Ah don't care what they say, this place is cursed! Them injuns, they knew it. 'Course, they did. We cleared 'em out, sent 'em runnin' ten years back. We set up fort a few miles west. When we left the army, a couple of us settled down. First few years was rough. Second winter cost us a few good souls. But the mayor and ol' John, they saw us through it, through all of it. 'Cept this.

Some folks were sayin the injuns is back, but ah don't know... I mean, I seen 'em scalp a man, and ah've heard tell some of 'em even eat men. But ah ain't never heard of them doin that to a man...

 

It’s not called Never Never Land cos you don’t grow old. It’s cos you never, ever want to go back there. Pan died a long while back, and we were free. But we still look over our shoulders. We still listen for the one who freed us, the one who wants us dead. And now we hear it; the creak of the timbers, and the sharpening of steel.

 

It has spread. The Lazarus Foundation believed they could erase their sins by destroying several small towns in Colorado. They were wrong. It survived. The contagion has consumed almost the entire state, with only small safeholds remaining secure from infection, for the time being. The nuclear option has finally been authorised.

But a small band of insurgents has learned that the Professor Karl Gideon, the man who first created the Pax drug, the man who started all of this, is alive. Hiding somewhere in the city of Denver, he may hold the secret to ending the contagion once and for all. They have made their way to the infected city, determined to get Professor Gideon out at any cost, before the entire state is reduced to irradiated waste.

 

Six sinners ye be, afloat in the dark waters off Port Grace. Six lost souls, with not a scrap of decency or humanity to share between ye. Nothin' aboard but half a tin of Captain's biscuits and an empty bottle of rum. Nothin' outside but the yawning mouth of the sea. What awaits ye in Port Grace: death, damnation or redemption?

 

An unspeakable blasphemy has happened in the dark alleyways of the East End, and now a dark terror stalks the cobbled byways of fair London Town. In this crime-riddled maze of tenements and vicious thugs, where even the constabulary fears to tread, the slum-dwellers have no saviours to turn to but their own.

 

When a low down Dwarf boss with aspirations to be a King double crosses you over 11 gems, revenge isn't an option - its a lifestyle.

A Savage Worlds caper of bluffs, blinds, and winning big.

 

War In Wonderland - A Turn of Fate game by Rory Heffernan

My friend to you I do beseech,
We shall fight this tyrant in forest, on beach,
The queen she has quite lost her head,
Our ranks are thin, our allies dead,
We must raise the spirits ‘mong trees, ‘pon sand,
We must fight to save dear Wonderland...

 

A vague memory of something. A weapon? A flash of blue light. Or was it orange? A name? Gladys? Glados? A white steel cube with a heart on each face. A sensation of heat. These things swirl about, trying to form a cohesive pattern. Pulled away, away from the memories. Reaching out to them, trying to grasp them before they slip away.

You open your eyes, finding yourself lying on the floor of a white paneled room, with a group of other people similarly awakening.

“Good Morning Children…”

 

Running the only supernatural protective service in California used to be easy. Sure, everyone, including some of your clients, thought you were crazy, but you knew what was what. A demonic possession here or there, some crazy adept worshipping a movie star - small stuff, but you made a good living. With this latest job though, you're hitting the big time. An entire month guarding the set of the biggest movie of this year, with some of the hottest stars. Get through this, and you've got it made. Now there's just the disappearances, odd cults and implausible accidents to sort out...