He may be a small green goblin but donÃ¢t tell him that or he might show you otherwise.
To many, the clerics of the Gods of Death are reviled as evil monsters, conspirators of demons, and raisers of undead armies. How often is the common perception wrong?
Khass was one of the greatest friends I ever had. So of course, what choice did I have but to save him?
Dear gods above, what have I done?
A lot of travelling singers have a flame or incessant longing in their heart.This woman’s heart holds something more as well.
Always on the cutting edge of fashion and the talk of the courts, Mialee the Beautiful is the supermodel of the fantastic world…
Dracia Eldren was a sharp featured woman. Her long greying hair was pulled back into a severe coif. Narrowed black eyes studied the potential Princess stand-ins. Darcia was well schooled in the ways of ettiquette. She was a seasoned Mistress. Her name was well known about the different Kingdoms and Queendoms.
She was the woman you contacted when you wanted your daughter to become the well cultured and well taught pillar of nobility. She was the woman who schooled young princesses on the fine art of being noble. Dracia was as strict as they come. Years of practice allowed her to use a switch upon her subject without leaving any marks. Only a sharp stinging pain as a reminder of their failures. She lives for her work.
If you wanted to infiltrate a kingdom with a doppleganger…you needed the help of a professional. One who knew all the ends and outs of Princess behavior.
Her dark grey coat hardly never touched the ground as she walked. Her back arched and her head held up proudly. Darcia fingered the switch at her side as she studied these potentials. These potentials were of poor condition. Some of them were farmer’s daughters. Pathetic. She had her work cut out for her. At all times there would need to be at least three princess replacements in training. They would have to learn together. Eat together and train together. Every movement would have to be perfect. And she only tolerated perfection.
Eyes darkened with kohl, and a long trailing cotehardie, Prince Graeme is a potent sorcerer and eccentric young lord with his eyes set to one goal, the throne of the land.
Faye was born into the ocupation of elvish warrior
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 devoted and zealous priest of the Ice, Irad nevertheless is troubled by the brutal and vicious ways of those who worship it. Rather than crush and destroy the civilized folk of the South in its name, he would rather they be converted to the faith of his people and worship the Ice as their master. This he feels, can only be acomplished if they are encouraged to revere it rather than loathe it. It is indeed ironic that such a gentle and wise man serves the twisted Ice Lord..
A sage is a well known repository of knowledge, a researcher of ancient lore. But knowledge is power, and a commodity to be brokered and sold to the highest bidder. The meershaum smoking man is such a dealer of antiquities and of lore unknown, but he is wrapped in a shroud of secrecy of his own. Can the PCs divine his ulterior motives, or is he a wizened, albeit elusive, sage?
Where many a woman’s heart is filled with longing for love, or the comfort of the hearth and home, this arrogantly beautiful woman is consumed with but one thing. Ambition. Born without a heart, but with the grace and genteel manners of the aristocracy, she is the iron fist in a lace glove.
As High chief and seer of the Bakali, the lizardman Baragh is aware that the vey survival of his doomed race hangs in his claws. Knowing that the odds stacked against him are great, he nevertheless pursuses with great doggedness his goal of finding a hero willing to aid him in his struggle to to restore the land of his ancestors back to its rightful masters. Though a part of him knows that the plight of a primitive race of non humans is unlikely to elicit much sympathy, he clings on to the hope that there will be someone brave and noble enough to share his cause.
A potentially devastating foe with arms, and fists of living stone…
A lich who is worshipped as a god.
Once a tool awakened on purpose, the looming stones have outlived their masters but not their purpose
A life-path fraught with peril can drive anyone over the edge - until you start speaking to spirits, God or .. gods in this case
Everyone knows that that Senthia Khlack died with her father, the Duke Eldward Khlack, after their failed Rebellion. But what they do not is that Senthia still lives, after a fashion.
A one eyed mercenary the ladies just can’t get enough of.
He is 972 years old and has a wife. He congregates with any good creature and will help any one in need. He is a good black smith and can work with most meterials.
Forsht Bligo is a dwarf who loves the taste of blood. He's become quite the connoisseur over the years. Pigs blood, sheeps blood, cow's blood, if it's red and warm, Forsht considers it a delicacy. The fresher and hotter the better. Forsht will often sneak up on cattle, prick them with his dagger, and catch the flowing blood in his orc-skull drinking cup. His life goal is to taste the blood of every living animal. Although he has not yet sampled humanoid blood, he is not averse to doing so if the right opportunity presents itself. He is not particularly unpleasant if approached and can be easily befriended. Its just that he simply can't get enough of the "Juice of Life", as he calls it. Forsht's troubles come in the form of frightened and angry villagers who have proclaimed the misunderstood dwarf a vampire. Since Forsht is amused by this, he does little to dissuade anyone. This will lead to some dicey situations for Forsht in the near future.