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You live in the heart of New Avalon, a modern suburb where exiled fairy tale beings—your people—have built a new life. You’ve traded castles for condos, magic for mortgages, and enchanted forests for strip malls owned by dwarves. Witches brew artisanal potions in trendy cafes, werewolves patrol the parks, and you’ve found a way to make this world your own. But now, something is changing. The ancient banishment spell is unraveling, and the portals to your old kingdoms are reappearing. The home you lost is within reach again—but it’s not the place you remember. Time has twisted it into something dark and broken, filled with dangers, forgotten magic, and uneasy ghosts of the past.
Now, you must decide: do you step through the portals to reclaim what was lost, or stand your ground and fight for the life you’ve built? Factions are forming, power struggles brewing—some see a chance to rebuild, others fear losing everything all over again. Where do you stand? What will you fight for? The gates are opening, and your story is about to begin. more ↓
Lyraen
Lyraen is a Empathic Speaker who Abides In Stone in a Fairytale world
Other people are open books to you. You may have a knack for reading a person’s tells, those subtle movements that convey an individual’s mood and disposition. Or you may receive information in a more direct way, feeling a person’s emotions as if they were tangible things, sensations that lightly brush against your mind. Your gift for empathy helps you navigate social situations and control them to avoid misunderstandings and prevent useless conflicts from erupting.
The constant bombardment of emotions from those around you likely takes a toll. You might move with the prevailing mood, swinging from giddy happiness to bitter sorrow with little warning. Or you might close yourself off and remain inscrutable to others out of a sense of self-preservation or an unconscious fear that everyone else might learn how you truly feel.
Your flesh is made of hard mineral, making you a hulking, difficult-to-harm humanoid.
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Draven
Draven is a Calm Speaker who Awakens Dreams in a Fairytale world
You’ve spent most of your life in sedentary pursuits-books, movies, hobbies, and so on-rather than active ones. You’re well versed in all manner of academia or other intellectual pursuits, but nothing physical. You’re not weak or feeble, necessarily (although this is a good descriptor for characters who are elderly), but you have no experience in more physical activities.
(Calm is a great descriptor for characters who never intended to have adventures but were thrust into them, a trope that occurs often in modern games and particularly in horror games.)
You can pull images from dreams and bring them to life in the waking world.
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Elowyn
Elowyn is a Intuitive Speaker who Keeps A Magic Ally in a Fairytale world
You are often tickled by a sense of knowing what someone will say, how they will react, or how events might unfold. Maybe you have a mutant sense, maybe you can see just a few moments ahead through time, or maybe you’re just good at reading people and extrapolating a situation. Whatever the case, many who look into your eyes immediately glance away, as if afraid of what you might see in their expression.
An allied magic creature bound to an object (such as a minor djinn in a lamp, or a ghost in a pipe) is your friend, protector, and weapon.
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Vaelor
Vaelor is a Jovial Speaker who Controls Beasts in a Fairytale world
You’re cheerful, friendly, and outgoing. You put others at ease with a big smile and a joke, possibly one at your own expense, though lightly ribbing your companions who can take it is also one of your favorite pastimes. Sometimes people say you never take anything seriously. That’s not true, of course, but you have learned that to dwell on the bad too long quickly robs the world of joy. You’ve always got a new joke in your back pocket because you collect them like some people collect bottles of wine.
Your ability to communicate and lead beasts is uncanny.
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Zyra
Zyra is a Chaotic Warrior who Metes Out Justice in a Fairytale world
Danger doesn’t mean much to you, mainly because you don’t think much about repercussions. In fact, you enjoy sowing surprises, just to see what will happen. The more unexpected the result, the happier you are. Sometimes you are particularly manic, and for the sake of your companions, you restrain yourself from taking actions that you know will lead to disaster.
You right wrongs, protect the innocent, and punish the guilty.
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Talion
Talion is a Doomed Warrior who Slays Monsters in a Fairytale world
You are quite certain that your fate is leading you, inextricably, toward a terrible end. This fate might be yours alone, or you might be dragging along the people closest to you.
You kill monsters.
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Mirael
Mirael is a Impulsive Warrior who Defends The Weak in a Fairytale world
You have a hard time tamping down your enthusiasm. Why wait when you can just do it (whatever it is) and get it done? You deal with problems when they arise rather than plan ahead. Putting out the small fires now prevents them from becoming one big fire later. You are the first to take risks, to jump in and lend a hand, to step into dark passages, and to find danger.
Your impulsiveness likely gets you into trouble. While others might take time to study the items they discover, you use such items without hesitation. After all, the best way to learn what something can do is to use it. When a cautious explorer might look around and check for danger nearby, you have to physically stop yourself from bulling on ahead. Why fuss around when the exciting thing is just ahead?
(Impulsive characters get into trouble. That’s their thing, and that’s fine. But if you’re constantly dragging your fellow PCs into trouble (or worse, getting them seriously hurt or killed), that will be annoying, to say the least. A good rule of thumb is that impulsiveness doesn’t always mean a predilection for doing the wrong thing. Sometimes it’s the urge to do the right thing.)
You stand up for the helpless, the weak, and the unprotected.
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Korven
Korven is a Clever Warrior who Howls At The Moon in a Fairytale world
You’re quick-witted, thinking well on your feet. You understand people, so you can fool them but are rarely fooled. Because you easily see things for what they are, you get the lay of the land swiftly, size up threats and allies, and assess situations with accuracy. Perhaps you’re physically attractive, or maybe you use your wit to overcome any physical or mental imperfections.
For brief periods, you become a fearsome and powerful creature with control issues.
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Faelara
Faelara is a Beneficent Adept who Sees Beyond in a Fairytale world
Helping others is your calling. It’s why you’re here. Others delight in your outgoing and charitable nature, and you delight in their happiness. You’re at your best when you’re aiding people, either by explaining how they can best overcome a challenge or by demonstrating how to do so yourself.
You have a psychic sense that allows you to see what others cannot.
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Thandor
Thandor is a Dishonorable Adept who Crafts Illusions in a Fairytale world
There is no honor among thieves-or betrayers, backstabbers, liars, or cheats. You are all of these things, and either you don’t lose any sleep over it, or you deny the truth to others or to yourself. Regardless, you are willing to do whatever it takes to get your own way. Honor, ethics, and principles are merely words. In your estimation, they have no place in the real world.
You fashion images from light that are so perfect they seem real.
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Serelith
Serelith is a Risk-Taking Adept who Entertains in a Fairytale world
It’s part of your nature to question what others think can’t or shouldn’t be done. You’re not insane, of course-you wouldn’t attempt to leap across a mile-wide chasm just because you were dared. There’s impossible and then there’s the just barely possible. You like to push the latter further than others, because it gives you a rush of satisfaction and pleasure when you succeed. The more you succeed, the more you find yourself looking for that next risky challenge to try yourself against.
You perform, mostly for the benefit of others.
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Arion
Arion is a Naive Adept who Masters Spells in a Fairytale world
You’ve lived a sheltered life. Your childhood was safe and secure, so you didn’t get a chance to learn much about the world-and even less chance to experience it. Whether you were training for something, had your nose in a book, or just were sequestered in a secluded place, you haven’t done much, met many people, or seen many interesting things so far. That’s probably going to change soon, but as you go forward into a larger world, you do so without some of the understanding that others possess about how it all works.
By specializing in spellcasting and keeping a spellbook, you can quickly cast spells of arcing lightning, rolling fire, creeping shadow, and summoning.
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Zephara
Zephara is a Honorable Explorer who Descends From Nobility in a Fairytale world
You are trustworthy, fair, and forthright. You try to do what is right, to help others, and to treat them well. Lying and cheating are no way to get ahead-these things are for the weak, the lazy, or the despicable. You probably spend a lot of time thinking about your personal honor, how best to maintain it, and how to defend it if challenged. In combat, you are straightforward and offer quarter to any foe.
You were likely instilled with this sense of honor by a parent or a mentor. Sometimes the distinction between what is and isn’t honorable varies with different schools of thought, but in broad strokes, honorable people can agree on most aspects of what honor means.
A descendent of wealth and power, you carry a noble title and the abilities granted by a privileged upbringing.
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Insen
Insen is a Tongue-Tied Explorer who Consorts With The Dead in a Fairytale world
You’ve never been much of a talker. When forced to interact with others, you never think of the right thing to say-words fail you entirely, or they come out all wrong. You often end up saying precisely the wrong thing and insult someone unintentionally. Most of the time, you just keep mum. This makes you a listener instead-a careful observer. It also means that you’re better at doing things than talking about them. You’re quick to take action.
The dead answer your questions, and their reanimated corpses serve you.
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Nymeria
Nymeria is a Skeptical Explorer who Was Foretold in a Fairytale world
You possess a questioning attitude regarding claims that are often taken for granted by others. You’re not necessarily a “doubting Thomas” (a skeptic who refuses to believe anything without direct personal experience), but you’ve often benefited from questioning the statements, opinions, and received knowledge presented to you by others.
You are the “chosen one,” and prophecy, prediction, prognostication, or some other method of determination expects great things of you one day.
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Vaelith
Vaelith is a Inquisitive Explorer who Speaks For The Land in a Fairytale world
The world is vast and mysterious, with wonders and secrets to keep you amazed for several lifetimes. You feel the tugging on your heart, the call to explore the wreckage of past civilizations, to discover new peoples, new places, and whatever bizarre wonders you might find along the way. However, as strongly as you feel the pull to roam the world, you know there is danger aplenty, and you take precautions to ensure that you are prepared for any eventuality. Research, preparation, and readiness will help you live long enough to see everything you want to see and do everything you want to do.
You probably have a dozen books and travelogues about the world on you at any time. When not hitting the road and looking around, you spend your time with your nose in a book, learning everything you can about the place you’re going so you know what to expect when you get there.
Your spiritual connection to nature and the environment grants you mystical abilities.
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Character Introductions
Remember that one time
The ruins of the old marketplace loomed around you, jagged stone archways silhouetted against the blood-red sky. Once, this place had been a bustling bazaar where enchanted wares changed hands for whispered secrets and strands of moonlight. Now, it was a shattered echo of itself, filled with creeping ivy that moved on its own and shadows that slithered along the ground. Vaelor was the first to break the silence, nudging a toppled stall with his boot. “So, anyone else getting the feeling we’re being watched, or is that just the haunted architecture talking?” His bonded hawk, Marrow, let out a low cry and took off into the unnatural twilight.
“Not just you,” Elowyn murmured, fingers brushing the air as she reached out with her magic. “Something is aware of us.” As if in answer, a whispering wind slithered through the ruins, carrying the scent of decay and old spices. A shape coalesced from the gloom—a tattered figure in a merchant’s robe, its face lost to the shifting blur of half-formed memories. It raised a skeletal hand, and suddenly, the rubble beneath your feet shifted, grinding together like teeth in a closing maw. Lyraen was already moving, voice ringing clear through the encroaching dread. “Stand firm!” Their words wrapped around you like a shield, steadying your steps and pushing back the rising unease. Even Draven, usually calm, set his jaw and pulled a small vial from his belt, swirling its contents as he whispered something soft and old.
The marketplace itself seemed to groan as the past bled into the present. More figures emerged—distorted merchants and spectral shoppers, their hollow eyes locked onto you. Vaelor stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright, we get it. You had a rough eviction centuries ago. But let’s all take a deep breath—” One lunged, too fast for words. A flash of silver as Elowyn wove a counter-charm, a gust of force sending it staggering back. Draven flicked his elixir toward the spectral horde, and where the droplets landed, the phantoms flickered and hesitated, caught between waking and dream. “You’re caught in a memory,” he said, voice steady. “You don’t have to stay.” The lead specter’s hollow gaze met his, something almost knowing in its faceless void.
Then, as quickly as it began, the moment cracked apart. The whispers faded, the figures unraveled into mist, and the oppressive weight in the air lifted. The ruins fell still once more. Lyraen exhaled, resting a hand against a pillar as if grounding themselves in something solid. “That,” Vaelor said, brushing spectral dust from his coat, “was not not the worst way we’ve ever walked into an ancient curse.” A beat of silence, then Draven smirked. “Remember that one time with the possessed marionette theater?” Lyraen groaned, Elowyn rolled her eyes, and Vaelor grinned. “Oh, that was a good one. Let’s hope the next one isn’t worse.” But in the ruins of the old world, the past had a habit of refusing to stay buried.
Remember that one time
The four of you stood at the edge of the crumbling stone bridge, staring down at the gaping chasm below. What was once a simple river had become a swirling void of shimmering mist, shifting with eerie images of what might have been—a lost kingdom’s memories bleeding through time. “So, just to recap,” Korven said, crossing his arms. “We could take the long way around, through the haunted orchard, or we could try and cross this very obviously cursed bridge.” Zyra cracked her knuckles, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I say we cross. What’s the worst that could happen?” Mirael groaned, already securing a rope to her belt. “Remember that one time you said that before? And then the floor turned into snapping jaws?”
Talion, ever grim, tilted his head and watched as a piece of rubble tumbled off the edge, vanishing before it hit the bottom. “There’s something wrong with the air here,” he muttered. “It smells like—” Before he could finish, the bridge lurched, the stones beneath your feet shifting like an awakened beast. A low, mournful howl rose from below as spectral forms began clawing their way up the sides—warriors in rusted armor, their hollow eyes filled with recognition. “Great,” Mirael muttered, drawing her sword. “Ghosts. Again.” Zyra was already moving, leaping onto a still-solid section of the bridge. “Only one way forward! Talion, do your thing!”
Talion stepped ahead, raising a hand in a calming gesture. “You are bound here,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “But you don’t have to be.” The lead specter hesitated, its gauntlet-covered fingers twitching. For a moment, it looked as though it might listen—but then its jaw stretched unnaturally wide, letting out a wail of rage. “Guess not!” Korven shouted, shifting mid-motion as his limbs lengthened, his bones cracking into a more lupine shape. With a single bound, he slammed into one of the ghosts, his claws ripping through its ethereal form like mist in a storm. Mirael spun on her heels, slamming the pommel of her sword into another, dazing it as Zyra tore past her, knocking two more from the bridge.
The battle raged for what felt like an eternity before the final specter let out a whispering sigh and faded into nothing. The bridge held—barely. Panting, Mirael wiped sweat from her brow. “So. Haunted orchard next time?” Korven grinned, his teeth still too sharp. “Oh, but Zyra loves a collapsing death trap.” Zyra dusted herself off, completely unbothered. “Hey, at least this one didn’t have teeth.” Talion sighed, adjusting his cloak as he peered into the mist below. “Yet.” A beat of silence. Then Korven groaned. “You had to say yet.”
Remember that one time
The four of you stood in the abandoned opera house, its grand velvet curtains torn, its chandeliers dark, and the scent of dust and forgotten songs thick in the air. What had once been a place of beauty and magic now sat on the edge of decay, caught between New Avalon and the remnants of the old world seeping through the reemerging portals. “Alright,” Thandor muttered, adjusting his coat. “Who exactly thought this was a good idea?” Serelith grinned, balancing on the edge of the stage with theatrical flair. “Oh, come on. A mysterious benefactor invites us to an empty theater at midnight? Obviously it’s a trap. But wouldn’t you rather see how the show ends?”
Before anyone could answer, a single piano note rang out through the hall, followed by another—hesitant, searching. Arion turned toward the grand piano at the foot of the stage. “Uh… I think the piano is playing itself.” Faelara’s eyes glowed faintly as she focused on the space around them. “No. Not itself. Someone’s here.” The air shimmered, revealing shadowy figures seated in the theater’s empty rows, their spectral eyes fixed on the stage. Then, the whispering started—soft, overlapping voices murmuring forgotten lines of a long-lost script. The ghosts of past performers, lingering between worlds.
The stage lights flared to life on their own, and suddenly, Serelith was no longer alone. A pale, faceless figure stood beside them, draped in tattered finery. It reached out, beckoning. “Oh, no,” Thandor muttered, stepping back. “Absolutely not.” Serelith smirked and extended a hand in return. “Too late,” they said, voice filled with reckless delight. “I always accept an encore.” Before anyone could stop them, Serelith vanished—whisked away in a swirl of illusory smoke. Arion gasped, looking around frantically. “What do we do? What do we do?!” Faelara placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We improvise.”
A moment later, Serelith reappeared on the balcony, laughing as they dodged a spectral hand reaching for them. “Alright, maybe not every encore!” With a flick of their wrist, Thandor cast an illusion over the audience, distorting their vision, while Faelara whispered an incantation that caused the ghosts to hesitate, their memories unraveling at her touch. Arion, not quite thinking, mimicked Serelith’s daring—Far Stepping onto the balcony to drag them away just as the ghosts wailed in frustration. The lights flickered again, and just like that, the spirits vanished. The opera house fell silent once more. After a long pause, Serelith dusted themselves off and grinned. “Remember that one time I almost got cast in a ghost play?” Thandor sighed. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Remember that one time
The forest had no right to be this quiet. The thick canopy overhead choked out the moonlight, leaving only the faint glow of strange fungi to illuminate the narrow path. Nymeria walked ahead, her sharp eyes scanning the darkness. “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Vaelith asked, leaning against a tree and smirking at Zephara. “Admit it, noble one. Your fancy map-reading skills have failed us.” Zephara huffed, holding up the old parchment covered in twisting ink that had shifted since the last time they checked it. “I never claimed the map wasn’t enchanted. Besides, this is the right direction… it’s just that the road wasn’t supposed to disappear under our feet.” Insen, who had been trailing behind and trying very hard not to think about what was lurking beyond the trees, cleared his throat. “Not to add to the tension, but… I think the ghosts are watching us again.”
Sure enough, the spectral outlines of figures flickered in the mist between the trees, their hollow eyes fixed on the group. Some stood solemnly, others twitched as if trying to remember how to move. Vaelith ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I hate when he’s right about that.” Nymeria’s expression remained unreadable. “They’re waiting for something,” she murmured. “Or someone.” As if on cue, a shape emerged from the fog—a towering, hollow-eyed knight in battered armor. The moss growing on its pauldrons suggested it had been standing here far longer than anyone should. The knight raised a rusted sword and pointed it directly at Zephara. A whisper, dry as crumbling parchment, echoed through the trees. “The lost heir returns.”
Zephara blinked. “Oh, come on.” Insen, who had been very purposefully staying behind everyone else, groaned. “I knew coming back to the old world was a mistake.” The knight took a step forward, dragging its sword through the damp earth. The ghosts around them stirred, shifting closer. “Alright, alright,” Vaelith said, rolling his shoulders. “What’s the plan? Because if this is about bloodlines and buried destiny, I vote we run.” Nymeria didn’t move, her fingers twitching as she studied the knight’s stance. “It’s not attacking. Not yet.” Zephara let out a slow breath, stepping forward. “You think I can talk it down?” The knight’s hollow sockets seemed to burn brighter at that, as if amused. Vaelith gave a theatrical shrug. “Only one way to find out.”
Zephara squared her shoulders, lifting her chin. “I don’t know what you expect of me,” she called out, her voice carrying in the dead air. “But I’m not the person you think I am.” The knight stilled for a long moment… and then it took another step forward. The ground trembled. “Then become them.” The ghosts wailed as the forest itself shifted, the trees twisting into new, unnatural angles. “Oh,” Insen said, already taking a step back. “That can’t be good.” Nymeria turned to the others. “New plan: run first, talk later.” Zephara groaned but didn’t argue as the four of them turned and bolted down the now-twisting path, the knight’s laughter chasing them through the dark. “Remember that one time we almost got conscripted into a dead army?” Vaelith called as they ran. “Because I feel like it’s happening again!”