Searching the Desert is a piece of fiction for Moüd: The City of Bones, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

“I really don’t think this was such a good idea Dranolf,” yelled Feyla through the howling wind and blowing sand.

“You worry too much,” rumbled the Arasta dwarf in reply. “It’s just a mild blow, that’s all.” The wind howled again, sending particles of sand flying through the air with a force capable of scrubbing skin from bones.

“Not all of us grew in the desert!” shouted Feyla in return. “And I doubt anyone else would categorise this sandstorm as ‘mild’!”

The two had set out from Moüd earlier into the sands of the Trackless Quarter, not to cross it but to search the desert itself. They’d stumbled across something in the Dead Market in the city that looked as if it dated back to before the city now known as Moüd was overwhelmed by the necromantic energies drawn from the Prim.

It seemed clear that the vendor didn’t know what they had for sale. It wasn’t a trinket as would normally be found in the market, but it lacked any noticeable magical energy to it. The seller likely thought it was junk, a piece of stone with some curious markings.

The thing was definitely a piece of stone with curious markings, but neither Feyla nor Dranolf thought it was junk. They recognised some of the symbols and, from what they could tell, it looked like it might be a map from Moüd’s history.

That was why they were in the desert, following the map. It seemed they were right, and the stone was a map, perhaps to something of value from that age. They should have been more careful in checking the weather before setting out, though Dranolf was indeed raised in the desert and felt the storm was not natural.

“We’re going to have to seek shelter soon!” Feyla yelled at the dwarf.

“You’re likely right,” was the reply.

Hunching through the sandstorm, protected from its worst effects by plenty of wrappings, the pair suddenly stumbled across a hollow in the sand, a hollow with a black opening in one side. The opening was ringed with stone on which symbols had been carved.

“Could it be…” asked Feyla.

“Yes,” replied Dranolf, “I think it is. The storm has brought us to what we were looking for.” A slight shudder passed through his frame; it still felt unnatural. Heading for the opening, the two drew torches from their supplies and lit them, going in.

Behind them, something stirred in the sand.

Send in The Dogs is a piece of fiction from Guilds of Sundara, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

Selene Troyas sat at her elegant desk, the sun splashing across her study and the sound of birdsong coming in through the open window. Her short bob of dark hair gleamed in the soft light, and the white jerkin she wore practically shone, contrasting with the dark, whipcord breeches and riding boots that hugged her legs. Her quill scratched over a letter, her neat, particular handwriting looping across the page in perfect lines as she made a final offer on a parcel of ground east of the town of Kask. There were holdouts who were waiting to see just how badly the Landers Guild wanted their patch, and Selene was making it very clear that if this price did not satisfy, then she would move onto other methods.

A knock at the door drew Selene’s gaze. Iris withered under the house mistress’s look, and Selene took a moment to compose her face. She offered a smile, and carefully set her quill aside. It was a mark of how frustrating the acquisition near the small town had proven that she was letting her emotions show on her face.

“What is it, Iris?” Selene asked.

“The… representative you sent for has arrived,” Iris said hesitantly.

“Send him in,” the mistress of the estate said.

“Do you wish to meet with him alone, miss?” Iris asked. Selene pursed her lips. Iris wasn’t usually so skittish.

“Yes,” Selene said, sprinkling a handful of writing sand over the ink to ensure it dried quickly. She held the letter out to Iris. “Now take this to Duncan. Tell him to send the redtail to deliver it.”

“Yes ma’am,” Iris said, taking the paper and departing the room. Selene crossed her legs, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. Heavy footsteps entered her outer chamber, and a moment later a figure stepped through her study door.

He was rangy and rugged, dressed in an oilskin duster with a ragged rain cape that bore the scars of fire and blade alike. Crossed weapon belts hung from his hips; a brace of daggers on one side, and sloshing, alchemical concoctions on the other. A wide-brimmed hat shaded his face, but it did nothing to hide the three days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks, nor the brand on the side of his neck. What most struck her, though, was the smell of the man; a mix of horse sweat, rich forests and earth. When he met her gaze, she saw that one of his eyes was a deep, dark brown. The other was a golden yellow that caught the light, and glimmered.

Now she understood why Iris had been so nervous about their visitor.

“You sent for me,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.

“If you are the representative of the Manhunters Guild, then yes, I did,” Selene said, her voice cool, and steady.

The figure tucked his fingers behind the edge of his coat, and pulled it back. Resting on his hip was a gleaming guild seal; a pair of manacles beneath a headsman’s sword. He pulled his coat back over the badge, and folded his hands in front of him.

“Very well,” Selene said. “Do you have a name?”

“Trask,” he said.

“The job I have is a sensitive matter that needs to be handled with the utmost discretion,” Selene said, pursing her lips slightly. “Some people are making… trouble near one of my guild’s holdings.”

“What kind of trouble?” Trask asked.

Selene opened the shallow, central drawer of her desk, and took out a series of letters. She offered them to the bounty hunter, who read through them carefully. Selene withdrew a smoking taper from a box on the corner of her desk. She placed one end in her mouth, leaned over to the oil lamp where it hung on a chain, and lit the other end. Fragrant herb smoke filled the air as she watched the manhunter. After several silent moments he unceremoniously dropped the letters on her desk.

“Guild will expect double the normal fee for this,” he said.

“Oh?” Selene said, her voice as cool as winter dew. “And why is that?”

“You want us to hunt down a runaway, maybe deal with bandits, that’s one thing,” Trask said. He tapped the letters with his index finger. “That ain’t what this is, and we both know it.”

“And what is this, exactly?” Selene asked.

“Landers Guild doesn’t appoint people who spook easy,” Trask said. “And they don’t send their governors out without competent guards. You lost three governors in as many months over this little patch of ground. Every one of them sent you back a report saying something different was wrong with the land. Every one of them resigned. The ink is crooked, and smeared, which tells me their hands were shaking. There’s drops of blood staining the bottom of the third letter.”

The manhunter folded his arms over his thick chest, and focused his mismatched eyes on Selene. There was something unnerving in that gaze. It was as if he could see straight through to the core of her thoughts, and read the secrets written on her soul. She took another drag on her taper, and let the smoke trickle out from her nose.

“Your point?” Selene asked. Trask stepped closer, and planted his scarred knuckles on her desk, lowering his face until he was eye-level with her.

“Somebody walked right under your people’s noses, and scared your lackeys so bad they didn’t believe you could protect them,” Trask said. “And whoever they are, they did it three times. You want us chasing ghosts in the dark, that’s the price.”

Selene leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing. She blew out one more breath of smoke as she re-evaluated the hunting hound of a man across the desk from her. Then she stubbed out the remnants of her taper in a shallow, glass tray.

“Double the fee, then,” she said. “Triple if you resolve this in the next fortnight.”

The manhunter gave her a wolfish grin, and without a word turned and left her study. After a moment Selene realized that for all the noise he’d made coming in, there hadn’t been so much as a whisper when he departed.

Loyalty Discounts

Welcome to Hoardreach is a piece of fiction for Hoardreach: The City of Wyrms, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

Hoardreach is an impressive sight when seen from a distance, whether approaching it by land or air, and air is a common method of reaching the city, given the number of flying creatures that live in it and the airships that Hoardreach is known for.

The city is built atop a table mesa and its lights are visible from a long way away at night, reflecting off cloud cover if there is any. Smaller lights can be seen floating in the skies above the city, which during the day as the traveller gets closer resolve into some of the airborne beings that live there and the mentioned airships. Not everything has, or needs, a light, but enough do, for whatever reason, that a dancing show of diving and glittering lights can be seen weaving amongst that are more constant in their path.

The mesa rises out of the forest surrounding the city, towering into the sky. Paths lead through the forest, passing the villages that nestle beneath the shadow of the dragons’ wings, farms growing crops and raising livestock.

Most of the population lives within the city’s walls, and Hoardreach itself is a study in contrasts. The influence of the five founding dragons can be felt throughout the city, as the land has adapted to them, from the bogs of Westgate to the kiln-like air of the Sunrise District to the frosts of North District. Contrasts that wouldn’t be seen elsewhere, as such different climates would not, under other circumstances, be found so close to each other. The influence of the founders alters the climate itself.

Within the city itself can be found a host of different species, as different peoples cluster in the areas with the conditions they most enjoy; those who like winter’s chill do not appreciate the heat of the Sunrise District. Other districts are less obviously dominated by a single dragon, and trade comes in by air from other cities. Huge airships slow above the city and descend to the ground, there to be unloaded of people and cargo.

Hoardreach is a city of contrasts, a cosmopolitan city and a place to rub shoulders with all manner of peoples. Hoardreach is my city, and I welcome you to it.

Loyalty Discounts

Danger from Above is a piece of fiction for Hoardreach: The City of Wyrms, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

“Look out!” came the cry from above.

Ghellin looked upwards, and then ducked. Though flying things were hardly unknown in Hoardreach, normally only visitors treated such with alarm. For residents of the city, and for those who had visited enough to become immune, flying creatures, whether natural, magically or mechanically assisted, were just part of the every day scenery. No more worthy of notice than the road underfoot.

This one was a bit different, though. For one thing, it looked to be out of control. No matter what, out of control flying items were definitely something worth avoiding.

For another thing, it was most peculiar. And that was for someone familiar with the airships and scale suits that Hoardreach produced. Though such devices might be rare elsewhere, unless Hoardreach traders had visited, they were just another thing in the air in the city itself.

This… contraption, for Ghellin could think of no better word, looked to be a jumble of sales and spars with no discernible purpose or logic behind them. Or perhaps there was logic, but as the pilot was not in control, that logic may have fallen by the wayside.

Ghellin was not the only person on the street to duck. Or, for that matter, move rapidly out of the way as the contraption came in for what only just escaped being called a crash. It was certainly damaged by its encounter with the ground, and the single occupant looked a bit shaken by the ordeal.

Ghellin, and others, went to see if the pilot, a Skycatcher halfling if he was not mistaken, was okay. And, in the cases of some of those on the street, to loudly complain about the Skycatcher from flying a clearly malfunctioning machine over an area where people were living.

“Well,” said the halfling. “I guess that didn’t go to plan.” She apologised to the people who had nearly got a much closer view of her contraption than they would have preferred.

Ghellin thought she wasn’t a native to Hoardreach, even though there was a substantial community of the gnomes living in the city. He inquired. “No, I’m from Silkgift originally,” was the halfling’s response.

Silkgift. That did explain a lot, Ghellin thought to himself.

Loyalty Discounts

A Treat is a piece of fiction for Ironfire: The City of Steel one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

“If you’re not careful, you’ll wear it out with your eyes.”

The comment drew Kalem’s attention away from the blade he was admiring. He looked over at the weaponsmith in the shop in the Stone Pole district of Ironfire.

“Just kidding,” said the heavily-tattooed Takitori dwarf proprietor of the shop. “Dragon steel doesn’t wear out that easily, of course. But you’ve been fixated on that sword for a good chunk of time.”

“It’s a beautiful weapon,” Kalem said.

“Of course it is!” was the dwarf’s response. “I made it!” Though the dwarf still had a broad smile on his face, it was clear he did have pride in his craftsmanship. Justifiable pride, Kalem thought, looking around the, to him, uncomfortably warm, shop. The Takitori’s love of fire went well with the vulcanism of the Ironfire region, and the dwarf had the place at a temperature he probably considered ‘comfortable’ and most other beings ‘sweltering’ bordering on ‘cooked.’ The dwarf wasn’t the only one enjoying the heat; a cinderscale lizardfolk was also busily hammering away next to the forge. Far closer than Kalem could have stood without going up in flames.

“Are you interested in buying?” asked the dwarf.

Kalem nodded his assent and replied “I’ve just finished a very good job and I’ve always wanted a dragon steel sword. I’m going to treat myself.”

“Pick it up then and let’s see how it goes.”

Kalem did as told, performing several moves with the blade. “Hmm,” said the dwarf, peering at the grip. “That’s just a standard demonstration handle fitted to the blade. If you buy, we’ll add one that’s designed for you. A good sword needs a good handle. And this is a good sword. If I do say so myself. Don’t worry; it’s included in the price.” He mentioned a number.

Kalem gulped a bit, but they’d gone in knowing what the sword would cost. And the dwarf was right. It was a very good sword. And it had been a very good contract, so he could buy it.

Loyalty Discounts