Psychic on Duty is all the aged red neon sign says in the storefront window. It is a small storefront and in a less than great section of town. You don’t expect much.
A mad doctor who dared defy the laws of the natural order, to transcend death itself, and the creature he created.
“Come in, come in. I knew you were coming.
How did I know? Your brother told me.
Yes, yes I know your brother died in the war several years ago, he has told me all about it.”
All know that Elves cannot die, and that Men do. All know that Men go unto the Underworld upon their death, and that the Elves retire unto the Spiritual Elysium. Yet in the Great Scheme, where goes the one with one foot in the Underworld, and one foot in the Realm of Spirit?
When one cannot die, obsession with death is such a natural thing.
...And then the evil necromancer killed everyone and made them into zombies to do really evil things. I mean really evil, kicking puppies, eating kittens and making lewd sexual gestures at unsuspecting shoppers at Wal-Mart. Yeah and he had a severed head for a hat and was eating a sandwich made out of real lady-fingers…
A healer of great power and kindness, she is rumored to even be able to heal the dead, if you can find her.
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…
All the good ones break off from the the guild.
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.
Dalme is one of the various travelling Tinkers plying their trade in the villages along the back roads. One can hear his cart from a arrow shot away, clanking and clinking, his wares: pans, pots, utensils, plow shares, cow bells, and other metal bits, banging against the side of his cart. The rest of his goods are kept inside his house cart (mugs, plates, fabric, ribbon, and other things) along with his anvil and fire bellows. He tells news, shares jokes, and does a bit of trading. He is everything a tinker is expected to be…. and unfortunately much more.
Human in a previous existence,one thing about this former Captain’s life has been left unchanged by its brush with the Black Tide.
A burned and withered female elven ranger, with a hatred of giants, a love for animals, and a desire to seek out and thank the man who saved her life and disappeared just as quickly.
Larkin thought that she was just like the other girls in her village. Her mother was a local crofter, but her father was an incredibly wealthy man who was seldom around but cared very deeply for her mother. Now her mother has passed away, her father hasnt come back, and things are starting to happen to her, things that are neither natural or explainable…
Tainted. Witch. Hellspawn. Freak. Monster. How often does one have to hear this until ... she makes the decision to stand up, stand up for them all?
Darken Flind is capable of harnessing the raw power generate from sacrifice and forge the struggling soul-essence into magical runes and charms. Bloodforging, as the practice is known, tends to be less subtle and benevolent than other forms of magic. However, a bloodbound object can be incredibly potent and deadly in the wrong hands.
Destined am I to hunt down and slay the half breed called Rachat, for only his demise can bring me what I yearn for…
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?
A young warrior turned warlord with a heart to satify his people’s needs. Yet every golden hero has an obsidian heart waiting to be released.
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.
Created in a time of need, he was cast from the pride he was made to obtain, he is a warrior, and a leader.
Many games draw moral lines in bold colors, where the real world is not so easy to categorize. Suppose that the player characters are faced with an overwhelming foe? Even unsavory allies such as orcish barbarians may be better than no allies at all. More disturbing, these allies may be honestly friendly to the PCs when all is done, overcoming barriers of race and religion. Will the PCs remain friendly with the bloodthirsty humanoid tribesmen when their mutual foes are defeated? Some would expect the tribes to betray them, but after the characters have honestly won their respect, even orcs may not be all bad.