Do you know of the most precious of my stones? You should be familiar with the Jewels of the Jaw, you have several my dear.
Short for Vector Industries Tactical Security, VI-TAC-SEC, often itself shortened to V-TAC serves as the principle police force and garrison of Vector Industries.
Devoted to the Goddess of War, Prince Yakaw is second to none in the crafting and use of swords mundane and magical.
Often the largest of the terrestrial predators, the bear is often overlooked in favor of more flashy and glamourous monsters.
Of creatures great and small
Behold, the Mountain of the Snow Bunnies!
Thus begins, a war, between kingdom and kingdom, between brother and brother, between generation and generation…
‘That’s a nice tunic you’ve got there, I think I’ll take it…’
Marv, the Brigand
I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don’t know where it goes
But it’s home to me and I walk alone
Vagrants, vagabonds, gaberlunzies, gypsies, thieves, beggars and more, presenting a list of 30 of the downtrodden and desperate.
Be it salt, wheat, silk or gold, money is money lad.
‘Remember Lais and do your job well, perhaps one day you’ll be a Princess in a foreign land.’
The Promise of many a brothel keeper.
Dare you approach the great and mighty Modock! KNEEL!
T’would take 30 hounds and a brace of knights to hunt a questing beast…
Worse than those of the Shattered Orb are those who have fallen from the Bright Path and Axtrami’s grace. Yet among them are some who have recieved the extreme blessing of Axtrami, to become glass themselves…
‘The bigger the brain, the smaller the heart. What do wizards know of faith?’
From this day forth, let this Kingdom be free from the tyranny of the gods and their chosen!
King Mapother IV quoting Provost Layton Frost
The art of putting spells within spells.
Behold, the luminous isle of the Sapphire Eyed maidens
The mists of the northlands are as incessant as the cries of the crows or the everpresent boughs of the multitudes of elm, oak, and yew.
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.