Methinks we have hugely mistaken this matter of Life and Death. Methinks that what they call my shadow here on earth is my true substance. Methinks that in looking at things spiritual, we are too much like oysters observing the sun through the water, and thinking that thick water the thinnest of air. Me thinks my body is but the lees of my better being. In fact take my body who will, take it I say, it is not me.”
If life hands you lemons, make lemonade.
If life puts you in charge of defending a gold mining operation and you are only a mage....well
All you need to stop a brain is a bullet.
A strange mask containing a merciless demon, a parasite on those around it.
From the same school of thought as, "Hey GM, which book did I just randomly pull from the shelf of the wizards' library?" No plot hooks here, just flavor additions.
Known fully as 'Nind Vel'uss Tahcaluss whol nind ehmtu siltrin' or 'They Who Hunger for Their Own Flesh'
Log: Encounter 45, London Arcoplex
Classification: Keter, magnitude 3
Type: Extradimensional Manifestation
Ostensibly but a rock, a chunk of metal, it has one extraordinary use: randomly, the Igneus Saxum issue flames.
Also known as demons, mutants, and monsters, Youma were once human beings.
Cold, mystic master manipulators.
The adventurers hear a noise and turn, only to see a bottle clatter down the street. Shrugging it off, they continue on their way, blissfully unaware of the hulking mass of junk taking shape behind them...
Droids, Drones, and the Neo-Cortex.
The net went down, it went down hard. People got hurt, people died.
Strange creatures, half dreamed half imagined, figments of delerium, wisps of insanity.
the three pillars of robots
In the Cosmic Era, the proliferation of arcanotech, cyborgs, robots, parapsychic threats, black market weapons, new illegal drugs constantly hitting the market, all backed up by large organized criminal syndicates, the average police officer doesn't stand a chance.
Wild beasts of the imagination — untamed spirits of the quick and unfettered waters of this world. These steeds of the fast-flowing rivers are never to be captured, never to be controlled; to stop is to die — to be stopped is to be turned to droplets which return to the fast-flowing waters. Yet, while free they are things of pure beauty; mystical bringers of the gods' good will.
"They're many names given to the things of this vast consciousness that we don't understand, are afraid of, or otherwise just don't want to be associated with. These creatures, though familiar in appearance to many common races, have no name for themselves, but have been appropriately named "Concordare Iram", Translated: Harmonized Rage."
Once the shipment arrives at the kingdom it seems that all the boxes are empty and for some reason most of the coins were replaced with small rocks and acorns.
Also known as automatics, dummies, skinnies, and mannikins.
He's a non-descript man, with his pushcart. On it he sells nothing more exotic than jars of sun-dried tomatoes in oil and pickled vegetables. But he's always out there, in the courtyard of the great Guild of Wizards, in most weathers, and he'll have a kind word for you, and a jar.