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."

The Zombie Strain, as the infection was most commonly known, was actually identified as PrP-1174, a prion.

Jade Alksnis was born a princess of the highest rank, and none of the Canbu tribe to which she belonged could have dreamed of the disaster that her birth would bring to her people. Had they known what she would do to them, they would put her to death by freezing when she was just a baby. Her very name is now equaled with the word 'traitor'.

The Harakan have been created with only one purpose in mind. They hunt the despised slaves of the Empire

'Brutal bugger, but he's handy to have around in a fight!'

Forcing party members into a furnace is fun!

The magic of Cannibalism or Asuramancy is the weird sister of Necromancy and a distant cousin to Alchemy, although Alchemy denies it.

A twisted zombiepocalypse creates a new holiday season.