Chaos plagues the Freehold of Philadelphia as the Bell Throne lies empty and sundered and the True Fae's minions must be driven out.
Description:
The mad visions of the Autumn King have prophesied only death as his failure to hold vigilant and true to the old pacts have opened the door to Arcadia's Huntsmen. With the King's death, the rites of succession cannot be completed and the Season pass to a new monarch. As the Freehold's streets run red with blood and the twisting warrens of the Hedge echo with the cries of changelings dragged in thorny chains back to captivity, the options renew the old wards and drive out the True Fae's minions are short. Only by calling upon the myths of the city itself by reenacting the legendary deeds and feats of history can there be hope of survival.
A part of your motley crew's past they would rather forget abruptly confronts them.
Description:
Drawn into a strange Hedge trial with a childlike goblin queen, a terrifying huntsman, and a former friend from their durance, how do they respond to their feelings of betrayal, loyalty, and judgment?
Boreas, King of the Northern Court, of Winter Winds. Boreas, who led the desperate charge to delay the Fae, and brought all his people home. But Boreas is lost.
Description:
Boreas is lost - lost to his fervent belief in the tenants of the Court. His hearth is cold, his home is frozen, his hollow barren, and the icy hedge has swallowed the once-lit path. You must trek with friends and strangers, through lands twisted by fractured memories, in hopes of bringing Winter home. LGBTQ+ friendly. Mature themes, including dementia and loss.
My collection is missing a few. Perhaps there's a hole you've slipped through. If you're sufficiently tough or lucky enough then maybe I'll never find you.
Description:
You don't remember a time before; before the air felt heavy and thick, before the pain. All sound is whispers in the darkness. The faces around are terrible masks, frozen in crafted despair, enduring an endless night through a deathless winter, trapped between the walls and peaks in valleys of shadow. This is their monument to sorrow. This is the kingdom of the Hegemon. Here you serve a monstrous god.
But an end is coming. Your hollow eyes have found hope - the lost whisper of escape. This is your chance. We meet at darkest hour. Grant no goodbyes. Arrive prepared, and armed. We do not know what happens next but remember: we have nothing left to fear.