The Burnt World of Athas

The gap between the Stormclaw and Black Spine Mountains is some fifteen miles wide, and those who have never been there must wonder why the route through is termed a ‘pass’, or why Nibenay bothers to maintain a fort to guard the road.

As dawn broke over the distant Black Spine Mountains, we stripped the dead sand devils of their weapons and armour – their iron blades alone would more than pay for the cargo I had defiled – and dragged their corpses out into the desert a couple of hundred yards from the road.

Niklas once again explores rumors of an ascendant being, this time among the ssurrans of the Scortched Plateau.

The mountains had grown from a blurred, uneven line on the horizon to a recognisable part of the landscape by the time the sun sank beneath the western horizon.

The skimmer’s crew took the news surprisingly well. Neren and Enamdis called a brief halt and gathered them together below the quarterdeck to explain what was likely chasing us and to make preparations for a possible night attack.

A part of The Sands of Athas netzine, Perilous Pages: Spellbooks and Scrolls Under the Dark Sun discusses the unique role of spellbooks on Athas.

We heard the cry of the lookout, perched upon his small platform near the top of the skimmer’s mainmast, and saw the vessel alter course towards us.

A dwarf, following his Focus.

We heard the cry of the lookout, perched upon his small platform near the top of the skimmer’s mainmast, and saw the vessel alter course towards us.

The Fall of the Wemics The destruction of the Pride of Wemicdom by Tectuktitlay, Wemic Annihilator, was one of the faster and highly environmentally destructive campaigns in the history of the Champions.

I was wrong,” Bayl said, chewing thoughtfully. “Cooking hasn’t improved them at all.” He pulled the little rodent’s tail from between his teeth and grimaced at it in distaste, then flung it into the fire.

Part 2 of the Lady of Shadows fiction

An alternate history with explanations of the lack of gods on Athas and the creation of the Dead Lands

Pain. Pain the like of which I had never imagined. Like spears of sun-scorched obsidian sliding through my limbs where my bones should have been, the claws of some ravening beast tearing through my bowels, razors across my sweat-slick skin. And, through it all, he was there, inside my mind, pouring fear and anguish into my soul.

We are monsters. We are the damned. We recognise that there will be no place in this new world for us. Like the prophets of old, we are blessed with the foreknowledge of Paradise regained, but doomed never to see it with our own eyes.

What is the true purpose of the Dragon's Levy?

As told one evening to a group of halfling children around a dying campfire under the light of the Athasian stars.