Every now and then, a monster comes along that isn’t just frightening because it’s powerful, but because it feels wrong in a way that sticks with you. Something about it hits a deeper nerve: too grotesque to ignore, too intelligent to treat like just another bag of hit points, and too disturbingly symbolic to be written off as a simple demon.

Every Dungeon Master eventually faces a monster so relentless, so cunning, and so undefeatable that even ancient dragons start to seem manageable by comparison.Not a lich.Not a demon lord.Not even that one player’s homebrew monk subclass they swear is “totally balanced” despite doing 48 damage at level three. No—the true Big Bad Evil Guy of tabletop gaming is, and always has been, scheduling.

Sometimes, the smallest spell holds the deepest truth.Buried in Xanathar’s Guide to Everything is one of D&D’s most profound pieces of magic—not a blast of fire or a warding glyph, but a simple ritual of devotion. > Wedding.You touch adult humanoids willing to be bonded together in marriage. For the next 7 days, each target gains a +2 bonus to AC while they are within 30 feet of each other.

There’s something about the Appalachian Mountains that keeps secrets. The mist clings to the trees, the hollers echo with strange sounds, and the ancient woods seem to whisper if you listen too long. It’s a land that remembers — and in that memory, monsters lurk. For this week’s Monster Monday, we’re stepping away from the dungeon and into the deep dark hills of Appalachian folklore, where the tales of cryptids, spirits, and omens are as much a part of the landscape as the ridges and rivers themselves.

Main storylines are the skeleton of your campaign—the backbone that holds everything together. But side quests? They’re the muscle, the skin, and the scars that make the world feel alive. Side quests aren’t just filler. Done well, they can: Flesh out your world with history, culture, and depth. Give characters personal growth opportunities. Offer moments of levity between epic, world-shaking events.

Sometimes the most compelling pieces of worldbuilding aren’t empires or pantheons—they’re individuals who carry entire histories within them. This week, we’re looking at 3rd of 5th, a warforged whose story blurs the line between guardian and heretic. Forged for Faith 3rd of 5th wasn’t built for the battlefield like most of his kind. Instead, House Cannith crafted him for divine containment—a living reliquary meant to hold relics too dangerous for mortal hands.

In D&D, the gibbering mouther is a grotesque nightmare—an oozing mass of eyes and mouths, dragging itself forward while babbling maddening nonsense. Its form is alien, its presence suffocating, its hunger insatiable. But where did this horror come from? The Folklore Roots While there’s no single mythological “gibbering mouther,” the creature echoes stories found in folklore around the world: Wendigo Legends: Tales from Algonquian folklore warn of humans twisted into monstrous cannibals by insatiable hunger.

Not every character is meant to stay forever. Some burst into our campaigns like a spark—an eccentric innkeeper with a terrible accent, a mercenary who fights alongside the party for just one quest, a rival who vanishes into the night after a single duel. Others linger for a while before quietly fading, their chapter closing before the book is done.

Every great adventure has its heroes—but just as important are the voices in the background. The shopkeeper who always has suspiciously specific inventory. The rival party who keeps showing up at the worst possible time. The nervous apprentice who tags along on a mission “just to carry your stuff” and ends up saving the day. Today’s spotlight isn’t on the epic boss battles or the party’s most legendary critical hits.

There’s a strange kind of silence that settles in after a long-running campaign ends. Not the peaceful kind. Not the “finally, I can sleep in on Saturday mornings” kind. This silence is heavier. It sits on your shoulders like a weighted cloak, the kind you didn’t realize you were wearing until someone unfastened it and let it fall. For months—sometimes years—the rhythm of game night was the heartbeat of my week.

I still remember the sound of the dice clattering across the table. I’d set the scene just like any other session—carefully, lovingly, cruelly. A crumbling cliffside at sunset. The villain finally revealed. The relic glowing faintly between them. A final chance to triumph… or to fall. I didn’t think it would end this way. They were my players. My friends. My heroes.

When ink cuts deeper than steel and parchment becomes predator. In some corners of the arcane world, magic doesn’t roar—it rustles. From origami assassins folded in shadows to living scrolls that scream forgotten spells, paper constructs are a niche but terrifying magical force. They are elegant, delicate… and dangerously underestimated. And at the apex of this parchment pantheon lies the Paper Dragon—a whispering wyrm born of knowledge, secrets, and ritual.

Last night, our party of unlikely heroes descended into madness and magic in the Whispers of the Silent Tome one-shot. This chilling descent into the lost archives of a forgotten monastery tested more than just their mettle—it tested their minds. The group, a mismatched assembly of adventurers drawn by whispers and forbidden dreams, followed clues etched in memory and madness to find a library untouched by time—and untouched for a reason.

Dragons are back at the center of the story—and they’ve never looked better. Dragon Delves, due July 8, 2025, is a stunning anthology of 10 draconic-themed adventures spanning levels 1–12. It’s designed for DMs of all experience levels: plug‑and‑play modules with streamlined prep and breathtaking artwork. A Rainbow of Dragons—And Art Styles Each chapter spotlights one chromatic or metallic dragon, matched with a distinct art style chosen to reflect that dragon’s personality.

When you think of Dungeons & Dragons, your mind might go to epic dragons, glittering treasure hoards, or proud paladins atop shining steeds. But for some of us, the soul of D&D is darker—more surreal, seductive, and strange. That soul has a name: Brom. Who Is Gerald Brom? Gerald Brom, known professionally as Brom, is an illustrator, concept artist, and novelist whose style reshaped what fantasy could look like.

Three claws, three paths: curiosity, courage, and corruption. The world of Dungeons & Dragons is filled with feline-themed creatures and playable species, each representing a different face of power and mystery. Whether you're looking for a curious traveler, a battle-hardened champion, or a silver-tongued devil in fur, the feline pantheon delivers. Let’s explore three iconic examples of feline entities that can shape your world—or haunt your party’s dreams.

A DM and player talk about the time a book changed everything. Player: Alina (played Lyrel, half-elf warlock) DM: Jax Alina:Remember the Scriptorium Spire session? Jax:How could I forget? That was the night I turned a book into your emotional undoing. Alina:laughs Yeah, thanks for that trauma. But seriously—when you first described the Spire, with its whispering scrolls and the Archivist who speaks in glyphs?

A yearly rite where people surrender their pasts to embrace transformation. In some cultures, names are sacred. In others, names are fleeting. But in the kingdom of Velmara, every year brings a celebration where names—and the identities they once shaped—are deliberately, ritualistically left behind. The Festival of Forgotten Names is not merely a holiday. It is a collective shedding of self, a symbolic rebirth, and, for some, the only chance to escape the weight of history—or taste the thrill of anonymity.

Keep your players guessing, gasping, and begging for one more session. Every Dungeon Master has faced that moment—the players turn down a different hallway, ignore a carefully placed clue, or decide to make friends with the bandit leader you planned to kill off in the first scene. When the plot veers off script, you need a toolbox full of tricks, twists, and hooks to keep the story alive.

Sometimes the dice tell the best jokes. Every GM has a story that sticks with them—a moment so absurd, so unexpected, that it becomes a legend at their table. For one group, that moment came when the final boss of their campaign, a being of terrifying power and dark magic, was defeated by… a chicken. Here’s the tale, as told by the DM and players who lived it.

A necromancer who harvests stories as well as skeletons. When most adventurers hear “necromancer,” they think of shambling zombies, clattering skeletons, and whispered curses. But not all necromancers are driven solely by the pursuit of unending life or raw power. Some collect something far more valuable—memory. Meet the Bone Collector, a necromancer who treats bones not as mere minions, but as libraries of forgotten lives, histories long dead, and stories waiting to be told.

When a ghost’s touch wasn’t just spooky—it was devastating. Before hit points became the standard measure of fear in D&D, there was another, darker threat lurking in every haunted crypt, shadowed castle, and fog-drenched graveyard: Level Draining. For those who only started playing D&D in more recent editions, the idea of losing an entire character level to a single failed save might sound harsh, even cruel.

Gods disappear if they’re forgotten. In the world of high fantasy, gods are often eternal, omnipotent, and unchanging. But what if they weren’t? What if divine power was a finite, fragile thing—dependent not on celestial strength, but on the memory of mortals? Welcome to the Vanishing Pantheon, a world where gods only exist as long as they are believed in. Temples crumble, prayers fade, and divine beings flicker into oblivion when their names are forgotten.

A real report from a DM experiment in collaborative chaos. Storytelling Saturday brings you something truly special today:A dungeon where the players designed the lore—but didn’t know they were designing the dungeon. This post is a firsthand account from both the Dungeon Master and the players of a game where the dungeon wasn’t drawn from a module or the DM’s prep—not at first.

You carry the scars—and the power—of another realm. You were exposed to raw elemental energy—accidentally or deliberately—and forever changed.Whether you were caught in a planar rift, experimented on by a cult, or born during a storm of magic and fire, your body and soul now bear the marks of elemental forces. Most people view you with awe, fear, or suspicion.