“Lookit that skinny little git! All gaunt and spindly, an’ she smells like the grave! She’s a queer one to be sure!
…to be ‘onest I’d kick ‘er outta the inn if it were up to me. But the missus insisted we let ‘er stay, on account of ‘er paying up front with these weird old coins. Pure silver, says the missus, an’ ‘er teef are never wrong about these things.” Continue reading “Halfling Graverobber”
“Man is the favourite child of the gods: fickle, easily enticed and subjugated. Thus the great temples and churches of this age are built on the blood, sweat and faith of human worshipers.
This being so, the gods sometimes call forth the souls of other races as well. Among the dwarves these believers are known as runepriests, for their clothing, armour and weaponry are always inscribed with the runic scriptures of their faith.
Often shunned by their more pragmatic brethren, these fanatical devotees to the gods are always exceptional, and often integral tools in the great struggle between law and chaos.”
Continue reading “The Dwarven Runepriest”
A simple seed is all it takes.
To connect with the future, to create anew.
Too bad you’ll end up reaping what you sow, maybe. Unless you get cut down early in a shower of blood and sparks. And maybe even then, you might end up with a leafy future.” Continue reading “Friggseth, the Seed in the Earth”