This ticket is for a homebrewed Dungeon & Dragons campaign called Storm of the Dead. John is dungeon mastering this story. All skill levels are welcome, as well as players 13 and older! This is an ongoing campaign, but new players may join at any point.

If you're looking to get involved in this game, all you'll need are dice, a pencil, a character sheet, and a player's handbook. If you want any other character options, we're able to get you the books that provide those!

Entry is $12, with that money helping us compensate our DMs and provide a consistent and quality space for D&D experiences.

Each table is limited to 6 players, so please buy your ticket in advance to secure your spot.

A description of the scenario:

The village of Sunny Brook is a peaceful, unassuming place—far removed from the dangers of the wider world. Nestled in a quiet valley with rolling green hills, a sparkling brook, and farmland as far as the eye can see, it has remained untouched by the conflicts of kings and warlords. Life is simple here. People farm the land, mend their tools, and tell stories around crackling fires.

Each of you has spent your life among these villagers, knowing little of war, sorcery, or the horrors that lurk in the dark. Perhaps you are a farmer who tills the earth from dawn to dusk, a blacksmith’s apprentice hammering steel, or a healer gathering herbs in the woods. Whatever your path, one thing is certain—your life is about to change forever.

It begins on an autumn evening, when the sky is painted in hues of orange and violet. The town square is alive with the sounds of children’s laughter and the scent of fresh-baked bread. A festival is in preparation—the Harvest Moon Feast, a night of feasting, dancing, and merriment.

The village elder, Old Marta Greyleaf, had spent the day murmuring warnings of ill omens, but no one heeded her. The river was calm. The animals had not grown restless. What was there to fear?

Then came the scream.

The first to fall was the miller, taken in his doorway as he called for help. The blacksmith followed, dragged from his forge, his hammer falling to the ground with a clang. One by one, families were dragged from their homes, shackled and beaten if they resisted.

Pale faces emerged from the mist—hollow-eyed men and women with waxy skin stretched tight over their bones. The stench of rot filled the air, and in their cold, dead hands, they bore rusted weapons and cruel implements. These were not men. They were monsters, long dead, yet moving. A nightmare come to life.

The last thing you remember is being struck from behind. You recall the sensation of cold steel against your wrist, binding you. A cart rattling over rough terrain. The voices of the other villagers—some whispering prayers, others weeping in fear. And through the slats of the iron cage you are trapped in, you glimpse distant torchlight and the gaping maw of a massive burial mound, its entrance yawning like the mouth of some ancient beast.

You do not know what awaits you within. You only know that if you don’t escape soon… you will never leave.

Your adventure begins!