The Deck of Shadows is bound to other dimensions through demonic blood magic infused in the wood, and the eldritch essence woven into the vivid paintings on the cards.

Saints and Sainthood: The inside story on the ascended

'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

One of the toys of the ruler of the lost realm, the music box of Mordalin gives great powers at an even greater cost.

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.

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.

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

This is devoted to those common problems facing a GM. How do you get enough players? What do you do when there is a bad atmosphere within the group?

Everyone, please post those tips and tricks that come to mind. There is no one true solution. Different GMs, different solutions.

The players; survivors of an elite squad of mercenaries, are assigned to an assassination mission. Their task; to penetrate enemy lines during night, enter the fortified Holzberg Monastery where Sagranz has his command, and kill the elderly Hexenjaeger in his sleep.

If only it was so easy...

Come, face Hak-Hakunin, the accursed and undying spawn of Dancer Kallina. Watch him trek through eternity, a cruel and heartless executioner of infants and innocents. A cold toy of the Gods, a death bringer and prisoner of fate.

Thenadore is a small boy who always laugh and who is considered a child prodigy. However there is a secret concerning him. A secret few knows about.

When the Gods forged Creation they imbued everything with a spirit of its own, a soul so to speak. The trees, the bushes, serpents and birds, everything was imbued with a soul. Even the very earth and the mountains got spirits of their own, as did the winds, the rain and the storms.

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...

'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. '

This is a scroll for posting spells to be used with fantasy art, or just debating possible effects and uses for magic together with art. Come join the creative effort.

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.

In the dark alleys of Malcaresh, the Caravan City of the Plains, many an adventurer meets his death at the end of an unseen blade. Even more part unwillingly with their belongings, having fallen victim to the thieves and cutthroats plying their old and ignoble trade. Yet even among these, the whispers of House Caraguil invoke fear and discomfort.

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.

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 � Beloth � 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?