No, not a LOTR knock-off
These groups were originally for use with the Project Underworld PBP game, to which I contributed the minor covens.
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.
Give me your greenskins, your mobz, and your grunts
These Trolls travel land and sea in an eternal search for their next war. The Host of Battle—for they have no other name for themselves—is part mercenary army, part ethnicity.
Half-Man, Half-Bull? Surely you’re joking. But if it’s Dungeon Crawling you need to do there’s nobody better than The Minotaurs.
Dropped Colonies are the worst kind of colony, one step up from a forced or pirate colony. However, they are the most common.
And Zhardun spoke unto [the corpses], and his rage at their cowardice was plain and open: "Now is thy last chance at redemption." 2:2:3,9
These are the Gods of Food and Eating! Beware their culinary prowess and tremble before the might of their cookery! These are… More Placeholder Gods!
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world
“‘Hear! That which you warred for it gone. In its place is my own creation under my own authority. This Blessed Great Blue is my patronage and you will have no part in it! Lest you soil my sacred waves, I will cause them to crash onto your lands and drown your own creations. End your fighting: the seas are mine.’
Thus she spake from the Merciful Deep.”
- Yamasatran oral tradition
The mysterious Sisters of the Sea watch the events of the Sectarian Wars unfold from the safety of their monastery ships. But how long can they remain neutral before war is brought upon them?
For barrel that explode when you shoot them, there’s only one name you can count on, that’s ACME.
The House of Sand is but a rumor to most, but there are those that listen to the streets of the great cities telling of an organization of master assassins that has it’s fingers in almost every criminal organization.
“The People of Kerren have created a tight knit society based upon “crews”, “wings”, or other small groups of people….”
Excerpt from Terran Expeditionary Scout Force ReContact Report 2280
Ryders, Scales, Crafters, HighBloods, and Villagers, these are the people that populate a Kerrenese Against the Storm campaign. This section give examples and directions on how to create them.
The Darkness Glemers are a group of people who condem others to the Darkness. They are followers of Lord Sen. These people are not human in many cases. Humans call them Freaks of Nature others would prefer them to dis belivers of god but what they are really about is the Abyss. Bringing creatures, demons and death angels into the land of the living. They do have magical powers within the gems and weapons they carry. But in the spirit world their magical ablities are as powerful as Lady Shayla. From obtaining the powers of Lord Sen and the book of the dark magic, all things would be able to come to an end. But since when the day Lady Shayla sacrificed her life, they were exiled away into a place called The Touchstones of Death…....
Believed by some to be heretics, the adherents of Silence worship the Blessed Ruth, Our Lady of Silence.
Short for Vector Industries Tactical Security, VI-TAC-SEC, often itself shortened to V-TAC serves as the principle police force and garrison of Vector Industries.
Time is a never ending cycle in which humans inhabit it for the equivalent of a blink of an eye compared to the infinity that is time. In this recurring age of humans the mysterious Time Knights keep the eternal order which rough chaotic men unwittingly disturb.
Gods and Deities. The waking gods have tales and stories aplenty. Books and sermons dedicated to their prayers and beliefs fill many halls of many religious centers and the devout. Continued tales of their deeds abound fill those trying to fill the followers of their gods to the correct path of life. But what of the gods thought lost or who have died over the eons? Are they dead or just sleeping, staying out of sight from the eyes and prayers of man? Only the true dreams know the real answer.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.