From the windbeaten moors to sea bruised cliffs, and in the winding woods that knot around, to the once-white citadel, long-since broken and limed against the waves, the folks in and around Salamender have always said that something must be different than it was the day, the week, the year, the generation before, something wrong with the way the dogs howled and the crows looked at you.

Of course, they were incorrect. For even before it had gotten the name, before people had laid the wood for their villages and the stones for their temples, there was always something wrong with Salamender, before there was even a nose to smell it in the air.


Key Locations



Goblinoid Races


Define external redirect: Gnomes Toad Folk Toad Pantheon Fralin Cliffs Goblins Humans The Menderwood The Fishy Retinue Lem Aedes Demons Salamender Moors The Low and Naked Coast