:: Random Location—Alinta, Mountain Fort ::

The walls of the ancient village of Alinta were toppled by a small child—from the inside.

Once, a very long time ago, there were six Córean merchants who left their homes to set up shop in a city together. One of the merchants was named Alinta, and she made pyrotechnics the likes of which none had seen; with but a small flame, they would pop and sizzle and whiz off into the sky and explode in all manner of shapes and colors.

The other merchants knew that Alinta was talented, which is why they wanted to come with her. For who would be watching Alinta's pyrotechnics but clients that would want something to eat, and perhaps a blanket against the cold of the night, and surely transportation to and from the watching grounds. So the six set off to find an ideal place for their enterprise, and they found it—not in a city—but on the side of a mountain...

Three things drew them to the spot:

:: Random NPC—Itztli, Sheepfolk Monk ::

The sound of heavy scissors and cordial conversation greets you as you round the hay bale and pull the barn door to one side. You enter to a strange sight: one humanoid sheep shearing another with a pair of shears made of black volcanic glass. The shearing sheep is short, bald, and littered in the clipped wool from her client. Their conversation is cut short by your presence, and the mood suddenly stiffens.

"Who are you?" the bald sheep bleats warily. She brandishes the obsidian shears. "What do you want?" After only a moment her resolve seems to falter, then hardens. She eyes you and quickly finishes the shave job, turning to clean her tool in a nearby bucket. "You're done, Mary. See you in six weeks."

The other, now-shorter-wooled sheepfolk glares at you, yanks off her barber's apron, and promptly leaves, muttering angrily under her breath. Only after she is gone are you left with the sight of all the knitted woolen blankets covering the walls like curtains, giving the barn a homey look.

"My name is Itztli," the bald sheep barber declares, her grating voice pulling your focus back to the now-clean obsidian shears in her hand. "And this is for more than just shearing sheep. Now answer my questions."

:: Random Item—Ink of Mustering Invitation ::

The magical sphere of Conjuration is built on an agreement between the spellcaster and some other sentient eldritch creature, known as a "companion." The pioneers of this sphere in Athanasia contracted their first companions from the ranks of Strangers who visited the infant world. The Strangers signed the first contracts with their otherworldly blood to seal the bond with their spellcaster associates, who were likewise required to sign with their own. Since that time, however, exemplar research has revealed a solution that does not involve such a painful and unnerving process.

:: Random Location—Haf, Desert Settlement ::

The desert offers you nowhere to hide; the sun pounds down upon you without mercy. From a good many miles away, atop a tall mesa, you see the ruins of Haf’s signature henge, marking the burial grounds of the settlement’s most notable leaders. The desert’s dry, brown desert brush began to all look the same to you when suddenly it turns lush, green, and vibrant. Only now do you realize that—besides being terribly hot—the air has now grown steamy. Your mount kicks up less dust as you get closer, and the trail signs are noticeably cleaner.

The path dips downward into a delve that guides you further into the settlement. Just before you lose sight of the horizon, you feel a cool rush of wet air rise up to meet you. Only as you enter the settlement do you begin to hear the roaring waterfall that you were told would be waiting for you inside the rock formation—a cool, welcoming, subterranean oasis. A certain calm settles over you as you ride between the rounded adobe domes, half of which are built into the side of the mesa. Curious owlfolk peek out from their curtained windows—it is not yet night, and your entry is disturbing their sleep.

:: Random NPC—Pukajaak, Seraph Aristocrat ::

Emerging from the tree line, you see the City of Wellstan come out of hiding. High on the cliff to your left is the mage's academy, large and imposing, creeping as it were over the edge as if ready to jump from the top of the icy waterfall to come crashing down on the common buildings below. The blanket of night offers camouflage for the numerous winged forms flying up and down from the city to the academy and back, the sequins of stars being blackened only momentarily as seraphs pass before them.

Just as you release a contented sigh do you see a bright light emerge from the inside of the academy's highest window. The light leaps from the balcony and coasts down in a lazy arc toward you. Only when it comes close do you realize that the light has a voice, and that it is shouting over the rush of the waterfall.

"Why haven't you shown yourselves up? We've been expecting you!" the light shouts, and only as the creature lands do you see that it is a tall seraph wearing a circlet made of the famed pirium—a magical metal that absorbs sunlight during the day, and releases it in darkness. The light from the circlet envelops the seraph woman in a halo that reveals, but does not afflict your eyes as the brash sun would. The halo highlights her colorful cultured regalia, elegant white bat-like wings, and long snow-white hair. She folds her hands in front of her and only then do you notice the ring finger of her left hand is covered by a tight-fitting articulated metal sleeve, or else has been entirely replaced by a masterfully-crafted silver prosthetic.

Your seraph envoy catches your gaze. "A childish mistake," she shouts against the crash of the falls. "One I will never repeat," she adds dismissively. "Are you ready, or do you dawdle to insult me? Come, let us away."

:: Random Item—Brick of Invisibility ::

There are few times when genius can present itself quite like a moment of need. I'm certain you are already informed, but there are a good many unexpected things in this world, and a brick with the power of invisibility happens to be just one of them. You've probably already heard this story, but suffer me to tell it again, if you will.

:: Random Location—Shrine Rest, Trading Post on the Open Sea ::

You know how if you want the freshest seafood there is, you go all the way down to the docks to that one restaurant that actually sits over the water and the cook scoops up the fish right out of the sea? Yeah, Shrine Rest is that place, but for landlubber stuff. And they mostly sell to sea-folk.

The place is on an island just off the coast and it's run by mermaids. Sorry, Sirens. (They don't like it when you call them mermaids; there's men-folk, too.) Built by a pair of carpenters named Maiara and Aputsiaq. Sisters. That was decades ago, though, so they're well past their good working years. They got the brilliant idea for the place from that one restaurant on the docks, except they made it for sea-folk who wanted to get a taste of the shore life. Tale's worth a listen if you got a sec. Yeah? Good, listen up...

:: Terra Incognita—Idea for a Future Post ::

Terra Incognita is Latin for "Unknown Land". It was used on old maps to label those areas that were as yet unexplored. With modern satellites, our concept of Terra Incognita is practically nonexistent as far as the Earth is concerned. We are even now filling in the gaps of our knowledge of Mars, and in the future we may even be able to explore the insides of Jupiter's icy moons. We can still look, as we Kansans say, "ad astra" ("to the stars"), and wonder about the unexplored places in our universe.

But what if, in Athanasia, there were actually a place called Terra Incognita... What would it have lurking in its jungles, and guarding its seas? Perhaps all those things people thought were there when they didn't know any better. An Athanasian Neverland?

To be continued...

:: Random NPC—Jing, Winslie Rogue ::

"Jing cares for no one, and no one cares for Jing."

So ingrained in her are the decades of backbites, the betrayals, the misunderstandings—perceived or earned, it makes no difference—that Jing trusts no one. That isn't to say that she makes no alliances; she could not do business as a mercenary if it were any other way. But she never allies with those who have no clear and compelling motivation to ensure that they are acting in their own interests. You want money? A favor? Insider information? All to be expected. That only makes sense. You're in it for the good of mankind? "I don't have time for you," she'll say, and she's on to the next prospective job.

Charity cases are right out.

With one very notable exception: her sister.

:: Random Item—Shuriken of Twilight ::

Morgan had studied in the Temple of Hibernation for a time, learning martial arts like her mentor, Master Chandra. But only after Chandra met her death in the jaws of a jealous Ajagara did Morgan come to discover her true destiny; that of a medium—a connecting link to the world of spirits.

:: Random NPC—Geir, Fenris Shaman ::

The old grizzled Fenris shaman will tell you the end is nigh, and you're tempted to disbelieve him—just as you would any other crackpot fool wearing a sign around his neck—except that this crackpot fool supports his claims with evidence. Though old, Geir's clothes are clean. Though prophesying the coming calamity, he is paradoxically cheerful. This, he says, is because there is still something that can be done about it.

:: Random Location—Kaawa by the Way, Forest Thorp ::

As you march along the trail, fallen pine cones crunching beneath your feet, the tall trees towering above you, the sound of trickling water meets your ears; your first sign that Kaawa is near. Soon after, you come upon the characteristic piles of stone that flank the trail, the cairns standing both as gate and sentinel for what lies beyond. The trail continues past the cairn, but you take the less-traveled path through the underbrush. The air turns crisp, and clear, and you know that out into the wood just a little more is the spring that supplies the inhabitants of the thorp.

Only just before you emerge from the green does the burbling of the spring give way to another sound. No, many sounds: many people laughing at the same time, the trill of a tinflute, a boastful voice, and then a melodic response. As you pass between the small, sturdy houses from behind, you smell the sweet, nutty wafts of a food vendor selling honeyed pine nuts. You enter the clearing proper and see a simple stage that has been built out of cloven trunks where an acrobat deftly flips several times before feigning a botched landing. The small gathering of local folk laugh in concert again. Your heart lifts: you've reached Kaawa by the Way.

:: Random NPC—Mani, Draconian Monk ::

Short in stature, but with long legs, Mani cuts an almost frog-like figure among the other draconians of the Iguanar horde. At a drunken glance, some might mistake her for some overgrown Ranai, if it weren't for her thick hide of frosted scales and tiny, squinting, articulated eyes. Always drawn to a more traditional form of dress, she can frequently be seen practicing the forms of her Scorpion Style—an impressive demonstration of the discipline she gained from long years of study—in the Temple of Hibernation under the sands of the Akkedis Desert.

No stranger to secrets, Mani safeguards the location of her daughter, the result of a youthful dalliance with a draconian archer from another tribe. So suddenly was their passion kindled those many years ago that neither had even given the other their name before their union had reached its climax and they were obliged to return to their homelands. Mani laid the egg in her mother's cave, never telling her what had happened, and for a time she happily thought forward to the day she could meet the offspring of her unexpected love. But what was happiness soon turned to despair.