A second chance

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.

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...

'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

The Malisso Cabinet is an ordinary piece of luxurious furniture, but one that might create a lot of trouble for its owner.

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.

When the Caliph-Emperor of the Dunes hear about his son's heart attack at the northern front, his rage is unstoppable. For his son was only nineteen years old, and a trained athlete. Grief stricken as only a parent bereft of their child can be, the Emperor finally rouses the Empire into action.

So, when reinforcements finally arrive to the beleaguered veterans at the front, they are accompanied by the the Imperial Necromancers in their gold laced red silken robes, as well as the three old triplet hags of Devananon, seers and prophets who use narcotics to enhance their trance visions.

As the Prince's corpse is carted to the Spires of Devananon, where the necromancers and the triplets will work their magic, the PCs will have to conjure a plan of their own. For they are to blame for the Prince's death.

This plot is set five months after the happenings of 'A Dark Moon over Sagranz', but could be adapted by any GM to fit his setting and need.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 a system for balancing magic based on two negative aspects: A) Magic creates 'noise' that those sensitive to power will notice and B)Magic is channeled through rifts to other parts of reality OR other dimensions/planes/what have you and those rifts can get out of control...

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.

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.

Saints and Sainthood: The inside story on the ascended

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