A codex, of sorts; most information originally created/supplied by Cade.

Dragons throughout the history of Palenthos are a strange occurrence. For the most part, it seems to all historians trying to piece together the lost histories of Palenthos that dragons have existed from the very beginning. But, presently things have changed dramatically from the long forgotten past.

The dragons which do exist are terrible monstrosities. These creatures, at the very mention of their name, strikes fear into the hearts of even the most stalwart paladin. I have often found myself wondering why such beings should exist, but then I think of a world without them and that truly is a world that I would not want to live.

Truth be told, dragons are a nuisance of great proportions. Their blight destroys the lands which surrounds them and warps the creatures which live in those lands into beings of nightmares. The legend of their creation is a marvel and I take pride in the fact that I actually found a complete book titled "The Wyrmsaga" from the library in Sentinel and notes tucked into the pages from a man simply named Holden, who studied these great beasts.

More than mere legend and far from just "wyrms", some dragons in ages past have been regarded as gods by the races of Palenthos. Indeed, their power is so awesome that entire civilizations have been reduced to rubble, or blighted, by the will and actions of the dragons. Thankfully, these beings are few but, no matter how many are killed their numbers seem to never decrease. As it is, the worship of these beings is limited entirely to the island of Bengyilo, located in the Red Seas near Dumathoin, where the great Lord of the Dragons, the dark dragon Lord Suemidius (soo-mi-dee-us), the Black Scale, reigns supreme. He is also called Salistalikathis (sall-iss-ta-li-kath-iss) in the Elven tongue which translates to "The Sorrow Wind" and Thruuncabr (throon-cah-ber) in the Dwarven language which means "Furious Death". He is hailed as The Father of All Dragons and the oldest of gods; his following state that all lesser dragons are his spawn and once I found information giving some truth to this statement.

If I recall, the histories state that long ago Suemidius created spawn in his image so that he might have more of his great kind to follow in his footsteps. For many centuries these dragons lived with him and grew in strength. But then, they rebelled against their great father and he was forced to consume them. A very small number of them escaped and went into hiding and Suemidius searched for them for ages until finally giving up the search and going back to his Island. As time passed, and the spawn grew stronger, they eventually came forth to claim lands for their own. As each of them grew stronger, and began to battle each other, Suemidius came and claimed them in their battles. Eventually the remaining dragons made a pact to band together if ever Suemidius came after them again. To this day, this pact remains.

Being in my trade, I have run into many who have claimed that they have occurrences involving dragons. Most of them are undoubtedly false but a few of them bear a shred of truth which I can’t deny. Personally, I have yet to experience the full awesome power of a dragon, however I have seen a dragon several times. It was the very dragon in the abovementioned statement, Lord Suemidius – or at least I believed so- that was suddenly winging through the clouds over the northern peaks of the Shard Run. Having heard his roar echoing throughout the peaks, freezing my heart with sheer terror and touching my soul in ways that no creature has before, I can now tell the difference between those who have encountered a dragon and one of the many creatures confused for one.

For over a thousand years the eastern main lands has lived with the dragon’s covetous eye upon them, yet the dragon’s patience outlasts the lives of all. He only grows stronger as time goes by, twisting his islands into a nightmare by his very presence. The land which he has claimed was once a strong city state. But, in the histories, it shows that thousands upon thousands of years ago, during the War of Magic, Suemidius came to Bengyilo when they were already weakened from the long war at hand. Where he laired previously, no one knows. Some believe he came from the far reaches of the desert of Khu’Mahrin, some theories even believe that he might have come from the hells themselves, but none of these theories have ever been proven. But, within several days he had complete control of the island and within twelve years a huge black monolith of a tower was erected and it is said that he soon moved in.

Several years ago, I took the time to visit Bengyilo, and the stories were proven true. It was a wasteland of warped sickened trees, lifeless yet growing into gnarled forms of blackened bark. Plants were hideous colors and grew from ooze and muck. Water flowed like sap and was dark colored and stagnant, reeking of poisons and filth. Those that attempted to live there had farmsteads, but those crops that managed to grow were twisted and bloated, with sickening colors. And the closer we came to the dragon’s obsidian fortress on the dark mountain, Fentrix Spire, the worse the blight became. Even the inhabitants of the land were affected by the years of blight and sickness. The residents were twisted, looking like they were only half created, and most were mindless. The creatures that lived there, like cattle and fowl, were so horribly ravaged that they became rabid and feral. Other creatures as well, their original species completely undeterminable, roamed the land. The blight was so complete, so thorough that anything that lived here would be consumed.





But, evil and devastating as it is, blight is not always easily detected. In fact, most of the denizens living in the dark cities pass for normal, at least in the physical sense. It is only those who live dangerously close to the dragon’s lair that are truly twisted and sundered. Still, the blight seems to have seeped into their minds, for those who live in those dark cities are often twisted and cruel, prone to malice and spite. And they all, each and every last one, speak with as terrified yet awestruck fanatics in reverence of their deity and master, the black-scaled Lord Suemidius.

Aside from the dark lord of dragon-kind, his offspring have made names for themselves over the centuries. From my studies, I have discovered that, originally, ten dragons escaped consumption by their father (see below). They hid beneath the earth for countless years until finally resurfacing. They each in turn found places to settle and with their draconic might seized control with little effort. However, this sometimes attracted the attention of their father, who in turn would attempt to defeat them for their essence shards, to increase his power. Sometimes, as mentioned above, fights would ensue between the "siblings" and the effects of their battles were brutal to the surrounding lands. In time, the six last remaining dragons made a pact never to fight again should their father return. While this pact still stands, there have been occasions when fights have broken out.

As I mentioned before, I have seen the terrible effects of the dragon-blight, I have felt the absolute fear that emanated from these great beings; but never have I seen their terrible breath. I have read about the effects, the immense gouts of fire and rolling clouds of acidic fog, sent forth from these beasts; flame and fog that have melted flesh and sinew, seared weapons and armor, even devastated cites and fleets of ships. There have been many accounts through history which dictate that the dragon’s breath has played a role in a war or fall of a great city. Why, one account comes to mind, during the Great War. Armies of Githyanki and human forces from Besh fought on the plains of Dakulth. It was a terrible clash, but a fight that would never finish, for the great umber, Hellscream, swooped down and let loose his terrible breath upon the sorry soldiers. He covered the entire filed of battle, letting no one escape and for three hours carried on his assault. When the fog and smoke cleared, all that remained was a charred field that would never grow plant life again and ash blowing in the wind. It is said in the histories that a group of scouts from Hanlit came and carried off any survivors they could find. It is said that those who survived "had terrible mustard colored blisters, their eyes wee melted shut and a terrible sucking noise could be heard every time they drew breath, their bodies were mangled beyond recognition". A field medic’ report stated "How can we fight an army of maniacal warriors when a dragon comes to have fun at our own expense. I wish that the councils would see that the true enemies are those winged terrors that fly through the sky."

An excerpt taken from ‘Monsters of Fable and Fiction: A compilation of dread beasts from far and wide" by Fender Fizzlewug, Gatecrasher and Adventurer

The Gnomes of the Khu'mahrin, my people, are some of the most productive in the world. Their colleges of mathematics and sciences are world renowned, as is their academies for magical study, but it is a far cry from their advances in science and math.

Al Mecha is proof of this. Al Mecha is a giant city state located along the south western coastline of the Khu'Mahrin desert. Situated alone a small canyon that runs from the high cliff wall coast line to nearly three miles inland, this city has far surpassed any and all advancements made by any of the other races. Steamworks, clockworks, all created and perfected here. The city is a moving wonder. On Ground level, the city has 5 large metallic ziguarat like structures that tower some thirteen hundred feet into the sky, and are almost as wide, if not wider at their base. Amongst these towering giants are other large buildings but also a scattering of other buildings, ranging from homes to hospitals, to in city quarries and scrapyards.

Beneath the surface is the city's Undercity. This vast cavernous creation spans thousands of feet underground. Light sources are filtered in and reflected from surface lights or electric lanterns, so that there is no pollutants clogging the air under ground. Here, thousands of gnomes, Dwarves, and humans alike work tirelessly, creating layered cities and mining out precious resources. In the vast recesses of the earth, many of the smiths have set up their forges, and under the guidance of the Orestone Order, they have harnessed the strengths of the earth within to strengthen their forges and creations alike.

Lining the walls of the vast canyon, in which sea waters spill into, is the Vector District. These platforms stretch, sometimes across the great eight hundred feet gap to form bridges, but mostly handing off the walls of the great crevasse, some fifteen hundred feet deep. Here on these massive hanging platforms are crafted the famous and expensive Gnomish Steamcrafts and Cogships. Some are aquatic vessels, some subterranean, some are even submersible vessels, but the most famous of them all are the gnomish airships. These ships are capable of traveling great distances high in the air, faster than even the sleekest elven interceptor with the best wind at it's sails. Armored and armed, these ships serve as the spearhead of the gnomish air force.

Along the cliffs which stretch down to the enclosed bay near the canyon opening is the Residential District. This area is by far the most breathtaking in all the city; hanging gardens, homes strewn about the winding paths that lead down the cliff face, hanging platforms of stone with homes and manicured gardens and lawns stretch as far down as the eye can see. These homes are tended to and guarded by Mechanosuit soldiers and two ever present Airships that watch from some distance off. This area has been shielded at the top and bottom by sound dampening walls, virtually eliminating all other sounds from the city above and below, making it as peaceful as a seaside town.

In the bay below is the Dock District. Built on three-layered platforms that encircle the rock walls of the bay, here all of the major trade comes in and out of the city. It is well guarded by a constructed rock wall with guard towers and soldiers patrolling it's length. here, airships can be docked and refueled, oceanic and even submersible ships are docked and resupplied. Below the waters is the truly magnificent part of the bay. The Al Mecha Undercity stretches down even to here where an oceanic city has been built into the walls of the rock below the surface. It is a magnificent sight to behold, the lights and craft and tubes stretching along the ocean floor. And, it's most marvelous sight is the great glass viewing dome, some three hundred feet in diameter, that sticks up form the ocean floor. From inside this dome you can view the oceanic flora and fauna and even the traffic of ships as they pass overhead and around you.

The city itself, as a whole, has numerous other wonders. It's fast moving clockwork railcar system which networks the city and Undercity alike. The moving walkways for faster travel through districts. Hydraulic platforms which raise and lower among the levels. The great Mechanowork wall which surrounds the upper city. There's so many things it'd be hard to describe in this one chapter, so I suggest, when out Khu'Mahrin way, you stop by my hometown and have a cup of Cogsworth Butter Beer and have a plate of Fizzlewug quiche. And, see it all while you're there, don't miss a thing. you'll regret it!

(An excerpt from Fender Fizzlewug's Khu'Mahrin - A Golden Landscape)
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:00, Fri 11 Feb 2011.

The elves are an enigma to the rest of the world’s races. Nearly eternal, their long lives mock the short spans of time the rest of the world’s races spend on this world, and seemingly stoic to the rest of the world’s business. The elves are the pinnacle of being; having had achievements and advancements that the rest of the world only dream of. Their histories are rich with wonder and success, and dark with shortcomings and self defeats. They were once whole, one race as their histories state, but through time and war, infighting broke them apart and we now have the wondrous species that reside today. Truth be told, I’d have them no other way, for one race of elf could never surpass what the multiple races have accomplished on their long time on this world. Tirisel, their homeland is home to the Grey, Wood, and high elf species. All three work in unity on this great island. They have bonded as brothers and sisters working in union with nature and magic, perfecting their crafts as patient as a clock, having nearly all the time in the world to do so.

Tirisel itself is breathtaking to behold. Like a giant knife, defiant and strong, this mountain juts from the sea. It’s the highest singular mountain in the world, boasting a massive forty one thousand six hundred twelve feet at it’s peak. The island it sits upon is massive as well, for it’s base is nearly sixty thousand feet in diameter, from that base are a few miles to it’s shorelines, which is either high reaching cliff faces or calm coastline beaches and coves. Almost all of Tirisel is covered in vast, thick drachwood forests. Drachwoods can dwarf a sequoia, being almost three times as wide around and nearly one and half times as tall. The tops of these great trees from a canopy over the majority of the island, but they don’t choke the land below. Truly a work of nature’s grandeur, in amongst these trees are an assortment of other species of trees, plant-life and a thick carpet of deep green grasses. Ashwoods, yews, maples, pines, oaks, elms, willows, birches, cedars, of all kinds can be found in different areas of these forest, and with the thick canopy above, the atmosphere is almost like nature’s blanket; hazy and warm like a soft blanket. The air is surprisingly clean and clear, smelling like a fresh spring breeze in all sorts of weather. Great waterfalls roll down the great mountain into majestic rivers that cut through the landscapes like giant arteries, carrying cool clear water throughout the land. Some of the rarest plants can be found throughout these vast forests, as if the elves never missed as single plant. And, where no trees stand, great fields of green, like a patchwork quilt, stretch about the land, thick with crops and orchards. Even in the cold reaches of Shearwind Span; an area between the lower slopes and the summit, blocked by a natural jutting of rock, life flourishes. Drachwoods spring up even here, though not as clustered. Rare and exotic plants that can grow only in the bleakest of conditions are abundant here. Though the snow rages, life continues to work in amazing ways. And, beyond the highest reaches of Shearwind is the summit, green and clear like a mid-summer’s day. Lush green grasses of the deepest green cover the ground, and thick patches of wildflowers bloom like nature’s carpets throughout. Great trees, of the rarest species, such as lightwood, ironroot, dark wood and glowferns grow here. The great grove of the Circle of Thorn is here, full of the most verdant plant-life.

Her cities are nothing to cough at either. Though few, these cities are all vast, and each and everyone was created in harmony with nature. The alrges of drachwoods serve as the foundations for the great tree cities. Shaped and formed by the warders of the Thorn, no wood was cut to form the homes which sit in her branches and not plane smoothed her surfaces. Each one was shaped by the druids and warders to allow the trees to grow and flourish in peace. Even the cities of stone are a marvel of magic. Walls and structures shaped by the weave and not the mason’s tool. Great statures formed of stone deep from the earth, pulled to the surface by the weave. So great is the elves attunement with nature herself that each structure is warm with the strength of the earth itself. It’s as if each city were a living entity of it’s own right, and the elves will never deny that claim.

Past these marvels are the marvels of it’s inhabitants. No, not the elves, the animals indigenous to Tirisel. The great dire animals which dwell in her reaches live in harmony with the elven race, and the elves respect their place in nature. Some even serve, willingly, as guardians in some cities and great cites across the lands. These majestic beasts are tended to by the elves, cared for like their own people. Some even have earned names of their own for their great deeds in service to the land and the elves. Besides these great beasts, though, are other rare species of animals. The phoera and the vazylka for example; birds which could have descended from the phoenix itself, for they share similar traits. Both are perpetual; when they die, their bodies either burn or freeze and shatter, and a new egg is in it’s place. From that egg hatches a new phoera or vazylka, allowing them to self perpetuate their species. It is said that the tears of these beasts can cure any ailment, heal any wound, and to even see one in nature is a privilege and honor. Though they live in Tirisel, they are rare. Also, the great moor cat, or sinjuen (si-nu-wen) dwell within the reaches of the Denmoors and Shearwind. These cats can grow nearly as big as a dire tiger, and their much more dangerous. Able to blend in with their surroundings so perfectly, and be as silent as a calm night, these beasts are the ultimate predators. A single sinjuen is able to kill a fully developed roc on it’s own. They are extremely intelligent, to almost problem solving ability. A pack of sinjuen can be very dangerous indeed when pursuing a quarry.

The elves that live in Tirisel are broken into three ‘faction’ so to speak, though they are not at ends with one another. The gray, wood, and high elves are three separate races and within each are a ‘pecking order’. This is displayed in family, each family is as important as the next, though the ones at the top truly have the power. Each are ranked and recognized by that standing, the highest most having seat on the ruling council, which acts as a parliament to handle all political business within. Also, on this council, are representatives of the highest order of mages, druids and soldiers, and they could be of any house, but never a representative of the three races; an elf, once on the council, can only speak for one ‘faction’. The ruler of the elves is the high king. His family is one of the purest blood, of the oldest families, having connections to the gray, wood, and high elf factions. This king is impartial on the council, but his word is final in any argument or debate. The council of elves meets once every month on the fourth day of each month, to discuss all business, from trade relations to petty squabbles among the houses, to even courtship rights within families. Every decision is made with the elves’ best interests in mind. Also, the elves discuss world business; they themselves taking a position of almost ’policing’ the races, much as the Crimson Blades have taken. They themselves have many relations with many countries and trade their wares with almost everyone. Their major exports are ships, weapons and armor, though expensive, and herbs, crops of all kinds and fabrics.

(Taken from Boreas Holden’s acclaimed ‘The Greatest Races’)

There is but one land that could spark the fires of inspiration in my heart. Only one land, upon the mentioning of it's very name, could render me entranced with visions of clean rolling hills of green and groves of cherry trees raining petals down like snow soflty falling in winter. That land is Inushan, there is no other like it. This land of feudal overlords and ancient traditions is unlike any of the other majorly human populated countries. Inushan is a veritable paradise, a land of learning and study and at the same time a land where perfection of the art of honorable war is almost as important as breathing, and even more importantly, a land where intrigue and subterfuge are virtually nonexistent.

Inushan's landscape is magnificent to take in; breathtaking colors mix together to form almost a masterpiece of the finest painter. Waters run cool and clear, fields are lush and thick with tall grasses, forests of bamboo sprout about the moors and near the shores of great lakes like walls of green poles. Groves of cherry trees are tended to with delicate hands across the land; these plants are viewed as sacred, and it is said in an ancient journal that "a man could spend his entire life looking for a perfect cherry blossom and it would not be a wasted life."

Inushan is made up of several large islands and clusters of smaller ones strung down to form an archipeligo. It has many mountains and high reaching platteaus creseted with thick jungle like forests, the climate of these zone are near taiga and in someplaces, close to rain forest tempratures. in the hig reaching peaks of the mountains, the air cools and there is snow sometimes year round. Rain falls are common place across most of the landscape, and the people have adjusted to this common and sometimes long lasting weather phenominon.

The primary crops of Inushan consist of rice, soy, mushrooms, fish, spices of all kinds, silks and rare metals, weapons and armor of the higest quality and precious metals and gems. Silk, spices, metals and fish are their primary products, yielding the more than most counties can. Their weapons ans smithing techniques are coveted and envied by almost everyone. Most crafters won't sell their products or teach their skills to any outsider but those that do sell for inflated prices.



In Inushan the warrior class is known as samurai, also called bushi (hence bushido). They formed a class in and of themselves during the third dynasty of Inushan some two thousand years ago. They emerged from the provinces of Inushan to become the ruling class.

The samurai are fighting men, skilled in the martial arts. Samurai have extensive skills in the use of the bow and arrow and the sword. They could just as likely kill you with their bare hands. Samurai are also great horsemen.

These warriors are men who live by Bushido; it is their way of life. The samurai's loyalty to the emperor and his overlord, or daimyo, is unsurpassed. They are trustworthy and honest. They live frugal lives with no interest in riches and material things, but rather they are interested in honor and pride. They are men of true valor. Samurai have no fear of death. They would enter any battle no matter the odds. To die in battle would only bring honor to one's family and one's lord.

Samurai usually would rather fight alone, one on one. In battle a samurai would call out his family name, rank and accomplishments. Then he would seek out an opponent with similar rank and do battle. When the samurai has killed his opponent he severs his head. After battle he takes the heads of his enemies back to show proof of his victory. Heads of generals and those of high ranks were transported back to the capital and displayed for the officials and others. The only way out for a defeated samurai ss death or ritual suicide: seppuku.

Seppuku--or disembowelment or hara-kiri (belly slicing)--is when a samurai stabs a knife into his abdomen and literally disembowels himself by cutting out his guts.  After the samurai disembowels himself another samurai, usually a kinsman or friend, slices his head off. This form of suicide is "performed under various circumstances: to avoid capture in battle, which the samurai did not believe to be dishonorable and degrading, but generally bad policy; to atone for a misdeed or unworthy act; and perhaps most interestingly, to admonish one's lord" . A samurai would rather kill himself than bring shame and disgrace to his family name and his lord. This is considered an act of true honor.

Bushido, literally translated "Way of the Warrior," developed in Inushan between the Akodo dynasty (some two thousand years ago). It is a code and way of life for Samurai, a class of warriors similar to the knights of besh and Dumahtoin. It was influenced by two of the major philosophical practices, two different schools of thought of those periods. Bushido is not unlike the chivalry and codes of the Besh knights. "It puts emphasis on loyalty, self sacrifice, justice, sense of shame, refined manners, purity, modesty, frugality, martial spirit, honor and affection."

Bushido gets its relationship to danger and death. The samurai do not fear death because they believe as their philosophy teaches, after death one will be reincarnated and may live another life once again. The samurai are warriors from the time they become samurai until their death; they have no fear of danger. Through Taozing, a school of philosophy, one can reach the ultimate "absolute." Taozing meditation teaches one to focus and reach a level of thought words cannot describe. Taozing teaches one to "know thyself" and do not to limit yourself. Samurai use this as a tool to drive out fear, unsteadiness and ultimately mistakes. These things could get him killed.

Fojutoism, another Inushan doctrine, gives Bushido its loyalty and patriotism. Fojutoism includes ancestor-worship which makes the Imperial family the fountain-head of the whole nation. It awards the emperor a god-like reverence. He is the embodiment of Heaven on earth. With such loyalty, the samurai pledge themselves to the emperor and their daimyo or feudal landlords, higher ranking samurai. Fojutoism also provides the backbone for patriotism to their country, Inushan. They believe the land is not merely there for their needs, "it is the sacred abode to the gods, the spirits of their forefathers." The land is cared for, protected and nurtured through an intense patriotism.

Fentoism gives Bushido its beliefs in relationships with the human world, their environment and family. Fentoism's stress on the five moral relations between master and servant, father and son, husband and wife, older and younger brother, and friend and friend, are what the samurai follow. However, the samurai disagreed strongly with many of the writings of Fentoju. They believed that man should not sit and read books all day, nor shall he write poems all day, for an intellectual specialist was considered to be a machine. Instead, Bushido believes man and the universe were made to be alike in both the spirit and ethics.

Along with these virtues, Bushido also holds justice, benevolence, love, sincerity, honesty, and self-control in utmost respect. Justice is one of the main factors in the code of the samurai. Crooked ways and unjust actions are thought to be lowly and inhumane. Love and benevolence were supreme virtues and princely acts. Samurai follow a specific etiquette in every day life as well as in war. Sincerity and honesty are as valued as their lives. Bushi no ichi-gon, or "the word of a samurai," transcends a pact of complete faithfulness and trust. With such pacts there is no need for a written pledge; it is thought beneath one's dignity. The samurai also needs self-control and stoicism to be fully honored. He shows no sign of pain or joy. He endures all within--no groans, no crying. He holds a calmness of behavior and composure of the mind neither of which should be bothered by passion of any kind. He ss a true and complete warrior.

These factors which make up Bushido were few and simple. Though simple, Bushido created a way of life that was to nourish a nation through its most troubling times, through civil wars, despair and uncertainty. "The wholesome unsophisticated nature of our warrior ancestors derived ample food for their spirit from a sheaf of commonplace and fragmentary teachings, gleaned as it were on the highways and byways of ancient thought, and, stimulated by the demands of the age formed from these gleanings a new and unique way of life."

(An excerpt from the acclaimed "Land of Silk and Steel" by acclaimed historian Sir Malcolm Von Boddicter)

There are places where the fabric of the world has worn thin, where shadows are deeper and move of their own accord. People who enter these "thin lands" do not always make it out, and if they do, they are often changed. Strange things wander out of the thin lands. The Crimson Blades maintain outposts near all known thin lands, and usually patrol the borders. The lands are not large, usually only a few miles in diameter. Legend has it that these places are the footprints of a dark and shadowy god, though other stories say that the thin lands are spots where the gods wept over the destruction caused by the Great War.