Blurring the line between black and white, Selyn DeJaod is one of the last surviving Blaze Knights of old.
A man of the city in the wild, a man of coin stands at nature’s side? Can this go well, can it bear fruit? Will he be worthy, will duty take root?
Spires of crystals reach in the barren sky, glittering like the teeth of some long since slain carnivore god…
Tainted. Witch. Hellspawn. Freak. Monster. How often does one have to hear this until ... she makes the decision to stand up, stand up for them all?
Have you or anyone you know ever been accused of a crime you didn’t commit? Been sent to the Hangman knowing you were innocent? Have you ever welcomed the noose to prove it?
Anything is possible with the capricous power of this Glyph.
Darken Flind is capable of harnessing the raw power generate from sacrifice and forge the struggling soul-essence into magical runes and charms. Bloodforging, as the practice is known, tends to be less subtle and benevolent than other forms of magic. However, a bloodbound object can be incredibly potent and deadly in the wrong hands.
A hunting party realizes a druid has been foiling it’s hunting efforts and shifts it’s focus from hunting wild game to hunting the druid.
The wristbands look ordinary. Sure, they may be a couple centuries old, but they weren’t iron. They were another, magical metal, and they were strong enough to stop even the biggest sword, if you’re fast enough. But they also draw the attention of another, who will hound you to your grave.
Sinister, enganging plot involves a powerful tool fallen into the wrong hands. Only the players can set things right. They have a piece of the tool, but first they have to figure out how the tool works, why two opposing forces are persuing them, whom to trust, and what to do next. Murder, accusation, betrayal, diplomacy, combat, and constant mystique force the players to make incredibly difficult decisions.
This powerful magic item was created to augment Alienists, a prestige class in the Tome and Blood.
Circlet of Amplus Ater Iris meaning “Circlet of The Great Dark Messenger” (Amplus - great, important; Ater - dark, malicious; Iris - messenger of the gods. Thought by some to mean Nyarlathotep)
The leather has held out nicely over the years, of course, it’s magical. And their surefootedness is quite remarkable. Pity everyone thinks you’re daft for wearing them.
A slightly worn looking, and rather thin book. Its cover is red, but also holds some inset jewels, and the words “Eventful Evenings with Magic” written on the cover in gold leaf. While not a misnomer, it is interestingly deceptive.
This small orb, perfectly spherical, a deep, but transparent red, and very reminiscent of a standard marble, but also holds and imp who can also speak to the mind of whoever holds it. It is one of a set.
Set a number of decades after part one.
Prince Tibalt survived his unique birth into the world and is now grown into the King of Jaegerwald. Jaegerwald is no stranger to werewolves, but when members of the kings staff and council start transforming with no apprent contact with werewolves, the PCs are charged with finding and destroying this hidden monster.
Carelessly tossed aside in the middle of some forgotten tomb, this breastplate has survived the rigours of age perfectly. It’s obviously extremely valuable, but it possesses a dark secret.
Set in a heavily wooded kingdom of reknown werewolf hunters.
A princess on a hunt goes missing. Rumors of a new, more fierce werewolf surface. The party needs to find the princess before she or her seven month pregnancy are in danger.
A symbol of the guardina of the faithful, the Pilgrim’s Torch is carried from one holy site to another, ensuring the safety and continuity of the faith..
A place more holy than any other
Seemingly cast out of vast sheets of crystal, glass and ice, the Sorcerer’s Palace is a breath taking wonder of the city. Few doubt the benevolence of Emet the White who makes his abode within the palace that is as much a work of art as it is a home.
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.