""I am." Is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that "I do." is the longest sentence?" - George Carlin
CRTF's first resident goofball animal mascot.
I have heard it all my life,
A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.
Some people call him Dr. Hammer. Some call him Mr. Hammer. Those with a flair for the melodramatic call him “The Hammer”. Others simply call him Hammer, much the way people call Madonna or Sting a single name. He is the one you contact should you have a "unique building" need.
A curious man with no past or desire beyond that of his art.
The story of an old gnome who makes an exceptional living off of designing and building unique strongholds.
The hard working, the lazy and the indispensible, 30 Servants to look after the myriad needs of your world's nobles.
"Attention, Flesh-beings! The time is now Sun-High-point-five, towards dark, 180 Units Past. Curfew in 30 Units. You are welcome."
Thirty slaves, some of which have hellish lives of toil, others which have a somewhat easier life.
A highly talented chef, this young man takes great pride in his job.
A ambitious cook who uses steam technology and a love for all things edible to make the world a tastier place.
I’m gonna be somebody, someday!
The Wise Woman of a small family of the giant hill people known as the Volgotoi, Korara’s particular gifts of illusion have allowed her a surprising degree of influence over the local Imperial outpost, helping spare her people the ravages of ‘civilization’.
Not every wolf can be tamed, and in time, the feral are certain to bite the hands that feed him. But what punishment can be leveled upon the wolf? Should he be cast out into the wilds, knowing even better now the habits of shepard and sheep? And should he be slain, what should become of his fur and fang?
How much worse can be a man than a wolf?
A sweet old Herbalist with a secret, how old is he really?
One of the Piemaster’s most devilish associates.
A gravedigger who defies the stereotypes. A regular at the Mausoleum.
The definition of a Henchman: a man who really knows his away around a hench.
Standing at the prow of the ship, Ashala rejoiced at the strong winds catching her midnight-black hair - flapping it like a pennant. The dark clouds ahead would have filled other seafarers with dread. Not Ashala. The dark clouds and wicked winds were an invitation, a challenge.
"Steady as she goes!" she shouted over her shoulder to the shipmaster, "To the Eye!"
His eyesight isn’t what it was, but he’s still got a brilliant way with calfskin.
The party has found the source of the strange creatures roaming the countryside. The rift in this reality glows with a silver hue, rippling with the wind but never moving. They step through and are immediately assaulted with the scent of rotting meat, some have to muster all their strength not to vomit. Strange cries similar to the beasts the party had faced before can be heard in the distance. Looking around, they see they are in a forest of grey and red rather than the normal brown and green. The trees are sticky to the touch and writhe, perhaps to get away or perhaps as a warning.
The deeper the party goes, the more the forest seems to slither and move underfoot. The cries get closer and more numerous. Creatures lurk in the shadows, all the same color of their surroundings. Whatever the party came in here for, they had better do it fast.
The forest of flesh is waking up, and it is so very hungry.