within Aztaclán were rumored to hold the combined knowledge of the known world. Chitockwa himself was a learned scholar of such renown that thousands flocked to the city to be taught by him alone.

This was many years ago, of course. Far beyond the memories of even the elves, with the longest of lives. It is known that as the favored of Aethedoc, god of knowledge and magics, Chitockwa was enlightened with the wisdom and intelligence beyond his mortal mind. With all of this, he was not able to see what fate had in store for him.

Posing as a travelling scholar, Delmora, the Goddess of Trickery and Thieves, brought news to Aztaclán that caught the ear of Chitockwa. You see, Delmora knew of his greatest desire, and used this to sour his mind against Aethedoc. Within Aethedoc's control was the Prime Codex. On it's magical pages held the knowledge of the world and its masters. Between those covers told the tale of each and every creature, from the smallest insect to the gods, themselves. This Codex was the only book in existence that Aethedoc forbid to Chitockwa's eyes. Through the years, his longing for this knowledge had grown to a nearly all-consuming need. So, when Delmora offered a glimpse of this holiest of holy books, Chitockwa eagerly agreed.

Knowing full well that Aethedoc would be aware if she removed the Codex from its resting place, Delmora was loathe to steal it. So instead, she created a duplicate of it. Near perfect in every detail save one; this Trickster's Codex did not show the path of every creature. Instead, it showed the future that the reader feared the most.

The Trickster's Codex appearance and magical radiance fooled Chitockwa, who eagerly opened the book and let his eyes devour its contents. It spoke of a terrible army that would besiege the city, burning the libraries and destroying the knowledge of ages. He read of Aethedoc's punishing him for his failure to protect the library. His mind burned at the thought of being banished from his books and spending eternity with nothing to learn. The magic that Delmora had woven began to take effect, and Chitockwa began to rave about what he read. The trickster goddess listened intently to his words, then took her leave quickly. In his hysterics, he didn't even notice her go.

Delmora went straight to the foul humanoid gods and promised them the knowledge of Aethedoc's Prime Codex. At first they scoffed, knowing that Aethedoc would never let that book out of his sight. She told them that a human did indeed posses the book, and that it was at this very moment being held in Aztaclán. Within minutes, their spies confirmed this, as Chitockwa had begun ranting aloud and preparing the city for a war that was not to come.

Delmora whispered in their ears how the Codex is within their grasp if they are brave enough to reach for it. "Bring the war he fears, and let your might rip this power from his fragile hands!" These words sent the demon gods into a blood frenzy for power. Calling forth their scattered tribes, an army was formed and sent marching to Aztaclán.

Few know what truly happened when the battle was joined, as none survived to tell the tale. What is known is that the land around Aztaclán was turned to swamp land from the foul magics turned loose that day. Those shallow waters hide the bones of thousands of creatures, orc, human, goblin, ogre, & elf alike. The wrath of both sides was great but, in the end, nothing was decided. The book was lost, presumably with the books and scrolls that some were able to remove before the battle. Perhaps it is still locked within the ruins of Aztaclán, bolted and warded with Chitockwa's dying breath. At this point, anything is possible. The city was razed by muscle and magic, with all who remained in its walls and all who tried to enter them with force were laid to a horrible fate.

The morning after, when the ruins were still smoking, Delmora had her last laugh. A symbol of her victory, a Heron, brought hundreds of its kind to the husk of the once great city. This small bird, known for its aggressiveness, claimed the city for its own.

To this day, flocks of Herons make their nest there. Some say that they are immortal and protect the remainder of Delmora's greatest joke yet. When the sun touches the horizon, bringing forth the night, their combined calls echo across the swampland like vile laughter at the folly of men.

Next: Spinecap Tower

 

[kiznit]

the SpineCap Tower

Armies of might once walked this land. The high sorcerer Dol Naroth knew that he could not match the Legion of Iron in numbers, but he supplemented his fierce hill-tribes of wild men and orcs with fell beasts of arcane creation.

His most wondrous and fearsome creation was the Gorinax, a monstrous behemoth of gargantuan proportions, with five great horns and taloned hooves that could squash a cavalry unit beneath a single step. Mounted upon its back was his battle citadel, an obsidian and oak conglomeration of towers, minarets and archery platforms. His war wizards would fling spells and summon storms from the back of the great beast and the vast numbers of the Legion of Iron broke before the onslaught and fled in anarchy.

Only one man, a captain named Orthin, stood bravely to face the fearsome beast of battle. He rallied his men to flank and distract the creature, and led an organized retreat, sniping and harrying the units atop the obsidian citadel. The Gorinax stomped after Orthin's unit, more and more enraged by the illusions flashing in the air, cast by Orthin's friend Fiefler. For a day and a half they led the beast astray, and Dol Norath realized too late that Orthin was leading them to the swamps of the ancient broken Mires, and then the Gorinax took a fateful step into the muddy tar that it could not step out of.

Orthin and Fiefler flew into the citadel then, with a few of their men, and fought and killed many of Norath's minions and wizards. Locked into mortal combat with Dol Norath himself, they were sucked into an escape portal and not seen again.

In the city of Meros on the edge of the Ashen plain, there is a statue commemorating Orthin's valiant deed, his epic battle all but forgotten this many generations later. But deep in the broken Mires, hardened now over the ages, one can find Dol's citadel, crumbled and clustered around the great petrified skeleton of the Gorinax. A single tower stretches up atop the desperate neck of the creature, circled by crows and spirits, where many of the sorcerer's great magics and treasures are rumored to be stored, though occasional lights and flashes make adventurers wonder if perhaps a portal lies open still, and perhaps not all is yet at rest in the SpineCap Tower.

Everybody, these are great! Keep 'em coming!

Next: Mirthel's Amulet of Infinite Pathways

 

[DethStryke]

Ok, I have to pipe up. Can we mulligan the Amulet one? It's really not a location. You could say that the amulet itself becomes the place, but then that is just getting a little strange as it could be an infinite amount of places. That gets loopy.

In lieu of that, here is my suggestion:

Mirthel's Hamlet of Infinite Pathways

"In the fields of Dalnir, along the Curlmouth River, there is a town like no other. Wooden walls rise high above the thatched roofs, while the single gate always stands open. From afar it seems no larger than a simple village, maybe a dozen huts large. There is one guard at the gate who sits on a wooden stool with a smile. He knows that nothing will come this way that doesn't want to be here, and no trouble will be found from those who do. That's because he knows this story:

Many years ago, when the first settlement was established in the field of Dalnir, there was a kindly mage by the name of Mirthel. He had been living in the area within a large house of his own making. His magics aided the farmers and common folk in their tasks, and they freely gave him some of the choicest yield of their crops in exchange. It wasn't long before a sizable village had grown around his house.

Local raiding humanoids started to become a nuisance after a few years, and the population had begun to encroach on the fields. Mirthel knew that it wouldn't be long before the wonderful group of hard-working people he had around him would become a bustling city of lawlessness and danger. He set upon a plan to protect his family, of which he considered everyone living there part of, and provide the same for like-minded folk.

With the aid of a number of dear friends, all skilled in the arcane and divine powers, he constructed a wall of lumber around the city. Enchantments were laid on the roads and every dwelling within these this great wall. From the outside, this changed the appearance of a small hamlet with a high wall surround. Within, it was a bustling city, with ample space and travel in mind.

No matter what road you set foot on, you almost immediately end up where you wish to be. One could never be lost, as each doorway would lead to a street complete with the places you intend or need to visit. Friends always lived next door, and all shops are within a stroll. The gate guards itself against dark intentions, showing the dark of heart or mind the town gate as their only option; a clear sign of how welcome they are. Those with good hearts, but led by bad decisions, find themselves in the hands of the law quickly. All roads lead to the jail for those kind. Patrols are unheard of, all the criminals came to the sheriff.

This was quite a number of years ago. Some say that the magic is fading. People have become lost, others have disappeared for weeks! They say that paths to places not of this world have been happened upon, and it's been getting worse. For many years, those who dwelt in Mirthel's Hamlet had lived in safety, knowing that they would be protected. I wonder if that protection has turned to a curse.

Either way, I plan on keeping my sword ready, just in case…"

Overheard in the Half-Full Flagon from a caravan runner to Mirthel's Hamlet.

Up Next: The Half-Full Flagon

 

[nute]

The Half-Full Flagon

In the times of the plagues, food and provisions were very tightly-controlled. So much so, in fact, that in one county the local lord passed an edict declaring that all wayhouses, pubs, public establishments, and inns would serve no traveler more than half a plate of meat, half a loaf of bread, or half a flagon of ale unless they brought their own.

The outcry from travelers and innkeepers alike made the lord an unpopular man, but the law was the law. Folks made do with less food at the inns, and as a result began to carry provisions on their own, often bypassing wayhouses entirely.

At one inn, the daughter of the innkeeper (herself an accomplished bard and the only reason the inn could keep in coin) feared for her family's future, and traveled over the mountain range to the land of the giants. After a month of trekking with a scout party, she charmed her way in to the Court of the Storm Giant King, and offered him her greatest song in exchange for a place at his table for a night, and her eternal gratitude if she could keep the silverware. Amused, the Giant King agreed, and the innkeeper's daughter returned to the small town, with a wagon full of giant-sized plates, dishes, and mugs.

Rumor soon grew that the inn would provide food for any traveler, as much as they could eat. When the lord heard of this, he rode with an armed guard to the inn, intending to punish this innkeeper who would flaunt his laws. Upon entering, he saw the inn packed to the gills, with a group of travelers gorging themselves from a half-full plate the size of a small table, and filling their cups from a half-full flagon the size of a grown cow.

Upon being recognized by the townspeople that had lived in near-famine while the lord prospered in his castle, the lord found himself overrun and trampled by the hungry townsfolk, and was drowned in the half-full flagon of ale.

Now, decades later, the county has no more famine, and the ale flows freely at inn, wayhouse, and tavern across the countryside. But at one, there sits a table made of a giant's plate, placed atop a sturdy giant's flagon that always remains half-full.


Next: The Godsbridge

 

[thol]

The Godsbridge

If one were to travel beyond the windswept Tolen River valley, onto and across the Oro Plateau, they would come to the foot of the bilious Greystorm Mountains. One would see the blackened clouds which hang above the world like a charred blanket, and the reddish glow that is cast upon it by the fiery Gorgol's Peak. One could climb a path amongst the foothills and into the heavy air of the mountain heights, and see that which none have seen.

One would also see their own end.

There are old stories, tavern tales, and some would say, mere children's fancies of a brave, perhaps insane, few that made such a journey and survived. Stories of those few that managed to reach the Godsbridge.

The Godsbridge. Gateway to Arcadia. Portal to Nirvana. Entry to the Heavens. Pathway to Immortality. It has many names, and the different races and cultures across the lands each believe it leads to one favorable place or another beyond the Material Plane. The common theme throughout each is the fact that one who traverses the Godsbridge transcends their mortal form to become a deity.

Among the wood elves of Holth Forest, the legends tell of an Oakwhisper warrior who sought a way to give his people a safe haven from the brutal orcish hordes. During a self-induced trance, he had a vision of a shining silver bridge over a chasm of molten lava in a place beyond the treeless lands. Travelling for many weeks alone, and near death, he arrived at a range of mountains, and began to climb. Delerious he wandered aimlessly among the maze of trails winding their way through the peaks. Whether it was luck, sheer will, or divine favor, he finally came to the place he invisioned. Stretching into the steam that hung in the cold mountain air and out of sight, spanned a magnificent silver bridge. Here, the tale becomes different, depending on the teller. Some say a great battle was fought with the guardian of the bridge, the warrior barely winning. Some say he was forced to answer three riddles posed by the guardian, which he managed to answer. Still others claim the stealth of the warrior enabled him to sneak past the guardian. What is agreed upon is that he walked into the mists and got what he wished for. And more.

So goes the tale of Rillifane, God of the Forest. So goes the tale of the Godsbridge.

Next: The Glowing Orb

 

[eris404]

The Glowing Orb

In the busy port town of Bell's Harbor is a bookstore called The Glowing Orb [Book and Curiosities Emporium]. The store's owner, Elizabeth Caul, is one the oldest and most respected residents of the town. Elizabeth came to the town seventy years ago from parts unknown and though by some folks' calculations she should be approaching one hundred years old, she is as spry and quick as someone a third of her age - excepting her hands, which are twisted nearly backwards by arthritis. A gnarled, bent-over woman with wild, white hair, she often surprises out-of-towners with her sharp mind, piercing eyes and uncanny ability to appraise books and other fine items.

The store front is lined with shelves filled with rare books on many subjects. Customers are allowed to browse as long as their hands are clean and they are careful with the stock. Truly costly books, such as the first printing of Spirit Evocations by Martin Secundus, are kept in a locked glass case. She keeps the key on a gold chain around her neck.

For the connoisseur, Elizabeth keeps a special room which can be viewed by appointment only. Hidden behind a book shelf is a door that leads to a luxurious reading room filled with beautiful, overstuffed armchairs and tables made of rare wood. In the winter, she serves warmed cider by the fireside. In summer, a sea breeze from an unseen source keeps the room cool while patrons sip lemonade. The special room contains spell books written by many different hands, and by her permission (and for a fee, of course), a patron may scribe one spell from any book. Her loyal customers never ask from where the books come, but should any curious person ask, she would give him a plausible-sounding tale about poverty-stricken students needing coin in a hurry and she, being a kind and tender-hearted soul, took the books their hands for more than they were worth. Elizabeth controls the flow of spells from this room with a gnarled but iron fist and should anyone press her too much, either with threats or promises of money, she will show him that she is much more than he bargained for...

Next: The Stardust Carnival

 

[Bran Blackbyrd]

The Stardust Carnival

Rilthennia’s hills and dells are the home of many a strange tale. Stories are told by guttering flame of strange things seen on strange nights, but there is a recurring event of surpassing oddity that is witnessed by many each year - and no one realizes it.
The Stardust Carnival comes into the area once each year, when the leaves turn and the air is crisp. They only perform after dark, only one night and then they are gone; a troupe of performers unparalleled in skill and splendor.
Women of inestimable beauty in costumes of thinnest gossamer walk tightropes stretched from poles, barrel-chested men lift boulders and bend steel bars, exotic animals parade at the command of trainers and mysterious people eat fire, swallow swords and perform other amazements, while musicians play music of haunting perfection. The performers are all clad in costumes of deep blues and soft grays, like moonlit clouds, sparkling like jewels; like stardust.
No one seems to ever recall seeing the performers set up or tear down the show, nor even their arrival and departure, only that they witnessed a fantastic display of pageantry and wondrous feats not to be believed. Even those memories tend to be fuzzy and painted with idealistic wonder. The only clear memory is the fierce winds that seem to herald the arrival of the carnival, and its departure.
There are a few in Rilthennia who recall a terrible event, almost a century ago, when a tornado swept through the area – killing a traveling carnival to the last member.
None of the townsfolk ever seem to realize they are watching the spirits of the dead carry on with the show even after death. It is unclear whether the carnival’s troupe is damned to this fate or has chosen it; an eternity performing for the crowds, of moving from town to town.
The show must go on.

Next: The Humming Stones of Hatterrin Heath

 

[Rigaal Nook]

The Well of the Seven Sisters

-from the journal of Oken Lightbottom, Gnome of much worth to Sharess

I've done it again! I've managed to come back from dead...again! Luckily some strikingly similar ladies were there to catch me when I fell. Oddly enough though, she didn't even ask for anything in return. Any cutter with that much background as to be saving the nearest blood for nothing but satisfaction has got somethin' addled real fine.

Now I've got to stay. I can't be leavin' a body that just gave death the laugh for me! I've got more respect than your average Knight of the Post, I do. 'Sides, I still haven't got down that blasted Well. How can I know fer sure if that fiend was lyin' or not if I don't go? Maybe those fine ladies might help me get my friends out of there.

The Well of the Seven Sisters is the site of an Imprisoned fiend that slayed an entire household nearby, many millenia ago. Soon after the vile act, the caretaker of the 10 children that had been gruesomely slaughtered arrived to find the fiend gloating and consuming the souls of his third victim.

A violent battle ensued and ultimately the Caretaker sacrificed himself to Imprison the demon within a well. With his dying breath he freed the deteriorating souls of the other children. But, alas, his magic had been depleted and his spell gave out before his incantation could be finished. He collapsed and the earth trembled as the fiend began his ascent again to the realm of mortals.

With a swiftness known only to their kind hearts, the seven remaining children of a long lost bloodline, bonded as they never would in life to seal the fiend back inside the Well. Time ceased for the Sisters and as the investigations into their disappearance subsided their lonliness began. The Sisters, at first, were not even able to leave the site of their demise, but with time they cultivated some of the power they could have had in life. They began to take interest in the safety of this place and magicked it to be unobservable to the untrained eye and any that do happen upon it quickly forget ever having seeing the sacred place.

But with time, so too did the power of the demon grow. She began to stretch her abilities thin and circumvented some of the wards place by her keepers. She constructed a web that entrapped unaware travelers that passed to close to the site. With a magic of her own she has misled the Sisters into believing their power is the one preventing the passage of travelers into the region. So far her ruse has been unobserved, but she has also been unable to escape her prison. Hopefully the poor sod that just happened into her cell might be able to release her.

 

[Rigaal Nook]

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