"The Tower of Ill Omen!" the old gypsy gasped as she glimpsed the shattered structure at the mountain’s peak.
God forbid that I should go to any Heaven where there are no horses.
- R. B. Cunninghame-Graham
"Summon the Legions! We shall offer battle within Bleak Vale! This time, OUR cause shall triumph!"
In the realms, not all fortifications are walls of wood, stone and iron.
When want and famine stalk the land, a strange tower of ashes appears in the village common, a tower holding the sacrifices of the unworthy. Those who have the courage may reclaim these treasures…
Despair! Despair! The Dread Crow’s Glare!
The Horrors and Wonders of a distant, sun-drenched land. Everything you need to run a desert campaign!
An alliance between bitterest foes in a desperate bid for their survival, thus was the beginning of the Shrew-Wars
Crawling among the garbage and offal, the detritus of what men call civilization, the myrie bugs claim their own small domains. They eat, and breed, and wait…
These are the worlds and planets encountered by daring space explorers.
So they defeated the horde of impoverished peasants armed with farm implements. Now they want to loot the bodies…
The words which lie herein are a documentary of the Ouzala - the Weapon of the Ouzquin Dremorix - And the enchantments of Axtrami.
A beast made of writing; a strange, sad, and beautiful being that haunts the libraries and universities of the Sacred World
On a sprawling mound of steel and rust and hate sits a clockwork castle, the technological dread that is a machineÃ¢??s delusion.
Sing to me and I shall write, on lilies, poetry of the night.
A cold and cadavorous collection of nefarious necromancers.
Never buy your potions from the Discount Dealer…
Do as thou Will…
Trapped forever in the grip of the Sea of Jade, paralyzed by the Great Curse, the Fleet of Nazran has become a hellish prison of eternal torment, and the tomb of adventurers from across the Earth.
What a strange world we live in…
Troile, Royal Astronomer and Numerologist
The Hierophant of Greenmarch is a lycanthrope. Rather than seeking a cure, or hiding his condition, he considers it a blessing from the Goddess of the moon, and requires that all of the Druids and loyal Rangers of Greenmarch to share in his gift.