Pataket is a criminal unlike any others for he has been working at his trade for centuries, and it is rumoured that he can break into anywhere.
‘‘A thousand of the vile things we set alight, crying aloud the prayers of the Holy Redeemer as the demonic abombinations screamed in a chorus of almost human agony, utterly helpless against the flames that consumed their monstrous and deformed bodies. Never again will another human grace the banquet of these accursed fiends. But it pleases me even more to say that the gold which is so abundant in this heathen land, is now the sole propety of a nation blessed by the One God. No more will these repellent false deities lay claim to that which we have wrested from their worshippers’‘. -Corand Rogad, Conquerer of Tahutol
The object of many a sensual fantasy, few thieves garner as much attention as this leather-clad halfling
In my setting that is posted here called “The Kingdom of Orentia” the appointed ruler of the town of Thorpe is Griffin Orent. Griffin is actually the leader of a rather large group of bandits operating all over the kingdom. However, these are not your normal bandits…
Most established villages have their neighborhood hermit and Enders is no exception. If only the folks of Enders knew who they harbored, it may have been a very different story for old Noam.
My dark past will never let me rest, the only solace I find is bathed in the light of the moon. Tell me, have you ever danced with a devil in the pale moonlight?
Lord of the powerful Red Blade gang that has the bustling port city of Frohlk in its grip, this intelligent blob has come a very long way for something that was once a lowly pet. A pity then that he’ll never be invited over to any of the grand functions thrown by high society.
the Khalif’s favorite assasin…a master killer who follows only one self-imposed rule…he refuses to kill…
Man, too, is a primal creature, though he binds himself with the chains named Reason and Law, locked link by link from birth. Yet, those locks can be opened, the links broken, in both the savage world of the street-slum, and in the gilded cages of nobility.
One such creature is the countess-to-be, Alia duBois, who crouches within her golden jail, a puma waiting paitently to maul her captors…
A brilliant and driven man, he has emerged as a major merchant from the sands of Aviansis (the hard lands of the Aviontix). He has other goals beyond mere successful merchantry. He does not want to take over the country, he wants the world… for the good of everyone.
Lorning is a dashing and suave minor functionary. He has no title or lands. He works with the Seneschal, procuring ducks and minor supplies. He occasionally travels to other lands just to get spices and such. In fact, he often travels with nobles visiting other courts to assist some more major domo in making appropriate arrangements. He likes travelling because he can be more extravagent on the coin of the Kingdom. Except for that he is very charismatic, he would be a total background character.
He is also the Dark Hand of the King. As an agent of great skill and cunning, he inflicts policy (death) on those the King deems, steals what the King needs, and has literally saved the world four times.
Just an ordinary woman in a small village, suddenly taken away from her home to a long, long journey… Sounds like something that everyone hopes for himself, something else, something… well, adventurous, doesn’t everyone want something like that?
A sage is a well known repository of knowledge, a researcher of ancient lore. But knowledge is power, and a commodity to be brokered and sold to the highest bidder. The meershaum smoking man is such a dealer of antiquities and of lore unknown, but he is wrapped in a shroud of secrecy of his own. Can the PCs divine his ulterior motives, or is he a wizened, albeit elusive, sage?
A one eyed mercenary the ladies just can’t get enough of.
A regular female Robin Hood with an appreciation for relaxation.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman