Whenever there is conflict or disease you will find medical men and women trying to heal the sick and the maimed. Most are perfectly good people, but by no means not all of them. Whilst many live to serve and do their best for those who they treat, a minority will harm or even kill them, accidentally or otherwise.
A legendary figure described using the 4 sentences tool
Once a arcoban (arco-urban) chinpira, now a parapsychic burner under the influence of the Neogenecists
30 plug and play angels, devis, yami, muses and avatars for the tech savvy player
The fearsome horror of the Drow-Beholder-Liche!
"Uncle Humblestaff?" the young hero responded. "Of course I know the man. Wouldn't have had a chance at the academy without a word from him. He's the big guy over there, surrounded by all those adventurers."
The gnome hefts the giant tome situated on his back and then pushes his round spectacles up his protruding nose. He rubs the tip of his nose, knowing that he should really stop studying with his face so close to the books. The skin would sometimes rub off the tip during long hours of recording and study. Specks were moving on down the road, and he produces a spyglass from a loop on his hip. Through the lens, he spots a group of adventurers. He grins from ear-to-ear and gives a hoot, almost losing his balance due to the weight of the book on his back.
"These fellows look like they have purpose! It's time to find out what they're up to!"
"Alzim, now that's a name! Leader of the Alten Mercenary Corps, master tactician, ex-general of the Cadmury Kingdom's forces, slayer of entire brigades, or perhaps most notable is he is a master Weilder. Sadly many of the young do not remember him."
Old man at the local pub
Those who turn from the light and find themselves entranced by the lure of necromantic power would heed well the tale of Ilken Lillett; A testament to the sacrifices which must be made to attain such power.
You need a job, you need to find someone or something, or you need to lay low or need to sell something, you need a good fixer.
M12 denotes the twelve sintelligences that operate the CogNet
A spirit of judgement and punishment
The only remnant of the Shattering, Lydecker Cain found himself the solitary survivor of a universe that was no more than shards of glass.
"Drinks or info chummer, both cost. One costs cred and the other costs favors. Too much of the former will give you a killer hangover, and too much of the latter might just kill you altogether."
A bartender contact/info broker for the Shadowrun rpg setting, can be easily adapted to any cyberpunk or other high tech campaign.
The Crystal Scholar is a feminine Quasi-Soul with a passion for knowledge.
Forewords to the supplement I'm working on: Teleleli. Or, The City Never Dies; It Just Smells That Way.
"Have you ever felt like there’s a world just beyond ours? Some sort of strange dimension, a light dancing just beyond our fingertips? Well, I’ve touched that ‘sacred’ world, and I know its true face."
Your Ultimate Source for all your Ooze Problems!
"To truly be wise, one must learn from all life."
(A sage and wise man for any oriental fantasy or modern day campaign)
Stormbound, the ship rolls hard over to once side. All that is not strapped down is tossed violently overboard in a splash of freezing water.
There, on the horizon- a tower. Squat, it stands alone on a tiny island. However, it's the only land in sight, and any more of this ferocious storm will crush the boat to splinters.
Taking shelter within the ornate entryway of the squat tor, the party notes with interest that no signs of life break the silence of the stone tower. As they take another step forward, they realise why.
This is the fabled tower of Brenji, a rich merchant who wished none to share his enormous wealth. He constructed this tower to store his gold- trapped and ready for any potential thieves. But the ingenious pitfalls and scything walls are not the only dangers within the silent walls of the building. A guardian, left behind by Brenji, still stalks these very halls.
A rattling hiss echoes somewhere from below...