An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.
Entering a new city there are street urchins, hustlers, con men, kidnappers, thieves and burglars looking to make their day’s prophet. The victim, in many cases the PC, is known as the mark and is the target of whatever kind of hustle they have planned. These hustlers are always on the lookout for easy pickings.
You felt a slight tingle as the man looked you in the eyes, and he is currently approaching confidently with a look of recognition on his face. He smiles and you know you know him, you just don’t know how.
Soon after, The Trickster came upon another praying mantis, a female in heat. Unable to resist a female of any race, The Trickster obliged the willing creature, being perfectly able in his present form. At the climactic moment something unexpected occurred. As The Trickster issued forth his Divine Seed, the female turned her head slightly, and with blinding speed bit into The Trickster's head, nearly severing it with her first strike. Her next few bites, finished the job, and as Mokkus' headless body spasmed, she began to eat the rest of The Trickster.
-An Excerpt from "The Oral Traditions of the P'Cheela" as Transcribed by Gyma, Deputy Explorer of the Thyran College
Unlock your mind. Stand naked in thought and body before your enemy. Move as the breezes that caresses your vessel. Strike as the earth that calls from under your feet.
- Nesu-kitt, Ancient Lockzennite
The Spies of Lindor is a large connection of people, who could show up at your doorstep, store, or right behind you at this very moment…
Some of the more notable organisations in the city.
"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.
The pre-eminent industrial power of the Carinelle Cluster and the Confederation of Stars
How a disgruntled con man managed to kill hundreds, become a saint among death cults, and create plagues of monsters. All by writing a pamphlet.
Various entities in the Starkin Universe to support the ongoing forum game.
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.
Isolated from the known world by the seemingly endless watery wastes of the fabled Vaet Ocean, the Eshal rule the watery continent of Tarrod with an iron fist, ever ready to carry out plundering raids on the subject races at the slightest excuse. Proudly calling themselves the Brave People,the Eshal are a race of savage warriors and fanatics that are driven by the consuming need to find an ever larger number of victims to feed the monstrous thing known simply as the Matriarch .
For a long time the Goblin criminals did not have their own organisation to protect them...until now.
The Nomads of Parna; the smallest group but a strong influence on both the economy and cultural nature of the human nation.
"Kobolds have an empire? Since when?"
A small, hidden sect among the stars, distributed throughout hundreds of cells, The Word of Creation has dedicated itself to cleansing humanity of the taint of synthetic and altered life, and of holding a strong and pure humanity above all the Galaxy, through whatever means necessary.
A Group of Mercenaries that is almost completely composed of lizard folk
Created for a freedom fighter situation where a group's purpose is to liberate provinces or citizens, or to simply escape to regroup later.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman