In the ramshackle town of Spear Malice only a single building still stands. It has defied the Great War and its spears of light; nuclear blasts that devastated the entire state, and ever since then it has defied the onslaught of time.

Its halls have not yet been breached, and a wealth of technological treasure await, ripe for plunder! But there are others who crave this treasure; others that will do anything to claim it.

A second chance

An enormous Angoath was holding a young recruit in his hands, his body broken and blood seeping freely from between the cracks of his banded armour. The dead legionary's head lolled unnaturally; obviously the neck had been crushed. It was amazing how fast these creatures could move and suddenly it lowered its head and charged headlong towards me, no doubt intending to skewer me on that sharp, spiky ridge. All around me I glimpsed similar scenes. The Angoath were washing over us like a wave of black silver, their claws rending us apart, their teeth chewing into our armour.

Saints and Sainthood: The inside story on the ascended

A white silken mask with burnt edges. A white little mask which eventually led it's wearer to be burnt at the stake.

'Dreams are the only reality' suggests some of the ancient manuscripts. Dreams and the dreamers often reveal secrets long forgotten, or dreams can hide the truth only to make it resurface decades or even centuries later

At this time an old man, one who told the Prince wondrous tales during his childhood, walked upon the bridge and witnessed the prince commit suicide, saw him fall into the water. 'This is the Bridge of Fates. I foresee great sorrow and happiness. This bridge shall never remain neutral, shall know tears of joy and the blood of innocents'.

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?

Throughout creation there are locations which serve as nexuses of sorts; conduits between one place and another. Such are the rules of translocation that only areas that border each other can be traversed by physical or magical means.

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?

'Sigh. Another mysterious, highly skilled assassin, with a difficult child hood and black clothes. Oh. This one has knives in his belt, not his boot. Well, at least it is not a Drow. '

On one of the adventurers' many journeys through the lands, they one day enter a very strange village surrounded by a palisade. Therein all villagers seem to be sleeping, their hair long and flowing and their nails ever growing. Snow has settled on the land and the few found outdoors are covered in a thin layer of powdery white snow. Nothing can be done to awaken these mysterious sleepers and there seems to be no escaping this village either.

Then the night falls...

There exists, within the interdimensional realm known as 'Muir', a most holy city; a city of Gods, a city of Legends, a city with Dark Secrets.

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.

Necromancy: By some it is considered as nefarious black arts and by others a vault of opportunities, the very key to the secrets of life. A substantial part of the necromancer's practice is devoted to undeath; a state in which one is neither alive nor dead. Unbeknownst to the general populace there are three ways in which undeath can provoked, and the curse of unlife bestowed upon the recipient.

On the intersection of Noble Avenue and First Street lies Kandorr's Fine Perfumery. The shop occupies the entire building which is built in a classical style with majestic marble pillars and stylish stained glass windows.

Even though the Gods struggle so, their achievements are temporary at best.
For all beings must dream, and within those dreams dwell the Dreamer.

Come then and succumb to the lord, come then and enter the realm of sleep.
Come then taste the nectar, made of the tears of the dreamer.

-The 5th verse in the Book of the Dreaming Cult

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.

The Eternals are one of the few races who survived the awakening of the Gods and the fall of Prime Creation. They were solitary, but powerful, weavers of essence and were locked in a bloody war with the Other Ones, another race which survived the Gods.

A Village by a forest, and a secret few knows. Will the PCs discover what dwells beneath the surface?