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<blockquote data-quote="DSPaul" data-source="post: 3842070" data-attributes="member: 9390">The city Khebrath lies on one of the great rivers that flow into the eastern sea, and it is this alone that has allowed her to flourish in the midst of the surrounding desert.&nbsp; Even in this weary age, the great bazaar of Khebrath swarms with merchants and traders of every description -- dwarven gem-traders from the northern mountains; halfling mariners with their cargoes of exotic woods and spices; elvish mercenaries from the trackless jungles of the far south.&nbsp; In the hundred temples of the city, the smoke of incense and sacrifices floats up to gods both named and nameless; in the courtyards of the academies, priests and wizards debate matters far beyond the earthly concerns of the hubbub outside.&nbsp; The great dome of the Opaline Palace -- ancient and crumbling, but still magnificent -- looms over it all.&nbsp; Here, Queen Yasmira holds court with ambassadors from a dozen nations.&nbsp; To the disappointment of countless noblemen, the queen has sworn she will never marry.&nbsp; She has not revealed the reason, but many of her courtiers whisper about a ancient family obligation and a secret engagement to a bridegroom who may not be mortal.At night, Khebrath's less salubrious inhabitants creep out from the shadows.&nbsp; The shadowy cabal known as the Court of Masks presides over the cutthroats and poisoners of the city.&nbsp; Warlocks sell curses and maledictions to the desperate or the malicious:&nbsp; a handful of silver to plague your enemy with nightmares, gold to wrack him with pestilence, or a bag of jewels to capture his soul in a bottle.&nbsp; Tiefling grave-robbers sell unholy relics from the tombs of their own forefathers -- for Khebrath was once the heartland of the devil-kings' cruel empire, and the ancient tels and necropoleis still hold the remnants of their warped magics, ripe for the plundering.&nbsp; Of course, only the brave or the foolish venture into the high desert when the moon is dark, for the ghouls of the waste find fresh man-flesh to be a pleasant contrast to their usual fare of sun-baked carrion....</blockquote>

[QUOTE="DSPaul, post: 3842070, member: 9390"] The city Khebrath lies on one of the great rivers that flow into the eastern sea, and it is this alone that has allowed her to flourish in the midst of the surrounding desert. Even in this weary age, the great bazaar of Khebrath swarms with merchants and traders of every description -- dwarven gem-traders from the northern mountains; halfling mariners with their cargoes of exotic woods and spices; elvish mercenaries from the trackless jungles of the far south. In the hundred temples of the city, the smoke of incense and sacrifices floats up to gods both named and nameless; in the courtyards of the academies, priests and wizards debate matters far beyond the earthly concerns of the hubbub outside. The great dome of the Opaline Palace -- ancient and crumbling, but still magnificent -- looms over it all. Here, Queen Yasmira holds court with ambassadors from a dozen nations. To the disappointment of countless noblemen, the queen has sworn she will never marry. She has not revealed the reason, but many of her courtiers whisper about a ancient family obligation and a secret engagement to a bridegroom who may not be mortal. At night, Khebrath's less salubrious inhabitants creep out from the shadows. The shadowy cabal known as the Court of Masks presides over the cutthroats and poisoners of the city. Warlocks sell curses and maledictions to the desperate or the malicious: a handful of silver to plague your enemy with nightmares, gold to wrack him with pestilence, or a bag of jewels to capture his soul in a bottle. Tiefling grave-robbers sell unholy relics from the tombs of their own forefathers -- for Khebrath was once the heartland of the devil-kings' cruel empire, and the ancient tels and necropoleis still hold the remnants of their warped magics, ripe for the plundering. Of course, only the brave or the foolish venture into the high desert when the moon is dark, for the ghouls of the waste find fresh man-flesh to be a pleasant contrast to their usual fare of sun-baked carrion.... [/QUOTE]

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