"Hail! You there, farmer. We are in need of aid; do you have a temple or a priest? We ran into some bandits up the road there and are injured. Jonst won’t last much longer." A large man bellowed from the broken roadside.
"Of course stranger. You can find Luayas in the center of the village proper continue on until you see a large apple tree; she can aid your wounded. Please be gentle and offer tithes for her generosity." A gentle eyed man in homespun clothing, simple yet comfortable in the heat.
"Thank you farmer, we are in your debt. What does Luayas look like so that we might find her quickly? Does she stay by the tree often?" saying over his shoulder in thanks as he half pushed, half carried his companion along.
"No stranger." The farmer laughed, "She is the tree."
In a world where it seems that even the smallest of ideals has a deity to call a patron, even bastards have a patron god to call their own.
A young warrior turned warlord with a heart to satify his people’s needs. Yet every golden hero has an obsidian heart waiting to be released.
Fedolf, the notorious headsman of Iddland, is known as much for his beheadings as for his operatic arias of doom. A tower of power, standing nearly seven feet tall, and weighing in at almost four hundred pounds, Fedolf strikes fear in all onlookers, especially when he dons his executioner's hood, and goes shirtless, wielding his gigantic double-bladed pole-axe, on his way to the headsman's block. He possesses a beautiful singing voice, and will often send off his charges into the next life, while belting out baritone dirges and antiquated arias, usually involving death, destiny, and duty, in heavy doses.