Thenadore is a small boy who always laugh and who is considered a child prodigy. However there is a secret concerning him. A secret few knows about.
Matronly owner of the local tavern.
The Magistrate has something of a reputation for Solomonic wisdom and the determining of past events. While the magistrate is not a stupid man by any stretch of the imagination, his reputation stems from his assistant rather than his innate abilities. Grisus is that assistant.
Jefficus? Oh yes, Jessius’s friend.
Oh her? She is that girl. She is Jessius’s girl.
A charismatic young man, a local community leader, a tragedy waiting to happen.
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 harper is a harper no matter where they are.
Shelandra looks the part of a powerful Necromantic Sorceress. She is tall, pale, and coldly beautiful. She has a castle that always seems to have a storm over it. She has pet monsters. She has a small personal army of Skeletons. She scares the peasants and makes the local nobles uneasy. However, if pressed, nobody can actually recall her doing anything really Evil.
Hanging on the arm of a wealthy upper crust man, she was the perfect arm charm. But you swear, you have seen her before.
A hypercaffinated ball of technical investigation energy.
Fanboy turned expert, Toby is a unlikely contact, but one you want to have.
“Welcome to my place.”
Old man Hardnan had a farm E-I-E-I-O
And on this farm there was a dragon E-I-E-I-O
Bwah! What kinda farmer has dragons on his farm!
Once a ‘stew-plate’ assassin, Bren Bloodblade has come up swiftly in the underworld, his talents genuinely disturbing to the powers that be…
This might not be suitable for the squeamish or easily offended.
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.
Some time magic users are less magical than one expects.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.