The dead rise up each night to honor the contract that gives them independence as they defend the shores of Oldport and the rest of Copslin Vale.
The 228th Mountain Lion battalion faced a situation not entirely unlike General Custer some 500 years before. Like Custer's men, the 228th was almost completely destroyed, despite their laser cannons and drop ships.
During the Death Wars one unit was created filled with fanatics bearing unique tattoos that gave them an invaluable ability impressive in any military action: the ability to cheat death.
The legacy of the NACA was not a curbing of corporate power, but a wave of mystically trained youth without any corporate attachments suddenly on the streets.
A cultural phenomenon born from the warrior poet ideal of the Samurai adopted into the mainstream of society
There are gangs, there are biker gangs, there are terrorist organizations, and then there are the Sons of Scorpions
The Knights of the Holy Sun are the militant arm of the Jovian Church, dedicated to His Glory, and are well known and admired by many for their bravery in battle.
Also known as the Adventurer's Guild, the GAUR, the Hall of Heroes and a variety of other names.
Nightmares upon the battlefield. Once thought defeated, rumors of their return have begun to spread.
"From his strange raft, the bizarre man stood, shell armor glistening in the sun. Bringing his stingray-barbed spear aloft, he howled: 'Be wary, trespasser! This reef is under my guard, and I her patronage! Bring not your boats near my shoal, lest you suffer the wrath of the Reef Knights!'"
- The logs Cpt. Creos Althea, Boshail Coast, 6 Ventôse 986.
An ancient mercenary regiment with a rich history, bound to a unique magic item. The regiment serves as family, faith and way of life to its soldiers.
A Group of Mercenaries that is almost completely composed of lizard folk
"Liberty is every human’s right, and we fight for it, no matter how much the government doesn’t want us to. You are no longer civilians, humanitarians, or even Americans: you are Freedom’s shadow; you are Justice’s cloak; you are Liberty’s Call."rnrn-Sergeant Jacob O’Mallory addressing new recruits at Liberty’s Call training facility near Portland, Oregon.
18.) The Returning Veterans: These warriors are on their way back from a grim, hard fought war. Fatigue and weariness, despair and anguish are written on their features. Their honor drives them to complete one last mission, but they sense that they may never survive it.
Wulfhere, 30 Stalwart Bands
An order stretching back to the first days of the Plague, the Knights Medicus are starting to die out as the Plague deteriorates their numbers.
Raging across the galaxy for a decade The Dark Crusaders have no equal in battle or number. So many planets have fallen and so many armies vanquished that nearly all have lost hope.
Many knightly orders play lip service to women, but few take it seriously, and even fewer would allow women to join their order and ride in the ranks with them as equals. Yet the Knights of the Lady, it seems, truly do think of women as equals and have done this.
If ever you need a random-roll for what type of knight a character faces in tournament, or just new ideas, what follows is a great big list (some with further descriptions and nicknames) of different sorts of knights.
Some of the names of locations & faiths are from Midian, but these are easily changed to fit different campaign settings.
From the outlook of my new and inexpensive flat, I could see her. She was kneeling in the graveyard across the cobblestoned way in front of a fresh grave. She was in dark mourning gear, complete with those large black hats that were the fashion. A lost lamb I supposed, recently wed, recently widowed, crying for the loss of a loved one. She had been there two days that I noticed, as well as their nights. She never seemed to move, so locked she was in her grief. As I drank a lonely nightcap, I caught the glimpse that changed me. In the pale moon light, I saw the grave buckle. In a foul corruption of Athenean birth, some spawn sprang forth. Not taking my eyes off the horrid scene, I reached over to the weapon I had been cleaning. Before I could grasp it fully, the petite young widow of my imagination cleared a saber concealed under her over cape and removed its loathsome head. After checking her kill, she looked up at me; backlit I assumed by the lamp in the room. She was not just a simple widow, she was Mourner. I held up my glass in a true salute from one professional to another. At that point I knew two new things: That the Unnatural truly had become more active as I had been hearing in the back alleys and I needed to move far from that graveyard.
Sing a song of sixpence
Pocketful of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie