Stronghold made for the liche Haukagaron. He was betrayed at the last and Castle Kaukenn was pulled into the Abyssal realms.
One bad moment left him permanently destitute. Down on his luck, Mark Greaves learns that necessity sometimes brings you to work you never realized you could be good at.
Among the ranks of the white wastes and the endless seas of Plincy roam the hovercraft of the infamous religious mercenaries, Isbjörnarna. The side of each craft is emblazoned with the logo of a striking polar bear: claws extended and fangs bared.
Roaming the back roads, ever searching for his lost head. Beware the Headless Motorcycle Man.
"We just thought the winter was worse'n usual. Turns out we had an unexpected visitor. Wasn't until poor Dave and Glenda... died... that we finally got a clue. By then it was almost too late. You know how many of us'll never be the same? Oh, you doubt me, do you? Look in my eye, son, and tell me what you don't see. Yeah, I thought so. Damned Snow Devil!"
There are three things, each sacred and bearded: Moon, Monks, and Moss. All connected. Tied together by the Monks of the Bearded Moon, an old order of healers, mystics, bearers of the secret knowledge, and inheritors of the Bearded Moon's gifts. Theirs is a sect full of mystery and bound by ritual.
Wild beasts of the imagination — untamed spirits of the quick and unfettered waters of this world. These steeds of the fast-flowing rivers are never to be captured, never to be controlled; to stop is to die — to be stopped is to be turned to droplets which return to the fast-flowing waters. Yet, while free they are things of pure beauty; mystical bringers of the gods' good will.
Come! Enter into the safe haven beneath the seas! Where humanity fled from the deadly Kalleum bombs! Take Refuge Beneath the Waves.
Bluest of sapphires; the ice-cold jewel. From its hoary breath flows the bitter winter winds. The Lady Karina sits there for all eternity, looking deep into the eyes of her lover.
"They said it would bring us a new age of wonder, of exploration, of excitement. I don't think this is what they meant: us scurrying around like rats in our cities of steam and steel, far away from the land and the sun."
You think the zombies are bad? Wait till you meet their masters!
The three sacred relics of Ahkti.
A demon unleashed... to make the world a better place.
The birth and life of a god through the long ages.
Slumbering within a prison of ice and snow, adrift in the oceans of the north, Gundrak dreams without end.
An industrious colony of Gnomes have managed to turn a hostile environment into a bread basket.
A bloated corpse shows up downriver from a Taoist monastery. Brought to you by
the words bloat, corpse, redhead, Tao, monastery, murder, underwater treasure,
chains, Wuxia, and romance.
Also known as "The Ravager," Chimera Prototype Mk-XXIII is an example of man's hubris. What was supposed to benefit the last bastions of wealth and power in a dying world has become an unstoppable force of destruction.
The People of the pocket realm of Brocschtal are simple folk who live as they have for thousands of years. Farming the land, raising sheep, getting in the occasional brawl. And fighting off the infernal attacks of ghouls.
Two cultures at war.
Magic is the lifeforce of all living creatures, and it is from it that all life is made - in areas with lots of undead, magic might actually be missing or weak, which puts a whole new spin on how dangerous the undead are. Even simple zombies can be troublesome if you're relying on mages and you hit a pocket of undead making a low-magic zone...