L. Marcus

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

of Doom. DOOM, I tell you!

Eerily quiet. The Hours of Doom approach. Even the most negligent of wastrels fall silent and labor silently to accrue whatever merit they still can as the last minutes slip away, and to prepare themselves for the cutting edges of evaluation which stand implacably before them. The Fates all but visibly loom overhead, and of the students, only those very few whose destiny is already ordained carry on in their accustomed clamor. The rest scurry furtively from place to place as is required of them. Meanwhile, the judges themselves fall silent, knowing the delicacy of the threads suspending some students just above the maw of oblivion, and whet the edges on which those threads will be tested.

High in the peaks of the Spines lives a kind of mountain goat that grows as large as a small horse. Surefooted and agile, they have been domesticated by the Dwarves as beasts of burden, and are also kept for their hair, flesh, and milk. Neutered males are used for riding.
 
Gift To Civilization (option pick): Ibex Cavalry!
 

Dorrauch saw that to better spread commerce and amass wealth for his followers commonality was needed. A community would be birthed to get dwarven goods through human lands to Giant vendors. 
 
The Silver Frost's first idea was conquest. 
 
He was talked out of if during a feast with the God of Magic. 
 
His second idea was conquest. 
 
He was reminded by his high priests that he had been talked down from this.
 
Dorrauch knew this would require all his mind and matter.
 
Conquest?
 
No...too obvious.
 
"What if I threaten them with eternal winter unless my demands are met?" he asked aloud in his favorite temple.
 
"My Eternal, that...sounds a lot like Conquest." His high priest said with great deference, "Also they might not understand your heralds unless you grant us the ability to speak their tongues."
 
Dorrauch stewed. He looked ruefully at his hammer, Hvelvbryter. It was such a marvelous weapon. Capable of great acts of diplomacy.
 
The God of Winter growled.
 
The God of Winter mumbled.
 
The God of Winter sulked.
 
"Alright, I have an idea." Dorrauch stood from his frozen throne and strode to his scrying pool. Calling upon an image of the known world he spoke in a booming voice. 
 
"Praise my name, peoples of the Not-winter. I have decided upon a gift for all of the mans of my world."
 
"I call it Tradespeak. And honestly the God of Diplomacy should have thought of this."
 
GIFT to the World: A universal language. 

The god of Travel approves.

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

Long ago, when the forty Dwaren clans first made their homes in the Spine, they had nothing but stone for the making of tools. In time, under Welon's tutelage, they mastered copper, bronze, brass, and iron. With these, the Bearded Ones dug deep mines and magnificent halls, and erected citadels that made those of other races look like sand castles. For the Dwarves, as is known, were and are touchy in the matters of honor, and greed can lead one to look upon his neighbour's property with envy. The wars were numerous and fierce.
 
In time, the Clan of the Bearded Bear rose to dominate the middle range of the Spine Of The World. Their greatest chief, Lorna Blutbart, was a mistress of all metal crafts, a priest of renown, and a ferocious war leader. In her old age, when her plaited, gold-adorned beard was waist-long and white as the eternal snow of the North, Welond came to her.
 
"Chief of the Bearded Bears, hear me. I am Welond, god of your kind, and I take joy in you, foremost of my children of these days. I will now show you how to make the perfect alloy, for you have proven yourself worthy of this secret. And you shall pass it on to those you, by augury and wisdom, find worthy in turn." And then Welond took Lorna to his Halls outside the World. For a year and a day she learned the secret of the mountain copper, orichalcum, red as blood, stronger than steel and keener than bronze, able to take enchantments that would burn other metals to a cinder. After her return to her clan, the Bearded Bear herself herself cast a the great spear-axe Blood-fire, that in time came to be the token of kingship over all Dwarves of the World. Legend says that she quenched it in the blood of a fire-drake to seal its flame spell, but since those never existed it is most likely just a story.

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

Long ago, when the forty Dwaren clans first made their homes in the Spine, they had nothing but stone for the making of tools. In time, under Welon's tutelage, they mastered copper, bronze, brass, and iron. With these, the Bearded Ones dug deep mines and magnificent halls, and erected citadels that made those of other races look like sand castles. For the Dwarves, as is known, were and are touchy in the matters of honor, and greed can lead one to look upon his neighbour's property with envy. The wars were numerous and fierce.
 
In time, the Clan of the Bearded Bear rose to dominate the middle range of the Spine Of The World. Their greatest chief, Lorna Blutbart, was a mistress of all metal crafts, a priest of renown, and a ferocious war leader. In her old age, when her plaited, gold-adorned beard was waist-long and white as the eternal snow of the North, Welond came to her.
 
"Chief of the Bearded Bears, hear me. I am Welond, god of your kind, and I take joy in you, foremost of my children of these days. I will now show you how to make the perfect alloy, for you have proven yourself worthy of this secret. And you shall pass it on to those you, by augury and wisdom, find worthy in turn." And then Welond took Lorna to his Halls outside the World. For a year and a day she learned the secret of the mountain copper, orichalcum, red as blood, stronger than steel and keener than bronze, able to take enchantments that would burn other metals to a cinder. After her return to her clan, the Bearded Bear herself herself cast a the great spear-axe Blood-fire, that in time came to be the token of kingship over all Dwarves of the World. Legend says that she quenched it in the blood of a fire-drake to seal its flame spell, but since those never existed it is most likely just a story.

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

Long ago, when the forty Dwaren clans first made their homes in the Spine, they had nothing but stone for the making of tools. In time, under Welon's tutelage, they mastered copper, bronze, brass, and iron. With these, the Bearded Ones dug deep mines and magnificent halls, and erected citadels that made those of other races look like sand castles. For the Dwarves, as is known, were and are touchy in the matters of honor, and greed can lead one to look upon his neighbour's property with envy. The wars were numerous and fierce.
 
In time, the Clan of the Bearded Bear rose to dominate the middle range of the Spine Of The World. Their greatest chief, Lorna Blutbart, was a mistress of all metal crafts, a priest of renown, and a ferocious war leader. In her old age, when her plaited, gold-adorned beard was waist-long and white as the eternal snow of the North, Welond came to her.
 
"Chief of the Bearded Bears, hear me. I am Welond, god of your kind, and I take joy in you, foremost of my children of these days. I will now show you how to make the perfect alloy, for you have proven yourself worthy of this secret. And you shall pass it on to those you, by augury and wisdom, find worthy in turn." And then Welond took Lorna to his Halls outside the World. For a year and a day she learned the secret of the mountain copper, orichalcum, red as blood, stronger than steel and keener than bronze, able to take enchantments that would burn other metals to a cinder. After her return to her clan, the Bearded Bear herself herself cast a the great spear-axe Blood-fire, that in time came to be the token of kingship over all Dwarves of the World. Legend says that she quenched it in the blood of a fire-drake to seal its flame spell, but since those never existed it is most likely just a story.

Long ago, when the forty Dwaren clans first made their homes in the Spine, they had nothing but stone for the making of tools. In time, under Welon's tutelage, they mastered copper, bronze, brass, and iron. With these, the Bearded Ones dug deep mines and magnificent halls, and erected citadels that made those of other races look like sand castles. For the Dwarves, as is known, were and are touchy in the matters of honor, and greed can lead one to look upon his neighbour's property with envy. The wars were numerous and fierce.
 
In time, the Clan of the Bearded Bear rose to dominate the middle range of the Spine Of The World. Their greatest chief, Lorna Blutbart, was a mistress of all metal crafts, a priest of renown, and a ferocious war leader. In her old age, when her plaited, gold-adorned beard was waist-long and white as the eternal snow of the North, Welond came to her.
 
"Chief of the Bearded Bears, hear me. I am Welond, god of your kind, and I take joy in you, foremost of my children of these days. I will now show you how to make the perfect alloy, for you have proven yourself worthy of this secret. And you shall pass it on to those you, by augury and wisdom, find worthy in turn." And then Welond took Lorna to his Halls outside the World. For a year and a day she learned the secret of the mountain copper, orichalcum, red as blood, stronger than steel and keener than bronze, able to take enchantments that would burn other metals to a cinder. After her return to her clan, the Bearded Bear herself herself cast a the great spear-axe Blood-fire, that in time came to be the token of kingship over all Dwarves of the World. Legend says that she quenched it in the blood of a fire-drake to seal its flame spell, but since those never existed it is most likely just a story.

Long ago, when the forty Dwaren clans first made their homes in the Spine, they had nothing but stone for the making of tools. In time, under Welon's tutelage, they mastered copper, bronze, brass, and iron. With these, the Bearded Ones dug deep mines and magnificent halls, and erected citadels that made those of other races look like sand castles. For the Dwarves, as is known, were and are touchy in the matters of honor, and greed can lead one to look upon his neighbour's property with envy. The wars were numerous and fierce.
 
In time, the Clan of the Bearded Bear rose to dominate the middle range of the Spine Of The World. Their greatest chief, Lorna Blutbart, was a mistress of all metal crafts, a priest of renown, and a ferocious war leader. In her old age, when her plaited, gold-adorned beard was waist-long and white as the eternal snow of the North, Welond came to her.
 
"Chief of the Bearded Bears, hear me. I am Welond, god of your kind, and I take joy in you, foremost of my children of these days. I will now show you how to make the perfect alloy, for you have proven yourself worthy of this secret. And you shall pass it on to those you, by augury and wisdom, find worthy in turn." And then Welond took Lorna to his Halls outside the World. For a year and a day she learned the secret of the mountain copper, orichalcum, red as blood, stronger than steel and keener than bronze, able to take enchantments that would burn other metals to a cinder. After her return to her clan, the Bearded Bear herself herself cast a the great spear-axe Blood-fire, that in time came to be the token of kingship over all Dwarves of the World. Legend says that she quenched it in the blood of a fire-drake to seal its flame spell, but since those never existed it is most likely just a story.

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

No, what they want their opponents to do is to start treating all Muslims as potential terrorists, alienating them from society, thereby radicalizing them and making them targets for recruitment by the terrorists.

Welond the god of crafts, in the depths of time, forged the race of Dwarves. Some might say that he was a bit premature, as at the time the world of [blank] had not yet been given any shape whatsoever. But none the less, he made them, and he made them well -- strong and hardy and hairy, but also headstrong and surly and proud, particularly regarding their beards. Their fists were as rocks, their sinews were as silk, their flesh was as iron, and their beards were as cashmere wool, flowing and glistening. Such beards.

Geography: Mountain chain -- The Spine Of The World. Stretching from one end of the world to the other, the tallest peaks almost scratching the sky, filled with all possible mineral wealth.

Golden Age Champions is text-complete and turned in, ready for layout! Woot! Just north of 155k words in final form, with a chunk saved over for the Secret Files later (including the Golden Age lineup of the Justice Squadron, who didn't make the cut.) So, that's probably about 240 pages of text, not including the timeline and the weapons/vehicles sheets, probably about 270 all told.

Two weeks worth of quotes from my Fantasy Hero game:
 
Father Edmondo is introducing the party to Danish King Sweyn Forkbeard. But the Alchemist can’t live down a teensy fumble she made last week:
Edmondo: “…and this is Abida from the far-off city of Cordova.”
Thyri: “Aka Abida the Pyro.”
Abida: “Y’know, you build a dozen defensive walls and you’re not Abida the Builder. Heal a hundred wounds and no one calls you Abida the Healer. Spin lead into gold on a frickin’ weekly basis and you’re not Abida the Walking Wallet. But accidentally burn down one ship, and Hey it’s Abida the Pyro!”
Geralt: “We were on it at the time.”
Abida: “ONE TIME!”
 
Edmondo is thrilled to learn a well-known Icelandic bard has stolen copied one of his stories:
Edmondo: “That’s how you achieve immortality!”
Abida: (calmly) “No it’s not.”
A moment of I Don’t Get It-itis, followed by uproarious laughter as the players all remember that Abida the alchemist has created a potion that literally makes her immortal!
 
One of our players is moving away, so her PC Thyri got poisoned and is “mostly dead.” Edmondo, who had a will-they-won’t-they thing going with Thyri, is in mourning.
Thyri’s Player: “I picture Edmondo as ugly-crying through this whole episode.
Edmondo’s Player: “He’s not ugly-crying. Not in public.”
 
They arrive in Wales, Aeddan’s homeland:
Aeddan: “Welcome to Cymru, which outsiders call Wales! Everyone who has ever visited it, Bishop or Viking alike, has called it a Horse’s Ass. But we like to say, it is OUR Horses’s Ass!” [drops down and kisses the soil]
Edmondo: “Seriously, what is wrong with you people?!”
Thyri’s player: “Thyri’s actually glad she’s in a coma.”
 
Parenthetical:
GM: “By the way I will never complain about Irish history again, after spending the last two weeks cramming Welsh history, which is every bit as confusing except with no vowels.”
Aeddan’s Player: “Right?!”
 
Later:
Player 1: “Edmondo may need to bury his grief in some Welsh bosom.”
Edmondo’s Player: [shakes his head] “Too soon. Besides after being with a Viking, who here is going to satisfy him?”
GM: “Once you go Viking, you never go…hiking?”
Player 2: [ala Firefly] “Have you ever been with a warrior woman?”
Edmondo’s Player: “Once you go Norse, you never go worse?”
GM: “That…almost rhymes.”
Player 1: “Maybe it sounds better in Welsh?”
Edmondo’s Player: “Once you go Norse, you gwythdd iffn hwpthg ppppppppfffft!”
(No those aren’t actual Welsh words, but it feels that way a little.)
 
And finally, that moment when the GM's half asleep, everyone's getting punchy, and you should probably have called it ten minutes ago, but the GM's trying to get to the Big Cliffhanger:
GM: "You arrive at the King's Hall, which has been decorated for the wedding with, uh...boughs of...holly?"
Player 2: "So, they decked the hall with boughs of holly?"
GM: "...You might say that."
Player 2: "I didn't realize they celebrated Christmas in August here."
GM: "Y'know, I got halfway through that sentence and realized where is was going, but by that time it was too late. The road's only this wide; there's no turning around."

"I'm right and everyone else is an eejit."

Meese!

Meese!