Nenni-0036.2 is a slight, even tiny Oraki, who has taken for herself the mantle of the cat who walks alone.
If you see a dirigible flying in the air, yell out "Issrie, Harel, Moore, Jesai, Anmae! as it might be the Sky Willow.
"Yes, there are some unusual patterns to these - her patients, but we have nothing to prove anything other than statistical anomalies."
The kingdom of Shyvora is known for its inclusion of non-humans. One of their best fighting Dukes is a tree…
"Whatcha doin? What for? How you gonna do it? I just wanna know. I wonder about a lot of things. Don’t you wonder about stuff? You do? I can help you, if you want me to. That way we can both know."
Heroes, like legends, usually have a basis in fact. And, just like with legends, the facts rarely live up to the myth.
George the Dragonslayer is one such hero.
A demon’s kiss burns with lust and with shame. So do their secrets and their magic.
Space-Faring, Hard-Rocking, Metal-Grinding, Star-Tripping, Deathdealing, Dwarves.
A Watch Officer tasked with combatting gangs throughout the city. His network of contacts is remarkable.
A priestess-turned-bouncer because of her devotion to her faith.
A gravedigger who defies the stereotypes. A regular at the Mausoleum.
Why did you buy all those Iron Spikes?
"You may have wondered what lead me down this path? It was the simple observation I made while escavating the tomb of an ancient chieftan If only these bones could talk…"
From the personal account of Meridah Onware, in discussion with Professor Siana Tamar.
"... I *hate* being right."
Thirty princes. Sons of kings, rescuers of princesses. Or something like that.
"I don’t like that one. He’s creepy. There’s something not right in the head with him. Course, I don’t much imagine that’s uncommon here, but he goes further than the rest of ‘em. I think he actually *likes* what they do to him."
Greed, for lack of a better word, is good. Greed is right. Greed works. Greed clarifies, cuts through, and captures the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Greed, in all of its forms, greed for life, for money, for love, knowledge has marked the upward surge of mankind
Pismir the Miser
"He who is at the right hand of the king defends his lord in honor and body. He who is at the left hand of the king commits his lord’s sins."
- Sartos of the Order of the Opal Tower, The Annals of Kings
The Castellan of the Court of Dark Memory loyally serves the Twystened Sidhe, wielding unholy power in his ruthless determination to end an evil curse.
Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.
The Book of Hammerskjold
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.