The rules against nighttime travel in the Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin are there for some very good reasons, not least the highly dangerous Geyser Ghosts.

Once she was Archmage Stewart's beloved wife Emma, an acomplished which in her own right, now she is but a husk of what she once was, and yet the Archmage loves her too much to put her shell to rest.

The Necronautilus is a huge undead whale used to transport undead and their masters secretly.

The restless shade of a terrible demon of an age long since dust.

The Ambassador's bodyguard quaked at the sight of the uniformed skeletons guarding the main gates of the royal palace. "Don't be afraid," the Ambassador said. "They are King's Bones, the monarch's personal bodyguards, and are no threat to us unless we were to do something stupid like trying to attack His Majesty."

Not all vampires suck blood, there are those who suck feelings as well and you often have no idea of it until the vampire is feeding upon you.

The Pocket Ironbones, whilst not quite the war machines that they were intended to be, have been useful in the service of Banhosea all the same.

Pataket is a criminal unlike any others for he has been working at his trade for centuries, and it is rumoured that he can break into anywhere.

Tales are leaking from below the Iron Hills, that an unnamed winged terror can be seen on the sky on the darkest of nights. What creature it is, nobody knows, but some of the disappearances in the harsh place are said to be its work. If the moon is hidden, nightly travellers are warned to stay from roads and open places.

'You know that saying that man made god? No, of course you don't. But we didn't make god. We made the Devil, and god is just a word the frightened cling to, to protect them from their own creation. And you? You are my creation. You are my devil.

Half-serious, half-silly, a scroll of cosmetic and related products for the undead amongst you. Use and abuse at your own risk.

The spirit which dies with a murderous rage upon it’s conscience cannot rest, and re-inhabits the corpse it once dwelt in, stalking the earth in search of one thing: revenge.

Forget the rickety, fragile skeletons. Remove all thoughts of the limping, weak zombies. Shrug off thoughts of blood-dependant vampires. Whereas the former are reflections of necromatic magic, the Mogrolyth is a creation derived from the pure essence of unholy power - namely pain.

Many of the Undead face this terrible fate for mistakes of their own. Dark sins, or conscience heavy for the criminal deeds they have commited, they cannot pass on and linger in this world. But some do not deserve this curse...

Undead are, simply put, among the most horrific things one can think of. Can you imagine anything more frightening than a being which is dead and yet still walks? Can you imagine the horror of being faced by the hollow shell of being, a hollow shell which must feed?

The call to Him is unnerving. The power He gives is unmatched. He is the reason why I turned my back on my God and now worship Him. I will live eternal for the trade of my Soul to a God. I can live with that.

-Rakeos -Follower of Sethalis, fallen Priest of Aduivo

A curiously designed ring - but not uncommon. Similar in design to most traditional ‘magi-rings’, which often hold enchantments on them. But unlike those rings, this one may take quite a hold on you…

Getting the favour of a Necromancer, and asking for a magical cloak? Sure, why not.

An elder lich recently returned from a journey across the worlds who seeks an artifact of ancient times.