'That's old lady Serisia's house... We don't go in there anymore.' the children looked forlornly through the iron fence to their lost ball, deep within the overgrown gardens of the massive front yard.
From deep in the foliage, a menacing 'Yowl' sounded, followed by an eerie droning.

This sub is a little bit silly.

A well-loved and somewhat crudely hand-crafted tribal drum owned by the Tribal Half-Orc, Somnak. It is said that Somnak possessed the ability to call upon the spirit of any creature whose skin was pulled over the drum to aid him and his allies in battle, as well as curse his foes.

Mora stepped up to the wicked-looking pipe-organ; the carved demonic head which it was made from leered silently at him. Sweating with anxiety, Mora looked back to his friends before swallowing hard and shakily bringing his fingers to the ivory.

Mora pressed the keys down into several minor chords, and a thunderous peal of music echoed, sounding mockingly similar to a church. Suddenly, the eyes of the carved head lit up with fire, and with a *WHOOSH* a pillar of flames burst into life around Mora. The man's screams were cut short after just a second and the fire disappeared just as quickly. Mora was gone.

After a moment of shocked silence, Mora's friends cheered excitedly.

Sometimes what begins as a Fairy Tale can end in misery. The tale of Celsia Frostblossom is testament to this.

UAC Scientists have discovered a strange artifact on the surface of Phobos. They wish to transport it to an 'off-the-radar' base above Saturn's moon, Titan, but fear that space pirates may have gained intel on the artifact. Additional protection is needed; this is where you come in!

A Cosmic Era, Event Horizon/Doom-influenced Plot, for the optional Occult Brotherhood quest.

Lazarus Lightward waits in the town of Lockmour - he desires the Whitebone tomes to study demons and learn their weaknesses. Will the party help him out?

Six white tomes, Encased in bone.

They shine in light like polished stone.

Trapped deep inside, fel beasts reside.

Dark power; to the holder, the books provide.

In lakes, submersed, and tombs accursed.

Across the land they are disbursed.

This dusty, delapidated building appears to have been abandoned for some time. Within it is a plethora of ancient tomes and ancient knowledge, however rumours of a deadly curse keep curious scholars at bay.

Herein lies the histories of Warpriest Lazarus, righteous fist of Tridoa. Lord Lightward the Lunar Hammer.

Herein lies the birth of Lazarus Lightward the Hellpriest; Trickster of Devils and Master of the Bloodied Moon.

A haunting remnant of the infernal realm, caught and exiled to suffer for eternity in the swamps of the mortal plane. Now it toys with mortals; luring them from their paths into it's light. Once in the boundaries of it's aura, the FlickerWikk will feed.

A Remake of the Will'o'the'Wisp/Jack'o'Lantern

Spindly, steel spiders, spinning silk so sharp. (100-word sub)

Feet forever on the path; smile forever on it's lips. It walks roads beaten and forgotten alike through day and night. With it's troupe of mindless puppets, it is accosted not by beast nor fiend nor monster. For they know that Terror walks past this night.

Death travels with the Gandacai.

Changing the Maddux is a difficult as changing the weather. And like the storm on the horizon, all one can do when Maddux sings is to prepare yourself as best you can.

Lavish glade and lush green field,

Wizen'd oaks; to the blight all yield.

Weeping trees of crimson blood,

the Fields of Flesh turn life to mud.

Will you tread and smile and sleep

where devils dance and angels weep?

Once upon a time this sword may have been a sight to behold, but no more. Rust and decay now tarnish the metal of this forgotten relic, and those who stumble upon it are more likely to toss it than use it.

An unassuming sewing needle, five to six inches long. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary.

Watcher comes now. It comes to set me free

Of its curse of dark and emptiness and endless misery.