A sentinel, a defender of humanity, standing against the hosts of the eternal night.
The body is a temporary host for a transcendental creature, though most of these creatures fail to transcend before the death of the host. I shall not fail.
The Unification War was a travesty, an act of naked fascism against frontier worlds so diverse and destitute that their submission was not worth the cost in lives, material, and hostility garnered. We, gentlemen, have created generations of enemies.
L. C. Vallandigham
God forbid that I should go to any Heaven where there are no horses.
- R. B. Cunninghame-Graham
Does that thing ever shut it’s blasted mouth? Why did you give it one to begin with?
"a new (scientific) truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents eventually die, and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it."
What happens? Are you kidding me?
A potent drink gauranteed to turn good folk into depraved and desolate madmen.
Lady Carse of Tekne
The Patron Saint of Beverages, Hang-Overs, Regrets
A rare sight, but one dreaded by the foes of dwarvendom.
Egads! Don’t you humans understand how freaking repulsive you look? I’m getting sick to my stomachs right now… urp…
Nempori Diplomat Ocan
War is the biggest business of the future.
For barrel that explode when you shoot them, there’s only one name you can count on, that’s ACME.
Blessed be are those wed beneath apple tree
Common Falk Saying, the Midlands
Mercenaries and bounty hunters? We don’t need the help of scum like that.
A brief list of warship types and their identification
The largest warship of the Terran Hegemony capable of landing on Earth and launching again into orbit.
...and why they should be avoided like the plague.
30 mystical imps to perch upon your wizard’s shoulder and whisper the secrets of magic and the universe.
Gauranteed to protect you from nightmares, hexes, and the diseases of the loins
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.