A weapon of unsurpassed power that takes a dire toll on its wielder.
Abasil, home of the Wood Elves
Don’t just lug your loot around put it to work
When an old map is found in a floating bottle by a fishing ship, and is sent to a mage for solving what the ancient symbols on it mean, the old piece of paper becomes more than a map.
All know that Elves cannot die, and that Men do. All know that Men go unto the Underworld upon their death, and that the Elves retire unto the Spiritual Elysium. Yet in the Great Scheme, where goes the one with one foot in the Underworld, and one foot in the Realm of Spirit?
An unusual woman, with twelve debts she can never repay.
He may be a small green goblin but donÃ¢t tell him that or he might show you otherwise.
A staff of great power in the hands off those who manipulate the strands of fate.
The players have possession of a simple book. It seems like just a curiosity. Then everyone came out of it and things got…. complicated.
Amos only wanted to please you with his music.
The quirky gnome captain of the small air ship the Flying Gopher. Knooble and his crew sell out their services of hauling cargo or quick travel.
He is a very powerful mage for his age at 26. He has led a very normal life, well at least as normal as you can get with a mage.
The greedy demon, Shikan, terrorized the countryside of the North, killing whomever and plundering whatever he fancied. No one dared to challenge his might, and his ego and reputation grew bloated and over-ripe…
The bell calls from its lonely tower, ringing across the valley. For whom does the bell toll, it tolls for thee…
A feral, neanderthal-like man whose become a (somewhat) king amonsgst men, sorta.
Do you know what this means? asked the healer, staring earnestly at the boy from beneath his bushy white eyebrows.
Xander shook his head, his lip trembling.
The healer’s felt a rush of sympathy for the child. he reminded him of Shalleah somehow. 13 years was such a young age to die.
“You have but three months left.” he said slowly and softly. Each word rang solitarily through the room, and though they were whispered they had more impact then anything the young boy had ever heard before.
A young man, disowned by his family, traveling the world in an attempt to redeem himself with his musical talent and his prowess with a sword.
Magical energies abound in the land around the Pit of Infren and Last Stand. Magical mining towns would abound in this fertile area, if they could survive.
Well, some of the old timers still work the mines, but the biggest news out in these parts is that the ARC is going to lay a line of rail through the Canyon.
Completely isolated from the rest of the world, the House of the Abbot is possibly the most remote location that can be found.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.