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.
I have a group of characters I have started using in my home game, and thought I would share some of them with the Citadel
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.
"I will give man his threescore and ten, and then give him more. Death himself will fall before me."
The heir to the throne is hiding more than a few secrets...
Behind every great man is an astonished woman. Or the woman who did it for him.
She was known as "Moon Child" by her friends as she only came out at night, and whilst they loved to play with her, those who did so for too long would soon have cause to regret it. He was her father and the town undertaker, with a secret much less savoury role as the town necromancer.
Slagger Tornfury hates elves. He doesn't just hate them, he HATES them.
CRTF's first resident goofball animal mascot.
A sadistic murderer.
More than one convoy crossing the Southwest, traveling through the Republic of Texas and Rocky Mountain Republic has found themselves in the crosshairs of a heavy black transfer truck and it's deranged driver.
The massive computers of the future don't always communicate with the puny humans through soft chimes and a soothing voice over the PA/intercom. Sometimes they have a special android body that serves as their own super surrogate
I have heard it all my life,
A voice calling a name I recognized as my own.
Formerly Andrew 'Dandy' C. C. Yates, the Scranton Psychopath, now Andrew 12-C66
"Aye, there be a lot of dwarves 'round these parts now'a'days. Why? 'Cause that Groggar kicked 'em out of their caves. Groggar the Genius they call him. Them dwarves now hate his guts, which is a lot o' hate for a race that they used to call 'infeior.'"
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
"Which one? Oh, him. He be Pancratius. Yeah, he's a bit moody, but he's all right when you get to know him. Ya see, back in the day, and by that I mean his day, before you an' I were born, he was a big shot. The gods loved him, and one day, he asked for a gift that turned out to be a curse. Once he figured out the horrible side o' his gift, he sought out an oracle, to figure out how to get rid of it. Ol' Pancratius ne'er did tell me what the oracle said. The gift? Didn't I tell ye? No? It be immortality."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
Man, machine, ghost, myth, legend, hero, and villain. No one is really sure who, or even what the Iron Ghost is.
An attractive older woman with more degrees than a thermometer
A burned out cop with very little to live for finds that you can't take the fight out of the dog. (NSFW language.)
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.