Channel Three After Dark
Grayrock Point, Massachusetts. It’s a small town like any other, a few thousand folks going to work, taking in a movie, playing video games, avoiding being eaten by the thing under the bridge and living their lives like everyone else.
The year is 1986. Top Gun was the biggest movie of the year, Members Only jackets, adid washed jeans and Nike high tops are all the rage, and anyone who is anyone has a BMX bike with Mongoose pads.
You’re thirteen years old, starting 8th grade. You play D&D at least twice a month, and every Friday night at nine pm, you and your friends broadcast your AM radio station from the back room at the Ragged Flaggon Game Shop, taking questions from the CB on channel three, a channel not used by anyone else in town.
Carry on my Wayward Son…
Magic is real. Elves, dwarves, gnomes, trolls, they’re real and have been since 1775.
Monsters? They’re real too, though nobody believes in them. The bogeyman under the bed really did take Susie Derkins, the wolfman is howling at midnight, and the weird old guy that only comes out at night? He’s probably a vampire.
You? You’re hunters. You and a handful of others are the only ones standing between the monsters and everyone else. You take cases, usually through adverts left on Greg’s List or Myface Marketplace and calls to your burner phone.
You’re not exactly well paid… but you’re heavily armed, the Chevelle has a full tank of gas and you’ve got friends closer than family watching your back.
Let the hunt begin.
Powered by the Hexcraft Engine from DarkAngel Studios.
Used to be, you talked about your D&D game, school and occasionally, in hushed voices, about the weird things in town. You talked about the ruins of the B-17 in the forest, the Black Spot and the Lighthouse Keeper who still orders at Hardees even though he’s been dead and missing since 1978.But ever since Tommy disappeared, things are different. You talk about your adventures, you take calls, and you take cases. The adults aren’t doing anything about the weirdness, and somebody has to.Grab your flashlight, walkie and a Monster Manual and hang on for an adventure in the vein of Stranger Things, Friday the 13th and Eerie, Indiana.Powered by Savage Worlds. Characters provided.
The Dark times…
The Empire has stood strong for nearly two decades. People struggle under the tyranny of Emperor Palpatine and fear the might of the Imperial Military… and Lord Vader.
It is a time of terror. And Rebellion.
The crew of the YT-1300 freighter Shadowhawk serve no master, fear no empire. Under the command of Captain Corran Dray, they ply their trade as smugglers and mercenaries for hire, taking jobs as they come, ducking Imperial blockades when necessary.
That was, at least, until young Jedi Kira Sunrider entered their lives.
The crew still runs blockades, steals, pillages and causes trouble, but they do so with an eye to harming the Empire and helping the fledgling Rebellion when they can.A Jedi Master once said “Excitement?! Adventure? A Jedi craves not these things.”Turns out, he was wrong.Join the crew. Take the creds. Kick the Empire where it hurts.A Star Wars D6 campaign, characters provided.
Ride of the Dark Hunt
A Daggerheart Adventure in Raven Storm's Chicago
When the moon bleeds over Lake Michigan, the Hunt rides through streets that remember.
In the shadow of the Sears Tower, where the Danse holds court and the preternatural world brushes shoulders with the mundane, something ancient has stirred. The Dark Hunt, no legend, no metaphor, has breached the barrier between the Veil and the city. You hear it first as thunder without clouds, as the scream of tires on wet pavement where no cars drive, as the baying of hounds that even mundanes can hear.
They call it the Dark Hunt. A cavalcade of shadow and blood, led by the Headless Horseman. He leaves silver coins in the gutters of Old Town, stamped with skulls and thorns, calling cards for thirteen souls marked by blood. The Family is hiding. Section 13 has gone dark. And the Chicago Police's "Weird Cases" division? They're already swamped.
Lady Valentina, Mistress of the City, has turned to you, a team she ironically calls The Heartbreakers, to investigate. Can you stop the Dark Hunt before the gather thirteen souls and open the Seventh Seal?
The storm caught them at the treeline, as storms always do in this valley. Five figures huddle beneath a dying oak, watching torchlight gutter in the wind while the village of Ashenfell cowers below. They have been walking for hours toward the silhouette on the cliff; the castle that weeps black stone down its own walls, the place locals call Hollowmourn and refuse to name aloud.
One of them checks a map. Another checks the edge of their blade. They are cold, and tired, and desperately alive, and they have no idea that silver eyes have already found them in the darkness.
Above, Elana Morvaine, the Widow Eternal, leans against the balcony rail, barefoot on wet stone, her gown drinking in the same rain that soaks the adventurers' cloaks.
She does not move to shelter. She watches them argue about the path forward, watches them steel themselves for whatever tragedy they imagine waits inside. They are so small from here. So temporary. So beautifully, painfully mortal.
Lightning fractures the sky, and the flash catches her face, the hollow of her collarbone, the too-sharp angle of her cheek, lips that might be smiling or might be mourning. They have become the same gesture, over centuries.
She knows their names. The fighter who carries her grandmother's sword. The wizard seeking a book that should stay buried. The rogue running from something that finally stopped chasing. The cleric whose god has gone silent. The paladin seeking one last adventure...
Thunder rolls through Hollowmourn's empty halls. The wind tears at Elana's hair, black as the space between stars, and she lets it. She has stopped fighting anything except the memory of the woman she was before they put her in the ground.
The adventurers start moving again, toward the cliff road, toward the gates she left open, toward the dinner she has been planning since before they were born.
Hollowmourn has been so lonely. And tonight, The Widow Eternal will not dine alone.