The massive computers of the future don't always communicate with the puny humans through soft chimes and a soothing voice over the PA/intercom. Sometimes they have a special android body that serves as their own super surrogate
Formerly Andrew 'Dandy' C. C. Yates, the Scranton Psychopath, now Andrew 12-C66
An attractive older woman with more degrees than a thermometer
A vampire Blood Doll, her master, and the workshop they share
We need to gather the cam-droppers and bulldog gears off of number six, yes the wrecked number six. Then, with those pieces and the short drive off of number three we can put number four back into action.
Abelard von Richter
The only son of Dr. Nicholas Farthing, Ironwing has dedicated himself to the destruction of his father’s Fabulous Engine.
The Mughal of the Gremils, the Shah of Lag, the most devoted of Mathom.
Mercenary. Hacker. Charm school graduate. Teddy bear collector. Raver. Troll.
What weight has legacy, what strength has a name, in an era when the stars themselves bend to the will of man, when the gods have been forgotten?
Devoted to the Goddess of War, Prince Yakaw is second to none in the crafting and use of swords mundane and magical.
“Where do they get those marvelous toys” you ask. The other hero smiles, “I guess you have not been hooked up.” He hands you a card.
Jonn Swordsman
Maker of Devices for the Discriminating Operative
888-555-1212
Hanging on the arm of a wealthy upper crust man, she was the perfect arm charm. But you swear, you have seen her before.
A hypercaffinated ball of technical investigation energy.
A mad doctor who dared defy the laws of the natural order, to transcend death itself, and the creature he created.
An quirky Gnome with little patience and much skill with a flame.
A sentient machine which churns out useless items, but may have a more important task. (actually an It).
Carmo keeps a shop in the backstreets of Erezi. It’s not often visited, Carmo makes people feel…uneasy. Even the veterans of the Erezi underworld are uncomfortable being alone with Carmo. But they need to buy their traps from somewhere…
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, reading old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.
4xp
New Submissions
A stern matron, 1950's pinup and failed protector against nuclear winter.
Her first contact will be on a laptop or mobile unit of some kind. The text "Can you help me?" will be written all over the screen.
Ms. Carlyle has made her presence known.