Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Iron Warrior Cultists

"Get to work ya wretches!" barked the overseer as he gunned the engine on his chainblade. The half-witted slaves continued working, too simple to understand the overseer's orders. Nor did he expect them to. As the only one who's brain was not surgically altered, his shouts were to help his own anger at the lack of progress because he knew his neck was on the line if the slaves did not complete their tasks to the Warsmith's liking. 

Wednesday, November 14, 2018

The Mud Demon of Ottersricht

"I thrive under pressure, go tough when it gets hot,
but when I have too much water, I'll kind of lose the plot,
Every snotty pig I see just rubs in my Face,
because I am underdog, and they think that they are ace!
My body gets sore, due to jumps and bumps galore."
-Czu'shrul Qogdand Clawkeeper, the thing in the bog

"I was minding my own business, hunting game in the marshes, when I stumbled upon this thing, with giant paws, lifting up the muck and slapping it all over itself. I dunno what it was, but it was happier than a pig in shit."
-Otto, local drunkard

Wednesday, November 7, 2018

Krunk and Smegmoos

Armed with a complete lack of conscience, the ability to squeeze the jelly out of a man's skull between only his thumb and forefinger...

What is there to say about Krunk the Barbarian? A legend in life, he was a mountain of muscle who could crush ten lesser beings with a single mighty blow of his magical great axe, Primrose. With oiled, rippling thews and a wanton disregard for personal space and property rights, Krunk wandered the empire and beyond shedding copious amounts of blood and amassing untold treasure that he threw away on bad dice, worse women, and truly atrocious booze as quickly as he amassed it. Thus armed with a complete lack of conscience, the ability to squeeze the jelly out of a man's skull between only his thumb and forefinger, and the brainpower of a toadstool, Krunk imposed himself upon the world. When Krunk arrived in Karr-Keel it looked like the perfect night to triple up on Ye Olde Combatte Burgers’ quad-patty meal and get into a couple of rousing bar fights. But, fortune didn't have Krunk's back on the Mayor's birthday, and the Necroburgher's curse hit just as he was ruthlessly pummeling the former occupants of his favorite table at the Westgate Ye Olde Combatte Burgers. Now, he wanders the ruins of Karr-Keel, a hulking form, rotting and even more mindless, forever seeking the thrill of combat and the mountain of burgers he never got to eat.