A parcel of pretty princesses
A cold and cadavorous collection of nefarious necromancers.
You step in from the fog swirled street. It is not as dark as you expected, but it is just as loud and smelly. There is about 30 people in this dockside bar.
You find yourself brought to the Great Lord’s Court after completing your assignment. Thanks are given. You are invited to the festivities later that day. Court is adjourned and you are now trapped in a room with numerous courtiers ....
The are 30 thieves, killers and other criminals that ought to be behind bars.
30 slingers of spells, vendors of enchantment, and bizarrement.
Some times you just need a horde of police officers…
Once noble and proud, the Cyclopes of the desert are now all but dust on the wind…
The Latrani are elusive as desert ghosts, dangerous as sand scorpions, and as rare as oases in the wastes.
Brutal are the Seitch raids that come up out of the vast waste of the Calcobrinan desert. They come clad in dusky browns, bearing black iron weapons, raiding for food, water, gold, and women.
Crunk is a typical sailor aboard the privateer Blue Raider. The ship sails from Formour, but like most of its crew, Crunk is from Osterre. As a Half-Orck, Crunk always has something to prove, and a chip on his shoulder large enough to throw his posture off.
A brotherhood of three warriors who fancy themselves to be the strongest men in all the world.
The pride of this tribe has led it to ruin. The only thing that remains is to die with pride.
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?