Heroes, like legends, usually have a basis in fact. And, just like with legends, the facts rarely live up to the myth.
George the Dragonslayer is one such hero.
Stonedeath is a goblin assassin, but much more than that. His new form allows him to scale walls, fight with uncanny agility, and above all that; he has a hatred for adventurers.
Mercenaries and bounty hunters? We don’t need the help of scum like that.
Every soldier knows he may be called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice. What he doesn’t always know is the depth of the other sacrifices he may be called upon to make.
Once a decorated Theosian Soldier, now a wanted deserter.
The jaguar stood at the door of the temple. The smell of blood from within assailed his keen senses. He placed one paw, and then another, over the threshold. The priest walked to the door, as the sun’s light faded, and greeted the warrior Tepiltzin.
The party had driven the beasts to the edge of the cliffs, the kill was swift. Tlilpotonqui smiled broad and warm. It had been a fine day. His smile faded as he spied the crescent Moon already hanging delicately in the sky. The west was fading to pinks and golds. In his excitement, he had forgotten the time. He fell back, letting the party get well ahead, and turned towards the cliffs. As the last rays of the Sun faded he dove towards the rocky waters below…
Seldom will you see such a distinguished veteran: A man of action, who always seems to have what a soldier needs!
A half-breed son of the Volgotoi, Vorodon seeks to find his place in a world that rejects his kind.
Magic has brought us to this point of self-destruction,” the Captain said. “It’s the dichotomy of our curiosity and greed, which are ingrained—greed, because we had to survive because we were always hungry, so we had to gather things, and curiosity, which brought us out of the trees
“It is not merely the things lurking within the shadows that you must be wary of. Sometimes, the shadows themselves can be your enemy.” - Moraten Li
Thoral’s grim brigade is a mercenary unit under curse. They are led by Thoral, a half-undead half-realdead reanimated barbarian who negotiates the brigades affairs in a terse and direct whisper.
I don’t know what it was that set Shoutin’ Sam off, but when he left, it was like goddamned Apaches had busted in here and had a scalpin’ party in the saloon…
Once a ‘stew-plate’ assassin, Bren Bloodblade has come up swiftly in the underworld, his talents genuinely disturbing to the powers that be…
Some people are going to be the “new guy” all their lives.
Every troop has a shifty eyed grumbler. This is ours. He is also The Captain’s Second.
A natural leader of men, his troops would follow him to the nether realms, because they knew he would bring them back.
Madness is in everyone but is only shone through the ones who expose it and hidden by those who fear it- Demitri
All of his life Fflam lived in the shadows of greater and more terrible demons than himself. One day he would show them all…
Blurring the line between black and white, Selyn DeJaod is one of the last surviving Blaze Knights of old.
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?