A dwarf's fear of the ocean is not baseless. In the unknowable depths lurks an evil that will punish any dwarf arrogant enough to be on anything less than solid land, and unfortunate enough to die.
30 tanks and not quite tanks and it looks like a tank but legally it isnt.
30 generic problems to dole out for homebrew, custom made, and scratch built machines
30 job types/classes for PCs in the Cosmic Era
The ruin that birthed a society; the Life and Times of a city in the throes of death.
"De Kanaar folk tink all dere gods and medicines are secret. But I live in dese marshes long enough to hear dere gods, whether pointy-ear folk like it or not. I can hear dere comin's and goin's, an' I can make dem see you or skip you as you like."
- Tonis, hillaq of Rakart Village
There are plenty of resources available to help detail characters. I wanted a way to organize and present those details in play naturally.
Want to build a generator? Here's how!
"As he said this he blessed them with his amulet that held the Firestone, which is called also Seenu's Eye. Immediately the priestesses began to praise Tinay, and the people were greatly amazed."
- The Gospel of Dorcas, 7:20-21
Strange creatures, half dreamed half imagined, figments of delerium, wisps of insanity.
"Getting their attention is easy, you just need to hold it. But that doesn't concern you. Just make sure it's quick, then move on. You'll know when I wink."
Barathra is quite simply the Land of the Dead, the Afterlife. It, simply put, defies the Atheians' expectations. After all, for most, it is Hell.
The Fleabirds are a group of people indigenous to North America who have rejected the collectivism and sedentary lifestyle inherent in the Cosmic Era. Rather than living in the gleaming arcologies, steaming geofronts, or the great heaps of the urban rims and favelas. Rather, they live in caravans that travel the countryside of the continent.
Few know the secret behind the Flying Monks of Ka-zin is not entirely due to their remarkable skill at acrobatics, but also in the colorful belts they wore.
Come! Enter into the safe haven beneath the seas! Where humanity fled from the deadly Kalleum bombs! Take Refuge Beneath the Waves.
"The Blizzard be strong outside, lads; settle yehself in and breathe the steam; we'll pass the time with a story."
An agent of the Vatican, Father Titus is one of it's highest ranking and most effective special agents.
The Deck of Shadows is bound to other dimensions through demonic blood magic infused in the wood, and the eldritch essence woven into the vivid paintings on the cards.
The fort seemed like every small boys dream, but in fact it was a very well made magical prison, and the young prince only learned the truth when it was too late and the magic sucked him inside, his cries from his now inch high body too quiet to be heard.
Along the sluggish Vanne River, the banks are lined with thick stands of tall bulrushes. These areas of wetland are considered ill-omened by the locals, for they hide the skeletal remains of thousands of grazing animals, washed downriver in a terrible flood decades before.
Adding to the uncanny reputation of the place is the occasional undead cow or goat that lurks there. The product of a necromancer's experiments some years before, these relatively harmless undead wander the area at night, startling livestock as they attempt to graze with them.
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The desert is like the sea, the sands shift ebb and flow and with them so does life. The tide is in ebb, and Xen'da'rik is dying.