The daughter of a long line of Shinto priestesses, Mei has sworn to protect her adopted city of Washington from the dark godlings that infest it, feeding upon the greed and lust of those who live there. There’s just one little hitch…
In addition to her general oddity, Myna seems to have issues with common sense.
Poor little Kankos..
Spat upon by his tyrannical superiors, this pathetic little office menial slaved away like a mule for the miserable pittance thrown to him..
Until he met the one that lurked in the shadows..
"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.
Life dies in my wake, sacrificing itself to my hunger
The Masque of Hunger
Cloaked in mystery, and yet one of the main figures of power in Locastus, City of Mirrors.
"Yes, there are some unusual patterns to these - her patients, but we have nothing to prove anything other than statistical anomalies."
"Ladies and Gentleman, Children of all ages! Welcome to my Carnival! You will see sights to behold, and things beyond belief! Some may frighten you, and some may shock you, but its all in good fun! Please, stay a while…and watch."
Sha’Dann, equine God of shadows, father of the vile Sasheem and his brother, Merindel, the fair unicorn.
The father of the Hanaset society, who to this day watches his people through reptilian eyes…
"Hail! You there, farmer. We are in need of aid; do you have a temple or a priest? We ran into some bandits up the road there and are injured. Jonst won’t last much longer." A large man bellowed from the broken roadside.
"Of course stranger. You can find Luayas in the center of the village proper continue on until you see a large apple tree; she can aid your wounded. Please be gentle and offer tithes for her generosity." A gentle eyed man in homespun clothing, simple yet comfortable in the heat.
"Thank you farmer, we are in your debt. What does Luayas look like so that we might find her quickly? Does she stay by the tree often?" saying over his shoulder in thanks as he half pushed, half carried his companion along.
"No stranger." The farmer laughed, "She is the tree."
A demon’s kiss burns with lust and with shame. So do their secrets and their magic.
You say you have no place to go, friend? That you do not even know, if it is worth going anywhere? I hear there is a place where they might help you.
"... I *hate* being right."
At first glance, Edrea seems to be a very nice lady. She seems to be sensible and kind, the perfect matron for an orphanage. But, of course, that is all merely an act.
"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
Magic is a blessing and curse, life and death, birth and undoing, a goal and a way.
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.
The restless shade of a terrible demon of an age long since dust.
The local band of 'nasties' (goblins / orcs / whatever) lives in relative peace with the local population.
Along come the PCs and go through their usual heroic monster bashing routine, wiping out the nasties and pinching all their stuff, then continue on their way.
Problem is, they don't kill ALL he nasties. The survivors want revenge and, after spending a few months recovering, start to take it in their own inimitable style (which is not unlike that of the PCs come to think of it).
Next time the PCs are in the area they find themselves VERY unpopular with the townsfolk.