The mall was all in motion as the tide of people moved to and fro. From behind the Santa Photospot, it formed. The circular "wreath" manifested. The Green Monsters slipped through The Gateway. When they numbered five, they lumbered forward. Breaking through the Santa Photo Display, they began their destruction of Christmas.

There was a flicker through the workshop. Most Elfs did not realize it had happened. They kept working like nothing happened. Toby didn’t understand how he knew, but he felt more solid, more real; which for an Elf - a spirit of Christmas- was pretty amazing. Toby knocked on batteries he was putting in some toys, they seemed more solid too. This odd feeling did not last long, as the Ultra Naughty Alarm went off. Someone was threatening Christmas itself. He quickly reached into his tool kit. Toby hefted his monkey wrench which felt amazingly stable and solid. The Elfs were going to fix this naughtiness straight away.

An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.

A methodology for the magic behind the magic weapon.

You're a mean one Old Crynog
You really are a skug

Halfling children's rhyme

Mercenary companies are usually little more than bands of low-level thugs. This one is a much more sophisticated organisation, with its own history, regulations and culture.

Different aspects of forging your Player Character- Geography and Goals. Enjoyable for Players and Gamemasters alike.

Advice for players on different ways of fleshing out and developing the Player Characters.

In wonder the adventurers stood awe struck by the beauty and splendour of the surrounding foliage. The great open plain before them transformed from a flat green world into mesmerising colours and movement. The Vissealist stood unmoving, his hands outspread and resting gently on an intricate structure of vines that threaded their way over the wall and into the earth of the plain, spreading outwards from the ramparts of the kings palace.

Like magic Methnik's sword passed through that of his foes....All too late, the blade was at his neck, it burnt, stinging like acid, it slivered through skin and muscle. Methnik crumpled to his knees, then to the floor, his eyes greyed over and he heard faint words, maybe those of his foe? 'Your last lesson in this life. Your teacher? A Serivemn'

An article for GM's and players alike upon the matter of the family and friends of the players.

A Vampire hunter.

The Lord of Agony, He of Corpulent Pain

Poor little Kankos..

Spat upon by his tyrannical superiors, this pathetic little office menial slaved away like a mule for the miserable pittance thrown to him..

Until he met the one that lurked in the shadows..

30 Assassins, both great and pathetic. - Die, by our hands...

A powerful, maritime people, brought down by the foulest Necromancy.

This blade is one of the fabled Fatal Swords of antiquity, the metal of the blade folded one-million times.

A vast, intricate complex of kilns and forges where the low-grade ore from the Thunderhead mines are turned into steel of unsurpassed quality. What are the secrets of the Acibus Foundry?

New Takes on Classic Magic Items

This is where the citadellians share and collect our tales of playtesting each others submissions.