:: 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—Pillars of Qilak ::

Pillars of Qilak

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/24/15

a seraph

Monument: Henge

Nation: Seraphim

Condition: Wild, Elaborate

Weather: Thunderstorm

Color: Light Brown

Keyword: Awesome

After strapping the pirium-wrapped bracers to your arms you tighten the pirium-toed boots on your feet to ensure they don’t fall off mid-flight. The company of seraphim surround you, caked in the light brown mud significant to their religious rituals. The lead escort gives you the nod to activate the levitation gear. Doing so, you rise with them into the night. Lightning flashes in the distance and the thunder soon follows, cracking and rumbling across the cloudy sky as if in recognition of the seraph who lies dead high above.

The funeral site is composed of a levitating henge of pirium pillars encircling the sacred space, blue electricity infrequently snapping between them. In the center hovers a pirium bier, bearing the body of the slain. All around, the attending seraphim don their pirium circlets, glowing brightly in the night, making the scene feel somewhat like a candle-light vigil in a human cathedral. When all have gathered an elaborate ritual begins, thunder rolling after each plea to the Strangers of Darkness. At last, all seraphim close their eyes and the pirium henge is lit up by a web of blue lightning. When you look again, the body of the deceased is gone.

:: Random NPC—Wyrtweard, Stranger of Darkness ::

Wyrtweard (“Plant-Guard”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/28/15

Race: Stranger (Minor God from Another World)

Age: Venerable

Gender: Male

Stature: Average

Physical: Short Neck

Outwardly: Cheerful

Inwardly: Domineering

Profession: Gardener

Magic: Avatar—Darkness

Catchphrase: “Hello! What exactly brings you to my neck of the woods?”

You turn the map around in your hands, convinced it has somehow changed while you weren’t looking. The canopy of the dense jungle seems to choke the light of day into a dull haze, preventing you from gaining your bearings. Resolving that staying put could not possibly be better than pressing on, you step over one of several identical patches of shaggy ink cap mushrooms, choose a direction, and start walking. Suddenly, you are met by an invisible wall. No, not a wall, but a crumpled—yet infinitely sturdy—old man whose head seems to have collapsed onto his shoulders with nothing in between. He was so well integrated with the shadows that you did not notice him before. “Hello!” he says with a light laugh, as if he were greeting you at the entrance to a festival on a sunny day. “What exactly brings you to my neck of the woods?”