Torii is a small island located on the southeastern edge of the Illyrian
island chain, far removed from the mainstream of Illyrian life by treacherous
reefs, unpredictable weather, and strange inhabitants (strange meaning that
most people from Torii are not impressed by wealth or alleged elvish ancestry).
The people of Torii have developed their own unique culture, different from any
other to be found in the charted world.
   On the main island of Torii, most of the land is mountainous, but among the
torturous peaks and forested crags are several fertile plains. Ample rainfall
and melting snows create many small streams and lacy waterfalls. In the spring,
swallows return to roost in the eaves of tall gabled towers; cherry trees
blossom, filling the air with a rare fragrance and snowy petals. 
   Summer sees the growth of bountiful fields of rice and barley. In secluded
stands of bamboo, lazy pandas grow fat on tender shoots and leaves. Willow
trees trail long branches on clear freshwater ponds and brightly colored wood
ducks raise families in their shade. Ivory furred, lion-headed dogs roam the
lower valleys, keeping the more populated areas safe from predators. These
powerful dogs are the reason for the disappearance of sorcerers from Torii.
Though beautiful, Torii also has a violent side. During the hot humid days
of late summer and early fall, hurricanes are not uncommon, and at least one
typhoon will rake the coast.
   The people of Torii have diverse roots, their ancestors were slaves of
Draznian and Illyrian stock, brought over in the holds of Yasnaki galleys to
dive for pearls in Torii's once rich oyster beds. Precious metals could be 
found in the roots of the mountains, and indeed, tons of gold, silver, and
platinum were taken from Torii to various Yasnaki strongholds in distant lands
to further the goals of the Black Brotherhood. Many slaves died in the caverns
underground, succumbing to toxic fumes, collapsing tunnels, and exhaustion.
Eventually, the Yasnaki built a circle of magical gateways to facilitate the
exportation of goods and the importation of replacement slaves.
   As the Yasnaki depleted Torii's natural resources, their interest in Torii
gradually waned. Many of the Yasnaki who oversaw the plundering of Torii's
mineral wealth were needed on other fronts, to counter the military pressures
that Mu and Hovath were exerting on the crumbling bastions of Yasnaki power.
The Yasnaki were especially vulnerable after the loss of many leaders in Kesmai
following the Dragon of Droon debacle.
   One night, the slaves rose up in rebellion and the dwindling numbers of
Yasnaki slavers were not able to contain the angry mob. They fled Torii,
abandoning their castle above the sea, and destroying the gateway through which
they escaped. But not before the Yasnaki, in a fit of spiteful rage, exacted a
terrible vengeance, they awakened one of the seven primal demon lords.
   The very earth cracked and Thisson, Lord of Serpents, slithered up from the
depths with a great gout of fire and molten rock, taking the aspect of two
glowing eyes within a writhing column of black smoke. The slaves ran terrified
from the Yasnaki fortress and the Yasnaki, unmindful of pride where a demonlord
was concerned, made a hasty exit. 
   The following morning the former slaves found that they were still alive.The
demon lord had not descended down from the cliffs in the night and torn them
into small shreds. The people gave many thanks to the gods, the sun, the moon,
the sky, the earth, the grass, the fish in the sea, etc. The clifftop upon
which the Yasnaki fortress was built, was looked upon with fear for several
years, especially on those nights when strange lights flickered and flashed
there.
   As time passed, the people of Torii gradually came to regard the clifftop as
being merely haunted and just a place to be avoided. Generations were born,
lived, and died in the shadow of the haunted cliffs without ill effect. Rices
till grew in the paddies and sweet fleshed fish still swam in the seas.Oysters
were still somewhat rare, but clams were plentiful, and the price of tea in
Illyria remained the same. 

                           Morpheus 
...............................................................................

   Annwn (pronounced a-noon according to the local Draznian dialect) is located
in the forest known as Blackwode, on the island of Draznia. The forest is so
named for its towering oak trees and dark evergreens that all but blot out the
sky. The forest floor is a dismal, humid jungle of rotting logs, creeping vines
and giant thorn bushes. Passage through Blackwode is limited to obscure lanes
or animal trails, and is never without risk.
   Rarely is fire ever seen in Blackwode, many of the ancient trees have grown
powerful from having spent centuries drinking up the residual magic of Draznia.
The creatures of Blackwode are varied, ranging from harmless herbivores to huge
grizzled bears. Orcs and tree goblins are not uncommon. They are wont to hide
in the foliage and pick off adventurers, one by one. There are magical glades
of such unearthly beauty where a weary wanderer might lay down, intending to
rest for only a moment, then awake to find that a decade has passed in dream 
amongthe sweet scented grasses. And somewhere in the Black Forest is the lost
city of Annwn, where may be found the Sword of Light.
   Annwn was not always thus: a phantom city located in a dark, lurid forest
of overgrown vegetation. Once, Annwn was a bright place, populated by friendly
folk with sparkling eyes, quick to share a laugh or to help shoulder a burden,
typical of their Draznian ancestry. Draznians are also curious by nature, which
explains in part their affinity for the magical arts and the large number of
wizards that are born Draznian.
   Ydmos was a wizard of no small skill, and his curiosity led him down dark
roads more akin to necromancy than to his own native arts. As his power grew,
so did his pride, and he built himself a high tower in the center of Loch
Glyness, near the town of Annwn. 
   There was more to Ydmos' choice of building sites than just an appreciation
of the area's inherent charm. Annwn represented a ready source of victims for
his increasingly frequent excursions into the realm of necromancy. There lay in
the town square of Annwn, a powerful talisman of Law, a shining steel
greatsword sunk to its haft in a block of granite. The seers proclaimed that
the greatsword lay there in wait for an unknown warrior of exceptional kindness
and virtue. 
   Gradually Ydmos sapped the vitality of Annwn as a spider might drink the
fluids of a fly. Men, women, and children disappeared in the night, never to be
seen again. The waters of the loch grew black and fetid. Crops failed and the
sheltering forest became dark and forbidding. Monstrous shapes could be seen
moving in the shadows between the trees, and the wailing of the banshee was
heard nightly. Then Ydmos' ambition revealed itself.
   His goal was not the ruination of Annwn, rather he wondered whether the 
Sword could be turned inside-out, from Law to Evil, and in the process, whether
he could transform himself from man to immortal god. On a moonlit night, in the
Fall of the year, a huge ball of light sprang from the inner heart of Blackwode
and a great spinning vortex appeared in the sky: a whirling, spinning,lightning
filled column of smoke that was seen as far away as Caer Banung on the northern
coast.
   When morning came, all was as it was before on the island of Draznia, but
Blackwode was somehow more sinister. Travelers who entered the forest came out
insane or not at all. Eventually, everyone avoided Blackwode entirely, except
for an occasional band of adventurers in search of fame and fortune. News of
Annwn and Ydmos ceased altogether, swallowed up by the forest. Some say that
the gods finally punished Ydmos for his evil ways, and his audacity.
   Others speculate that Ydmos did succeed in becoming more than man and that
he lurks in his tower, formulating plans for conquest and dreaming of the day
when the world shall know him as its master.
                          
                         Morpheus