Two explosions lit up the Rondholian night sky almost simultaneously. One constant, one a flash that seared the eyes. The first, a crimson that continues to bleed into the air, the other was an amethyst spike that rippled across the hidden clouds far above. Both spelled trouble, both caused harm to the continent.

The map before the Council of Khardir sprawls out over an area that require a child to run across the tables to move piece after piece in response the various ideas floating around the group.

The skink star-priest held a dagger to Sorrah Nikos’ throat. It shone with a thousand pricks of starlight.

The Knight stares down at you from atop the joxl, or maybe it's a kukorolle? It's so dark. It's so cold. You are alone as the forest creeps toward you. Darkness pushes against your skin, the scent...