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- Archmaster of Skillfull Ink Slinging

For Next Level: 2020^xp of 5190^xp complete.

2020^xp

Hall of Honour

Golden

Quests

Oka

28- Captain’s Wench
This is an upscale dockside working girl (oxymoron?). She will only "be with" a Captain or Officer. She is prettier, cleaner, and more refined than what one would expect. She is more of an escort, making the captain buy her drinks and food (as well as others). She actually works for the house to promote people to spend.

30 Cheeses

Life is like a cheese, it starts off milk, then it curdles, and then it ages and you hope for the best.

Dungeons | 200^xp

The Spider Wall Trap

Consider your grip and consider just how important the iron spikes and 10 foot pole are.

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Guilds

“ A small, primitive village has yet to discover fire, which is a good thing because there are highly flammable (but not otherwise dangerous) gasses in the air. The heroes, blissful in their ignorance, don't know that and think it a wonderful idea to show the locals open flame.”

Yon_The_Lucky

“ Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool. Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way. Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again! Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.”

Murometz

“ A simple flag, faded by time and sun, tattered and worn by untold years flying from the pole of a bannerman, passing hands from officer to officer, from one generation to another. It is a humble symbol of great importance, and greater inspiration to those who see it. Soldiers become heros filled with espirit de corps, enemies loose their nerve and fire. It is not an enchanted item, but a powerful item still...”

Scrasamax