Deep within the bowels of the earth, the great structure of reality finds itself at siege.
And Cain said “Blood of my Blood, Soul of my Soul, partaketh of the Blood of the mortals, who art like the swine and chattel of the earth.”
An elder lich recently returned from a journey across the worlds who seeks an artifact of ancient times.
A regular female Robin Hood with an appreciation for relaxation.
The Sword has returned from long and ancient exile. Can it’s glory be kept from falling into the wrong hands?
Long lost beneath the raging seas, the Sword holds the pure power that nobody could ever contain.
A world where there is a finite amount of magic present in the world, and it's almost used up. With the winds of magic being weak and unstable, how will nations built on the heavy use of magic survive?