Whether in pencil-and-paper, or on the computer (Baldur’s Gate, Icewind Dale), we’ve been plagued by the gnome stereotype of foolish inventor and chaotic law-infringing businessman. I guess it’s time to change that. I’ve decided to throw a bone: help me make the gnomes a race worth featuring in an RPG.
As a way of defining your character better
Pride. Strength. Skill.
These are the values of the Monroi, woven into their very being - for them, battle is not just self-preservation, but a need.
Seldom does one see a Dunshar “nude”, as an amorphous masses of jelly. They can animate mud, earth, stone or metal, and use them as a body to shield their fragile self.
The high society, the creme dela creme, waste often a great amount of money on luxuries and amusement. In a fantasy world, there is sure more to throw out heaps of money for than fancy clothes, shiny jewels and fast horses, mansions and wars…
When society keeps getting more cosmopolitan, cities of mixed racial makeup start to appear. Neighborhoods dedicated to specific races will occur.
There are large and small crickets, each was unique.
Sacred bird of Raelis, the Sunfire Laerti is a bird of prey, a perfect flyer and fearless predator.
The place where the Sun-Lord Tacontar first spoke to his flock, and centre of his religion, heart and soul of a nation.
Concealed in a fold of space, there, watching, lies, a haven - refuge for a select few, as well as the most precious thing in the world.
Should you wish to pluck a rose, or to caress it, beware its thorns, its dangerous beauty.
A man of the city in the wild, a man of coin stands at nature’s side? Can this go well, can it bear fruit? Will he be worthy, will duty take root?
Tainted. Witch. Hellspawn. Freak. Monster. How often does one have to hear this until ... she makes the decision to stand up, stand up for them all?
A symbol of the guardina of the faithful, the Pilgrim’s Torch is carried from one holy site to another, ensuring the safety and continuity of the faith..
A place more holy than any other
Two unlikely people. An unlikely pair. An unlikely love.
Salvation to oneself is bought through the salvation of others…
A tool of war, given free will to foster stife and conflict, that used that very same free will to become a messenger of peace.
Has your kid been acting strangely? Returning home late at night, bearing bruises and clothes torn? Something else than puberty may be the reason.
Some elves lose patience teaching the ‘young’ races, and set out to employ harsher methods. A few doubt the very intent of mother nature, and set out to bring their own vision to life.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.