A heroic warrior who is not what he seems to be.
A blessing can also be a curse - and the last thing the world needs is an Orcish confidence trickster with an enhanced intellect and a penchant for storybooks.
A great warrior, cursed with an eternal life and a dark companion.
Vernae is a forested island which, centuries ago, became the home to refugees from the civilised lands far to the east.
A pair of soft velvet skull caps which promote the virtues of rationality, logic and good judgement.
A pair of rings fashioned by the legendary Elven spellsmith Aurinellian. Powerful but subtle enchantments bring the happy couple closer together.
A short adventure synopsis for any party which is getting a little too big for it’s boots.
Created in the far future, then sent through a temporal rift to the ancient past by the Chronomage Cara, the Circlet is an artefact designed to focus a mage’s energies when attempting to manipulate time.
Created long ago by the Chronomage Cara, the Amulet is an artefact designed to focus a mage’s energies when attempting to manipulate time.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.