Welcome to Gaiathrae
Homebrew adventures, mythical creatures, and legendary characters — all forged in the fires of Gaiathrae. Your next campaign starts here.
Battle maps made using Inkarnate.
NPC, Monster, and Scenery art made using Midjourney
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Campaign settings and adventures ready to run at your table.
NPCs, allies, and villains — fully statted and lore-rich.
Custom creatures with stat blocks, lore, and encounter tips.
High-resolution maps for dungeons, wilderness, and cities.
Deep dives into the world of Gaiathrae — its history, factions, and gods.
Sample adventures, creatures, and resources — no membership required.
A shipwreck, a haunted lighthouse, an abandoned farmstead, and a Bullywug warlord guarding the shore. Beacon of the Brine gets a full revision with updated maps, characters, and monsters plus a full PDF download!
Small, fast, and stubbornly reliable, Nella Lightfoot carries Edgewood Garrison's dispatches to Greenbranch and Brightcrown and back -- and knows shortcuts through the Weald she's never told the garrison about.
The steady discipline underneath Edgewood Garrison's calm, Knight-Sergeant Bastian Grier drills every rotating warden until a raised alarm becomes instinct instead of panic -- and privately carries every name he's ever trained.
The quiet, watchful edge of Edgewood Garrison's defense, Elowen Fenwick ranges the border toward Sorrowind Pass and the Saltspray marshes, confirming with her own eyes what the tower's pennants can only guess at from a distance.
Half chaplain, half battlefield medic, Brother Ansel Thorwood tends Edgewood Garrison's small twin-shrine chapel and stitches up whatever the border throws at it -- treating friend, stranger, and doubt with the same steady hands.
The steady hand behind Edgewood Garrison's stores and guest barracks, Wynne Hargrove keeps wardens fed, travelers sheltered, and the fort's dwindling supplies stretched exactly as far as they need to go.
The Glade doesn't judge you. The light does. And the light already knows what you did.
The gouges scored into the hull look like rot. They aren't. They're an invitation, and something already answered.
Sorrel has tended Lyreleaf for eleven years. Nobody has ever asked where the real one went.
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