mind’s eye: silver is the shade of the grim transmission
Tag: fantasy
ritual by omission the bonfire removes haunting shadows by the hour
Moonfall: The Drowning of Lathaille
Begin this New Year with a fantasy TTRPG of mysticism and mystery, presenting- Moonfall: The Drowning of Lathaille! As always your love and support matters! Check it out on DriveThruRPG or itch.io at the links below!
When the moon fell into the sea, its light turned the waters to silver. Each night, the tide rises higher, swallowing towns and remaking the drowned into gleaming, otherworldly beings.
You are a lunartik—gifted or cursed by the moon’s touch—living in Lathaille, the last coastal stronghold of humankind. The silver tide is at your door.
Record your nights in a journal. Survive, surrender, or be transformed. Each roll of the dice reveals a haunting vision of the drowned world and your fate within it.
Moonfall: The Drowning of Lathaille is a mythic, melancholic journaling RPG of moonlight, memory, and metamorphosis.
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A Solitary Story of Silver and Salt.
Write your own myth of survival as the moon’s curse consumes the world.
Simple and Immersive Mechanics.
With just a d6, a d20, and your journal, explore Lathaille’s final nights through poetic encounters and haunting choices.
Three Ways to End.
Survive one night, three, or play endlessly—until the dice echo your doom.
Mythic Folklore Meets the Sea.
Play as one of six lunartiks: fae-drowned, coral-blooded, or moon-eyed—each a fragment of Tydalis’ fading light.
For Dreamers, Poets, and the Doomed.
Perfect for fans of mythic journaling RPGs, melancholic fantasy, and tales that end in beauty or ruin.
Happy New Year dear friends! Wishing you calm, joy and strange miracles in 2026! Cheers!
the year begins with mist will it end in flames?
a brand new kind of grey permeates the concrete jungle
vows are akin to cold air it lingers in your bones even if you forget
the morning walk amongst mindless drones piloted by the forces of capitalism and shaped by the invisible hands of a higher stimuli
sometimes it is the quiet ones who carry raging battlefields in their souls they may hide it well but sleep haunts them with charred faces and memories of hope
with borrowed fire i walk the lands of my ancestors until the day the fire becomes my own to nurture
elancharan gunasekaran 