Late is the hour, dark the night. Clouds blanket out the moon and stars. A lone figure is seen slipping out of the forest and onto the main road leading into the village, in search of it's doctor.
Most of the other old men I talk to about life discuss defining days that separated their lives into a before and after. My life does not have any such days, no single event changed the way I lived my life. This life of mine is one unbroken field, different crops have been planted and reaped, but the ground has remained the same. There is one day though that scars that field like a stump or stone that cannot be plowed under. I have spent many seasons pondering that day, but have never found a comfortable place for it.
"Oh, yes, I know of him. That half-mad disciple of the Storm, you’d never think he was dangerous to look at him - until he pulls out those twin blades of his and screams in his high voice ‘Blood for the Storm God!’ - you wouldn’t think a pixie could make your blood go cold like that."
-Anatos One-Eye, speaking of Raziel of the Crimson Storm
Who said Medusa are evil?
"Let death be not only merciful, but elegant."
A priestess-turned-bouncer because of her devotion to her faith.
Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.
The Book of Hammerskjold
Age is a terrible weight
Bad luck just seems to follow him everywhere. Some say its a curse, others its just in his head. But there’s one thing everyone can agree about Poor Josias: he is a sad, sad man.
There are hardly any excesses of the most crazed psychopath that cannot easily be duplicated by a normal kindly family man who just comes in to work every day and has a job to do.
—(Terry Pratchett, Small Gods)
An evil priest with a believable character. His descent into evil is subtle, not “I’m gonna go worship this god of death and destruction!”
Few can match the monk for physical accievement. Few monks can match Ember, the Disciple of the wind…
Born from the union of a Kirin-Unicorn and a woodland elf, Chary is a dazzling creature, a child of destiny and unblemished femininity…
What really happens when an angel falls from grace?
Yuna is kind, shy, and very smart. She loves nature and constently prays to her goddess. She is very young (about 17).
Macu spends his time looking for kind and giving people who he rewards in some small way. He does this by disguising himself as a needy person, maybe an injured traveler on the road, or a beggar in a town. The first person that responds kindly to him will receive some assistance in the endeavors, they will find out about the assistance when Macu has finished helping them. If a party member is simply indifferent to Macu then Macu will give the party another chance, in a different situation, if the party is still indifferent then he will leave them alone without interfering with them anymore. If the party is cruel or evil in anyway to Macu then he will punish them is some suitable way that matches their evilness. He will even show himself to them so that they will recognize him and the fact that they were evil/cruel to him.
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.