A unique spear that was lost in production.
The sight of a war forbici on the battle field makes some laugh, others fearful, and some simply confused. In well-trained hands, however, it can be a lethal weapon.
A voice as supple as silk, a face hidden in the shadows of a hood, yet the words she speaks are colder than the grave and burn more furiously than any inferno.
In the quaint little town known as Golothei, the infamous black legion makes it’s last stand against the mountain tribes of the Ugeroth. On the Asylum River Island the battle rage most intensely, legionary squad mages barely holding their own against the onslaught of chaos worshipping tribal sorcerors. To this location the PCs are destined to travel in search of the powerful artifact known as the Tallow Candle. But not all is as it seems within the halls of the asylum.
Thoral’s grim brigade is a mercenary unit under curse. They are led by Thoral, a half-undead half-realdead reanimated barbarian who negotiates the brigades affairs in a terse and direct whisper.
There are certain things that need not be said, and events best left in the past, to be forgotten. Be careful what you wish for.
Failure. For most, it is an occasional streak of bad luck to be suffered. For others… well, it’s a living.
“The great hulk of the scaled beast lay wheezing before me, and I am not ashamed to say that I was frightened: though it was injured, I knew the dragon could easily tear me in twain. The young monk, however, knelt beside the creature’s head, whispering to it in a strange growling tongue. I questioned the woman, but she ignored me completely, engrossed in examining the scaly monster. After much badgering, she said merely, ‘I do not mean to be rude, but you are quite a distraction. Please, leave me to my work.’” -Jeron’s Great Journeys, Book III, Chapter 4
From the depths of the void the masses crash through the Gates of Forlorn and wreak havok on the world of men. The flood is an unending tide of chaos and destruction that is everlasting. Their thirst for blood is surpassed only by the rising of the son, on it stands eternal. On the comming of the Flood, the children of the lost god will reign supreme on a charred world where the people are enslaved, and the rulers are Demonblood.
- Excerpt from the tome of Caedmon.
Also known as the Oathbreakers Legion, or the Forsaken, this company is often the last stop for criminals, vagabonds and vagrants before the headsman’s ax.
Book with initially blank pages which records the life of the holder from the time it is picked up to the day someone else picks it up, at which point it starts again as blank pages.
The hideous and hairy Houtsunomuh is the mythological Stalker of Graveyards and Eater of the Dead, one of the Eight Great Monsters of Enohountsun mythology.
“Sir, Legatus Suuhai has commanded us to hold and prepare for flank attacks from the enemy. He said we are to hold and be ready to sweep among them. Your order?
Order? If Legatus Suuhai says to hold then we wait. He among the half breeds I respect. He stands like a bastion of strength when those stronger leave puddles at their feet. He says hold, we hold. But tell the others, soon we shall run and blood shall spill this day at our hooves and claws and the Dark Moon shall reign superior yet again.”
Sedecim Ductor Octavious - Commander of the 6th Divortium of the Army of Blades.
It is quoted in the Canon of St. Mancel that once in his life, that every devout soul should make pilgrimage to the holy city of Sangreal.
They stood on the crest of the rise, three men deep. Their banners, Golden Lions Rampant on a split field of red and blue, fluttering on long poles in the wind. They were silent. By some signal, they all began to rush forward screaming their battle roar. Halberd and blade coming open on the move. The enemy line broke under the power of the Lion’s signature charge.
Major Advarete, Memoirs of the Twin Rose Wars 1320 Greenfield Presses
Deep beneath the central tower laid the chambers of the Arcane. This is where the mages, witches and warlocks place those creations they deem to dangerous. The crystal bell Ã?Â Beloth Ã?Â was such a creation. Shortly after it was created by Magnus of Cormalth, it got into the hands of a cunning mercenary captain known as Harlan Marcus. Let’s shorten the tale and just say that the mages in the college valley did not like to have Harlan and his men roaming about the valley, helping themselves to the mages valuables. The bell rendered the college magic useless, and the mages locked themselves in, awaiting Harlan, armed with brooms, pottery and kitchen utensils.
The bell was later recovered, together with Harlan himself, and both were locked away in the chambers of the arcane.
This is the conclusion to the Prophecies of Redemption Campaign. The characters have sojourned through mountains and lowlands to reach the forest in which the entrance to the demon lord’s citadel can be found.
But the Citadel is not what one could expect. Can the PCs find their way in and survive to tell the tale?
Near the summit of mount Arak’nui, the remnants of the elven race still lingers. Their hearts darkened, their spirits broken, they have turned to evil and embraced demon-worship.
Darkness and bitterness has consumed them, and they have turned away from their gods and summoned demons to inhabit the flesh and souls of the willing. Shadow dancers these elves are called, and they are an instrument of revenge, wreaking havoc wherever they dance into the midst of the enemy. It was an alliance hastily made in those desperate days three centuries ago, but as the elves witnessed the agony and change visited upon the shadowdancers they regret the decision more and more.
Crystal Hornets are heard long before they are seen. Their humming is like the beautiful sound of a violin that is being played by a master musician,and to those who have encountered them before, it acts as a warning.
Many know the image of the Night-Mare, a sable horse wreathed in a nimbus of hellfire sent from the underworld every night to deliver dreams of terror and fear to the living. While this is not entirely incorrect, the truth is more complicated…
During a storm the PCs come upon a little boy that plays in the rain. Upon further inspection they discover that he has one eye and a long tongue lolling in its mouth. Spit dripping. It is a demon from beyond that can access our realm during storms, it eats all heads that are not its own, living and dead.