TALES OF THE TAROKKA

The ghastly Vistani crone reaches for the Tarokka deck with withered hands, bangles clattering down her bony arms. She draws a card and stares at its telltale face in the guttering candle’s glow. The old woman gazes ominously at the reading as a frigid draft wafts through the creaking room, extinguishing the candles one by one.

As darkness encroaches, the woman’s rheumy eyes widen at the sight of wispy tendrils drifting across the worn floorboards. The portent is clear—the Mists approach once more, eager to claim new victims. These poor souls will roam the Domains unprotected, at the mercy of the Dark Powers’ cruel whims. They can only hope their sanity withstands the terrors ahead… should they survive at all.

THE HIGH DECK