By Lystulliv, lecturer at the University of Al-Drifa

I'm aware of the fact that Miss Lyllambelle, who spends more time spreading cream on her face than reading and studying, should however be quite interested in what follows. No female being can, indeed, remain indifferent towards the saga of the Braves. Since I lack any relevant things to dissect (it is quite striking, I dare say, to see the surviving Braves guarding the corpses of their few dead fellows), I have never been able to determine if there was, in their blood or bones, a substance that would make them - how shall I say that - better males than the average being. [...] Read next.

  Bestiary : For centuries, naturalists in Ganareth have gathered their knowledge and discoveries in a large codex. One of our scribes has just begun the task of translating various descriptions of the creatures in our world, their peculiarities and way of life.

The Braves - K'Orkashun, the Brave Archer

(Taken from a monograph by Pildor the Bard)

Brave people, hear the story of K'Orkashun the Brave and his fast arrows that killed the great dragon Jadagorogh, a plague on his name!

Everybody knows that the Braves are the old people of the Ninth Kingdom, where Trolls lived, and Kells before them. The last one of them was slaughtered, so people say, in year 666. But some others say there are still a few left alive.

Woe on the kingdom of Aesir, engulfed under the ice, and its capital city, Gelzart, forever lost!

K'Orkashun was an exception among his people: Braves usually become rangers, warriors or paladins, if snow monsters let them live and grow up. But K'Orkashun was interested in a more subtle Art, one he could use from a distance (do not imagine that I said K'Orkashun was a coward, I have a great respect for his followers, and I do fear them too). Well, he studied archery, and learned all the tricks from great Alzeria herself. Some even whisper that she somehow appreciated K'Orkashun's charms, and these rumours may be right: nothing can rival the beautiful sight of a Brave's biceps and pectoral muscles when he thinks. You can only imagine the power of what is going on inside him.

(This text is the first of a new weekly section. Read it on here…)

have discovered this astonishing book on the shelves of the library of Al Drifa: 'Anir Al Kadesh's travel diary'. Here, as I brush the dust from the texts of each chapter, I will set out to recount to you this free spirits tales of escape from a cage that never existed.

In his work entitled "Description of the region of Dimbildom", that you can find in the library of Al Drifa, Antide Pabodie cannot stop praising the village he was born in. He describes the region of Dimbildom as a genuine microcosm, the association of plains and mountains, and between them, the famous hills planted with age-old vineyard. That devil Antide was certainly not in the mood for talking about miscellaneous vicissitudes and misfortunes that plagued this land for ages.

People say the Elves planted the first vineyard here, a very long time ago. The vineyard yielded a marvelous nectar that was served during formal ceremonies. These were the happy times when this drink, wine as we call it nowadays, wasn't senselessly sold to unbelievers and beggars.
In times past, only a few priests endowed with sufficient arcane knowledge could drink it as it should be drunk, and could share a moment with thoughtful divinities; but today, any boozer can drink himself into oblivion, and the lustful dump has replaced the luxurious altar. What times these are!

We have corrupted the gods' gift into cheap wine. "The Gnomes did it", we sometimes hear in a few circles. Since the time when they started to revive the vineyard, this priceless product lost most of its interest. But let us not try to guess the reason any further, this could only harm a property that has already suffered too much.   [...] Read next.

A beta event by Alchemic Dream GMs

Domestic scenes are a rather common thing on Ganareth. So, when shouts started to come out of a tower of the castle, people down below lent an inquisitive ear, not thinking the worst was occurring, in order to gather some tasty anecdote to serve with tonight's grouik fricassee with olives, or roasted rancho with mustard sauce. The people are very fond of these little stories, however quite ordinary, when they are related to ladies and gentlemen of the swells. Strangely enough, when the upper crust is involved, these common things always get a nice added value.

But let's get back to our two lovers, who were accusing, blaming and supplicating one another with genuine enthusiasm, while the gossips down below were memorizing each and every word as scrupulously as a usurer counting his weekly income. But suddenly, people gasped. Someone had heard a death threat. Someone else nodded in confirmation, with fear in her eyes. In a moment, it became obvious for everyone that up there, the argument was turning sour, and that if nobody did anything, one of the two wouldn't be alive to enjoy tonight's grouik with olives, or rancho with mustard sauce.

Fortunately, a few people in this informal audience found the courage - and curiosity - to rush up the stairs and into the room, to discover an obviously upset young man, sword in hand, with menacing eyes, threatening a helpless girl who was muttering inappropriate pleas. One moment later, the man crumbled on the floor like a sack of potatoes, leaving the girl gaping at the scene. She had expected everything, but not this kind of outcome.

Though quite proud of what they had done, the three men were very surprised to get a hail of punches and abuse as a reward. If adventurers dream of heroic deeds, this is the kind of reaction that can ruin their career for life, I tell you...  [...] Read next.