To the south a thin section of land serves as an oasis to the harsh desert regions that surround it. A small range of mountains hold the Domneran river that winds its way down towards the flat plains. This river feeds a narrow stretch of land able to serve as an agricultural base. Enough so that a few cities have been able to establish themselves, feeding their people with simple crops and diligent fishermen that trawl the river for fish and soft shell crustaceans. Many of these cities have also been able to serve as a central trade stop between far empires and kingdoms separated by the great dessert, further bolstering these simple economies.

Far up to the river source, deep within the mountains, lies a narrow canyon which the Domneran river springs forth. The canyon (which is known for the river it contains) holds high cliffs etched through deep stone of the surrounding mountains. Legends tell that the mountains were formed when colossal giants fell in a great battle against the gods. Their flesh seeped into the ground, and their bones served as scaffolding for the mountains that arose.

These giant corpses imparted magic buried within the very core of the mountains. It is only over centuries as a river cut deep into the mountains, forming the Domneran canyon, has this magic been able to seep out of the stone. Far within the coiling canyon are pools of water, bubbling with mystical energy. The clay taken from these pools are rumored to be infused with arcane power. Some claim such power has medicinal properties, while others state the clay holds chaotic magical forces so potent they can bend iron.

It is a treacherous journey to the Domneran canyon. The climb is through perilous rock and savage creatures haunt the mountain range. This has kept many from traveling to the canyon, but high demand for the clay that lies on the silty bottom finds a few willing to try.

Some temples are willing to lead pilgrimages to the pools that lie along the canyon path. Such waters are claimed to have restorative powers, but these journeys are hazardous. Especially as gnoll tribes hold claim to much of the canyon for their own foul rituals. A wealthy noble, desperate to find a cure to an aliment might likely secure not only a temple guide, but also an armed group of adventurers, if they were so inclined.

Many wizards are willing to part with gold to obtain a pouch of the magical clay. If a group were willing to take the risk to reach the Domneran canyon, they likely could easily find a buyer for any clay they managed to gather.

The barren tundra of Kormerria is a harsh land with brutal cold winds that chill the bone. Few can traverse these expansive wilds and not succumb to the freezing climate. Somehow, roaming clans of humans and half-orcs can scratch out a meager living but only barely. It is the thorough knowledge of the lands, passed on by generation to generation that has allowed these races to live there. One such guarded secrets are the titan footsteps.

Scattered among the plains and at bases of the infrequent mountain ranges are magical locations, serving as an oasis to the surrounding brutal cold. These locales are remnants of a fairer time. A window into the past world where the lands grew wild with lush vegetation. These locations are a paler image of that time, but their power still pulses through the earth.

These oval areas are, at most, 100 yards across and hold land barren of snow and ice. Some even have small crops of grasses scattered among the rocky soil. Within these small regions, the wind and cold temperatures are lifted, and a gentle warmth can be felt as if from an invisible sun. These scattered pockets of land serve as a reprieve from the harsh tundra. Crossing the wintry terrain is an arduous task, but the journey can be slightly improved if one can rest within these locations.

Local inhabitants revere these areas as holy land. These sparse locations serve not only as a means for clans to roam the tundra plains hunting game, but also as final resting places for tribal elders. Their corpses are bound and buried upright, with small columns of rocks serving as a rudimentary tombstone. Tales from elders claim that long ago titans had walked the world, leaving footsteps in their wake. These footsteps still echo of primal magic, creating small reprieves in these cold lands.

Some alchemists say the stones from these areas are magical, and can be used to make powerful elixirs of protection. Although few prominent alchemists are willing to fund an expedition to retrieve such stones, they will gladly pay a hefty price for a pouch full.

More thieving adventurers might consider robbing the graves of clan elders that lay buried in many of the locations. It is known that fine jewels of obsidian and opals adorn the headdresses of many Kormerrian elders, as are ceremonial daggers and armor of great chieftains. Local tradition of Kormerrians dictate such prizes be buried with their kin. These tombs within a magical oasis might be a tempting find if seeking treasure.

Many local barbarian tribes see the disruption of such lands as blasphemous, and will inflict a quick death to the offender. Those that seek rest in the titan footsteps must be wary of any nomads they encounter. Despite good intentions of only using these lands for a night’s proper rest, prejudice against outsiders likely mean encounters with such barbarians will end in violence.

One of the marvels of the great city Coreldor is that it hosts the largest collection of books and documents of the western Empire. Operated by the mighty arcane guild within Coreldor, this huge stone building lies atop a bluff overlooking the city. The library hosts not only arcane books and ancient rituals, but also various historical documents and maps. It serves as a vast repository of knowledge, whether being map fragments of the lost Alondarra continent, a listing of intricate clan relations of the Kormerrian barbarians, to the unusual customs of Istrian Pict tribes.

Strict rules govern use of the library holdings and the arcane guild holds control with a tight fist. Automated constructs not only wander the rows of books to aid visitors, but larger automatons can occasionally be seen precariously clambering up spiral staircases, patrolling the various floors of the library for thieves. Magical wards also protect books from being removed from the library grounds.

Knowledge from the library holdings can be freely transcribed, but at a hefty price. The guild offers a staff of scribes which can transcribe magical texts into rituals. Membership to the guild will offer a substantial discount, and even an opportunity to study select texts within private tower laboratories on the library grounds. Yet entrance into the guild is a difficult procedure that is costly both in time and expense.

The arcane guild is very proactive in expanding its holdings. The library is well known for paying a fair price for historical texts and arcane tomes. They have even been willing to fund expeditions to ancient ruins to obtain literary treasures, or to produce accurate depictions and maps of lost civilizations. Many companies of adventurers have been known to contact the guild seeking employment for such expeditions.

Rival arcane guilds, even powerful lone wizards, are envious of the Coreldor arcane guild. They hold such a powerful resource of information within their folds. Stealthy attempts have been made to obtain a particular text, or secretly transcribe pages of documents. These thefts have always been stopped, but that has not dissuaded some brash rogues from trying.

There are whispers of a secret chamber within the library. Texts of immense power, some which describe the summoning of demons, or hold within their pages descriptions of great evil, are rumored to be kept there. Only the most trusted members of the arcane guild have entry to such a chamber. To obtain such books, scribe a few pages, or even read the contents of such documents would be a prize for any wizard. An adventurer that was steely enough to find this rumored chamber would likely have a fortune at their fingertips once inside.

The immense thick woods of Vayndaar serve as home to many elven clans. For centuries the woods have stood, the dense tangle of trees and dark earth only broken by an occasional bed of gray stone. It is these outcropping of stones that have served as simple trail through the woods. The four-day trek through the verdant woods would nearly be impossible due to the massed throngs of high trees.

It is said that the woods hold portals to other worlds. The barrier between other planes of existence wane with the setting of the sun. At midnight these walls fade, allowing wild creatures of the fey to cross over. Such portals however are jealously guarded by elves. Perhaps they fear other races mingling too frequently with their Eladrin cousins, a right only the elves feel is theirs alone.

The few human villages that border the woods, took up the habit of marking the lone trail with small piles of stones. The elves which inhabited the forest took these piles to be a peaceful sign, offering safe passage to those that remained along the path. Those that averted from this makeshift trail were watched however, for any transgressions they may inflict on elven kind.

This arrangement has stood for well over a century, and it is well known among the few merchants that travel the woods, safe passage can be found along the stone trail. Some villagers claim that more ferocious denizens of the forest avoid these stone piles. That somehow magic has infused in the small humble markers, such that they offer effective wards against beasts at night. It is a common saying that if one must rest within the woods, one should remain near these stones.

Still a few others state that the stones are not markings of man, but that of Eladrin hunters. During the longest day of the year, they claim barriers between worlds are at its weakest. During that brief night, Eladrin hunters and warriors in fine regalia slip into the woods of Vayndaar and hunt the beasts within. The piles of stone offer a simple marker of the path Eladrin take on this great hunt, ensuring they find their way back before the break of dawn.

It has been nearly a century since the dreaded wizard Al’Khameed and his undead war band was driven to the desert wastes. His last known deed was to have a monumental altar erected. It is rumored upon its completion, the dark magics he used to invigorate his undead followers had finally taken their toll. The altar was to become Al’khameed’s tomb. His undead servants prepared his corpse, and with his great tome of dark magic, sealed Al’Khameed deep within its walls.

The desert now has an even harsher climate. Sandstorms erupt frequently. Traversing the expansive dunes is a four day trek, but still more than a week quicker than other routes around it. Even alternate routes that skirt around the desert are not without dangers, as the high mountains that border the desert to the north and south are plagued with vile creatures and goblin tribes.

As such, many merchants are willing to drive caravans through the dry land. The journey is taxing on both animal and man. Even with ample supplies of water, many beasts expire due to exhaustion. Rest at night offers little reprieve from the blazing sun during the day, as the land itself seems to draw the vitality out of living creatures. In fact, many older generations of villages which border the desert claim of its slow expansion. That in nearly two decades, the desert has crawled into the surrounding plains, choking the tall grasses under shifting sands.

Despite the harsh conditions of the desert, gnoll raiders have appeared over the years. The fat trade caravans crossing the dunes proved to be too tempting a prize for the gnolls. Some even have said that these evil creatures have managed to infiltrate the tomb of Al’Khameed, and use it as a base to conduct their raids into neighboring lands.

But others claim the final resting spot of the dreaded necromancer is too evil. Nothing living can survive on the grounds of that dark tomb. Some whisper that his undead minions still shuffle about guarding their master’s remains. With the desire to pilfer the tomb, especially the famed tome of dark magic, rival wizards have sought out Al’Khameed’s tomb only to never return from the desert wastes. What became of them, no one can say.

Hearty adventurers willing to offer their swords can easily find work from merchants wishing to make the journey across the desert. Those practiced in the magical arts which can make the journey more comfortable are in even more demand. However, those that have such skills typically find the beneficial effects of such magics greatly reduced once they are deep within the desert.

Rampaging gnolls, typically attacking caravans, have taken up to raiding neighboring villages. Their attacks have been more frequent and vicious over the years. Even more brutal is the increasing incidence of slaves being taken in such raids. Many noblemen and wealthy merchants have had loved ones taken in such manner. Efforts to hunt down the evil nomads have had limited success. But many nobles are always eager to pay trustworthy parties willing to put gnoll skum to the sword.

The tomb of Al’Khameed itself, and its rumored wealth, still is the desire of many. Especially those seeking to obtain artifacts and rituals of arcane power. Al’Khameed’s possessions must still be within the walls of the tomb. Many wizards would quickly fund an expedition of this sort to retrieve such treasures, but unwilling to make such a risky venture by themselves.

If it were not for being situated at a hub of roads, it is likely the great port city of Rogalarr would never have been established as a popular sea trade route. The coast to the north is a jagged row of dark stone with swift currents. Fortunately the coastline to the south is easier sailing.

Yet the north sea-trade is more profitable, so much so that the risk to navigate through the dangerous shoals is worthwhile. Only the most experienced of captains can prevent their ships from running aground. While many captains of lesser skill commonly have their ships smashed against the coastline, or worse, dragged under and out to the vast sea.

Hence over the years, ruined husks of ships litter the northern coastline. The waters likely hide more that have sunk to the bottom. Most ships manage to have some of their cargo recovered before thieving folk picked the wrecks clean. Still many rumors swirl about at local taverns of lost treasure beneath the waves, or of some arcane cargo never quite found in those vessels run aground against the formidable shoreline.

Yet even more dark tales are uttered when rum flows freely. Some claim that vile humanoids live under the sea, and call about spirits of old gods to dash the ships of men against the rocky coast. These evil beings then swarm over the wrecks, stealing away survivors and anything else they can carry. All being offerings to the dark sea god they worship.

A hearty band of adventurers might find employment from a merchant, seeking to recover goods from a recent wreck. Or possibly secure such a wreck, while a crew of laborers could be massed to unload it. As many thieving folk would find the opportunity hard to pass with such wealth being readily available, even if the location were rather treacherous to reach.

More ambitious explorers might seek to recover treasure lost to the sea. A local fisherman has found a wreck, and seeks to partner with willing heroes. Some of a more perceptive lot might find the request odd. Is the fisherman really aligned with a thieves guild? Would brigands be ready to strike once any treasure is recovered?

Are the dark tales true? Is the northern coast plagued by Sahuagin that prey on shipwrecks? Or do these dark creatures call forth storms and waves to destroy vessels through black rituals?

The nomadic people of Kashgor are known for their fine horsemanship, hunting skills, and exotic foods. Their home is the rolling plains ripe with game and wild spices. Monthly various tribes converge to sell their wares, tell tales, and resolve any tribal issues. A temporary city arises of tents and long rows of wood-framed stalls. Throngs of people move about clamoring to sell goods typically through barter. In no more than a week the people scatter, leaving nothing behind, and the following month they congregate again in a different location.

Kashgor nomads also collect many exotic spices and dried flowers which are prized for their medicinal and arcane properties. As such many merchants from ‘civilized’ regions will seek to purchase what they can, and sell what little manufactured goods the Kashgorians desire. Deals are struck through a word and clasping of hands, but negotiations can be difficult. Kashgor nomads are proud people, quick to take offense, and demand respect of their culture and ways.

– Kashgorians will honor deals made with outsiders, but travel through their region can be dangerous. Adventurers are typically sought to offer protection to, and from, the bazaar.

– The bazaar also becomes a center for judicial matters and political bickering among tribes. It is not uncommon for outsiders to become embroiled in Kashgor affairs, typically causing some slight to a tribal leader. On rarer occasions the tribes may seek a group of outsiders to be arbitrators in a dispute (with some parties willing to secretly offer monetary ‘incentives’ to obtain a favorable ruling).

– It is rumored that some dishonorable Kashgor tribes engage in slavery. Hostages are commonly obtained in raids against rival tribes. Typically these hostages are used to negotiate for political favors against other tribes, being returned once a deal is struck. However, some whisper that a few tribes willingly sell slaves to merchants of the other lands, however unsavory most Kashgorians would find such a practice.

As something of a fun series of posts, I’ll try to periodically throw out some (hopefully) adventure inspiring locales. Lately between wandering the Korean countryside and enjoying the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (sigh… my geekness never ends…yes, I enjoy comics too), I’ve been motivated to try this creative exercise. So every two weeks or so, I hope to produce some interesting fantasy location, ripe with a few ideas for adventure.

The main temple lies in the shadow of a large mountain face. A small path precariously winds upwards towards its summit. Nestled in a slight recess is an image of an unknown god of old. Many of the commoners revere this idol, despite the wishes of the religious leaders in the temple.

Small depressions are scattered around the idol. These hollows in the mountain face are used to hold offerings. Copper coins are commonly placed there. But it is not uncommon for some to leave something of greater value if a strong blessing is particularly desired.

It is rumored that coins are taken up by the old god, a belief reinforced by the continual presence of a few empty holes. Do some villagers secretly pilfer the offerings made by others?

The continual reverence, and more importantly the offer of coin, chafes the religious leaders of the temple. They have avoided any decree towards the villagers stopping their practice. Quite possibly a group of adventurers could covertly deface the idol (and get a suitable reward from the temple)?

What does the idol represent? Is it a primordial god worshiped primarily by animal humanoids? Is this really a revered god found by a nomadic tribe of shifters? Such the presence of a temple below the idol would likely be an affront to their god. The shifter tribe may seek to remove such a temple by force if necessary.