Space-Faring, Hard-Rocking, Metal-Grinding, Star-Tripping, Deathdealing, Dwarves.
30 painted ladies of the oldest profession. Reader discretion is advised.
The 13 living statues of the Dal Nastro ruins
The Arcade is a long narrow entertainment district built upon the dried up Arcadey creek. This jurisdictional no mans land has become a vibrant section of the city.
30 musicians to entertain at balls, taverns, and other social gatherings.
Come! Hear Uncle Jehan's band, by the river's side...
The Black Bard of Nihilism
Alowin Brackwater is a beautiful young man, with mesmerizing eyes and a sly, mischievious expression. He just happens to be painted on a large canvas, rather than being alive. Surely, this cannot be held against him.
Extras and alternate “headliners” for The Carnival of Forgotten Souls and other traveling shows
Lion Man in The Carnival of Forgotten Souls
Feral boy in The Carnival of Forgotten Souls
“Missing Link” in The Carnival of Forgotten Souls
Tattooed lady in The Carnival of Forgotten Souls
Thin man & knife thrower in The Carnival of Forgotten Souls
Ringmaster of the Carnival of Forgotten Souls
The tragic fate of the legendary beauty has left traces behind until this day.
A noblewoman of mixed pedigree, patron of the arts and infamous for playing ‘the older woman’.
‘Remember Lais and do your job well, perhaps one day you’ll be a Princess in a foreign land.’
The Promise of many a brothel keeper.
Inspired by a secret muse, a humble man sketches heroes and battles for the folk of the Market Quarter.
Neither here nor there, the City of Shadows borders on the twilight of existance…
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.