The fearsome horror of the Drow-Beholder-Liche!
"Alzim, now that's a name! Leader of the Alten Mercenary Corps, master tactician, ex-general of the Cadmury Kingdom's forces, slayer of entire brigades, or perhaps most notable is he is a master Weilder. Sadly many of the young do not remember him."
Old man at the local pub
M12 denotes the twelve sintelligences that operate the CogNet
Within a palace that is also a prison, Muggar the White Despiser wages war against the light, seeking to make all mortals his slaves.
Ever collecting books, knick-knacks, gewgaws and endless heaps of strange oddments and tidbits
Good and evil? I see neither, I only see law and order opposing chaos and anarchy. Anarchy means blood, death, and poverty. I’ll take order and riches over that.
Sokolov the Axiomancer
"I’ve heard poets say a pen is mightier than a sword. Foolishness, mostly. But I’ll say this. A pen in my brother’s hand is worth a hundred swords in a hundred soldiers’ hands."
- General Kailan Sylanthin
With the evil in the hearts of men…
The Shadow grows
Volomain is a great wizard which has the rank of Master of the Bones.
Most Dragons live to accumulate wealth and crouch upon heaps of gold, content to slag troublesome heroes into cinders and distaining the company of men to absolute solitude. Vychan is not such a dragon.
Dalme is one of the various travelling Tinkers plying their trade in the villages along the back roads. One can hear his cart from a arrow shot away, clanking and clinking, his wares: pans, pots, utensils, plow shares, cow bells, and other metal bits, banging against the side of his cart. The rest of his goods are kept inside his house cart (mugs, plates, fabric, ribbon, and other things) along with his anvil and fire bellows. He tells news, shares jokes, and does a bit of trading. He is everything a tinker is expected to be…. and unfortunately much more.
Charles Champagne is most likely to be encountered as an invaluable friend to the heroes, or at the worst a charming diversion. After all he is essentially a force for good, with one very disturbing exception…
A group of humans living in a mountainous area have spent generations mining, drinking home made liquor, and generally not spreading the gene pool around enough. The end result is a sub-race of humans who no longer have necks, rather their heads protrude from the upper portion of the torso between the shoulders. They have beards, and lacking the ability to turn their heads, can only see what they are directly facing. They are simple and to the point, and direct to the point of bluntness.