"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.
"Was it… just a dream?"
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.
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.
A small, enchanted chest, 2 feet on a side. It is of some dark wood with fantastical images graved upon it. Worn leather straps act as hinges and a simple toggle keeps it closed. Anything placed within it, with the lid closed, becomes accessible to anyone with one of the other 5 identical chests. Once it is taken out of any one of the 6, the chest is empty again. Perfect for passing messages or small items between widespread groups, such as ships at sea and their ports of call or generals on the field of battle.