Game Management Tools

The Luminarch’s Prism is a scepter forged from meteorite and split by seven bands of shimmering light. When wielded, it fractures the air with cascading rainbows that sear the eyes and soul. Legends claim a single incantation can turn day to night or split mountains, but only if sung in harmony with one’s truest regret. The Luminarch’s Prism is a scepter forged from meteorite and split by seven bands of shimmering light. When wielded, it fractures the air with cascading rainbows that sear the eyes and soul. Legends claim a single incantation can turn day to night or split mountains, but only if sung in harmony with one’s truest regret.

The Bloodcairn Throne is a grotesque seat of stone, built atop a mound of skulls in the deepest crypt. Crimson moss creeps over its arms, and anyone foolish enough to sit feels the weight of every betrayal in their lineage, pressed cold and hard against the heart. The Bloodcairn Throne is a grotesque seat of stone, built atop a mound of skulls in the deepest crypt. Crimson moss creeps over its arms, and anyone foolish enough to sit feels the weight of every betrayal in their lineage, pressed cold and hard against the heart.

In the Screeching Valley, the wind itself is alive—a banshee chorus shrieking between pillars of basalt. Travelers pack their ears with wax and carve runes into their boots, hoping to muffle the voices that promise glory and disaster in the same breath. In the Screeching Valley, the wind itself is alive—a banshee chorus shrieking between pillars of basalt. Travelers pack their ears with wax and carve runes into their boots, hoping to muffle the voices that promise glory and disaster in the same breath.

Skarnroot, the living fossil, stalks the prehistoric marshlands on knuckled claws, its hide armored with slabs of mossy stone. It uproots trees with a grunt and feeds on volcanic springs, eyes glowing with a slow, ancient cunning that has outlasted epochs. Skarnroot, the living fossil, stalks the prehistoric marshlands on knuckled claws, its hide armored with slabs of mossy stone. It uproots trees with a grunt and feeds on volcanic springs, eyes glowing with a slow, ancient cunning that has outlasted epochs.

The Alabaster Oracle is a blindfolded child who sits at the heart of the ruined city, her hair drifting in a wind no one else can feel. She speaks only in riddles and palindromes, eyes glazed with visions of futures tangled like fishing nets. The Alabaster Oracle is a blindfolded child who sits at the heart of the ruined city, her hair drifting in a wind no one else can feel. She speaks only in riddles and palindromes, eyes glazed with visions of futures tangled like fishing nets.