Within these Towers reside some of the most feared sorcerers ever to have blighted the lands of men.
From that silent place fear flows in unseen waves, like white fog. The shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. Through it's frowning walls and dark window openings there's a lantern of the spirit which none see by but those who bear it.
Bells tolled continually, announcing new deaths.
"I hear that he walks the North these days, strides amongst the Silver Firs of those harsh lands. His followers struggling behind in the frost mist. New ones joining the lines everyday the, drawn to him by some mysterious force."
An article that debates the matters of childhood in fantasy RPG’s in relation to the Player Characters.
Elias and Manfred are basically a ventriloquist act. However, the major difference between them and other ventriloquists is that Manfred the Talking Cat is a real cat and not a puppet.
Come hither peasant!
Different aspects of forging your Player Character- Geography and Goals. Enjoyable for Players and Gamemasters alike.
Advice for players on different ways of fleshing out and developing the Player Characters.
An article for GM’s and players alike upon the matter of the family and friends of the players.
A Vampire hunter.
This is where the citadellians share and collect our tales of playtesting each others submissions.
Within this ancient tome are 30 companion spirits for wizards and their ilk.
A sweet old Herbalist with a secret, how old is he really?
A mercenary for hire. If you can handle the foul stench of dead dog, sweat and grease.
Farmers believe that once a crop has been harvested the corn spirits are homeless, and will leave the field to search for a new home. The Scarecrow will remain in the fields during winter, providing a refuge for the corn spirit until the new harvest is planted in spring.
Cursed swords that bring bad fortune to whoever wields them. Or are they?
A collection of healing Herbs.
Here is a list of those not-so-attractive treasures that the PC’s might find on their quests.
They march, march forever. Eerie chanting fill the air. Death Cometh.
The road has never been more than an overgrown mud track, little travelled and little cared for, petered out to nothing more than a flattened earthen line, barely distinguishable from the rest of the landscape. The soil is dark and fecund and dark oaks stand like sentinels at the forest edge, their branches high and leafy. From them hang grizzly human bones, skulls and shiny precious stones. Who put these strange totems there? Are they warnings? Do the PCs dare to take the stones?