30 slingers of spells, vendors of enchantment, and bizarrement.
The champion of the Goddess of War!
Do as thou Will…
Half robot, half vampire
With the evil in the hearts of men…
The Shadow grows
Neither here nor there, the City of Shadows borders on the twilight of existance…
Blood, biles black and yellow and phlegm, these are the four vital humours that govern our bodies. Understand them, and health is a simple matter.
St. Gray of Galen, Lectures
My Queen should be pleased that Aurixia cannot grant me an heir, for if my dragon could give me a child I would have no use for the woman or her dubious charms…
Attributed to King Thyr, from the Book of the Black Rose
I will make a prison that is as inescapable as the crime that infests our cities and towns
Yeah yeah, I know the Duke. Of course I do. P. Donkey Donque travels in some high circles, jester.
Never a more petty and larcenous trio will there be found.
No, no. This hasnt been done correctly. Move aside imbecile…
My Sword is yours, milord…
The undisputed head of the Trinity, and the story of Falhath’s oldest folk hero.
Clad in a rainment of silver scale and chain armor, Ixia is the second member of the Trinity
Creator of the Black Book, the primogen tome of necromancy, few names are as feared or reviled as that of Mastere.
The sun has set upon the Kingdoms of Men, may night have mercy on us…
Opening Quote of the Book of the Black Rose
Herein are listed 30 Barkeeps, Bartenders, or proprietary owners of the drinking and sleeping establishments so frequented by adventurers and their loyal henchmen.
A little snug for me, but you…a perfect fit.
Clad in black armor, perched atop a black destrier, Ourange is the image of the mercenary-lord…
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.