MUL-FS550 Fire Support Robot
Variant of Mobile U Logistic Robot
RR80 Corpsman(TM) - Battlefield Casualty Recovery Robot
Few have ever seen the incomprehensible entities known as Trench Dwellers, but their lethal biomechanical machines remain, guardians of a long-forgotten empire.
Interesting ideas for interesting mutations.
The evil fruit of Necromancy within the depths of the Aelfen forests may tap into a power older and more sinister than ever seen in human lands…
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…
Kazarad the lich watched his minons strip the slain adventurers of their gear, and he being the meticulous type, the gear was sorted into piles. One of larger piles was a heap of iron spikes. "Why do they all carry those damn things? What am _I_ supposed to with all of those? "
Then a moment of inspiration stuck him…..
His breath faltering into a final rasping final gasp as the stone coils crushed his throat, these last words resonated through the fading mind of the would-be grave robber.
‘‘You dared to defile the tombs of the ancient kings, Lusoh scum, but die knowing that I will never allow once inch of this scared land to fall into the hands of those would seek to destroy the nation of my divine fathers. Long live the Shining One, Goya Varman. For I am him..’‘.
The RJD2 series virus, affectionately known as The Red Scribble, is the scourge of cyberspace.
Eww…take a look at that nasty beast!
Having spent many years facing the Swollen Shadow and it’s lieutenants, the dwarven resistance fighter Vars is one of the few people who could be considered an authoritative source on the most active and malevolent of the Shadow’s Minions, the Haints.
And Sama decreed a fitting punishment for the liars and the braggarts, to walk the earth for all eternity without their ears or their mouth.
homunculi of the Old World, epargner daemons were once as common as cats…
“It is said that the shadows hold many dangers, and that is true. I am one of those dangers.” - Saja Jyn
“It is not merely the things lurking within the shadows that you must be wary of. Sometimes, the shadows themselves can be your enemy.” - Moraten Li
What happens when the very fabric of magic is transformed into something else by accident. When the theories of transference are shattered due to lack of preperation and study?
As long as you do not experiement around your stash of magic scrolls, luckily you will never know.
Skeletons are weak. The armies of darkness made them into something much more suitable.
Crystal Hornets are heard long before they are seen. Their humming is like the beautiful sound of a violin that is being played by a master musician,and to those who have encountered them before, it acts as a warning.
Forget the rickety, fragile skeletons. Remove all thoughts of the limping, weak zombies. Shrug off thoughts of blood-dependant vampires. Whereas the former are reflections of necromatic magic, the Mogrolyth is a creation derived from the pure essence of unholy power - namely pain.
In the strict caste based society of the mystical sub-continent of Valur, belief in re-incarnation is powerful and the concept of ‘‘dah’‘, or the actions of one’s previous life having far reaching consequences for the present one, holds powerful sway. Thus, does one receive great punishment or reward in his next life, depending on the actions of his current existence.
The Cyahoi are horrific undead beings created as powerful servants by the cults of the frightful Lord Sarku, flesh-eating Master of the Living Dead. They are animalistic and violent creatures whose lower, animal souls have been driven wild with spiritual starvation, and whose higher, reasoning souls are held captive in their black hearts.
It seemed like a great place to camp. The clearing was good sized and sheltered from the wind. The brook just a few feet away. There is a natural hallow to keep the horses.
Then the night came.
It was like it became a different place. The temperature dropped. The wind, which does not seem to disturb cloth, almost cuts through you like an arctic wind. No one can sleep, as the soft ground has turned hard. The horses are uneasy. The Bats are flying over and stopping in the trees.
And then there is the eyes. There are glowing eyes just inside the tree line watching your group. The mages and clerics can detect nothing, but there is still something there.
(yet there is nothing at all... The Darkness will do nothing unless the players do something to it. And even then it will all seem to be a conincidence.)
Of course, in the morning, it all becomes sweet and light.