My father is slain. His house is broken. His sword is shattered, and his axe has been rent apart. But his blood lives on.
The restless shade of a terrible demon of an age long since dust.
A race of halflings has lived so long underground that their skin has taken on the color and texture of cauliflower, they are called the Cauliflower or the Mushroom People for their skin and aversion to light.