Small, ugly, bad tempered and of limited use, yet perhaps the most common of bound demons.
Van Torxus first line of defense against intruders into his realm.
Dont mind him, he’s just a rag man
Clochardshire resident, common quote
Once she was Archmage Stewart’s beloved wife Emma, an acomplished which in her own right, now she is but a husk of what she once was, and yet the Archmage loves her too much to put her shell to rest.
"Such well behaved children… never a word out of them and they do just as they’re told. They seem so pale though, I wonder if they’re sick…"
Does that thing ever shut it’s blasted mouth? Why did you give it one to begin with?
Bursting with an incredible, terrible complexity, the Oraki are a powerful breed of mechanoids, once that blurs the line between machine and man from the other direction.
“They just keep coming. You cut one down, two more are right behind it. We can’t win, they just keep coming…”
- Unnamed soldier, overheard at the battle of Caele Aran
“Why should we send our young men off to die when we can manufacture the War Walkers for the same purpose?”
- War-Theurge Ceylon of the Fourth Dynasty Army
I would be willing, yes glad, to see a battle every day during my life.
George Armstrong Custer
The Pocket Ironbones, whilst not quite the war machines that they were intended to be, have been useful in the service of Banhosea all the same.
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!
The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...