A party of five-Kelnys, Endellion, Raidion, Dolly, and I-is tasked by The Web to aid in a sacred rite and journey to the peak of Mount Atria.

The party reaches the peak of Mount Atria, only to be met with unexpected revelations that shake the foundations of their mission. As tensions rise within the Antiqua, they must navigate mystery and conflict before descending the mountain.

After the turmoil on Mount Atria, the party reflects on their past and the choices that led them to The Web. Continuing their journey, they seek aid at the Festival of Benediction, only to face another unexpected challenge.

After parting ways with Morgan, the party enjoys a brief respite at the Festival of Benediction. With a night's rest at The Old Oak behind them, they set out through the forest, beginning their journey toward Baruun.

After overcoming unexpected opposition in the forest, the party arrives in Baruun and receives a new mission from The Web-a prison break. They work their way through the stronghold with trial and error, seeking an escape beneath the city.

After an acrid escape, the party regroups and recuperates before learning long-buried truths about the world's origins from Grawnoth. The party goes to warn the Council of Equals before The Web comes demanding an audience with the party.

Tasked with a new mission from The Web, the party orchestrates deception and diversion to set five buildings ablaze. Yet, as the flames rise, it becomes clear that their actions are only a piece of a more sinister scheme.

After witnessing a gruesome event in the plaza, the party flees back to their hideout and find Medea at an incriminating scene. Confrontation erupts, forcing them into a brutal struggle where both friend and foe suffer the consequences.

The party rescued Medea's hostage and brought him back to the council. Learning of the fall of Lode and the impending siege of the town Mouse, the party agreed to lend a hand-but not before a night to let loose at a tavern.

After convincing the council of their capability and evading unwanted suspicion, the party embarks on a journey to Mouse, entrusted with supplies. Along the way, they encounter various Mouse residents in different states of distress.

After Kelnys's failed attempt to commune with the deck of cards, the party descends into the tunnels leading to Castle Grenweard. Navigating traps and tricks, they are left grappling with mistrust and lingering mysteries of the past.

After an emotionally charged reunion, the Grenweard family joins forces with the party to plan the siege. With doubts sown by The Web, the party faces a difficult choice that could change everything.

Defying The Web, the party sides with the Grenweard family, using trickery and explosives against the Gloam. As battle erupts, familiar faces resurface as foes, and in dire moments, the Deck of Many Friends turns the tide on its head.

Branded as the God Killers, the party sets out for the Sanctum seeking answers, armed with gifts from the Grenweard family. On the way, they come upon a mysterious figure bearing ominous truths that threaten to unveil hidden secrets.

Weighed down by their exchange with the Docent of Grace, the party camps in the forest but is soon roused by a gnome's plea for help. Agreeing in exchange for a reward, they storm the Yannick Workshop, overpowering the thugs within.

Arriving in Yannick under creative aliases, the party attempts to relocate the townspeople to Mouse, only to learn that the Learned Friends would thwart such efforts. Suspecting a link, they investigate Iago for answers.

In a desperate showdown with Iago, the party calls upon the Deck of Many Friends to shift the battle's tide. While the others secure supplies, I meets Quincy for high chair designs, as Yannick's townspeople vote to relocate to Mouse.

As Yannick's residents prepare to move, the party heads toward the Sanctum, haunted by perplexing dreams. Arriving in Veil, a city mourning the fallen tiefling god and Antiqua, they soon find themselves on the run again.

Continuing toward the Sanctum, the party pauses at a tavern to share stories of their past. After defeating two Fortis Legion members on the road, they come across Dolus, a former Legion member who might be their way into the Sanctum.

Armed with knowledge of a secret entrance to the Sanctum, the party reaches a lakeside town where Dolly reunites with an old acquaintance. Tasked with recovering a stolen chart, they soon realize they've been closely followed all along.

After Kelnys reveals more of his past linked to a letter found at Wasp's place, the party sets sail on Fathom with Aska and Dolus. Battling harsh weather and monsters, they reach the Sanctum-only to confront faces from the past.

The Web might be wide, but the stairs of the Sanctum are narrow, and every step upward is fraught with danger. When the Fortis Legion make their stance clear (with swords, not words), the Newly Dead are forced to rely on their wits, steel, and some… unconventional allies. As secrets come to light and battles rage, the party faces hard choices and even harder foes. With each roll of the dice, they move closer to uncovering truths that could define who they are—and what they’re fighting for. Will the Newly Dead survive The Sanctum?

This video includes a paid partnership with Funko POP! As the storm rages and the rain lashes down, it becomes clear the Newly Dead will find no sanctuary in the Sanctum. To secure their future, they must take a leap of faith into uncharted waters. Rest, however, is fleeting as unexpected dangers test their resolve and challenge their faith in everything they once believed to be true. Secrets are shared, tempers flare, and those thought lost may be closer than they ever imagined. Their journey may lead them to the old home of the gods, a place where divine decisions and magic once shaped Reliquiae. But whatever answers they hope to find, they are not the only ones seeking them. In a world where identity is fragile, me, you, and I must unite to face what lies ahead.

The Newly Dead aren’t the only ones in Alveleon, as the shadowy organisation known as The Gloam already lurks in the ruined city’s depths, making their search all the more deadly. With danger closing in, the party is forced to divide and conquer. Raidion and Dolly must spin a web of charm and deceit to uncover the truth (and make it out alive) though some secrets are best left unspoken... or in some cases simply never spoken of again. Meanwhile, can Elowen, Kelnys, and I outmanoeuvre the threats and buy them some much-needed time? The race to The Old Dark has begun, but they’re not the only ones running.

Sometimes the last thing between you and the dirt is a well-placed dagger, but what does it mean when it’s lodged in your back? The Spinner’s words have left a wound that no blade could carve, splitting the party in ways they might not recover from. But there is no time to dwell on fractured trust and growing tension—if they want to reach The Old Dark first, they have to keep moving, even if this time, it's the Newly Dead on the menu. Getting killed? That’s the easy part. Surviving Reliquiae? Well, that’s going to be the real challenge.

Bruised, broken, and some even blighted, the Newly Dead take their first steps into the depths, seeking the elusive Kobold God, Themself. But in the winding caves below, where the history and stories of the Kobold tribes echo through the stone, there are far worse things to fear than what lurks in the dark. The weight of their own doubts press heavy, as whispers from The Web weave their way into wary minds, trust is tested, and resolve begins to fray. The Web would see them buried, but in the endless tunnels, can they claw their way back to the light and continue the fight?

The tunnels twist on, pressing in from all sides. Pressure, as they say, can forge diamonds, but will the Newly Dead begin to shine? Each step deeper into the dark forces them to confront what lies beneath, not just in the stone, but in themselves. Old wounds ache. Doubts gnaw. And when shadows twist and fear creeps in, it’s not just trust that wavers. But not everything in the dark is there to break them. Some things, surprisingly, ask for nothing at all. Still, the path out won’t be smooth. Something’s waiting in the muck. Something with a taste for adventurers...and a ribbeting sense of timing. The Newly Dead might be ready to hop out of these tunnels, but first? They’ll have to leap into a fight unlike any they’ve faced before.

The sun is warm, the forest is vast, and for the first time in a while, the Newly Dead breathe easy. But there’s more than pollen drifting on the air. Trust begins to bloom too. Beneath the trees, secrets are traded, not in whispers, but in truth. And in that rare stillness, something begins to mend. But peace in this place is fleeting. Not everything that grows in the forest should be picked. A promise of clarity, past, present, and future is laid bare. But for those who’ve seen what it really does, that promise is more curse than blessing. And when danger rears its head, there’s no time to reflect. Spells fly, plans shatter, and four legs are better than two. It’s messy. It’s wild. And it’s absolutely no time for horsing around.

In the forest of endless summer, there isn’t one clear path, there are many. As one takes a risk and disappears into the shadows, moving with nothing but silence and sheer nerve, as another stumbles into something far stranger. Learning of an old acquaintance with a new name, and a following that worships the Midnight Moon. Between whispered conversations and quiet revelations, not everything is as it seems. And not everyone is who they believed themselves to be. They have a plan: Bold. Dangerous. Direct. This time they might see them coming, but let them kneel. For the bowed head cannot see the blade.

They tried stealth. They tried grand plans. But this time, they take the front door. After all, they are delivering exactly what was promised. While the Gloam do not welcome their arrival, the Children of the Midnight Moon fall silent, awestruck, as the goddess they have waited for appears before them, though not all who are worshipped come willingly. The Newly Dead came seeking answers, not adoration, but under the eyes of the Midnight Moon, promises twist into chains, and worship becomes a cage. In a place built on belief and betrayal, safety is a broken promise.

Paths split. Adventures diverge. And yet, somehow, they remain twisted. Tangled like thorns, each thread pulling against the others but never quite breaking away. Some find strength in solitude - standing where no one else can - even when what you discover isn’t what you meant to seek. Sometimes rest brings revelation. And sometimes revelation brings a cost. We sacrifice pieces of ourselves, and sometimes others, in the hope that something else might be spared. Not every card in the deck is meant to be played. Some are drawn. Some are taken. And some…are kept.

Bartering takes many forms. Life for life. Belief for power. Captivity for freedom. But not every exchange is forced. Sometimes, trust is given freely, without trade or consequence. Yet it isn’t always magic, or steel, that saves you. Sometimes all that remains is faith, and the hope that those whom fate has tangled into your story will be there to catch you when you fall. And together, even the chill of death feels less certain. While it may linger, searching for peace in whatever form it can find, the strength to stare it in the face rarely comes from standing alone. At the end of it all, it’s the promise of the first strike, and the weight of the last, that leaves the deepest mark.

Some goodbyes are felt only in silence, in the quiet closing of a chapter. Others are painted in colour and contemplation. Some choose to burn, their smoke rising as a final signal of what’s ended. Yet with every ending comes a new beginning, a moment to plant the seed of change, to learn, and to lead. As the pinks of dusk give way to yellows of a new dawn, hope begins to flower. Even the smallest act can become that seed, and there is power in planting something new, in growing, tending, and rebuilding. Sometimes, to grow, you must reach forward and relive the moments you once tried to leave behind. Grief still carves its path, and memories cling, like roots deep and tangled, hard to pull free. But a hand outstretched is a burden shared and a future sown. And in the wake of summer’s end, the world continues to turn. Leaves fall. Air shifts. And, somewhere between dusk and dawn, and the lush green of summer, the reds of autumn arrive. Growth is rarely easy, but adventure always has

As autumn settles in, questions begin to form: of purpose, of planning, and whether the chapter of this story was simply by chance or design. Here in the forest, some things are sweet, others sharp, and some look fine until you discover what’s hiding inside. When you don’t know what you’re reaching for, you can only hope your friends are quick enough to keep the worst away. But the trees hide more than secrets. They reveal choices too, of what to take, where to go, and how to find what they seek. And to make the right choice? They’ll need to be more than lucky.

In the quiet of the forest, a plan begins to smoulder. While talent may prove reliable, it’s far from innocent, and with the air thick and heavy, not everyone is breathing easy. Some find themselves climbing to unexpected heights, though whether from inspiration or inhalation is anyone’s guess. In a forest where everything is watching, it pays to move carefully, speak softly, and keep the distractions loud. After all, subtlety is subjective, and when sabotage meets strategy, it can create a spark. Things shift quickly when the lines between brilliance and recklessness begin to go up in smoke. To move forward, they’ll need misdirection, momentum, and more than a little luck. Funny, how often the path to clarity begins with a little haze.

Beneath root and ruin, the path winds deeper still. What begins as a descent soon reveals what lies below, and as the air thickens, the mind softens, even the strongest start to slip. Some wander. Some wake. Others are already too far gone. A spark can be salvation, and there’s no time to mourn when the flames come fast. Still, there are moments to be found for those who look hard enough. A chance to recognise a face, to offer a way home, and to wonder if anyone ever truly returns the same. While answers may lie in the dark, they’re not always the ones we seek. Some truths echo, others accuse, and some have the power to reshape a story entirely. What they find is not certainty, but something older: the ache of wanting to belong, the fear of being forgotten, and the hope that someone might still be searching. Through smoke and story, memory and myth, they search for something real. The questions may outnumber the answers, but the way forward is clear enough if they choose to take it

Stories are meant to be told, and some begin where others end. In the quiet of the caverns, farewells are spoken, lessons are passed on, and even the smallest of tales can take root in unexpected ways. Some stories are mischief, shouted too loudly. Others are softer, carried in memory, pressed between moments that will never be written. A few are darker still, full of loss, of questions and discovery. And some teach that strength is not always chosen, that the weight of a blade can change the hand that wields it. But stories also belong to those who dare to leave them behind. To those who walk away not because they are forgotten, but because they choose to begin again. And beyond the dark, another tale waits to be told, of mushrooms, magic, and maybe a touch of madness.

Fate is fragile, light enough to turn on the flip of a coin, yet powerful enough to make pawns of those who thought themselves players. As the pieces move, the board shifts, and the game is never truly theirs to command. Yet deeper in the dark, power is spinning into something dangerous. Lives are drawn and discarded like cards in a hand, played without hesitation, and spent without remorse, for not everyone chooses to play fair. Despite strength and skill, the rules bend, the stakes rise, and even the best hand may falter when the cost is nothing less than your soul. To survive they must outlast, outthink, and never underestimate the one across the board. The rules may be broken, and the odds stacked against them, but now that the pieces are set, they cannot leave the board.

Colour blooms where endings meet beginnings, a brilliance that lingers long enough to change those who reach for it. Memories unfurl in shades of truth, painting the past in wounds not yet healed. Yet revelations can fracture what once felt certain, as truths and lies entwine so tightly they almost look the same. But while they lingered in shadow, the world above shifted, reshaped into something more dangerous than they left behind. Paths stretch forward, but none without cost, and none without consequence. Hope can be born from endings, if those left behind are willing to shape it. Yet even as new futures are spoken into being, discord stirs, and paths diverge. When one demands more than the others can give, which path will you walk? What do you do when there is still so much to be afraid of? Natural Six are Harry McEntire, Doug Cockle, Ben Starr, Hollie Bennett, Alex Jordan and Aoife Wilson.

Life is ever-moving, ever-changing. A weave of dreams and nightmares, the grotesque and the great. You might want to look cool, but it is not about how you appear. It is about what you live for and who you choose to fight for. A moment of rest can grant the gift of reunion, a chance to break bread and reflect on the paths that led here, and on stories shaped by fear, by loss, and by the desire to protect. Yet there is warmth in stories, in remembering who came before and in daring to paint the image of what comes next. While the paint of the past might still be wet, the colour of adventure is never finished. There is still so much to discover, if you can be strong enough to save those you love.

As winter greets them with open arms, the air feels cold, clean, and gloriously alive. Now, as the world stretches wide once more, breath can turn to laughter instead of fear. Yet, while freedom might taste sweet, it can be a little unsteady, and the path ahead may yet prove far bumpier than expected, and not everyone is built for the ride. Still, laughter carries on the wind, and joy finds its place amidst the chaos, offering a chance to reflect on love, loss, and lives once lived. In a world full of promise and poor decisions, if you choose to dance to the beat of your own drum, you’d best be ready for the rhythm that follows. And as the fire crackles and the snow falls quietly, they learn that even in a world where everyone knows your name, even the Newly Dead can still get ghosted.

Hope moves in mysterious ways. It can be found deep within, bestowed upon you by chance, or something you simply search for in others. But with hope comes fear, the fear of failing, of carrying a burden you never asked for. And though so many seek it, hope can so easily be lost somewhere between the harshness of winter and the reality of war. Yet hope offers a chance to teach, a moment to heal, and an opportunity to break bread with others. Even when feelings are still too raw, too heavy, or sometimes just a little too salty to ignore, it can still be found by those willing to look for it. In a world where nightmares and anger threaten to throw you off balance, sometimes the only thing you can do is stand up, take a swing, and let it all out. Because while the road ahead might still feel heavy, there is strength in knowing you don’t have to walk it alone.

o all who would stand for Reliquiae, The gods are dead. Murdered by those who sought to break the world they built. For millennia, they gave their strength so that Reliquie might endure, their light burning so ours could remain. Now that light falters. Barabask and those who feed his hunger twist the truth and poison hearts. The Gloam march beneath his name, bringing the promise of a world drowned in shadow. They would see Reliquiae unmade, the gift of the gods turned to ash. But we will not let it fall. Stand with us. Rise against their deceit. Protect what remains of the light. Let your blade, your voice, and your faith hold the line. The shadow will not flood. The truth will be illuminated.