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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Creighton" data-source="post: 5600858" data-attributes="member: 71957">Raging Swan has just updated four of its products to <a href="http://www.ragingswan.com/screenpdfs.html" target="_blank">Dual Format PDF</a> status. By now, these free updates should be live at all places where Raging Swan offers its products for sale. The enhanced products are:  <a href="http://www.ragingswan.com/skull.html" target="_blank">Bleached Skull Gnolls</a>Feral denizens of the deep woods, the Bleached Skull Gnolls are creatures of atavistic desires and sadistic lusts. Ferocious warriors and terrible foes they worship the primal, blood-soaked spirits of the woodlands, and war with their neighbours for booty and sacrifices to bury beneath their sacred trees. <a href="http://www.ragingswan.com/mailedfist.html" target="_blank">Hobgoblins of the Mailed Fist</a>Equally renowned for their battle skills and mercenary hearts, the warriors of the Mailed Fist fight for anyone with the coin to pay them. Heavily armoured, disciplined and well trained those that stand below the Mailed Fist’s banner are formidable fighters capable of great slaughter. High above, their winged cavalry – elite warriors and battlecasters astride gigantic black bats – hurl missiles and spells down upon their hapless foes. <a href="http://www.ragingswan.com/harpies.html" target="_blank">Pazuzu’s Fury</a>Born of anger, resentment and corruption, the Harpies of Pazuzu’s Fury lure the unsuspecting and weak willed to gory ends under tooth and talon. Their devotion to Pazuzu - the prince of winged demons - grants them horrific powers yet fuels an appetite that can be assuaged but never satisfied. Fear the rising of the blood moon, when the harpies take wing. Close your ears to their sweet song, for it brings naught but death. <a href="http://www.ragingswan.com/troglodytes.html" target="_blank">Troglodytes of the Tentacled One</a>In the dark, wild places far below the wave-flecked flanks of a forlorn, wave-lashed island lurk the degenerate troglodytes of the Tentacled One. Dwelling amid the tumbled cyclopean ruins of a forgotten epoch, the troglodytes toil in their labyrinthine, stench-filled caverns at the behest of their bloated, tentacled master. Emerging on fog-shrouded nights when a sullen, gibbous moon hangs low in the sky the troglodytes raise their croaking voices to the ebon heavens in terrible, half-forgotten rites of veneration to unknown, elder beings.</blockquote>

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