A spirit of judgement and punishment
The story of an old gnome who makes an exceptional living off of designing and building unique strongholds.
A new story is frequently being whispered in the dark corners of taverns across the country, telling of a traveler that occasionally appears in quiet, rural towns; that draws with him a plague worse than any other: a dragon's wrath.
I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart... Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs.
Welcome to my humble home. Feel free to stay as long as you like, if you remain at all. Do be warned, though, the place is a bit... unstable...
I once sought vengeance, I have since been consumed by vengeance and that is that is left of who I was
Bells tolled continually, announcing new deaths.
Some of the gods worshipped in Teleleli and surrounding lands.
Robotic Poet or Paperweight
The Voice of Time
An optional pantheon of deities for your fantasy setting.
Tales grow in the telling and heroes grow in stature, even the tiniest can stand tall among their own.
The Eldest of the Oraki, and for long their leader, Lifthrasir-1 has helped his children survive the throes of their birth, and has at last stepped aside, so that his waning years do not bring harm to his people.
"I hear that he walks the North these days, strides amongst the Silver Firs of those harsh lands. His followers struggling behind in the frost mist. New ones joining the lines everyday the, drawn to him by some mysterious force."
Orn himself was a past peasant hero and champion, in a largely rural and agricultural area, who dared to stand up to a conquering force, and inspire his fellows to do the same.
As the world grows and changes, so to do the gods. One such creature is Verdichtung, Reaver of Steam.
"In all my years of research, perhaps the best way I have found to summarize the Hermit of Wither Tor is the name given to him by the inhabitants of the Grassdancer ghettoes. These unfortunates call him, in their own tounge, AnÃ‚Â´rah GrunÃ‚Â´dar Ahr, which roughly translates into He-Who-Speaks-With-His-Fists....."
From "Locastus and beyond", by Darius Moak
I have lost everything which is dear to me… I am… Lacrimosa.
Scale and bone and tooth and claw,
All are symbols of His law
Mourn not the fallen, sick, or weak,
They are His to claim and His to keep!
In dark times people are willing to do and say anything for their salvation.
Saril had a dream. To open a library in the windswept wastes of Naarish, so that the people of the many villages and towns spread over the hundreds of leagues of desert could discover the joys of his books. For a whole year he kept his library open, but alas, almost no one came.
That is when Saril came up with his new idea. If people didn't travel to read his books, he would travel to them! Saril closed his library, hired a team of twelve camels, loaded up the beasts with all of his books and proceeded to invent the first nomadic library.
Now children and adults alike, looked forward to hearing the bells of Saril's camels as he entered their villages, as he tirelessly traversed the deserts in a long circuitous route, visiting every village and town he came across, in turn. It came to pas that Saril's traveling library came to some fame, and that is how the folk of Naarish became literate.
A word of warning though. Naarish has only six thousand volumes. He deals with those that lose or steal his tomes quite "harshly", by bypassing the town or village which was responsible for losing one of his books for that calendar year.