Clad in black armor, perched atop a black destrier, Ourange is the image of the mercenary-lord…
The object of many a sensual fantasy, few thieves garner as much attention as this leather-clad halfling
James does not have any intrest in power, money or any of the other things necromancers normally desire. He is a content man but as he is hounded by his former and disappointed master he is being pushed quite close to the edge.
Magic has brought us to this point of self-destruction,” the Captain said. “It’s the dichotomy of our curiosity and greed, which are ingrained—greed, because we had to survive because we were always hungry, so we had to gather things, and curiosity, which brought us out of the trees
“It is not merely the things lurking within the shadows that you must be wary of. Sometimes, the shadows themselves can be your enemy.” - Moraten Li
“It is said that the shadows hold many dangers, and that is true. I am one of those dangers.” - Saja Jyn
Once Ma-O was a god in his own right, now he is the most reviled of all Infernal Beings, held responsible for so much of the death and destruction that happens on Acqua…
Few would guess that this kindly old man with the uncombed hair was the willing accomplice in many of the assassinations in the last two decades.
Before there was the National Enquirer, there was Kaboo.
The legendary blacksmith, founder of clan Ironspirit, and he whom brought the steel of the Gods themselves to mortal man.
Though he like a bit of the drink, he is the proper organizer for the district.
On the surface, Sir Edmund Verney is a very good man, deeply loved by most citizens of Karnivhal. He is a war hero, knighted on the battlefield,a curer of diseases, and one of those who purged the country of evil mages. However, he himself has a deeply hidden secret life, that he wants very much to keep hidden by any means nesscessary…
A freed air elemental, with a reason to stick around.
Most Dragons live to accumulate wealth and crouch upon heaps of gold, content to slag troublesome heroes into cinders and distaining the company of men to absolute solitude. Vychan is not such a dragon.
James Barley is a hard drinking, minimum-effort working hired hand…
“8 Ortio, 986 - At last, I’ve captured the amulet! I certainly could not have done it without the help of my unusual mercenary companion. He has very much impressed me with his skill. We encamp in Durath Woods for the night and make for Kharath in the morning.
9 Ortio, 986 - Amulet missing. So is Thaxen. No longer impressed with merc.”
-Sir Wardren Lank’s journal
A dashing Bard, who also happens to be a shared drug experience.
From the age of 15 he was trained to be a gladiator and for the next seven years he was, until he broke free in order to fight and defeat his capturers. For the past several years he has been waiting for that moment.
Need a mercenary, or two, or fifty? Don’t know whether to hire the Crimson Brigade or the Azure Legion? Unsure of Tim the Dragon-slayer’s effectiveness? Don’t know how to contact a group to set up a contract? Then come see Arkath, the man who can answer all those questions and more.
A voice as supple as silk, a face hidden in the shadows of a hood, yet the words she speaks are colder than the grave and burn more furiously than any inferno.
A small group of men stares intensely at something. Coming nearer, you see puppies, obviously still young, as they are small and only learn to walk. Cute as they are, the men look serious and exchange a comment here and there, making their mother nervous. But one man keeps her somewhat calm, while looking with others on the little ones.
The puppies are a completely new dog breed. The breeder hopes for better characteristics, the other men are mostly hunters and other dog-fanciers, that were called or came from own interest. If all looks well, they will have business. But now, they are just watching.