"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.)
M12 denotes the twelve supercomputer artificial intelligences that operate the 4th generation internet
The Tlu ‘che a Naust lu’ Phlithus a Jal is not an easy path to walk, and none take it lightly, or willingly.rnrn~ Faerlani lu’Noamuth Che’el
Light infantry units, with assorted skill sets
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 family of semi-retired doomsday cultists, just trying to live a quiet life while tending an apple orchard in the country. Except with complications.
The Sogans were a mystically aware technological society. Queen Stavarang is the last surviving Sogan in the galaxy
Lady Evica is one of the prides of the Hesayan Church--it shows that even monstrous, overtly sexual, colossal mermaids can be brought to worship in Iasu's light. Except not really.
Thirty Gladiators battleing away in the arena in front of you
Thirty wenches to pour the beer and feed hungry customers. And do other things as well...
Kids today, you can't tell them what to do, right from wrong. When I was a kid we got tattoos and piercings, nowadays they turn themselves into freaking mutants. On purpose!
Any citizen over the age of 30
'You can't just run around killing goblins and looting temples, this isn't the old days my boy. To make it today you've got to be part of the guild, and you need a team, and a look, and most importantly you need a manager. Like me.'
A spirit of judgement and punishment
You should probably get ready for some trouble...
Sometimes life as you know it has to nearly end for you to find your true calling. By "end" I mean the everything you knew, loved, and held dear ripped away, your life torn down to the bloody roots and dragged over broken glass until the future yawns like a great big empty pit that threatens to swallow you whole type of ending.
The new you, the one that's left after such a sundering, is someone the old you would probably put a bullet in the brain pan of out of sheer mercy. Problem is, the old you is no longer around, and the new you likely doesn't have anyone left that cares enough to administer that hollow point piece of mercy.
An ex-cop vigilante, suitable for modern day supernatural horror settings.
The Pig King, the great tyrant, the King who's hunger cannot be sated.
From time to time, one of the All can be divided from the One and All mind. This is a traumatic event, and it is rare that the severed member of the All survives, let alone becomes a solitary One. But from time to time, it can occur. Seeking succor from the desperate silence in its mind, the One Beneath The Waves has sunken himself beneath the oceans of Shamash II, and there it lies, seeking fruitlessly to soothe its injuries.
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...