For your pleasure and entertainment, here we present, thirty fiendlings seasoned with a whiff of brimstone, teasingly clad in shadow, accompanied by tunes played on pipes of angel-bone; likewise do we tell of the gifts they might bestow upon one in their favor.
So get them before Hell freezes over!
"I pick your fleas, you pick mine. Well, that would be if either of us had fleas. Haha, right?"
30 gangsters of various types, from the boss to the wannabe, the biker gang member to the despised turncoat, and many more.
From the shadows sneak thirty secret agents, on the trail of top secret infomation.
30 (mainly) evil kiddnappers, ready to spirit helpless damsels and other victims to their fate.
Some of the inhabitants of Pier Point Prison-the bad, mad and the downright sad.
You have been assigned to hire an assassin by another middleman to kill some rich mans enemy. You go to the assassins guild to find you have quite a choice.
Sharry is a typical Formourian street urchin. Her name is a corruption of her given name, Michele of Ryanhold (where she’s from). She gets by on scrounging for scraps, begging, and the occassional opportunistic theft.
Worldly girl from a small northern berg, who likes to get in trouble.
A totally throw away .. cannon fodder ..shove it in the mouth of the monster and run for it type of character. Useful though for ‘taken with a pound of salt’ information and running small unsavory errands.
Maris is a thief. A common, low down, swarmy thief. It’s not her fault she’s that way, though. She’s nice, has a sweet personality, and is most likely to talk a person into giving ‘the poor, suffering little me’ their money, due to her limited skills as a pickpoket.
What she is skilled at, however, is very, very strange for a theif. She likes reading, and has collected many old manuscripts, and is sometimes saught out for just knowledge.
A desolate region is almost entirely without normal vegetation. Local plants are able to unroot themselves and crawl along the ground in search of water and fertile soil. The inhabitants fence their crops in to keep them from wandering off and put heavy stone thresholds in the doorways of their huts to keep wayward plants out.
The plants sense by chemical cues, lacking sight or hearing, and tend to avoid herbivores or anything that smells of "dead plants". Characters with horses are likely to be unwelcome among the locals.