'Reills. E'en the name makes me shudder. That there is unholy ground, cursed by most gods. Not even the demons and devils and the incarnations o' evil dare step foot there. Reills. You know me, I think money likes it in my pocket instead of wherever else it is. But, and I've heard rumors that say this, if theirs treasure on that ground, it ain't going in my pocket on pain o' death.'

-Old Gerald, man in the pub.

'Aye, there be a lot of dwarves 'round these parts now'a'days. Why? 'Cause that Groggar kicked 'em out of their caves. Groggar the Genius they call him. Them dwarves now hate his guts, which is a lot o' hate for a race that they used to call 'infeior.''

-Old Gerald, man in the pub.

'Which one? Oh, him. He be Pancratius. Yeah, he's a bit moody, but he's all right when you get to know him. Ya see, back in the day, and by that I mean his day, before you an' I were born, he was a big shot. The gods loved him, and one day, he asked for a gift that turned out to be a curse. Once he figured out the horrible side o' his gift, he sought out an oracle, to figure out how to get rid of it. Ol' Pancratius ne'er did tell me what the oracle said. The gift? Didn't I tell ye? No? It be immortality.'

-Old Gerald, man in the pub.

'So's ya want ta know about the maze and the labyrinth? There's a difference, ya know. The maze is more like a, a, puzzle, a puzzle where ya wander and gets lost. An' a labyrinth is more... straight, ai guess, straight with curves, if'n ya gets what I'm sayin'.'

-Old Gerald, man in the pub.

'Ye've ne'er heard of the Shnickels? Ye must 'ave not grown up in yonder country. The Shnickels are pests. Varmints. They move in, and you're done, son.'

-Old Gerald, man in the pub.

'Aye, Averoth! Land of banditry and corruption. Not a place for the faint o' heart, let me tell you. So's me and me mates went for a spell in them plains. We was lookin' for treasure, see, and them rovers and corrupt barons had it. So's we went, killed a bandit or two, maybe a couple o' orc tribes, and we made a fortune. 'Course, when we hit the Capital, we lost it all to thieves, hookers, and drink, but still, the memory of the weight of that sack...'

-Old Gerald, man in the pub.

Something is killing and eating the people of Th'gil. This monster displays cleverness, strength, and a thirst for blood. The PCs have stumbled into this town. Will they leave by walking or by dieing?

A special sword that benefits from cleaving skulls at its owner's command.

'Aye, lad, the Great Tree- its got a branch in each world, and each branch is a world. If one were to find the place this world, this branch, met the main trunk, like I did, they could go to them other worlds. 'Course, you'd be some kinda poison, or, or, disease to the Tree, and that damn tree got one hell of an immune system. When me an' me buddies entered her trunk, she put up one hell of a fight. We fought for hours through every protection system she had, and all to get lost is this world fulla strange elves who glamoured us, trying to keep us as pets. We barely got back.' -Old Gerald, man in the pub

Borrowed shamelessly from Norse mythology (see Yggdrassil, the World Tree), the Great Tree both connects and is worlds.

The great Wall Mounts have been scaled, or your ship's technology has reached a level in which it is possible to cross the oceans. And when the PCs or NPCs find other people, unknown people, what happens? Carnage.

The sun rises over the city. The great skyscraper's silhouettes from the fresh beams appear almost golden. The city is waking up, with the morning's half asleep citizens going about their daily routines. Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts open up, and revel in the influx of business. People head to work. The clocktower chimes, signaling the time of 9:00. But then a great shadow blocks out the sun. And the citizens of this metropolis start to scream as they are lifted up bodily by these beasts. An hour full of terror and screams goes by. And then another. And when the clocktower chimes again, signaling the time of 11:00, no one heard it. They had all been carried away. There were no flaming wrecks, nor collapsed buildings, as any other giant monster would leave. Simply empty streets, and a forbidding silence.

'Your wall is impenetrable, eh? Its so thick it can withstand 100s of direct hits from any siege engine? I have but one word for you: magic.'

Money=zombies. Who knew that the room with pictures of people getting killed would spawn undead things trying to kill you?