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.
A new story is frequently being whispered in the dark corners of taverns across the country, telling of a traveler that occasionally appears in quiet, rural towns; that draws with him a plague worse than any other: a dragon's wrath.
The Leader of the Corpael Etasen maintains the appearance of a socialite trying to save the souls of humanity, but most definitely has other goals.
Decepticon Military Scientist ca 1987
So, Lord and Lady Brennan definitely must sit together, but not too close to either of the Fletchers. General Schneider will cause a scene if he gets stuck next to one of those "brownnosed royalists," but his wife will be upset if she isn't next to one of the king's confidantes. I think we'll have to do it this way....
I'm different. I have a different constitution, I have a different brain, I have a different heart... Dying's for fools, dying's for amateurs.
"Compared to the scum I deal with as a cop, fighting you was a piece of cake!"
*All that I am saying is, it does not count as murder if it is an Uplited porpoise.*
Oscar, in a drunken bar argument.
A member of the Cynopterid race
I was just another nobody, not part of the clique, not one of the Heathers, just a nameless, faceless nobody. Then, I died.
And became somebody.
The Good, who do what they have to do, the Bad, who pervert their ideals, and the downright Ugly.
"Mad you call me? Every great mind is mad, and I would see the whole world great...."
-the Miskatonian, to one of his more talkative captives
Brief bio of a space intel officer
30 in progress
Marla (Fight Club) - as the salesperson whose species reproduces by cloning or similar technology.
PC generated by random generator
An unfortunate man and his canine companion
A favored son of the Prussian nobility, and a Knight Errant of the Restored Order of the Temple
The eldest of six sisters and the heir apparent of the Argyle-Blakes, and an investigator for the Royal Theosophical Society
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.