Zakhara month names:

• Taraq
• Masta
• Magarib
• Gammam
• Mihla
• Qawafil
• Holy day of Ahad
• Holy day of Atnen
• Holy day of Salas
• Holy day of Arba
• Holy day of Yasad
• Safa
• Dar
• Riyah
• Nau
• Rahat
• Saris

Months have 30 days, and the five holy days don't have any months, they just come after 30th of Qawafil and before 1st of Safa.

Första taraq börjar året,
nästa masta kommer näst.
Magarib, gamman har knopp i håret,
Mihla, qawafil blommar mest.
Safa, dar och riyah,
härlig sommar är det då.
Men nau och rahat
och saris är så grå.

The party is

• Jalara abd-Jamil, a bugbear corsair
• Djut, a goblin corsair
• Keeze, a goblin sa’luk
• Na’im al-Qadib, an air genasi flamewind sorcerer

Everyone has a shared goal: to get onboard a ship by capturing the Sea Ghost. Unfortunately they don’t really know much about that ship.

The two corsairs also want revenge on the pirates on Sunless Island.

Keeze and Na’im have a shared past… that they don’t know about. They’ve both suffered memory loss. They used to be level 12 characters with some kind of relationship – the nature of that relationship is still a mystery – but one of them used a Wish “I wish we had never met” which reset their lifes and wiped their memories. Back to level 1. Back to the old fishing village.

jag vet att jag har minnesluckor men det är ändå inte så konstigt efter alla fester jag varit på och allt man rökt, druckit och testat på där

ta det lugnt?! haha nej det kommer inte hända. måste ju hänga med i svängarna, skvallra, dansa och allt det där… jag är en livsnjutare in i märgen

men… det känns som att jag har varit vassare med kniven och snabbare på fötterna eller att jag borde vara det, en mycket märklig känsla… det känns som deja vu varje gång jag lär mig något nytt!

fast jag kommer mycket väl ihåg mitt kall och uppgift här i livet… ja även vi tjuvar har vår heder och mästare som ger oss uppgifter ibland

jag kommer också ihåg mina drömmar om att en dag grunda en stad för alla tjuvar, tiggare, gatubarn, rövare och andra på samhällets botten

som en ny Hawa ungefär… jag har varit där en gång, det minns jag, ett fantastiskt ställe!

och givetvis kommer det finnas plats för ett rejält bibliotek för vad vore en fest utan er magikers fyverkerier och konster?

men först måste vi hitta ett lämpligt ställe att grunda en stad på och för att göra det så behöver vi en bra båt

• 1494
  • Taraq
  • Masta

Acererak created the dagger from a shard of the soul monger, a magical skullgem, a ring of intelligence, smoke of his breath, and the heart of a dragonborn, and the stone itself is in fact a fragment of his own life.

The dagger is made from the soul of a living natural creature, and it cannot be healed from the death of a living creature. The soul in question is the mishap of a living creature, and the dagger is the destruction of a living creature. The dagger is never killed, as it is a living creature, and the destruction of the mishap is always the death of the living creature.

The dagger can be used as a weapon, as a tool, or an ordinary dagger.

When al-Bek, the Kahin, ordered Sir Bradford to destroy the dagger, the ghosts inside were restored from the evil forms Acererak had turned them into and their souls found peace among the planes.

Even as the plane guardians watched their numbers dwindle, their sovereigns continued to look on with hope and goodwill, and the Vizier of Fate also continued to watch the trouble with which the planeshifts were carried out. When the planeshifts had been completed, Vizier Hajama ibn Abd al-Waqadah, the God of Courage, was among those who were most disturbed, for the change that he saw was not one that he had been warned of.

Four plain golden rings were forged, one for each of the four heroes. Sharwin al-Hukra, the Wind/Sea mage. Her brother, Talgen, the corsair, and his corsair friend, just going by al-Karakas. They had been joined by an outland warrior, Sir Bradford, who carried the legendary Shatterspike.

They each had their names carved into their rings. And swore to always wear them as they were meant to be the everlasting party.

They kept on coming up from night to night, but one night they had all been at their lodgings, when the evil spirit of wanderlust that was in them gathered them all together, and took them to the palace, where the pumpkin-headed queen was sitting on her throne.

Al-Karakaras was Treasury, and was the first to wear the ring, but many of the Masters of the trade are not great, and know well enough all the plots of the Enemy, having been appointed by him. He is the First to salvage the sheep of the Desert, and to wander over more lands than any other, for a simple desire to see the light, and a desire to have the best of the best of the apples for his fellow sa'luks to eat.

Krag is what they call me.

Two times every day, Eli had looked out over the dead horizon. I had watched him, almost every time, seen the rays of sun dance over his neck of sand and earth, as he looked out over the water. His name for the sea was his roaring, crashing danger.

That danger was not how he died.

Neither the waves nor the dunes claimed him. Humanity did.

A man with white clothes, a red sash, and a silver ring with a golden, embedded symbol of a scimitar had struck him down. Openly in the street. Apprehended immediately, of course, by the confused guards. With Gellan al-Pirwa, the godfather of smuggler bands, still in jail, the guards were lost at sea with Mahnaz in exile and Eli dead.

Jumlat's influence over Safaq is slipping rapidly, and perhaps that's for the best. I was never as invested as Eli was in the sultan and his affairs. I was happy to work with my hands and shovel during the day, and read into the wee hours by candlelight in the evening.

I feel just lost as lost as the guards, as Safaq as a whole. I haven't looked over Eli's financials yet or how I'm gonna pay for this place. I am still living in his house. I still use my own room. I still read Eli's books. I still use his towels, still eat off his plate. I am still stretched on his grave.