A mercenary for hire. If you can handle the foul stench of dead dog, sweat and grease.
"Yeeah!" the old man shouted as he made a dramatic flurry with his chalk - the mounted knight now bearing a stylized lance as it bore down on the many-headed dragon before it.
Aher Wolfhound, called Wolfhound The Historian, a man crushed by the weight of the world’s cruelty
One of the Piemaster’s most devilish associates.
Just another Salvorathan captain, one of the surprisingly few, but entrenpenurial folks.
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.
A wild species, vinus homophagus, more akin to sea-grape rather than the terrestrial variety, is not a monster despite its fanciful name. The grapes, a deep purple color when in bloom, and oozing dewdrops of perspiration, like the most prized and delectable of drinking wine grapes, do however deserve their moniker. Wine made from this fruit, is deadly to most humanoids, as is the raw berry if plucked and eaten from the vine. It is the unnatural chemical concoction found within the fruit’s tart skin, which gives the man-eating grape its name. The chemical stew found inside each berry, functions as a necrotic agent, the same as found in some species of venomous snakes.
The grapes literally eat their victims from the inside out, via cell death, melting and destroying the organs in quick succession.
The tribes of Pra-Oohk Crater, of the jungles of Ghlush are known to sell the fermented “wine” of this grape to merchants of distant lands. Sadly, the taste of the concoction is divine when first quaffed, and even worse, the man-eating grape wine will never detect as poisonous via mundane means, its horrid natures somehow masking all attempts. Luckily the man-eating grapes are extremely rare, and endemic to humid jungles.