Handmaidens of Petra: Out of Depth

“It stopped!” Zirchev gasped, taking his hands away from the blood-soaked linen. He bent, and held his cheek over the Queen’s lips, and his look of amazement crumbled. “She does not breathe! You said this would save her!”

DM's Workshop: Sundsvall Initiates

In counterpoint to the Glantrian shepherd Golithar and his leashed weaver, Jolenta, let's take a look at the other side of the Spheric weaving coin.

DM's Workshop: The Iron Ring

Before they encountered the would-be Winter King, Thorn & company ran afoul of an encampment of the Black Eagle's troops, holed up in the cliffside city of Byxata, in the Lost Valley. While Gilliam's bluff was enough to get them through the gates, it was not enough to keep them out of hot water once they met the leader of the Glantrian mercenaries augmenting Baron von Hendricks' garrison.

DM's Workshop: The Winter-Sworn

Those who swear their allegiance to the Dark Heart of Winter become cold and ice incarnate. Their skin takes on the cold blue-gray of frost-bitten flesh, and is painfully cold to others’ touch. An aura of cold lingers around the Winter-Sworn, out to a distance of five feet. The Winter-Sworn can increase this radius another five feet by invoking the Mantle of Winter effect.

Peril and Villainy: Threats from the Rise of the Winter King

Inspired by EPK’s “Mystara’s Enemy Number One” post late last month, and watching the ensuing discussion and polls on the Mystara 5^th Edition and Mystara Reborn Faceborg groups, I got to thinking about the threats to my own iteration of the Known World.

Nuwmont 13, 998AC: Merchant's Warren, Dockside

It took three platinum coins, but that price also got us off the barge ahead of Imperial Brass cargo inspectors. It involved a leap from the connecting joint just before reaching the docks, and was nearly worth the price, to watch Grellk’s smirk fade after his off-color remark about Sera and I getting entangled in the collar-and-lead. The strange connection the device forged made the jump easier. Sera’s sense of space and timing is much better than my own. The briefest of nudges of woven Thought helped a bit, as well.

Nuwmont 13, 998AC: The City of Crystal Splendors

The great whistle at the front of the iron barge gave a long wail, and below, as well as behind and in front of us, wheels began to grind and shriek. Bright orange and yellow sparks leapt forth, some of which tried to jump through the gaps in the planked flooring. Orange and red pinpoints showered the sandy ground to either side of the metal lines on which the barge rolled, quickly fading to coal black specks. Between the scalding steam belching forth from the massive boiler tank at the front of the line of barges and the cascades of sparks from the grinding wheels, there wasn’t all that much to be seen through the square windows. I, for one, was not keen to lean out and catch any of the sparks or cinders in my teeth, or eyes.