High above the lands of the living, where frost and howling of the wind reign, the morbid monument to a faith long dead calls the deceased on a last pilgrimage.

A horde of devious, ferocious, tenacious, and atrocious creatures, beasts, and monstrosities to populate the northern realms of your fantasy. Get them while they're cold!

Seldom does one see a Dunshar 'nude', as an amorphous masses of jelly. They can animate mud, earth, stone or metal, and use them as a body to shield their fragile self.

Known in folk-lore as the Blighted Storm-Serpents, the reclusive Kumbra are far more than any might guess.

Should you wish to pluck a rose, or to caress it, beware its thorns, its dangerous beauty.

A tool of war, given free will to foster stife and conflict, that used that very same free will to become a messenger of peace.

The beast within became the beast without; ferocity and might blossoming in corpore upon the flesh.

To all space explorers, rogue traders and Federation colonisation and expeditionary force officers!

Thirty new alien species have been discovered. You are well-advised to inform yourselves, as to engage these entities correctly, without risk of harm to yourself or to the interests of Terra.

Ten of the described species are human in origin, yet modified to such a degree that they no longer need to be considered human.

Another ten are civilisation-building aliens competing with Terra for available space.

The final ten entries are remarkable life forms that display sapience, without using it to create civilisations. Caution is advised.

Has your kid been acting strangely? Returning home late at night, bearing bruises and clothes torn? Something else than puberty may be the reason.

Two young nobles, enmity between their families. Where have we seen this before?

Magic is a blessing and curse, life and death, birth and undoing, a goal and a way.

Salvation to oneself is bought through the salvation of others…

As a way of defining your character better

A lot of travelling singers have a flame or incessant longing in their heart.This woman's heart holds something more as well.

In seeking to escape serving the Lord of Ravens many a hope flickered and died, for those who oppose him end up serving him after all.

What is a forest’s firm support, yet walks ‘round on its own accord?
What’s possessed of a titan’s might, stands before you, yet out of sight?
What soundly spanks with gnarled root a behind that is not good?

An evil that nurtures evil, a dark mother that is cradle to shadow.

A blade of darkest night turned to a different use, to teach and educate the knight?

Pride. Strength. Skill.
These are the values of the Monroi, woven into their very being - for them, battle is not just self-preservation, but a need.

“Swiftly, repent! The Saintmaker is coming!”