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?
Nadia, a sixteen year-old noble lady, is put up to the challenge of surviving when her panpered lifestyle is abrubtly shattered.
“Inn keeper, your best all around” hollared the newcomer jovefully; tossing gold onto the counter, “and for you bard” tossing him a small purse, “some lessons” he added with a wink and a laugh.
When the sheriff entered the inn the next day, he found a carnal house, with patrons either on the ground with green foam runnig from thier mouths or cut to pieces. 11 dead, and someone had sport with the barmaid before killing her.
Tomais Reives is always quick with a smile or a joke or to buy the next round. He dresses expensively with a lot of flash and always seems to be the life of the party.
He its like by almost everyone, he has only one little flaw; He likes to kill; a lot.
If he did it for some master, or for some dark, it might be better.
He just does it because be can.
A one eyed mercenary the ladies just can’t get enough of.
A totally throw away .. cannon fodder ..shove it in the mouth of the monster and run for it type of character. Useful though for ‘taken with a pound of salt’ information and running small unsavory errands.
Roland might seem at first to be a typical ranger. But he’d sooner kill you than look at you.
Wary and suspicous of human and Orc alike, the halfbreed Gorlock trusts no one, not even his fellow half orcs whom he despises.Though he like his brethen is fated to be shunned by both humans and Orcs, he is troubled by their brutal code which demands that that which is not given freely must be taken by brute force.It is this sense of deceancy which marks him as a truly unique being among his kind…
A member of demons from another plane come to feast on our pain, Bualgathor is an outcast among his kind, for he feasts on the pain of other horrors
Maris is a thief. A common, low down, swarmy thief. It’s not her fault she’s that way, though. She’s nice, has a sweet personality, and is most likely to talk a person into giving ‘the poor, suffering little me’ their money, due to her limited skills as a pickpoket.
What she is skilled at, however, is very, very strange for a theif. She likes reading, and has collected many old manuscripts, and is sometimes saught out for just knowledge.
A shadow warrior and defender of Pulca. Keeper of the key to the underground. Warrior of his great ancestors of Dro’Hizzir.
The once noble Jiy family was wiped out years ago by their enemies. Only one escaped. And Jiy Lin has sworn vengance.
Paranoid of the future; longing for the past, Niandra needs a new master.
You’re bound to get something interesting when a marriage is made between a pirate lord and a gypsy princess…
A bitter lady of the night, who has found a better occupation: removing the lives of those who once used her.
Sometimes, those with power often use people and creatures as pawns in greater schemes, giving little or no heed to any ill effects those poor souls suffer. But every once in a while, a pawn is given the power to turn against the master. Such a one is Felia.
A regular female Robin Hood with an appreciation for relaxation.
A childlike cat burglar who catches her victims unaware.
Talon is a man of many faces and many connections. Common people know him as Talon, a respected, untouchable courier for the rich. A courier that has connections to those can accomplish that which is unaccomplishable.
A gambler often on the move between towns. Unwittingly in posession of the Deck of Fate.
What happens when the atypical daughter of a nobleman renounces everything she was taught?
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.