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…
The object of many a sensual fantasy, few thieves garner as much attention as this leather-clad halfling
Magic has brought us to this point of self-destruction,” the Captain said. “It’s the dichotomy of our curiosity and greed, which are ingrained—greed, because we had to survive because we were always hungry, so we had to gather things, and curiosity, which brought us out of the trees
Few would guess that this kindly old man with the uncombed hair was the willing accomplice in many of the assassinations in the last two decades.
Most Dragons live to accumulate wealth and crouch upon heaps of gold, content to slag troublesome heroes into cinders and distaining the company of men to absolute solitude. Vychan is not such a dragon.
James Barley is a hard drinking, minimum-effort working hired hand…
A voice as supple as silk, a face hidden in the shadows of a hood, yet the words she speaks are colder than the grave and burn more furiously than any inferno.
Once noble and proud, the Cyclopes of the desert are now all but dust on the wind…
Common for sailors to get lashings for punishment. Sailors would then get tattoos of god symbols on thier back so the thrasher was less likely to whip the symbol of the god.
Others say symbols bring bad luck. They draw the attention of the god and it could be wrathful.