After she ate the middle part of my wife’s body she gestured me out the door. Then she paddled me to the den of the Sage. All the while I stared at her rune marked back, my hand on the hilt of my sword, and I thought of my father and the hens.
What is a forest’s firm support, yet walks ‘round on its own accord?
What’s possessed of a titan’s might, stands before you, yet out of sight?
What soundly spanks with gnarled root a behind that is not good?
The Poacher
This man has a double life. By day he protects the wildlife from poachers. By night he sometimes poaches himself and smuggles the skins, horns, ect, out of the Park in the back of his Ranger Jeep and blames the deaths on poachers. After all,who would suspect a Ranger of poaching?
The kingdom of Shyvora is known for its inclusion of non-humans. One of their best fighting Dukes is a tree…
Blessed be are those wed beneath apple tree
Common Falk Saying, the Midlands
Endowed with a generous love for the untainted bounty of the natural environment, this enigmatic individual has all but forgotten what it means to be human..
"Thentr was made from moonlight and flame; he has killed one of the mighty rulers of the skies; he has yet to return home".
-Old Cro, the story teller
Man, too, is a primal creature, though he binds himself with the chains named Reason and Law, locked link by link from birth. Yet, those locks can be opened, the links broken, in both the savage world of the street-slum, and in the gilded cages of nobility.
One such creature is the falconer Jon Raptorclaw, once no more than a street urchin, now one of the king’s most valued rangers.. when he can be found.
A man of the city in the wild, a man of coin stands at nature’s side? Can this go well, can it bear fruit? Will he be worthy, will duty take root?
Very few carry the griffin tamer bloodline, and those that do, are given a remarkable gift…
Sitri Andromalion has been the local druid of the Vepar Valley as long as anyone can remember. The local populace, long used to the wisdom and experience of the old druid are concerned as his health is failing…
A legendary ranger from the North, all fear or admire, hate or love, but both have respect for him. He has no home nor hideout, a traveler always. His age is undetermined or his name, but he is called Sentinel, silent and deadly always. He is cunning and pragmatic, in quests he is an excellant tracker and has deadly accurcy with his bow. A master of the sword.
...and the crow spoke of an age of eternal night and of the devouring of the sun. The sea will boil the blood of the maker, the sky will flood with a dark pestilence raping the land of all its bounty, and the mounds will break loose what death had acquited… So is the propecy of the end.
“I admit I cannot withstand it’s corruption, I am no goodly man but i do not wish for the end. Too much anger rests in Kadagan as well, who will keep it safe?” Nerrad the Transmuter
After 25 years of the nightmares of the destruction of his village, he is back. Back again to strive for revenge and cleanse the nightmares from his sleep.
This man looks like no one to be trifled with, and that assessment is correct.
Sages and naturalists frown at the common name given to these strange creatures by the small folk, but sometimes the silliest nicknames for creatures, places and people persevere in the minds of many. “Purifiers”, “Pond Jellies”, “Breath-Stealers”, “Lung-Ticklers” and “River Butterflies” are much less commonly heard appellations for these life forms. Wet Faeries are basically (and simply) a species of fist-sized, fresh-water jellyfish. Several traits steer them toward the peculiar category however. Firstly, Wet Faeries are nearly invisible in the water, much like their marine cousins but even more so. One can swim in a river swarming with these critters and not even notice their presence. Secondly, they possess the unique ability to clean and purify whatever body of water they inhabit. They do this via some sort of biological filtration process, sucking in all toxins present in the water, and releasing it back in its purest form. Needless to say, they are both a blessing and a curse to whichever folk dwell beside the rivers and lakes Wet Faeries inhabit. On one hand, no purer water can be found anywhere than a Wet Faerie lake or pond, and yet, in “pure” water “life” tends in fact to die out, lacking the needed nutrients to prosper. Thirdly, their “sting” is (unfortunately) virulently poisonous to all mammalians. Wet Faeries are loathe to sting anyone or anything, using their barbed fronds as a last line of defense, but if stung, most swimmers will suffer respiratory arrest, and die within minutes, usually drowning before they can make it back to shore.
Alchemists, druids, and less savory characters have studied these creatures over the years, and have predictably found all the ways Wet Faeries could be exploited. Morbidly humorous, some bards find it, that the Poisoners and Assassins Guilds as well as the Healer’s Union, all prize these creatures. The assassins use the extracted venom in obvious fashion, while the priests and healers use the still-living jelly-fish to sterilize other poison potions and to cure those already poisoned on death’s door.
It is known that a certain Earl Von Trumble keeps his vast castle moat stocked with Wet Faeries, the waters so clear that every bone of every one of his past enemies can be clearly seen on the bottom, twenty two feet below.
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A bane to the local fishermen, White Death is determined to rectify the terrible injustice that humanity has inflicted on her people.