the three pillars of robots
In the Cosmic Era, the proliferation of arcanotech, cyborgs, robots, parapsychic threats, black market weapons, new illegal drugs constantly hitting the market, all backed up by large organized criminal syndicates, the average police officer doesn't stand a chance.
They came upon us suddenly, no sound preceding them until the splashing of their feet drew our eyes towards them. The wolf-things neither howled or snarled as they tore into our ranks.
Also known as 'jeks, wo-pos and a variety of other derogatory terms
Guilt is a powerful force
The Vitralara are an artificially created race. Despite accomplishing everything they were intended to do, the Mages of Banqua al'Zed consider the experiment a failure.
Also called the Flowers of Childhood, they look like they were taken straight from a fairytale. But they have a darker side.
"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
Watcher comes now. It comes to set me free
Of its curse of dark and emptiness and endless misery.
The manifestation of the Queen of Avarice, the Eye of Avarice is a worthy herald of that fell being.
Death is the fate of every birth, and life is only a brief loan of light before the eternal darkness swallows us. The remaining years of life have been stolen from the creatures known as Time Zombies, who stalk the living in the hopes of stealing a few more years of precious life.
Nine times out of Ten, it's the undead that do the running.
"I have no love for these aliens."
-Jax the Chronicler
In the small town of Silver Oak rests a towering Oak flush with silver metallic leaves that chime in the breeze, even during the heart of winter. Its story, and its secrets lie within this humble text...
A magical tree, suitable for any fantasy campaign.
Beau yet alien, the soldier-concubines of Aerazad, the Returned King, are a glowing reminder that a new order reigns in Eversea.
“Swiftly, repent! The Saintmaker is coming!”
The Ska'ag warrior lay in his hide, watching the intruders.
“The Makers,” he thought. It had been many generations since the last one had died, but there was no doubt. They were back. “I have to warn the People.”
Little imp-like creatures...that eat paper?!
When inventors, scientists and researchers die, they don't always take their ideas with them.
You've probebly heard of the real Thomas Hopkins, Witchfinder-General, who hunted down and hanged suspected "witches". What if there was a world/realm where magic was normal, and it was the non-witches and non-wizards who were hunted down and hanged as inferior beings?