Nestled snugly between the hills of the Herod Valley, at the base of the Corinth Spine mountain range and the Northern tip of the Argent sea lies the small village of Turnbury. The longhouse at the center of town a bustling hubbub of excitement. Adventurers from all walks of life converge here, ready to seek their fortune in the unknown and undiscovered frontier beyond our small hamlet's walls. We watch.
Some ways behind the longhouse, nestled in a back alley, hidden by shadows and decorated in elaborate spider silks lies our quaint little shop. We are cartographers, historians, cryptozoologists, and storytellers. We catalogue the mundane and the fantastical. We inventory the items that adventurers gather from their heroic quests. We sketch detailed accounts of the mighty beasts they have (allegedly) faced. We write their stories and tell their tales. We publish accounts of their encounters, of the beasts they have slain, and (more importantly) of the beasts they have failed to slay. We tell of the glory and riches they have found and their lost kingdoms discovered.
We are few, but we are passionate.
We are Turnbury Press.
