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.
A cult's theology is binding on the god involved: it is possible for that god to believe (and see, just like Winston Smith in 1984) that other gods are mythical, or jumped-up demons, or failing older spirits, even while those gods actually exist and thrive and act in the cosmos, even while working against him.