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 supercomputer artificial intelligences that operate the 4th generation internet
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)
A traveling scholar, digging up the roots of totemos that he encounters.
Within a palace that is also a prison, Muggar the White Despiser wages war against the light, seeking to make all mortals his slaves.
Ever collecting books, knick-knacks, gewgaws and endless heaps of strange oddments and tidbits
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.