“Swiftly, repent! The Saintmaker is coming!”

Welcome to Uhgramudd, you'll never find a more disgusting, remote, fly-ridden, swampy Hell than this. Get in, kill the Lizards, grab the loot, get out. Simple, right?

This is an introductory low-level adventure I use to get familiar with players I meet online, to see if our play styles clash in any way. So far, it has weeded out a few undesirables and scored a few keepers. I am quite satisfied with the layout and have run it multiple times, with slight variations for level/abilities of the player characters.

I did not think there was a crime heinous enough to deserve this place as a sentence..

A short story set in the Locastus universe.

An enchanted forest where music permeates the fabric of life, leaving its mark on fauna and flora alike.

He had done it a hundred times, taken eyes. It was so easy by now, he rarely used a spoon or knife, but, with his own fingers, would pilfer those beautiful orbs from the skulls of the deceased...

Memory loss is a sort of living death -- and these moths are the Grim Reaper.

Upon the third storm-cracked night, under the light of a bloated blood red moon, the Razor of ManBeasts was crafted. A show of revenge, or the creation of a druid gone mad, no one knows for sure. But the ManBeasts walk the nighted forests now, ever since then, not a coincidence I say.

“The Armored Avenger is dead!"

"Look at him! He looks like hamburger, but his admantium armor is untouched! What could have done that?”

"Hey, Hultz. What are you doing in here?"

"It's gonna move. I don't like it when it moves," the stableboy replied, sitting by the hearth with his arms wrapped around himself.

"What's going to move?"

"The Inn. I don't like it when it moves."

Five minutes later, he gets up and goes back outside.

"What was he talking about?" the newcomer asked a burly fighter.

"Go outside and take a look."

He goes over to the door and flings it wide. "See, it's all still ... Wait! Where did the town go!"

"Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Wild Geese." The fighter comes over with a mug of ale. "Here, you'll probably be needing this. I know I did, when it happened to me."

You felt a slight tingle as the man looked you in the eyes, and he is currently approaching confidently with a look of recognition on his face. He smiles and you know you know him, you just don’t know how.

The young mountain sheep came charging up the trail and into the Meadow of the Elders, past the startled Elder-Guards, and stopped, panting and half incoherent. 'Relax,' came a deep, amused voice in his mind. 'Take a deep breath, and then share your thoughts with us.'

'Yes, Revered One.' He took the deep breath advised, then trotted forward and touched his head to that of the Elder.

Love and the pursuit of love makes up a huge part of a person’s life, but it is often absent from game-play. Love is also often seen as a player‘s choice, but in drama and mythology love is often something that grips a character and can inspire them or cripple them. Perhaps love should affect a character’s dice roles and perception of reality.

Soon after, The Trickster came upon another praying mantis, a female in heat. Unable to resist a female of any race, The Trickster obliged the willing creature, being perfectly able in his present form. At the climactic moment something unexpected occurred. As The Trickster issued forth his Divine Seed, the female turned her head slightly, and with blinding speed bit into The Trickster's head, nearly severing it with her first strike. Her next few bites, finished the job, and as Mokkus' headless body spasmed, she began to eat the rest of The Trickster.
-An Excerpt from 'The Oral Traditions of the P'Cheela' as Transcribed by Gyma, Deputy Explorer of the Thyran College

The Ska'ag warrior lay in his hide, watching the intruders.

“The Makers,” he thought. It had been many generations since the last one had died, but there was no doubt. They were back. “I have to warn the People.”

"Surely, you wouldn't deprive an old man of his walking stick?" Uh, yeah- you probably should.

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!

An annotated play list for Bards, Musical Mages, Sirens, and Supernatural Musicians regardless of time frame or setting.

When you want a horse, but not any horse will do. You don't want a Lord's horse, nor one fit for a King. You want a horse bred for a God.

Be careful of unearthing legends, however.