Sometimes the old ways are best. A pivotal undead sorcerer.
There are some types of evil that are not easily recognizable as such. Much like the mountain-top ascetic or the cloistered saint, there is no obvious sign of the darkness that lurks inside Vodai.
All Maire wanted was to give her husband a child. She wasn't about to let death stand in the way.
"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
The rain poured down on the city of Grathen in a relentless beat that would marvel the best of drummers. It beat down on the public buildings, with pedestrians streaming in front of, with eyes cast upwards and lips mumbling prayers to Rain Gods. It beat down on the Slums, where thieves were mumbling thanks to their gods for all these people looking up and not at their purses. And it beat down on Ariel Lorette, a girl of 13, escaping from horrors beyond the common person's imagination. Ariel Lorette, with rain streaming down her face and hiding her tears of pain and sorrow and, above all, victory. For Ariel had escaped them. Ariel was free.
"I will give man his threescore and ten, and then give him more. Death himself will fall before me."
The heir to the throne is hiding more than a few secrets...
Behind every great man is an astonished woman. Or the woman who did it for him.
A sadistic murderer.
More than one convoy crossing the Southwest, traveling through the Republic of Texas and Rocky Mountain Republic has found themselves in the crosshairs of a heavy black transfer truck and it's deranged driver.
The massive computers of the future don't always communicate with the puny humans through soft chimes and a soothing voice over the PA/intercom. Sometimes they have a special android body that serves as their own super surrogate
Man, machine, ghost, myth, legend, hero, and villain. No one is really sure who, or even what the Iron Ghost is.
A burned out cop with very little to live for finds that you can't take the fight out of the dog. (NSFW language.)
M12 denotes the twelve supercomputer artificial intelligences that operate the 4th generation internet
The Tlu ‘che a Naust lu’ Phlithus a Jal is not an easy path to walk, and none take it lightly, or willingly.rnrn~ Faerlani lu’Noamuth Che’el
A family of semi-retired doomsday cultists, just trying to live a quiet life while tending an apple orchard in the country. Except with complications.
The Sogans were a mystically aware technological society. Queen Stavarang is the last surviving Sogan in the galaxy
You should probably get ready for some trouble...
The Pig King, the great tyrant, the King who's hunger cannot be sated.
The Leader of the Corpael Etasen maintains the appearance of a socialite trying to save the souls of humanity, but most definitely has other goals.
The party has found the source of the strange creatures roaming the countryside. The rift in this reality glows with a silver hue, rippling with the wind but never moving. They step through and are immediately assaulted with the scent of rotting meat, some have to muster all their strength not to vomit. Strange cries similar to the beasts the party had faced before can be heard in the distance. Looking around, they see they are in a forest of grey and red rather than the normal brown and green. The trees are sticky to the touch and writhe, perhaps to get away or perhaps as a warning.
The deeper the party goes, the more the forest seems to slither and move underfoot. The cries get closer and more numerous. Creatures lurk in the shadows, all the same color of their surroundings. Whatever the party came in here for, they had better do it fast.
The forest of flesh is waking up, and it is so very hungry.