A Vampire hunter.
Poor little Kankos..
Spat upon by his tyrannical superiors, this pathetic little office menial slaved away like a mule for the miserable pittance thrown to him..
Until he met the one that lurked in the shadows..
A mercenary for hire. If you can handle the foul stench of dead dog, sweat and grease.
"Yeeah!" the old man shouted as he made a dramatic flurry with his chalk - the mounted knight now bearing a stylized lance as it bore down on the many-headed dragon before it.
Aher Wolfhound, called Wolfhound The Historian, a man crushed by the weight of the world’s cruelty
One of the Piemaster’s most devilish associates.
Just another Salvorathan captain, one of the surprisingly few, but entrenpenurial folks.
Nenni-0036.2 is a slight, even tiny Oraki, who has taken for herself the mantle of the cat who walks alone.
If you see a dirigible flying in the air, yell out "Issrie, Harel, Moore, Jesai, Anmae! as it might be the Sky Willow.
"Yes, there are some unusual patterns to these - her patients, but we have nothing to prove anything other than statistical anomalies."
The kingdom of Shyvora is known for its inclusion of non-humans. One of their best fighting Dukes is a tree…
"Whatcha doin? What for? How you gonna do it? I just wanna know. I wonder about a lot of things. Don’t you wonder about stuff? You do? I can help you, if you want me to. That way we can both know."
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.
A demon’s kiss burns with lust and with shame. So do their secrets and their magic.
Space-Faring, Hard-Rocking, Metal-Grinding, Star-Tripping, Deathdealing, Dwarves.
A Watch Officer tasked with combatting gangs throughout the city. His network of contacts is remarkable.
A priestess-turned-bouncer because of her devotion to her faith.
A gravedigger who defies the stereotypes. A regular at the Mausoleum.
Why did you buy all those Iron Spikes?
"You may have wondered what lead me down this path? It was the simple observation I made while escavating the tomb of an ancient chieftan If only these bones could talk…"
From the personal account of Meridah Onware, in discussion with Professor Siana Tamar.
The characters are wandering through the bustling crowds of Lasopolis. A street conjuror is performing a simple summoning spell, something for the kiddies. A bit of odious purple powder in the fire, an incantation and out pops a saak-lizard or a muhmentarsh, writhing from the flaming brazier. But the conjuror has only a poor grasp of the arcane magical tongue. A few stuttered syllables could lead to Other Things coming through the brazier and giving the crowd more entertainment than they had paid for...