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Kid Cannibal's Profile

Our Author's latest news and articles.

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Kid Cannibal - Social Profile

- Mild Lordship of Inking Pens

For Next Level: 310xp of 1535xp complete.
310xp

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- RANDOM
Articles | 140xp

Is Anybody Out There?

'Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.' -- Arthur C. Clark

- RANDOM
NPCs | 125xp

Griven Smartstaff, Scholar of Small Proportions

The gnome hefts the giant tome situated on his back and then pushes his round spectacles up his protruding nose. He rubs the tip of his nose, knowing that he should really stop studying with his face so close to the books. The skin would sometimes rub off the tip during long hours of recording and study. Specks were moving on down the road, and he produces a spyglass from a loop on his hip. Through the lens, he spots a group of adventurers. He grins from ear-to-ear and gives a hoot, almost losing his balance due to the weight of the book on his back.

'These fellows look like they have purpose! It's time to find out what they're up to!'

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Guilds
“ Among the assortment of organized criminals who live in the great city, few command greater fear the Moonbeard Order. They of course do not call themselves that, but have earned the moniker from their fashion of dying their large beards with lye to produce a distinctive crescent shape running from earlobe to earlobe. This is meant as a taunt for their enemies, for it clearly outlines their throats. They also wear garb similar to the northern tribesman, carefully tooled leather and showing multiple, colourful glyphs. They are feared due to the intense discipline that their group maintains, due to their origins as a warrior-sect. They serve as paid thugs, enforcers and assassins within the city, with the client simply ordering a service from the organization, not hiring an individual. Apart from making the request and providing payment in full in advance, the order completes the assignment themselves. Their order has many moles through the organizations of the city, and more than a couple of nobles. As such, no organized move has been made against them since their chief activity is directed against other members of the crime world. It is said that their services have been useful for those in power as well, further protecting them from persecution. Their religion holds that their time in this world is vanishingly brief, and largely unimportant except as training for the Great Battle. The order is very utilitarian with weapons choice - they simply use the tool needed for the occasion, though not without having trained extensively with it beforehand. Daggers, garrottes, swords, bows, battle axes, polearms, wagons, even siege engines have been used to carry out their contracts.”
valadaar
“ As the PCs travel the road, right after a bend they hear a sharp whistle and call: 'Heeey, not so lazy, move your asses!' It is a large man that calls, and there are unwilling workers that listen. A small company, 10-15 men work on the road, push boulders aside, dig up roots from under the road, etc. The large man that shouted turns to you, smiles fast and mutters something under his breath, sounds like cursing some lazy worker. 'Where does the road bring you from, travellers?' And does a little small-talk. And what is really happening? A group of bandits is 'adapting' the road for shady purposes. The road will not be wider, but tighter, with enough cover around (and a few traps perhaps), and will become an ideal spot for ambushing travellers or entire caravans. The bandit leader wants them all to appear harmless. The 'lazy worker' he cursed was actually a guard that should give warning before any travellers come around (fallen asleep). Not surprisingly, the boss may decide for an ambush even now.”
manfred
“ During a storm the PCs come upon a little boy that plays in the rain. Upon further inspection they discover that he has one eye and a long tongue lolling in its mouth. Spit dripping. It is a demon from beyond that can access our realm during storms, it eats all heads that are not its own, living and dead.”
Michael Jotne Slayer
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