An army can be compared to a craftsmen. Both produce for gain. A craftsmen produces a product, a good, for monetary gain. An army, however, produces corpses for resource acquisition. Be it on the battlefield or in the medical tent with the severely wounded being put out of their misery, the fillers of graves are being produced.
Any mind of the modern age has thought about putting those bodies to work. Necromancy has long been socially inacceptable. Besides, no one enjoys seeing a former comrade, a former brother-in-arms, walking around fighting and killing with a spear hole in his gut and a couple arrows hanging from the arms. And the only other way was to throw the dead body into a catapult and throw it at the enemy, in the hopes of giving them plague.
It was Obstarian military who first unleashed the Raveten on their foes during the World War. No one was prepared for it. And so people died.
Think twice before giving your children extreme in utero biomodification. Your decision will last for my lifetime.
When a wizard named Mendalus develops a spell that summons an obedient woman named Catherine--exactly like any other summoning spell--it creates chaos in the wizard-metropolis of Meltheria, as many interested parties struggle to understand the nature (and legality) of the Catherine spell, while vast fortunes hang in the balance.
The cover depicts a stylized rose with one drop of blood dripping from one of its thorns.
(But is there more than meets the eye with this book, of bloody course there is!)
Herein lies the histories of Warpriest Lazarus, righteous fist of Tridoa. Lord Lightward the Lunar Hammer.
Herein lies the birth of Lazarus Lightward the Hellpriest; Trickster of Devils and Master of the Bloodied Moon.
This submission was lost to the void...
The shining city of glass and mirror within the forboding Karikun desert. Welcome to the home city and birthplace of the Ouzquin Dremorix.
One man's ultimate demise could prove another's treasure...Or curse.
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.
The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...