Below you will find detailed descriptions of locations and buildings within Auvrynon.

All that lies within the Mystical Storm comprises the Kingdom of Auvrynon. It is watched over by a single figure: The Queen of Auvrynon, Lady of the Mists. She is rarely seen, but it is believed that she is the one in control of who ultimately may enter the city. She has no army, for if there is a problem, she has the power to make problems – gone.

With four large mountain ranges, miles upon miles of stunning coastline, fertile grasslands, abundant woodlands and a temperate climate, many have chosen to make Auvrynon their home. Traitors Bluff, the great cliff that juts upwards over a thousand feet in places from the grassy expanse of the Ivory Prairie and extends into the Sea seems to divide the kingdom so precisely into divisions of good and evil, that one wonders if it is a natural land formation. The more hostile races populate the upper lands, gnolls and flinds abound in Gloumenwood, while mischievous fae and short-lived humans rarely leave the lower lands of Auvrynon.

The capital, a beautiful city nestled protectively within a valley. Very little is clear about the City of Gates, other than it seems to be an entry port for many people, who come from either the crimson storm that engulfs the surrounding countryside or from one of the numerous portals located around the city.

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The capital, a beautiful city nestled protectively within a valley, boasts the same name as the Kingdom itself. Auvrynon. Positioned in the north of the Kingdom, the Capital of Auvrynon rests at the southwestern part of Zephyr Bay and the western edge of Mistroil Flow.

The City of Gates seems to be an entry port for many people, who come from either the crimson storm that engulfs the surrounding countryside or from one of the numerous portals located in and around the city.

Visible from all points within the bustling city is Stormspire, home to the mysterious masked Queen. One can try in vain for days to reach the majestic castle to no avail, never getting any closer, even with the use of magic.

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Located in the Traders Square, the Albatross Inn offers drink, food and boarding to the weary. Owned by Feather, the Inn is the only round building in the City of Gates. Constructed of stone, the interior walls and floor glow warmly, dispelling all shadows and tend to keep out those needing a dim atmosphere. Guarded by strong enchantments, the Inn has withstood the ages gracefully. You’ll find no bloodwyne here, undead are unable to enter the building.

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Nestled under starkissed branch or beneath pale mistletoe, Faeries dance, unicorns canter and happy dewweed grow. Pink rosebuds lift near clear spring’s laughter and by touch of gentle moonbeams

The Amberleaf Weald, so full of life and the fantastic stuff of dreams.

The Amberleaf Weald is a dense mountain woodland interspersed with small clear glades and innumerable springs, pools, streams and brooks. Groves of tiny mushrooms, moonflowers and many other exotic plant life are hidden throughout the folds of valley and ridge. Truly it has all types of goodly beasts, including rarely seen unicorn. Also, here lives the Amberleaf Clan, a multitude of pixie families, unseen but frequently heard, they guard the mountain.

The Mistroil Flow is born by the tumbling waters of Ancient Child Falls, the spectacular waterfall at the southern end of Amberleaf Weald, the pool of which is rumored to have extraordinary powers of rejuvenation, if one is lucky enough to find it. Offerings left in an ancient circle of standing stones is said to ensure success in finding the pool. The origin of the megalithic ruin is unknown but is referred to by the locals as Passions Folly. The stones are near enough to Carver’s Outpost that adventurers find the diminutive inhabitants of Amberleaf Weald seldom bothersome. Or is it the proximity to the town that keeps the pranksters at bay?

Are any near? Is there a whisper in the foliage, the hum of unseen wings? Perhaps.. the soft 'thwong' of a tiny bowstring...?

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This graveyard is a hauntingly cold dell on the northeastern side of the City of Gates. The land here is so close to sea level, that this cemetery makes use of cairns and mausoleums as monuments to the dead. Two large ash trees, their thick gray trunks bow outward so that their braches intertwine, mark the entrance to this solemn clearing. A tall iron gate, overgrown with ivy and wisteria, surrounds the tombstones and protects the hallowed ground. The air here always seems a few degrees cooler, the sounds quieter. Even wildlife is lacking, as if the birds and insects know to keep away.

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Within the city of Auvrynon is a strange, tall building with six spires of black stone. Thirty-seven steps lead up to the pair of large oak doors that are a portal into the library of Auvrynon. A wraithlike man named Carlthais is the head librarian, and he seems as old as the books that line the walls. Thousands of tomes make up this massive library, each hand written and kept safe by magics to ward against rot, moisture, acid and flame.

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The sewers of the City of Gates are a dark contrast to the wonderful city above. Stone arch tunnels, dark and flowing with fetid liquids, wind for miles beneath the buildings above in a labyrinth laden with whirlpools, waterfalls, and stagnant mires.

Known to be generally ignored by the Lady of the Mists, it is a haven for crime and home to many villainous types. It is a convenient way of moving about and gaining access to the entire city without being seen as a result of the drains and pipes, if you're willing to deal with the foul things that live in the darker tunnels.

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Upon one of the hilltops to the south of the City of Gates, the tall crystal spires of this elaborate banquet hall and ballroom can be seen jetting up out from a canopy of lush conifer trees. The mansion’s beauty is unquestionable, with tall windows of faceted glass-steel that are strong enough to withstand even the fiercest of hurricanes that can cross the Zephyr Bay. Inside, the sunshine is refracted into dozens of colors and warms the bright stones and golden filigree. Even so, the hall always has a hauntingly empty air. The floor of the main ballroom is cream colored marble. In the center of the floor is a silver circle, with the meaningless words “A’trel ma no hel’sai.” Written along the curve.

The Bijoux is open for reservation; a ledger near the doorway keeps track of any events.

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Strictly a bar. This building is as old as any in the city. As it is only a barroom, the brother and sister that own the Devil’s Cup have taken great care to ensure almost all manner of drink are available, even those of questionable origin. They serve food, mostly local favorites, but for the right price something more exotic can be “whipped up.” Just don’t question how they got it.

The main room is decorated in dark colors of wine and rose, and numerous paintings add to the warmth. Between the portraits, animal heads embellish the chamber. These are prizes of the owners, and are a tad bit unsettling; their lifeless glass eyes keep a watch on every corner.

To the back of the main room there are ten small alcoves. Each contains a table and four soft, leather chairs. These semi-private sitting rooms are open for patrons.

While brawls are not uncommon, those causing undue damage often find themselves at the other end of a powerful curse until restitution has been made. It’s rumored that the owners are devils themselves.

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A vast plateau crowned with a forest, the trees of which are a lush deep green, tall and ancient with gnarled trunks and thick branches that hardly waver in the breeze. A fog drifts along the trees, coating the long needles and leaves with the only moisture the land ever gets. A lizard darts along a branch, its scales red and black, but that does not protect it from the bone spear that skewers it to the bough, ending its life. This is life in the dark and mysterious Gloumenwood; all too short for those unprepared.

Made up of primarily tall Blackwood and other evergreen trees that are drought resistant, the Gloumenwood has become a home for scavengers, predators, and a strange mishmash of unique beings that have fallen into it from the Mystical Storm.

Gnolls, crafty hyena-men, rule the northeastern part of the wood. And they make every effort to bully their way into the lives of travelers that attempt to traverse the forest.

Further south, the gnolls are kept in bay by skaven, rat-men, and a race of savage devils known as xerfilstyx, who guard the murky waters of Loch Kihagh.

These are not the only predators, however. Spiders multiply rapidly within the dark canopies of the Gloumenwood. And many a traveler has been lost to either a swarm of gigantic arachnids or the single bite of the elusive but deadly Tzak Spider.

The turbulent and red-stained waters of Gijakudob River slice a deep chasm between Storm Peak Ridge and the Heroesbane Range, forming the treacherous Jumeau Abyss, a canyon of staggering depth. The river, roughly translated from an old and dire tongue to mean Bloodthirsty according to several xerfilstyx, cuts through Gloumenwood to form Loch Kihagh.

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These extensive caverns are the source of Auvrynon’s underdark regions. They run throughout the plane, perhaps even reaching the sewers of the City of Gates. The encounters within the Caverns are as numerous as within the surface world of Auvrynon, but there are some locations of note:

Most importantly, the caverns near the Gloumenwood, with a hidden entrance within the Heroesbane Range, are the location of the feared dragon and self proclaimed Lord of the Dark, Rervilvik-Traeldell. The true color of this ancient dragon is unknown, for when he was tainted by the blood of a vampire, he turned into a whole new monster. Once brightly colored scales now are a glistening pale blue-white and claws reflect a vicious dark gray. Fur that frames his regal face has lost all color, and is now a glossy but colorless band of soft silk. Dark shadows encircle his smoldering crimson eyes, which glow in the darkness like a hypnotic flame. He is beautifully deadly. His breath surges forth like a nauseous vapor that sucks the will to live from his victim’s lungs and chills them into immobility. All the easier for him to crunch down upon their bodies and drain them of every last drop of blood. Throughout his caverns are hordes of undead, both humanoid and animalistic, the corporal remains of those he has drained.

Deeper still, are creatures that shun the light and have chosen to live their lives in perpetual darkness. Drow, Drugar, Derro, and other species of the dark races thrive within the extensive cavern system. A colony of Ilithid has established themselves under the Amber Mountains.

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Farthest east lies Glimmerdeep, the Jeweled River, whose deep crystalline waters are home to several clans of Naiads along its winding course. Near the center of the forest are a trio of lakes, the Trine. The southwestern lake is called Starmere, for the glassy smoothness of its surface, which at night seems to fill with the pinpoint fire of every star above. To the southeast lies Cloudmere, named for the luminescent algae that is native to its depths. Both of the two southerly lakes are home to aquatic elves. Farthest to the north lies Silvernode, from which the Silvervein River flows southward into the edge of the Storm - and perhaps beyond. The waters of the Silvernode and Silvervein reflect the sky with mirror accuracy, making it near impossible to see below the surface. No creature calls the Silvervein home, due to the tendency for strange creatures to wander up it from the Storm, but the Silvernode itself is jealously guarded by a race of highly aggressive merfolk.

The last two main rivers of the Forest are the Murkwater, and the furthest easterly river, the Stormwater. Both of these rise from a deep, powerful underground spring, which on one side flows down into the Perse Fens as a swampy morass that shifts course regularly and bears no name. On the other side, the flood splits into the two rivers and flows toward and into the Mystical Storm, housing various creatures escaped from it. The spring rises from sediments that stain the water, and the churning Murkwater is named for its dark brown tone; Additional deposits cause the slower Stormwater to seem stained by the crimson mists of the Storm itself, on cloudy days often resembling a stream of blood. A lesser deposit of the crimson sediments results in the section that flows into the Fens being suffused with the red-brown color of dried blood.

The forest itself, from the Trine south and west, is dominated by elven races, villages near the center, and nomadic groups of near the edges. The Labyrinthian Rangers are a highly respected group, for their unceasing vigilance in patrolling those areas near where the land vanishes into the Storm, to keep the rest of the forest safe. North and east of the Trine, Kirre dwell, massive psionic tiger-like creatures with eight legs, horns, and a barbed tail. Vicious in the extreme, they are a predatory race who won't hesitate to make a meal of another intelligent creature, and are extremely jealous of their territory. In turn, their meat and fur are both prized by other races. By mutual agreement, the Kirre and Elves tend to avoid each other, even working together sometimes to quell a particularly difficult threat; But neither hesitates to take the opportunity to remove one of the other race, if the chance presents itself.

Very little comes from the sections of the woods dominated by the Kirre except for an occasional pelt, but trade goods flow from the elven territories in myriad forms, from rare plant life, to magnificent live-wood musical instruments, to highly trained riding horses, war dogs, and war horses. Very few of the latter two are sold outside the Labyrinths Dream Forest, almost invariably becoming the property of the Rangers to aid them in there unceasing vigilance, and it is almost as rare for anyone not of the elven natives to acquire an elven riding horse. The Forest's denizens protect what is there's; Just as the Kirre twist a wanderer's mind astray, frequently to the stranger's demise, so too the elves play glamours upon intruders, leading them a merry chase through reality and illusion and, as often as not, leading them back out to find themself where they started from. Between the two, the woodland has gained a name for mystery and confusion. The Labyrinth's Dream Forest.

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The Fen is made up of beautiful grasslands, dangerous marshes and numerous streams.

Near the coast, the lowland Eventide Salt Marsh is treacherous, not only for the feral creatures that inhabit it, but because of natural dangers as well. Unlike what the name suggests, the tide rises quickly, and often without warning. A traveler unprepared can find themselves over their heads in water. When the land is exposed, hearty grass and shrubs that are tolerant of salt and anoxic sediment prevail.

Further south, the highland becomes dryer, the conditions more hospitable. The tall grasses in the Fen when blown about in the winds resemble waves of purple, and this is by which the peaceful Fens get their name. In stark contrast to the lowland marsh, this land is quiet and gentle, a calm eye in the midst of a maelstrom.

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Nestled between the Rathstique Ridge in the east and the Amber Mountains of the west, the Valley of Mists is centered by the Mistroil Flow. Near the waterfall-birth of the river, the valley is carpeted in deep forest, known as Amberleaf Weald. Ancient Child Falls tumbles nearly a thousand feet from the mountains above.

The air shimmers dark emerald, the perpetual twilight pierced by iridescent sparks of dusky sunlight. Shimmering, silvery mists seem to pool in the valley, flowing between the tree trunks and spilling out along the river's course as it breaks from the forest, rolling inexorably toward its mouth in the Zephyr Bay. The mists swirl, diffusing the light into a pearlescent glow as they settle over broadening grasslands, rippling like an enchanted sea when viewed from above. The valley walls slope gently upward from the river into the mountains. The broad, leafy branches of ancient deciduous trees soften the merging of grasslands and forest, as well as being scattered along the riverbanks. Massive willows trail long, thin branches in the water, dense foliage hiding and forming shelters around their boles.

Villages and towns are scattered along the entire length of the Mistroil, infrequent within the forest, becoming more numerous towards the City of Gates. Carver’s Outpost is the largest town, located at the edge of Amberleaf Weald within the Valley of

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Located in the inhospitable Ilphs Doom, the land is tainted, cold, and rotten. Rocky, bone-dry with little in the way of vegetation, more die than survive the trek to the ruins. Those lured by tales of gold and live often return with only stories of woe and misfortune, sprinkled with nonsensical accounts of flesh-eating monsters and the battle wounds to show for their misadventure.

There are places that have been forever twisted and maimed by the evil wrought by man and beast. Places, that the stain of betrayal, ruin, and death is so deep, that even the air has begun to rot. Senses of the living are attuned to such things, though often times they are unaware of it. All they feel is a cold shiver up a spine, the teasing of the hairs on the back of a neck, a shifting of a shadow out of the corner of an eye. Such is the Zau Bos Ruins.

Originally a village not far from Emerdal Rim, overlooking the beautiful Emerdal Cove, it was home to a tribe of hardworking religious zealots, who lived for the sole purpose of worship. The village was rich; a gold mine was within an hour’s journey. The town leader, a cleric by the name of Bercoroci, kept close tabs on every stone that came out of the mine. The entire town knew that Bercoroci was giving most gold to a monster: a malevolent dragon, Rervilvik-Traeldell, who had been tainted by the blood of a vampire. For years, Bercoroci’s lust for power grew steadily. The people of the village gladly followed their twisted leader forward, in body and spirit, always with the belief that they were furthering their dark God. Until the dragon’s ambition outgrew that of the cleric.

Details of the events that lead up to the dragon’s betrayal and the death of Bercoroci are unclear. But the results are still known to this day. The cleric was slain by the dragon. The village destroyed, only the skeletal remnants of once beautiful buildings remain. Many of the villagers were brutalized and sacrificed. The strongest of the zealots forever changed into zombies, walking undead that mindlessly follow the orders of the dark and twisted Rervilvik-Traeldell.

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