Mitrall was a Guardian Deity of the Dead, who would watch over the Dead and their tombs until the time of their return (physical or re-incarnation). The culture that worshiped Mitrall has been conquered and destroyed a few centuries ago. Yet the Cult of Mitrall continues.

Forged with the souls of 12 good lawmen fighting The Darkness, carried by the 13th, the lone survivor, these shining irons have become legendary weapons for The Light.

"Okay, I didn't like Thanger", I thought, "He was a punta of epic proportions, but nobody deserved to die like that." These thoughts were crowding out the screaming in the back of my head that we were all still in danger if we did not move.

I saw Peeth kneel down besides the biggest chunk of remains, where the heart was. He reached in under his leathers and pulled out a piece of jade on a simple chain. He placed it on the remains reverently. It was fitting, Thanger died stepping in to protect Peeth.

"He needs this more than I do. Maybe it will keep him out of The Hells."

It is a box of fairly standard children's toys. There are dolls, blocks, carved knights and animals. Everyone will think, 'Oh I had one of those when I was young.'

Simonous has a sardonic wit which often escapes out of his mouth at the wrong times. Given all the touchy nobles and honor bound knights in the Three Districts, this could be a lethal problem given that dueling is legal. This twitchy unassuming young noble would appear no physical threat. Yet in reality he is one of the most dangerous duelist in the Three Districts.

Falconry or Hawking is the sport of hunting with a trained bird of prey, usually a hawk or falcon. It has been practiced by a number of cultures through out the centuries.

From the outlook of my new and inexpensive flat, I could see her. She was kneeling in the graveyard across the cobblestoned way in front of a fresh grave. She was in dark mourning gear, complete with those large black hats that were the fashion. A lost lamb I supposed, recently wed, recently widowed, crying for the loss of a loved one. She had been there two days that I noticed, as well as their nights. She never seemed to move, so locked she was in her grief. As I drank a lonely nightcap, I caught the glimpse that changed me. In the pale moon light, I saw the grave buckle. In a foul corruption of Athenean birth, some spawn sprang forth. Not taking my eyes off the horrid scene, I reached over to the weapon I had been cleaning. Before I could grasp it fully, the petite young widow of my imagination cleared a saber concealed under her over cape and removed its loathsome head. After checking her kill, she looked up at me; backlit I assumed by the lamp in the room. She was not just a simple widow, she was Mourner. I held up my glass in a true salute from one professional to another. At that point I knew two new things: That the Unnatural truly had become more active as I had been hearing in the back alleys and I needed to move far from that graveyard.

Ephemeralstability wrote:
The ochre sands stretch for miles around. Something kicks up the dust. It's a yak. A desert-yak. It ambles slowly, nuzzling the ground for the low-growing shrubs. The ranger freezes. 'Stay very still,' he warns. 'Don't move at all.' 'What is it?' you ask, breathlessly. 'It's the most dangerous creature in the whole Ocadian desert. And it's about to eat that yak...'

In the center of the plaza is The Bell. The large iron Bell is covered by a small slanted roof held up by four pillars. These pillars rest upon a square raised foundation. There are small stairs that lead up to the level of foundation. The foundation also has four strong iron loops towards the edges. If one does not know the two traditions, this arrangement makes no sense.

It is a simple child's toy, that has granted its owner good fortune. Unfortunately things are never quite what they seem, especially when Corvus is involved.

While magic if full of odd associations, some are quite "pun-ish". By accident or on purpose, slips of the tongue are there.

Magic is a living entity, simple and non-sentient, but reactive to large-scale emotional states. Its name, like we might call a dog, 'Dog', is Garan. It is better to think of it as a huge astreal vine like plant, rather than an animal.

Exerpt from the Introduction:
I know the ultimate weapon. Humans commit folly after folly because they are afraid. Fear was once Humankind's most powerful ally, giving enormous potency to the instinct for suvival. Now, fear has become Humankind's greatest enemy, and such is the obtusemenss of my species that is members do not realize it is the most powerful element of Human existance.

Some times you just need a horde of police officers...

The Grey District was once a prosperous inner district in The Hill City of Frankard. It is an erriely silent place now, where people make little in the way of noise or light. It's district walls are now painted with a Grey Line, a warning as to plague. However, it is not the plague you would expect.

Something occured and those in the grand city went mad. Was it a curse, a prophecy, a spell gone wrong, or a magik item opened? Nobody allegedly knows. The city guard on the city walls, saw the madness and were apparently not touched. They tried to keep the crazy ones inside, by blocking the gates and sealing the entrances to the large city wall. The region's leader, eventually sent the Army there to reinforce the city guards, to hold the mad ones in. Since the mad men are incredibly strong and immune to pain, if they escape it would be a plague upon the land. There is still hope that someday they could be restored (perhaps a royal heir or a royal household was in the city). Perhaps they are nearly immortal. The city guards who occasionally decend into the city to drop supplies and stop fires believe that to be true.

Now it is a small town, with its own walls, that rings the old grand city. Over the years, the army and guards, have created a town that supports them. They think themselves immune to the madness, yet their proximity to them, means they are only slightly odd... perhaps becoming mad. The crazed watch over the mad. A running joke is that someday, someone will man their walls to hold them in.

Gar Eeels live in the large,weed choked rivers and lakes that cover much of the Powi lands,are are revered as godlings by these primitive people. Many shamans say that the power to control the rains, rest with the Gar Eeel or Messengers of the rains, as they are known by the tribes.

The yang and yin team of Connor, the Urban Paladin, and Heather, The Mystic Cleric, is very effective as his pragmatism is balance by her optimism, her enthusiasm and idealism are tempered by his cautious paranoia, his wounds are healed by her, and she is kept alive by his sword. This effectiveness aside, Connor and Heather are not your normal adventurous members of The Church. Nor are they a couple.

More Viceral Tips for Horror Gaming!

This piece is dedicated to Captain Penguin

The Magic Guild is one of the first Humanti Guilds, one of the first organizations that crossed clan bloodlines. It has become one of the most powerful, having a prestigeous place in history and becoming the 'official' judges of way and order/chaos.