Sitri Andromalion has been the local druid of the Vepar Valley as long as anyone can remember. The local populace, long used to the wisdom and experience of the old druid are concerned as his health is failing…
A suspicious mage with a taste for making things.
Good luck, and good fortune favors those who possess the Pillars of the Alchemist.
Dark eyed and sultry voiced, few men can ignore the words that spill from Malhonne’s full lips. Fewer ever notice their valuables stolen as she whispers obscenity and sweetness in their ears.
The earth is bleached white, and brittle underfoot. Ribs and vertebrae litter the ground like driftwood and in the distance, colossal bones of slain giants rise like hungry fingers clawing at the iron grey sky. The wind rises, howling through the empty eye sockets of hollow skulls. A rain of hail begins, pelting the ground with fingerbones and teeth.
Welcome, ye miserly sinners. Welcome to Hell.
Created in a time of need, he was cast from the pride he was made to obtain, he is a warrior, and a leader.
An ancient ruin, a pair of boastful teenagers, and a bunch of indifferent gargoyles - but who let the demonic spirit out
Over the primitive tribe of the Powi,Lucah the Handsome rules, his beauty and generosity dazzling the tribals that venerate him as a living god. But there are those dark ones who see his worship as blasphemy to the true demon lords…
Clef was a regular gnome, just like all of the other gnomes. It just happened that his area of interest was not so agreeable to the other gnomes…
An quirky Gnome with little patience and much skill with a flame.
Martin Eltsin hated alcohol, and felt he had a very good reason to do so.He had seen it cause a lot of harm on the Pier Point streets…
Salvation to oneself is bought through the salvation of others…
Can a demon ever learn what it means to feel pity, grief, fear, despair, joy and the rest of those tangled emotions and feelings that plague humans? Can beings who obtain their deepest satisfaction from the suffering they inflict on others,ever embrace those very things they so passionately despise and hate about the mortal races? Mozrak,wisest of the half-demons and beloved of the Mother Godess, believed it not impossible. The Staff is both his curse and gift to his pureblood cousins.
Thin, tough, gummy almost to a point of rubber, and pitch black in color, it was only by sheer accident that anyone outside the drow race ever learned it was food.
The Road… traverses Time—Time past, Time to come, Time that could have been, and Time that might yet be. Some people have the ability to access the Road and travel it from Time to Time and world to world.
An innocent square of delicate material - barely larger than a handkerchief in size. However, those who’s skin come into contact with this cloth, may find themselves wishing they never handled it.
The PC’s find themselves thrust into a whole new world during what they had thought would be a boring trek through the plains…
Treachery, murder, magic and an army of the dead, all in one rather confusing escapade.
The nutritious fruit of this plant is not unlike a star fruit, with fleshy spindles sticking out in all directions. The leaves, on the other hand, are highly dangerous and have driven many a hungry traveller mad!
Bumbling young wizard, who could link the PC’s to an ancient and reknowned guild…
A rather large armed group slowly walks the road. Unless you get to see what they transport, you could think it is a caravan with expensive goods, or the soldiers escort someone important. But this is a prisoner transport, on the way to mines, criminals on their way for punishment.
The soldiers may be willing to talk, the captain will have a few questions on you and the road, but they will keep distance, and part soon.