A tactical lay-out for villainous forces inspired by Warhammer 40K
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world
The worst sort of scoundrels and hoodlums. Let down your guard for a even a second and they are on you like Klavadogs.
The omens read a difficult birth Daughter. Seek the sisters of Lutgardis and they will ease your pain and bring a new life into this world and with a touch of luck keep one in it.
Sister Gwevenese Rabaste
30 Druids of the Teufel-GrÃƒÂ¼n Forest
None left upon the Mountain, my brothers in arms.
Motto of the Society of the White Azalea
For barrel that explode when you shoot them, there’s only one name you can count on, that’s ACME.
If you wake up in a field of green grass, looking at a woman of flesh and steel. Be glad, you are dead. If you wake up covered in blood and shit, be gladder still. For you are alive and your time is not yet come!
In this place Brother, all flesh must be eaten.
First Precept of Consumption
A social group of women who meet for purposes of ‘knitting’ and sharing gossip.
Before the formation of the Achelandage and its associated merchant and craft guilds there was only the Civic Guild.
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.
‘The bigger the brain, the smaller the heart. What do wizards know of faith?’
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.
Listen child, listen and I will tell you the first story, the story of Nagoma and the Gorund Tree…
From this day forth, let Iacon be free from the tyranny of the gods and their chosen!
Inaugeral speech of Provost Layton Frost
The legacy of K’ton can be seen in the spinning gear, in the spring, in the sliding weight, and in the wonderous ships that glide through the air.
Synchronize… The Humans make for interesting study. synchronize…
If you think the ones with the axes and beards are bad, wait until you stumble across a nest of feral dwarves…
Go forth to war my son, and be absolved of your transgressions.
St. Acre the Just, Confessor General
A shape-shifter of some sort has taken up a post at the War College of an enemy realm, where he secretly picks off only the most promising officer cadets, arranging bizarre accidents that gradually debase the leadership of the hostile army. In the long run, this will improve his nation's chances when the inevitable conflict comes.
As a shape-shifter he can impersonate superiors and peers alike and send the target candidate to the cleverly-prepared site of his (or her?) execution. As long as he is successful, no-one will ever know about the deception--even necromancy will only implicate the one impersonated...