"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 mage of Time, the former master of the enuch wizard Volomain walks the lands once again, a small sun circling the vessel known as a lifeform.
The body is a temporary host for a transcendental creature, though most of these creatures fail to transcend before the death of the host. I shall not fail.
“You must seek the counsel of the oracle Edros.”
“Do we *have* to?”
The third son of a candle-maker, and secretly a spy, Tsiao Fong Wei betrayed his family, clan, and town to the merciless Qongg Dynasty, causing the deaths of his own family members. He survived to an old age hiding out in the country side and keeping a low profile. One day however, the “Paper Knife” finally found Tsiao Fong Wei , and exacted his revenge on behalf of the folk, dead and tortured.
After a furious struggle, the “Paper Knife” plunged twin burning candles into the eyes of the traitorous old man and laughed, as Tsiao Fong Wei howled in dismay and pain. Some say Tsiao Fong Wei died that day. Others say that the old man somehow escaped despite his sudden anguish and utter blindness.
The truth is lost to time.
But to this day the children of the Red-Ridge County towns and villages are told by their parents to always beware twin lights in the darkness and to never venture into the woods at night, and to keep an ear open for the Groaning Ghost, for somewhere out there Tsiao Fong Wei the Traitor, now a vengeful spirit, stumbles about the darkness moaning and wailing, candles still sticking forth from out of his otherwise empty eye sockets. And though the candles plunged into his eyes all those years ago were a’flame going in, now the wax protuberances are somehow lit from within and burn without, and two flickering lights in the darkness, always portend his coming.