Some sovereigns prefer a different sort of tax from their subjects - whether freely given, or taken by force.

Another scary child's toy...

For your pleasure and entertainment, here we present, thirty fiendlings seasoned with a whiff of brimstone, teasingly clad in shadow, accompanied by tunes played on pipes of angel-bone; likewise do we tell of the gifts they might bestow upon one in their favor.

So get them before Hell freezes over!

The beast within became the beast without; ferocity and might blossoming in corpore upon the flesh.

In seeking to escape serving the Lord of Ravens many a hope flickered and died, for those who oppose him end up serving him after all.

Once a tool awakened on purpose, the looming stones have outlived their masters but not their purpose

Known in folk-lore as the Blighted Storm-Serpents, the reclusive Kumbra are far more than any might guess.

Pride. Strength. Skill.
These are the values of the Monroi, woven into their very being - for them, battle is not just self-preservation, but a need.

What is a forest’s firm support, yet walks ‘round on its own accord?
What’s possessed of a titan’s might, stands before you, yet out of sight?
What soundly spanks with gnarled root a behind that is not good?

A harvest queen, a druid of war, a monarch of leaves.

A tool of war, given free will to foster stife and conflict, that used that very same free will to become a messenger of peace.

A man of the city in the wild, a man of coin stands at nature's side? Can this go well, can it bear fruit? Will he be worthy, will duty take root?

A child at court, considering the world a private playground

A lot of travelling singers have a flame or incessant longing in their heart.This woman's heart holds something more as well.

As a way of defining your character better

Has your kid been acting strangely? Returning home late at night, bearing bruises and clothes torn? Something else than puberty may be the reason.

“Swiftly, repent! The Saintmaker is coming!”

High above the lands of the living, where frost and howling of the wind reign, the morbid monument to a faith long dead calls the deceased on a last pilgrimage.

Within the chest of a wizardly tool, there beats a Shard heart, deeming the master a fool.