Also called the Flowers of Childhood, they look like they were taken straight from a fairytale. But they have a darker side.
Captain Aubrey surveyed the deck of the captured sloop. He was amazed that such well run ship could crewed by such a motley gang of men. He turned to the doctor and wondered, "No man is born into piracy. What were these many fellows before they took up the black flag? Surely they can not all share the same story."
A warrior that never tremble, a warrior that always line forward, a warrior that always spearheading the battle. His bravery is unimaginable... It's Valadaar, the Hand of Ashantar...
A quote from my solo campaign that really got me thinking about how players perceive Npcs.
Does your players treat your precious Npcs like nothing but obstacles, exploits and cannon fodder, whether they are gelatinous cubes or humans?
And if so, what can we do to change it?
A description of the geography of Atreus. This sub will also be an umbrella sub for all the coming Atreus subs.
The City of Strangers. The Beautiful City. The City of Gold. The City of Sharks.
A very brief set of guidelines for writing material in or for the Cosmic Era setting
A list of Parapsychic powers that have physical manifestations
Kalraka Dzeik is a sentient lightning storm with a following of cultists. It has much in common with a natural disaster or a plague; it starts at a single point but spreads like wildfire if given the chance. It is capable of terrible destruction, and will take heroic effort to stop, if it can be stopped at all.
"We followed the map as best we could, periodically checking our bearings using the chronograph and the sextants that the seer had given us. Eventually we found the deserted location that corresponded to the coordinates on the rapidly disintegrating map. And we began digging...
"We started a trench that went down about fifteen feet into the baking sand and headed due South. After a few hours our spades rang with the sound of steel on stone and as it did so the group gathered round to see what we had hit. Some hand digging revealed a dark black stone that had been carved with a strange texture on it's surface like a series of overlapping layers of petrified tendrils frozen for perhaps a thousand years. It looked and felt utterly alien, and yet our goal lay in the centre of this forbidding artefact.
Changing the Maddux is a difficult as changing the weather. And like the storm on the horizon, all one can do when Maddux sings is to prepare yourself as best you can.
Programs, HoloFeeds, and S3 Sims from the Cosmic Era
The hyperborean realm of the Eternal Flame
Lavish glade and lush green field,
Wizen'd oaks; to the blight all yield.
Weeping trees of crimson blood,
the Fields of Flesh turn life to mud.
Will you tread and smile and sleep
where devils dance and angels weep?
Captain Blackthorn grimaced against the salt air that sandblasted his face. His men were weary, his ship was falling apart and the hold was replete with treasures beyond counting. It was time to head home and enjoy the bounty that years at sea had brought them. As he braced himself against the pressing squall he considered the conundrum of converting said bounty into a transferable asset that could easily be spent without arousing suspicion of the local militia or the jealousy of rival pirates. If only large amounts of wealth could be represented on something as light and unobtrusive as a piece of paper. But then Blackthorn had a idea:
"I know what we'll do! We'll bury it!…"
Not all magic items are for humans. Rewrite of my original and premiere submission, Horse Brass
"We're nothing new. We've always been here. YOU're the newcomers. You're the animal that forgot that it was a man. Stop crying, you animal, you sleepwalker! If you opened your eyes for only an instant you would see that. You're a race of amnesiacs, of dreaming children. I said STOP CRYING! You disgust me. That's why I'm not going to explain anything else. That's why you will die--screaming--without ever having truly woken up. I will paint every inch of this floor with your blood."
-An Awakened, formerly Ms. Albright, speaking to Albert Frond, immediately before his murder
In which more methods are expounded by which one may refine a dungeon to more sublime levels of confusion.
This isn't nonsense--this is logic!
We were crossing a ridge when Corgan was lifted off the ground by something. "Shoot it! Shoot the tyrannosaur!" he screamed as blood streamed from the puncture wounds that had opened up in belly. I fired into the empty space above him to no effect. Then Corgan's ragged corpse dropped to the forest floor, and I was alone. Utterly alone. There was no dinosaur. There was nothing.