Commonly an Inn worker, serving and entertaining at the Inn.
Singing Her Own Song: Profiling Ellen Lancaster
--by Jamie Easton, New York Times
Ellen Lancaster is a woman who refuses to be labeled. Eschewing recognition, this powerful Delta seeks fulfillment through helping others find their voice. While her tale might seem one of rags to riches, she sees only a lifetime of riches, many of them far more precious than material wealth.
A series of singers and strummers, summarily simple and sinuous, subsisting with singularly spectacular song-stylings.
I've sat on this one for long enough. Feel free to fill in the gaps.
I was just another nobody, not part of the clique, not one of the Heathers, just a nameless, faceless nobody. Then, I died.
And became somebody.
Shababa sat sadly in a corner, tears falling from her yellow eyes and dripping from her tusks. "All I want to do is be a dancing girl, it’s not my fault that the Gods made me an Orc. Why is eveyone so narrow minded?"
30 entertainers to make even the miserable forget their troubles and be happy again, if only for a short time before their sorrows close in again.
Lithe as a willow and just as flexible
Space-Faring, Hard-Rocking, Metal-Grinding, Star-Tripping, Deathdealing, Dwarves.
The Black Bard of Nihilism
Alowin Brackwater is a beautiful young man, with mesmerizing eyes and a sly, mischievious expression. He just happens to be painted on a large canvas, rather than being alive. Surely, this cannot be held against him.
Extras and alternate “headliners” for The Carnival of Forgotten Souls and other traveling shows
A noblewoman of mixed pedigree, patron of the arts and infamous for playing ‘the older woman’.
Inspired by a secret muse, a humble man sketches heroes and battles for the folk of the Market Quarter.
Neither here nor there, the City of Shadows borders on the twilight of existance…
Yeah yeah, I know the Duke. Of course I do. P. Donkey Donque travels in some high circles, jester.
Failure. For most, it is an occasional streak of bad luck to be suffered. For others… well, it’s a living.
A harper is a harper no matter where they are.
A result of the experiments of the world’s first bioengineer, as manifested by a needle and thread and a whole lot of blotting paper.
A lovable old traveller with a voice that can make stories come alive.
Castoria was once a thriving and prosperous nation, a rich trade center for the surrounding lands. This all changed when, on one fateful night nearly a century ago, the Mist of Eternity rolled in and surrounded the land, obscuring more of the outside world as days and nights passed.
By the time the Mist blocked out the sun, a new light shone during what was assumed to be daytime: The Starpoint Spire, a mysterious place atop Castoria's highest peak in the northern-central region. Some say that there is some sort of building atop the mountain shining the dim "sunlight" onto the land, but it is only ever too bright or too dark to fully make out any structure, not to mention the mountain's immense height.
Not a month after the Spire's light lit up, the stars fell. Flaming rocks and debris from far-flung edges of space plummeted downward onto the eastern region of Castoria. Once the shower subsided, a strange energy from within the fallen stars transformed the eastern lands in what are now known as The Voidwastes, a barren gray land littered with craters and strange alien creatures (these can vary, but I had Pathfinder's Akatas in mind).
To the south, strange mechanism of eldritch origin are again at work after aeons of rest in the Ruins of Kchuthngnl, an ancient city of non-human creation that is estimated by scholars to be no less that five millennia old.
To the west, the once peaceful and serene forest, now known as The Plagued Woods, has been experiencing corruptions of the wildlife and humanoids living there. Some humans have reported creatures that appear not unlike a halfling, except that they can open their mouths to massive proportions to swallow creatures the size of an ogre.
When adventurers and citizens alike try to make an escape from Castoria, they are never seen again, and it is utterly unknown whether they found hopeful sanctuary or agonizing death withing the Mist's depths.
What is unknown to all residents of Castoria is that all of these events occurred because of the actions of a secret but powerful cult loyal to the Elder Gods who call the space between the planes their abhorrent home. The cult still lives on, larger than ever, and their plan is for the alien horrors to incubate and thrive within the dome of mist that now envelops Castoria, so that when the Elder Gods return as the cult's prophecy foretells, they will have an army of blasphemous creation at their disposal that they will use to make war with and enslave the denizens of the Material Plane.