Some see him as a loathesome reminder of their faliure to cow a race humanity deems unworthy of existence. Others deem him a noble hero and resistance-fighter, a beacon of hope and courage to all the downtrodden of the galaxy.
Regardless, you don’t want to smell his breath. Or ever see him up close.
Do as thou Will…
Doomed by the Shadow…
With the evil in the hearts of men…
The Shadow grows
“Do you trust me? Do you feel I can get you through this night?”
They looked unsure. Slowly, each nodded. One even spoke, “I believe you can get me through this night.”
“Good. I believe we can reach the morning light. Now here is what we need to do…...”
Better stay away from him, he’ll rip your lungs out…
His hair was perfect…
I’d like to meet his tailor…
Volomain is a great wizard which has the rank of Master of the Bones.
The brilliant Doctor Ghanek brought peace, prosperity and relief from starvation and disease to her people. But to what lengths was she willing to go for it?
A villain with a taste for living art.
My Sword is yours, milord…
‘‘A thousand of the vile things we set alight, crying aloud the prayers of the Holy Redeemer as the demonic abombinations screamed in a chorus of almost human agony, utterly helpless against the flames that consumed their monstrous and deformed bodies. Never again will another human grace the banquet of these accursed fiends. But it pleases me even more to say that the gold which is so abundant in this heathen land, is now the sole propety of a nation blessed by the One God. No more will these repellent false deities lay claim to that which we have wrested from their worshippers’‘. -Corand Rogad, Conquerer of Tahutol
It’s not a weapon that kills people, it are the poeple who do so…
If only the one wording such comment knew better!
Clad in black armor, perched atop a black destrier, Ourange is the image of the mercenary-lord…
The object of many a sensual fantasy, few thieves garner as much attention as this leather-clad halfling
Once Ma-O was a god in his own right, now he is the most reviled of all Infernal Beings, held responsible for so much of the death and destruction that happens on Acqua…
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.
“8 Ortio, 986 - At last, I’ve captured the amulet! I certainly could not have done it without the help of my unusual mercenary companion. He has very much impressed me with his skill. We encamp in Durath Woods for the night and make for Kharath in the morning.
9 Ortio, 986 - Amulet missing. So is Thaxen. No longer impressed with merc.”
-Sir Wardren Lank’s journal
A dashing Bard, who also happens to be a shared drug experience.
From the age of 15 he was trained to be a gladiator and for the next seven years he was, until he broke free in order to fight and defeat his capturers. For the past several years he has been waiting for that moment.
A voice as supple as silk, a face hidden in the shadows of a hood, yet the words she speaks are colder than the grave and burn more furiously than any inferno.
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.