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.
So, Lord and Lady Brennan definitely must sit together, but not too close to either of the Fletchers. General Schneider will cause a scene if he gets stuck next to one of those "brownnosed royalists," but his wife will be upset if she isn't next to one of the king's confidantes. I think we'll have to do it this way....
The Pcs discover an ancient, dusty oil lamp, somewhere in the bowels of a dungeon. Naturally they "rub it", and out pops a wizened, old djinn. So far so good. Then it speaks...
"Ah at last, at last I am free! Now grant me my wish!"
When the PCs explain that they are the ones that should be granted a wish, the malignant djinn explains to them that his particular oil-lamp has a curse placed upon it. Whomsoever releases the entity inside shall be geased to grant the djinn's wish to the best of their ability.
Groans ensue from the party. The djinn rubs his wrinkled hands, grins, and proceeds to name his wish. What could it be?