An optional pantheon of deities for your fantasy setting.

The Armour of the Pure was meant to try and prevent war crimes and ensure that the honour of Queen Yocasta's army was whiter then white, but the prototype did not work as it was supposed to, and was discarded in some disgust.

'No, don't touch...that. Too late.'

Tired of kicking down dugeon doors? This one kicks back.

The Pool of (add the name of the God or Goddess of your choice) is well known as one of the greatest holy places of the world. It is said to be full of piles of gold and jewels, a place where wishes are granted, wounds are healed, prophets have dreams that come true, and suspected criminals are fairly judged. Pilgrims from the other end of the world have been known to travel for more then a year, braving the perils of disease, brigands and bad weather, just to reach it's holy waters.

Various entities in the Starkin Universe to support the ongoing forum game.

A tricky-ish puzzle that will work for both low and high level players.

He raised his sword to fight the foul undead thing in front of him, which was when it threw something only just glimpsed in the beam of his torch at him. When he blocked it with his sword, the resulting explosion both shattered his sword and took off his hand. As he turned to flee, screaming in pain, the Dumuzid he was facing stabbed him again and again until he fell dead to the sandy floor of the tomb.

A horrible torture device. Not for the squeamish.

'Private documents need protecting? no problem just get a burn box'

A table of possible backgrounds, qualities, or features of a fantasy town or city. A world building tool for getting attention to the details.

Mind the nettles son, it's wet out.

A favored weapon for rogue/thief followers of the Sun God.

Small puppets who take on the likeness of their owner upon death. They act as a silent sentry, militia, or officer of the law in the war stricken Dim-Sii Tribes of the Southern Lands

A simple metal bucket, capable of holding a bucket of water, or as it happens, a lifetime of effort.

Wooden constructs skilled in the art of battle as well as extermination.

The first sign of the Army of the Lost are the legs. Blown off legs, hopping along wearing their military boots. And not long afterwards, the rest of the Army arrives, and the horizon from left to right is filled with the decomposing bodies, many of which carry weapons. Unless you can outrun them or fortify your position, you will soon be joining this army of the Undead.

As the only place of warmth in an otherwise frozen land, the Firehole River is, or was, the central point for life in, on and around it. Sadly, this is starting to change...

In a bar not too far off the road, a man walks in. his boots clattering on the wooden floor. The bar is noticeably empty with only a few guys still around either drinking or chatting. Not too surprising since it is already the evening and they probably went home. The smell of smoke and liquor still hangs in the air like a fly caught in a web. The man in the trench coat pulls himself on a stool near the counter. His face covered by a bandanna and the brim of his hat obscuring the view of his eyes. The bartender, who had been cleaning a beer glass, looks up.

'So what'll it be, stranger?'

The man responds in a gruff and tired voice. 'Dark and Stormy.'

"All I could do was stare as my strange opponent hefted his key-like lance. He told me my armor would only hinder me in this fight. I didn’t believe him at the time, but he was right."