Not quite Science Fiction...

Shadows gather...and linger.

*Sphhisshh* *Sphhissh* *Sphhissh*

Gifts from the King! Given to those explorers and adventurers, his highness deems worthy of being commissioned to travel on his business, into the northern territories.

'When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,'

-Shakespeares 29th Sonnet.

Once a year, and each year in a different place, the wandering bazaar and social gala that is the Thieves Convention is held. Invitations Only!

TOP SECRET! A Pickled Herring

The City of Bells, home of Bornegault's Tongue.

A short tale about a shovel, a spade, and two trowels

Send in the clowns.

Wherever the PCs have gone recently, they have heard the talk. The Doomsday Machine of Toothless Amalgam has stopped spitting out birdseed. The End is nigh.

Viva la Musca!

30+ slightly-off or downright demented flies for your campaign.

“Like a great, green god he stalks the savannah!”

Save/Help the Halflings! They offer rewards. Material and otherwise.

side-quest-ish and open-ended to be sure.

Before there was the National Enquirer, there was Kaboo.

The Horrors and Wonders of a distant, sun-drenched land. Everything you need to run a desert campaign!

Et deprecabantur eum spiritus dicentes mitte nos in porcos ut in eos introeamus (Mark 5:12)

The Whales Graveyard.

Therianthropes? Lycanthropes? Animorphs? Homo-Zoological-Hybrid-Sapiens? Manimals? Take your pick.