Sha’Dann, equine God of shadows, father of the vile Sasheem and his brother, Merindel, the fair unicorn.
The father of the Hanaset society, who to this day watches his people through reptilian eyes…
A contract Made before Durmenthir is a contract kept.
"Hail! You there, farmer. We are in need of aid; do you have a temple or a priest? We ran into some bandits up the road there and are injured. Jonst won’t last much longer." A large man bellowed from the broken roadside.
"Of course stranger. You can find Luayas in the center of the village proper continue on until you see a large apple tree; she can aid your wounded. Please be gentle and offer tithes for her generosity." A gentle eyed man in homespun clothing, simple yet comfortable in the heat.
"Thank you farmer, we are in your debt. What does Luayas look like so that we might find her quickly? Does she stay by the tree often?" saying over his shoulder in thanks as he half pushed, half carried his companion along.
"No stranger." The farmer laughed, "She is the tree."
Be a good little prince and stop throwing tantrums of the Black Jester will get you and eat you up.
Words of many a Nanny and noblewoman
Caution: Graphic Content
"Did you hear that? He speaks to those who would listen. Simply adjust your hearing frequency and you will hear his voice." - Audicus, Disciple of the Sound Mind and Body.
Even the sinister Aelfen lords of the Unseleigh Court knew to fear the eldritch vengeance of the Horned Lord.
The Mughal of the Gremils, the Shah of Lag, the most devoted of Mathom.
The restless shade of a terrible demon of an age long since dust.
Blessed Yandrick, spare my herd from the Hoof Rot, and let the thieves and bandits seek elsewhere! Let my swine grow fat and strong, that they might be sold at market, so my children will have enough food this winter!
The body is a temporary host for a transcendental creature, though most of these creatures fail to transcend before the death of the host. I shall not fail.
The Patron Saint of Beverages, Hang-Overs, Regrets
Cowardly maggots! Bow your thrice cursed heads and thank the goddess that you still draw unworthy breath!
They had thought him a crank, an eccentric, not practicing a real form of magic. How wrong they were.
In a world where it seems that even the smallest of ideals has a deity to call a patron, even bastards have a patron god to call their own.
Last of the Lineage of Senach, young King Nemeroud gave his heart to an Aelfen enchantress and vanished from the lands of men, plunging the land into chaos. If only the tale had ended there
Some people oppose change. Some people cause change. Jaith is the message of change to come.
On moonless nights when ghouls run wild
and ghosties dance and scream and gloat
don’t fret, don’t cry, don’t fear, dear child-
Those ghoulies fear John Bloodycoat
Murderous prophet of a depraved cult, Corvius the Death-Haunted cursed the Empire with an ancient evil that has plagued its lands ever since.
The tragic fate of the legendary beauty has left traces behind until this day.
A PC Conjurer or summoner, basically any mage whose sole purpose in life is summoning creatures to aid in battles and various situations, is cursed with a hex, and needs to find a way to undo the curse...before he goes mad, or his fellow PCs throw him out of the party, or worse.
Everything he/she summons, never goes away. So you'll have to figure out what the heck to do with that dire bear or fire elemental once it's done fighting the orcs for you. Eventually a caravan of bizarre creatures either annoyingly ends up following the summoner around, or they go off to cause mayhem elsewhere. Bad news for the poor spell-caster regardless.