Uriel

The earth, cracked and baked from the intense heat and lack of rain, scorched from lightning strikes, wears down even the toughest of beast. Those that stomp along the trails carved out by generations before will soon find why so many bones litter the edges of the road. The lack of water in a land so dangerously bare, the cacti protecting their precious water reserves with vicious spikes sharp enough to pierce the hide of a snapper, and the constant threat of lightning storms create a hostile and dangerous environment. Travelers and traders best be wary when traveling through the canyons. Bandits lurk around every corner, desperate for money and water and food. Anything they could get their hands on. Anything to sustain them.

But, behold! Deep in the canyon, where countless trade routes cross, there is an oasis, carved into a hollow of the canyon. Water gushes up from the earth below, providing the world's recipe for life. Built along this miracle there is a city, dressed in testaments to its wealth. The walls are coated in a shimmering substance, meant to prevent lighting strikes. The guards, dressed in a golden armor, watch over the borders of this breathtaking land and protect its most precious reserve and warn visitors not to wander into the air, unless they want to be shot down by the Stormcatcher's lightning. Weary travelers, caked in dust and sand, find refugee within these shining walls and usually abide by the no-flying law of the land. Water, food, comfort, and rest await anyone that needs it. Entertainment provides an escape from the harsh world outside. Blinding smiles make almost anyone feel welcome, but be warned.

The rule of Ceinwen, although bountiful and generous in accepting refugees and wanderers alike, is challenged in the shadows. The smiles from some clan members, although perhaps true, can be the smiles of a viper. A smile meant to worm money and goods out of anyone that comes along. Smiles bent on increasing the owner's wealth and not the health of the visitor. Yes, Ceinwen's days to rule the Amber Oasis are limited. Lacroix, manipulative and slimy in her lies, waits to take over the bountiful oasis and all its riches. The crossing of trade routes was what attracted such a deadly snake and now she roosts with help. Promises of wealth and respect for the nobles that follow her. Promise of love and care for the vulnerable that believe the golden lies.

But don't let any of this scare you away! No, please, come sit a spell and tell your story. Rest your weary and tired feet. The Amber Oasis has plenty for all. Fresh water and food, good laughs and tales, cheerful dances and song. No need to pass that up because of some in-clan drama. But, for your sake, keep your wits about you. Don't trust every smile that comes your way or every compliment that slides off of a silver tongue. Admire the Amber Oasis for what it is worth, but know that snakes reside where prey congregate. Knowing that, will you stay a spell? Or will you continue on? This may be your only chance to rest and recover, because the next oasis may be a mirage.

-By: Dew #31156


In the looming shadows of the stormcloud lurk sleek, grinning serpents—vipers who bare their fangs with sickly sweet flattery, biding their time for the object of their prey to bare their tender throat.

It's said that those who stray far from the trade roads carved deep into the canyons will find themselves in a pit of such vipers. To those well acquainted with the lightning farms of the Shifting Expanse, the predators one should be most wary of are the smiling serpents—friendly, civilized, subservient. In [clan name], such vipers abound.

Wander far from the Sunbeam Ruins into the Shifting Expanse and you may find yourself at a crossroads: before you looms a great structure, wreathed with stormclouds like laurels, where fierce, brilliantly adorned guards are stationed at every entrance; where practitioners of the arcane arts ply the spirits to their command deep within; where dragons roam the halls late at night, drawn by an implacable desire to whet their thirst for the warm, metallic taste of blood. It houses, in a sense, the land barons of Carrion Canyon. No tradesman may pass through the toll roads of [Name] without coin changing hands; its tenants grow wealthy off its plentiful resources, perched on high from their desert-carved cavern thrones. Branching off the lair's twisting, stone-bored corridors, awaits palaces of luxury—springs, soft beds, warm food, and ample entertainment. However, just as the dunes' shifting sands are fickle, the power of [Name] is prone to unsettle.

For now, Ceinwen the Czar stands at its head, housing misfits and outcasts alike under her firm, gentle aegis. Once the vanguard of a deadly inter-clan alliance, [name]'s leader has sworn off the needless violence of tribal disputes, choosing instead to provide shelter to dragons who have lost their home to such conflict and avarice. But threats harry her on two fronts: the ambitious upstarts—the smirking serpents—that watch her every move, and an old, haggard traveler returned to claim their birthright.

Here in [name], flying is forbidden. Where the numerous guards cannot enforce the laws, the low-hanging thunderstorms suffice—were they not obeyed, the fields of corpses littering the wasteland would serve as warning for the merchant travelers passing through.

So stop and rest awhile, if you care to. Enjoy a song, a drink, a dance. Take in the sights of the dizzying cliffsides and the smell of ozone. Just a word of warning: don't trust every smile that comes your way. Here in [name], you might not always know when they may be false.

-msnoodles