Every 45 years, the bamboo forests which cover the tiny land of Ghanzu bloom, and very soon after come the rats…
Why isn’t this working!?
Maybe this human is too weak.
So find more humans to test it on!
The Demon Archivist, organizer of Hell’s Caravan
The Age of Vog…The Unending Winter of Discontent, The Epoch of Smoke and Ash.
I’m beging to wonder if there can be victory? Please don’t let this go on…
Memoirs of the Nameless soldier
What initially appears to be another trek through wintry mountain landscapes will be revealed as a true struggle for survival. For the mountain known as the Kiebral is an ancient evil, its secrets are countless and its power is immense. Can the PCs outwit a power from the dawn of time, or will they succumb and be trapped for all eternity?
The Empire is growing and demanding more resources. The PCs are hired by local authorities to draw up a map of the nearby mines abandoned by dwarves about two centuries ago.
What would you do if you were offered the chance to be a monster?
Everyone can think of a favorite song or two (or three) which can easily be translated into a fantasy rpg concept, be it an item, plot, location, or what have you. Just take the lyrics of your favorite real-life ditty, and go from there!
The point of the submission is quite simple: man vs nature is a common conflict in fiction, but not so much in gaming, this submission is a step to correct that.
Once a year, and each year in a different place, the wandering bazaar and social gala that is the Thieves Convention is held. Invitations Only!
According to Ars Geotia the standard formations of power consist of ley lines, confluences and founts. this system has been long accepted, and is quite incorrect…
An elder cleric asks the PCs to transport a relic to a nearby city. A simple quest with endless possibilities.
He sat there in shock, not believing what the Guard Captain said. It couldn’t be true. His sweet daughter would not be capable of killing the man she was to marry. He watched, helpless, as they took her away.
And then came the trial. Even as he heard the evidence against her, he refused to believe she could commit such a vile act. As the verdict came in, his world fell apart. It echoed in his ears, “Guilty, guilty, guilty”
I’ll tell you something, there was a demon in Widow Suvar’s Wine cellar. How do I know, ‘cuz I seen it that’s how I know.
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.
At the base of the Cyllerean Mountains a small coven of witches has laired where once was a Temple of Good.
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.
A sword that stores the identity of the wielder. To transfuse the soul to the blade, one must first stab himself through the heart. The person will not die, but lose the freedom of the soul upon real death.