"What you wanna go messin' around up in the mountains for? Ain't nothin' up there but snow, and wolves, and more snow.
Yer lookin' for the old tomb? Take my advice, boys. Let that tomb alone. There ain't nothin up there you ought be messin' with. No money, no treasure, no fame, just ice. And death."
"Me? Oh, I’m no one of importance. Say, where are you folk heading? Really? Might I tag along for safety’s sake? I have business there…"
"I do so wish that my work didn’t make such a wretched mess. At least the worms clean it up."
"Where do I live? A simple question that doesn’t have a simple answer. A palace in a place beyond place, built in a time that wasn’t a time. Can’t solve my riddle? Really, it’s for the best. You wouldn’t like where I live."
There are different sorts of demons in the world. Some are indistiguishable from normal people. Some are a little different, but pass initial scrutiny. And some are much more monstrous.
Every Court needs its servants…
Parties have a habit of getting out of hand, especially when it’s the young and wild generation. Sometimes, parties get a little more than out of hand, if the spirit moves the guests.
"Whatcha doin? What for? How you gonna do it? I just wanna know. I wonder about a lot of things. Don’t you wonder about stuff? You do? I can help you, if you want me to. That way we can both know."
"Such a delirious monstrosity would never be allowed by the Unconquered Sun! It is the spawn of the hell-fiends sent to do their foul work! It and those that brought it into being must be destroyed!" - Lux Sialos, Knight of the Shining Crusade
"I’ve heard poets say a pen is mightier than a sword. Foolishness, mostly. But I’ll say this. A pen in my brother’s hand is worth a hundred swords in a hundred soldiers’ hands."
- General Kailan Sylanthin
"... I *hate* being right."
"Such well behaved children… never a word out of them and they do just as they’re told. They seem so pale though, I wonder if they’re sick…"
An orphanage is not a place one would normally connect with undead abominations. Normal orphanages are not run by Edrea Solon.
At first glance, Edrea seems to be a very nice lady. She seems to be sensible and kind, the perfect matron for an orphanage. But, of course, that is all merely an act.
"What, another murder?! How can this happen?! No leads at all? I didn’t think so. Something’s got to be done about the children, I suppose…"
"A doll for your child, sir? Only two coin. My dolls want to be played with, sir. That’s why they were made. They’re very special dolls, sir."
Thirty princes. Sons of kings, rescuers of princesses. Or something like that.
"I am all that’s left of an old, old religion. No one remembers my goddess anymore, except me. Please, do not intrude on my solitude and contemplation."
The Great Bell has been rung, and the Tribe of Talna has been summoned. Now someone must discover why random people are suddenly traveling towards an isolated range of mountains.
The tiny shrine doesn’t look like much; a tumbledown temple overgrown with weeds, fading quietly into obscurity. But appearances are oftentimes deceiving.
Humans are very emotional beings, and feel things much more strongly than most other creatures. Sometimes, they feel things a little too strongly.
A wild species, vinus homophagus, more akin to sea-grape rather than the terrestrial variety, is not a monster despite its fanciful name. The grapes, a deep purple color when in bloom, and oozing dewdrops of perspiration, like the most prized and delectable of drinking wine grapes, do however deserve their moniker. Wine made from this fruit, is deadly to most humanoids, as is the raw berry, if plucked and eaten from the vine. It is the unnatural chemical concoction found within the fruit’s tart skin, which gives the man-eating grape its name. The chemical stew found inside each berry, functions as a necrotic agent, the same as found in some species of venomous snakes. The grapes literally eat the victim from the inside out, via cell death, dissolving organs and flesh in quick succession.
The tribes of Pra-Oohk Crater, from the jungles of Ghlush are known to sell the fermented “wine” of this grape to merchants of distant lands. Sadly, the taste of the concoction is divine when first quaffed, and even worse, the man-eating grape wine will never detect as poisonous via mundane means, its horrid natures somehow masking all attempts. Luckily the man-eating grapes are extremely rare, and endemic to humid jungles.