When a wizard named Mendalus develops a spell that summons an obedient woman named Catherine--exactly like any other summoning spell--it creates chaos in the wizard-metropolis of Meltheria, as many interested parties struggle to understand the nature (and legality) of the Catherine spell, while vast fortunes hang in the balance.
Lavish glade and lush green field,
Wizen'd oaks; to the blight all yield.
Weeping trees of crimson blood,
the Fields of Flesh turn life to mud.
Will you tread and smile and sleep
where devils dance and angels weep?
Dwarven beards are rich habitats for the enterprising critter.
A grab-bag of draconic goodness, ready to plug into a variety of settings from Steam-Punk to Modern to Fantasy.
Caeser193 recently posted an article about how magic has made war obsolete, below please find seven ways to keep magic and magic users from dominating warfare
The teeth and fingerbones of holy men and more
"Living in a town that sits on a dimensional nexus can wear thin after a while. It's not so much the crawling shadows, bizarre weather, or late night visitors from places that never existed; but carrying on with your normal life and trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary is going on in your little corner of the world that gets to you."
A small rural town with surreal secrets, that happens to be situated on a dimensional crossroads, suitable for modern day supernatural/mystical/horror campaigns.
Few things shine as bright as the jewels of Hell
Busy GMs need help prepping for games faster. And you can create fantastic magic items in just three minutes using my stat block.
"The Circus is in town, Dicurion. Make a donation to the good priests of the Laughing God. See if he won't smile down upon us, and wish our little problem away."
-Olrich van Haarkrom
"The shipyards, a good place to move illict cargo or lay low for a while, but that ship yard in Philly, it's not a place you want to frequent, not if you wish to keep yer skin on anyway."
A city location with a slight horror slant, suitable for any modern day horror/action setting.
"Anyone can draw a map, boy - there's no more difficulty in that than laying brick. What makes maps useful is when they are so proper, so precise, that they are living images of the places they represent. Encompassing knowledge of the geography, and mastery of the very space itself - that, child, is cartogramancy."
- Sage Pakpao Sasithorn, Chief Lecturer, the Ezagun-Darkbolt College of Cartogramancy
She left me, I couldn't deal with it. I sat there with the barrel of the gun in my mouth for a long time before I pulled the trigger.
(Graphic Warning: Not for delicate eyes)
Old cultures since the dawn of written time have seen pictures in the night sky and asked questions of them. Who they were, where did they come from, and why do they return? The earliest efforts to distinguish these nightly visitors and give them names and meanings dates back to before the Contention of Aborior. Those first observations were different than what is seen today but most still hold true to their original origins.
Entering a new city there are street urchins, hustlers, con men, kidnappers, thieves and burglars looking to make their day’s prophet. The victim, in many cases the PC, is known as the mark and is the target of whatever kind of hustle they have planned. These hustlers are always on the lookout for easy pickings.
From that silent place fear flows in unseen waves, like white fog. The shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. Through it's frowning walls and dark window openings there's a lantern of the spirit which none see by but those who bear it.
A collection of 30 bardic tales you may hear sung in the local tavern or empresses' court, complete with bardic verse excerpts from all 30 tales themselves.
Many of these tales can also be used as quick plug in adventures for Gm's looking for a side quest. (And let the players exploits be turned into the song by a near by bard perhaps?)
A short story set in the Locastus universe.
For your pleasure and entertainment, here we present, thirty fiendlings seasoned with a whiff of brimstone, teasingly clad in shadow, accompanied by tunes played on pipes of angel-bone; likewise do we tell of the gifts they might bestow upon one in their favor.
So get them before Hell freezes over!
A sword that stores the identity of the wielder. To transfuse the soul to the blade, one must first stab himself through the heart. The person will not die, but lose the freedom of the soul upon real death.