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.
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.