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Okay, here we go with a preview. I had meant to start earlier, but short deadlines for Wizards and the Savage Tide have set me back a bit from my usual messageboard perusing pace. The first preview of Slumbering Tsar, Part 1: The Desolation.

Welcome to the Camp! The last outpost of civilization (if it can called that) on the very edge of the Desolation. Youll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villoh wait, wrong book. Sorry. But its fairly appropriate, nonetheless. The Campcalled that because of the virtual lack of anything resembling a permanent dwellingis primarily populated by criminals on the lam, the insane, general neer-do-wells not skilled enough to make it as crooks elsewhere, and those who have lost all hope at attempting to lead a productive life and are now just a hairsbreadth away from the edge of oblivion. Why else live on the rough edge of the Desolation..oh yes, because of the adventurers. Those fools who for generations have sought to try there luck against the horrors of the blasted wilderness. Only those serious enough (and bearing enough cash) would attempt to plumb the Desolation due to its remotenessno wet-behind-the-ears novices here. Therefore, when the occasional adventuring party does come through, theres one general rule that all the townsfolk know, Fleece the adventurers for everything theyve got BEFORE they head out into the Desolation (cause they probably wont be coming back). And those worthy souls who do come back laden with ancient war gold, well, they just get fleeced again. The citizens of the Camp taking price-gouging to an art form.

While youre in the Camp, visit the Commons and see the scenic gallows pole. Its likely to have a fresh tenant guilty of the only crime there is in the Campgetting caught. While youre there stop in at the tavern and have a swig of bad ale. Its good luck to rub the head of the one-legged, one-armed, half-blind, mute tavernkeeper, Lucky Bjorc Balsam (you should see the other guy, hes fond of sayinger, signing). Or swing by the local church and have a chat with Father Death, the curate of Nerull and spiritual leader for the Camp. Visit the Bender Bros. Boarding House for gnome-sized comfort. Is that nasty oozing wound still bothering you? Head on over to that barrow mound and see the apothecary, Mama Grim, who lives within. Shell fix you right up. Mind the goblin bears, though. They dont much like company. And if you see her hated sisters, shell pay you gold for their heads. Finally, if things just seem to be too much and youd rather exit the town in the way of so many of its forlorn citizens, Griswald the Undertaker will take care of you. For a small payment hell take that unsightly corpse off your hands and assure a proper burial (in the midden heap behind his shop, after a bit of a snack).

Last but not least on our tour is the shop of the local blacksmith and town leader known affectionately as the Usurer. Hell help you out with a loan or a favor. All itll cost you is your soul. And remember, when youre sampling the delights of the Camp, bring your wallet because they dont take gp or sp, only iron bits (which they make locally and will only be too happy to exchange for your gold and silverat a considerable mark-up, of course). So come to the Camp. Theyll leave the light on for you, at least until dark when they all go inside because the vampires come out.

The Desolation surrounding Tsar is more than just a vast featureless wasteland. In fact, it consists of four distinctive quadrants roughly dilineated by the main north-south trade road that used to run past Tsar, and the east-west road that emerges from the Black Gates themselves. At the center of these is a crossroads rumored to be haunted (but that is a story for another time).

One of the zones of the Desolation, and perhaps the most desolate of them, is the Ashen Waste where the lonely wind blows, carrying the signature white dust that coats everything it touches with a chalky layer. Here the main camp of the Army of Light was relocated after the tragedy that engulfed their first encampment. With water scarce in the arid environment, the thousands of men and horses trampled the dry ground into the fuine dust that exists today. Many speculate that the horrible curses called down upon the Army of Light by the Disciples of Orcus cause these conditions to persist even to this day. With the fine dust blowing on the ever-present wind, it is not uncommon for travelers here to have coughing fits as the choking dust coats the insides of their mouths and noses. The horrible "bone storms" are a constant danger, and many a traveler has gotten lost amid the blowing dust and haze, never to be seen again. Presumably their voices join those of the other souls lost in the long ago battle to form the howling wind that streaks across the plain. Only the rise of the occasional barrow mound or the horror of one of the waste's inhabitants serve to break the monotony of the otherwise nearly featureless plain.

more later...