Frozen to death by a penny pinching, cruel landlord, the Frozen Woman has found her vengeance against her killer, and now seeks to destroy those who might do unto others what was done unto her.
"Why’s she want the rings? Heh, ye ain’t the first ta ask. Well, why’s the wind blow? Why’s the shark bite? Trust me, lad, you don’ want ta question her nature, jus’ as ye wouldn’ question mother nature. I say she’s lookin fer somethin’ - gods save me when she finds it."
- Ben "The Biter" Yardrin, sailor
The daughter of a long line of Shinto priestesses, Mei has sworn to protect her adopted city of Washington from the dark godlings that infest it, feeding upon the greed and lust of those who live there. There’s just one little hitch…
One of the first prototypes of the Oraki, the red-headed Lilith remains one of the leaders of their race to this day.
In addition to her general oddity, Myna seems to have issues with common sense.
An unsavoury character, yet immensely useful to know if you are in need of urgent medical attention, but want to avoid the eyes of the authorities….
"The Dark One, he looks like anybody you see on the street. But when he grins, birds fall dead off high places. When he looks at you a certain way, your humors freeze and your urine burns. The grass yellows up and dies where he spits. He’s always outside. He came out of time. He doesn’t know himself. His names are legion as are his faces. He’s afraid of us. He is always on the outside looking in; hating people who have good fellowship and good conversation and friends - things he can not have. We’re inside. He knows magic. He can call the Night Beast and live in the shadows. He’s the king of nowhere. But he’s afraid of us. He’s afraid of . . . inside." The Book of Cauldius, found in the Royal Archive 828 by Arthurus the Wise
The corrupted god of war, felled by the lost god of vengeance to his present pitiable state.
You’re a mean one Old Crynog
You really are a skug
Halfling children’s rhyme
The Lord of Agony, He of Corpulent Pain
Poor little Kankos..
Spat upon by his tyrannical superiors, this pathetic little office menial slaved away like a mule for the miserable pittance thrown to him..
Until he met the one that lurked in the shadows..
30 Assassins, both great and pathetic. - Die, by our hands…
Not every wolf can be tamed, and in time, the feral are certain to bite the hands that feed him. But what punishment can be leveled upon the wolf? Should he be cast out into the wilds, knowing even better now the habits of shepard and sheep? And should he be slain, what should become of his fur and fang?
How much worse can be a man than a wolf?
A sweet old Herbalist with a secret, how old is he really?
A mercenary for hire. If you can handle the foul stench of dead dog, sweat and grease.
"Yeeah!" the old man shouted as he made a dramatic flurry with his chalk - the mounted knight now bearing a stylized lance as it bore down on the many-headed dragon before it.
Aher Wolfhound, called Wolfhound The Historian, a man crushed by the weight of the world’s cruelty
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Once an outcast spirit of the cold, now the malevolent lord of a realm of winter unending…