Some of the more bizarre cults which could conceivably be found in a post apocalyptic setting
The Pegorans are an ancient culture of people that have left their unique marks upon the world.
Pardon them, they are barbarians, and think that the customs of their tribe and river are the laws of nature.
Lord Bertrand of Shawstrope
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.
A hybrid of man and animal, bred to serve and now free to live.
An odd little cult dedicated to the care and feeding of their ‘god’, the Cabal of Omnomnom is slowly depleting the region of…
Mercenary companies are usually little more than bands of low-level thugs. This one is a much more sophisticated organisation, with its own history, regulations and culture.
In wonder the adventurers stood awe struck by the beauty and splendour of the surrounding foliage. The great open plain before them transformed from a flat green world into mesmerising colours and movement. The Vissealist stood unmoving, his hands outspread and resting gently on an intricate structure of vines that threaded their way over the wall and into the earth of the plain, spreading outwards from the ramparts of the kings palace.
A powerful, maritime people, brought down by the foulest Necromancy.
A vast, intricate complex of kilns and forges where the low-grade ore from the Thunderhead mines are turned into steel of unsurpassed quality. What are the secrets of the Acibus Foundry?
One of the Locastrian Regiments, footsoldiers with a reputation for savagery and a predilection for the meanest, dirtiest assignments…..
Prowling the wild seas of Acqua like the ravenous raiders that they are, these militant priests of Holy Jove are sworn to their sacred mission of destroying the unbelievers and infidels wherever they may be found on the open ocean.
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.
Scents of ages past and scents of the zeitgeist. A guild of perfumers.
Dropped Colonies are the worst kind of colony, one step up from a forced or pirate colony. However, they are the most common.
"Aww, dang, did you fart again?" asked the Jordy, The Knight.
"No, screw you! I didn’t fart in the first place!" replied The Scoundrel, Harris. What they didn’t know was that the Smelbinders could hear their every word.
They consumed Great G’bod. They partook of the Giant Slug’s flesh.
"I walked through the poor’s quarters, and my eye was not harmed. All functional, and simple, and crude, made on the whims of fate and delivered by immediate need.
I walked through the merchant’s quarters, and my eye was bored. Pretensions where nothing backed them, striving for appearance without substance, evidence of changing wealth, too much only began, too much never finished.
I walked through the place where the powerful lived, and my eye was tired. Too much of attempted beauty turned hideous, and a lack of taste was made worse by willing lackeys.
But then I’ve seen the treasure of the city. A cathedral, that was part of the sky, columns, and arches to carry the weight of the world, shapes to let your mind fly along, and ornaments to stop by. A place to ponder, to be pleased to be alive, to accept suffering, and to realize your mistakes. This is a place I could learn from."
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
The heart of Humanity, the Starkin Federation is the largest faction of Man amongst the stars, the mightiest vehicle of his ambition.
You find a book in the library, then when you start to read it, seems to change from pages of words to pages of images that seem to live and move. If you touch the page after the images appear, you travel into the story and now live in that world.
There is a book on that world, that leads back to this one.