Trapped in a dream, chained by a net of magic, Deneus Betherim, arch mage of Cormalth bleeds magical essence from his fingers, fueling a rift in the fabric of existence; an essence conduit to the realm of elemental earth.

Earth, sand, mud, rocks and clay travel through the rift, and a mountain is being born beneath the feet of the ensorcelled conjuror.

Deneus is the blood of the mountain, fueling the portal, but who is the mastermind behind it all?

The fruit of the Wangadi tree should be treated with respect, because if eaten at the wrong time it can be mind blowing.

Blonde is one cool dude.

A candle inside of a skull is a typical creepy feature in cultist's lairs or haunted places, but what if they served a more practical purpose?

The jewel of the imperial shoal, this aquatic city is the emperor's seat of power.

'Fear not this new night, my brothers, the terrors of an everlasting darkness are as nothing when compared to the darkness in Man's heart. For, who among you knows what Man might do when Hunger sleeps in his bed and Famine is his child's only playmate?' --Prelude

The Mihradhz shrieked, with a sound like fingernails on slate, as it was dragged headlong into our world by a greedy and uncaring spellcaster whose only desire was to defeat his rivals.

Devised by the most powerful Cuada sorcerors, it is intended to guard their race against the most powerful menance that they have ever faced.

Inhabiting the waters of Tarrod, the Organi is a dangerous creature.

When the Caliph-Emperor of the Dunes hear about his son's heart attack at the northern front, his rage is unstoppable. For his son was only nineteen years old, and a trained athlete. Grief stricken as only a parent bereft of their child can be, the Emperor finally rouses the Empire into action.

So, when reinforcements finally arrive to the beleaguered veterans at the front, they are accompanied by the the Imperial Necromancers in their gold laced red silken robes, as well as the three old triplet hags of Devananon, seers and prophets who use narcotics to enhance their trance visions.

As the Prince's corpse is carted to the Spires of Devananon, where the necromancers and the triplets will work their magic, the PCs will have to conjure a plan of their own. For they are to blame for the Prince's death.

This plot is set five months after the happenings of 'A Dark Moon over Sagranz', but could be adapted by any GM to fit his setting and need.

It's just a shoddy old hand bag, pay it no mind.

Isolated from the known world by the seemingly endless watery wastes of the fabled Vaet Ocean, the Eshal rule the watery continent of Tarrod with an iron fist, ever ready to carry out plundering raids on the subject races at the slightest excuse. Proudly calling themselves the Brave People,the Eshal are a race of savage warriors and fanatics that are driven by the consuming need to find an ever larger number of victims to feed the monstrous thing known simply as the Matriarch .

Pronounced (Kelek-gun-dall)

Story & details of a demon lord trapped in a mortal shell

Like the Tiny Hut only better.

30 Royal and Regal Queens to rule them all.

'We found 'im alright' mumbled Rizz the bandit, nursing a wound below his right eye. ''e was soaked in blood, 'ead to foot. But no matter 'ow much we tried to 'urt 'im, 'e just laugh'd and kept gett'n up. I don' think 'e'll be leav'n town like ya want'd'

The men cheered as their X1-gunner scored a direct hit on the mainsail of the ship that they were chasing. They drew their cutlasses and readied their C-47 Thaumatech rifles, for with a huge hole in the sail, the ship was forced to slow down and could not stay ahead of them for much longer.

A hilt built like a ceremonial goblet, and not the nice kind, a hideous blade of ash and flame erupt from the lip. To wield this blade is to forsake the Heavens and thrust the power of Hell into your foes.

In the dark one morning, the Bloated Black Beast slowly rose to the water's surface. Whence it crested, great gouts of flame erupted from its Misshapen Form and were hurled hundreds of feet in all directions. It dove again, and appeared as nothing more than an Inky Shadow of Malice. With no purpose, It swam on; occasionally cresting and flaming, but still without purpose.

For a long time the Goblin criminals did not have their own organisation to protect them...until now.