:: Random NPC—Winona, Siren Expert ::

The first thing you hear is the plinking of bone against bone in quick rhythmic trills. The first thing you see is a curious-looking siren virtually wrapped from her long neck to her lengthy curling tail in informal vestments of seaweed and sponge. Whereas most merfolk you've seen—especially the females—have voluminous tresses of sea-green hair, this one is entirely bald, revealing prominent cranial fins. The plinking is coming from a marimba of sorts, crafted from the ribcage of what must have been a massive fish.

The plinking stops as the siren becomes aware of your presence. She quickly sets down a pair of fishbone mallets, tugging at her coverings to be sure no part of her below the neck or above the wrists is exposed. She turns (really just rolling over to lean on her other flank) to see who has arrived.

"How many have you brought?" she drawls in a high, shrill voice. She extends one webbed hand, clutching her clothes tighter to her body with the other. "The lamps! Give them to me—I must have all of them!" And only now do you notice: in the corner of the grotto sits a massive pile of discarded lamps of every variety—old and new, metal and clay, pristine and shattered beyond repair.

:: Random NPC—Dagrun, Foxfolk Cavalier ::

Your first impression of the knight is that he is awfully short...until he removes his helmet and reveals himself as a foxfolk. In which case, you muse, he is a very tall fox. Nevertheless, he would be even taller if his back did not involuntarily bend him forward as it did. His exotic vestments don't seem to match his gloomy expression any more than the dulcet tones of his voice match his indifferent attitude.

"I am here for the evildoer," the knight states with an aloof sing-song, and dismounts from the saddle atop the large sea turtle that passes for his mount. As the knight's piercing stare scans the coast, you have a moment to take in the unlikely pair. Two-of-a-kind, you think; both rider and mount having dome-shaped armored backs. A turtle of any variety would be an impractical choice for transportation on the mainland, to be sure, but here in the island hamlet of Columnden it must suit the knight's purpose.

At last the knight ceases glaring out at the horizon and actually regards you for the first time. "Well," he sighs apathetically, "you certainly don't look like an evildoer. Do let me know if you see one, will you? Simply ask for Dagrun; they know me here. There's a good citizen." And leaving his turtle companion munching on saltbrush, Dagrun marches inland to find his quarry.

:: Random NPC—Itztli, Sheepfolk Monk ::

The sound of heavy scissors and cordial conversation greets you as you round the hay bale and pull the barn door to one side. You enter to a strange sight: one humanoid sheep shearing another with a pair of shears made of black volcanic glass. The shearing sheep is short, bald, and littered in the clipped wool from her client. Their conversation is cut short by your presence, and the mood suddenly stiffens.

"Who are you?" the bald sheep bleats warily. She brandishes the obsidian shears. "What do you want?" After only a moment her resolve seems to falter, then hardens. She eyes you and quickly finishes the shave job, turning to clean her tool in a nearby bucket. "You're done, Mary. See you in six weeks."

The other, now-shorter-wooled sheepfolk glares at you, yanks off her barber's apron, and promptly leaves, muttering angrily under her breath. Only after she is gone are you left with the sight of all the knitted woolen blankets covering the walls like curtains, giving the barn a homey look.

"My name is Itztli," the bald sheep barber declares, her grating voice pulling your focus back to the now-clean obsidian shears in her hand. "And this is for more than just shearing sheep. Now answer my questions."

:: Random NPC—Pukajaak, Seraph Aristocrat ::

Emerging from the tree line, you see the City of Wellstan come out of hiding. High on the cliff to your left is the mage's academy, large and imposing, creeping as it were over the edge as if ready to jump from the top of the icy waterfall to come crashing down on the common buildings below. The blanket of night offers camouflage for the numerous winged forms flying up and down from the city to the academy and back, the sequins of stars being blackened only momentarily as seraphs pass before them.

Just as you release a contented sigh do you see a bright light emerge from the inside of the academy's highest window. The light leaps from the balcony and coasts down in a lazy arc toward you. Only when it comes close do you realize that the light has a voice, and that it is shouting over the rush of the waterfall.

"Why haven't you shown yourselves up? We've been expecting you!" the light shouts, and only as the creature lands do you see that it is a tall seraph wearing a circlet made of the famed pirium—a magical metal that absorbs sunlight during the day, and releases it in darkness. The light from the circlet envelops the seraph woman in a halo that reveals, but does not afflict your eyes as the brash sun would. The halo highlights her colorful cultured regalia, elegant white bat-like wings, and long snow-white hair. She folds her hands in front of her and only then do you notice the ring finger of her left hand is covered by a tight-fitting articulated metal sleeve, or else has been entirely replaced by a masterfully-crafted silver prosthetic.

Your seraph envoy catches your gaze. "A childish mistake," she shouts against the crash of the falls. "One I will never repeat," she adds dismissively. "Are you ready, or do you dawdle to insult me? Come, let us away."

:: Random NPC—Jing, Winslie Rogue ::

"Jing cares for no one, and no one cares for Jing."

So ingrained in her are the decades of backbites, the betrayals, the misunderstandings—perceived or earned, it makes no difference—that Jing trusts no one. That isn't to say that she makes no alliances; she could not do business as a mercenary if it were any other way. But she never allies with those who have no clear and compelling motivation to ensure that they are acting in their own interests. You want money? A favor? Insider information? All to be expected. That only makes sense. You're in it for the good of mankind? "I don't have time for you," she'll say, and she's on to the next prospective job.

Charity cases are right out.

With one very notable exception: her sister.

:: Random NPC—Geir, Fenris Shaman ::

The old grizzled Fenris shaman will tell you the end is nigh, and you're tempted to disbelieve him—just as you would any other crackpot fool wearing a sign around his neck—except that this crackpot fool supports his claims with evidence. Though old, Geir's clothes are clean. Though prophesying the coming calamity, he is paradoxically cheerful. This, he says, is because there is still something that can be done about it.

:: Random NPC—Mani, Draconian Monk ::

Short in stature, but with long legs, Mani cuts an almost frog-like figure among the other draconians of the Iguanar horde. At a drunken glance, some might mistake her for some overgrown Ranai, if it weren't for her thick hide of frosted scales and tiny, squinting, articulated eyes. Always drawn to a more traditional form of dress, she can frequently be seen practicing the forms of her Scorpion Style—an impressive demonstration of the discipline she gained from long years of study—in the Temple of Hibernation under the sands of the Akkedis Desert.

No stranger to secrets, Mani safeguards the location of her daughter, the result of a youthful dalliance with a draconian archer from another tribe. So suddenly was their passion kindled those many years ago that neither had even given the other their name before their union had reached its climax and they were obliged to return to their homelands. Mani laid the egg in her mother's cave, never telling her what had happened, and for a time she happily thought forward to the day she could meet the offspring of her unexpected love. But what was happiness soon turned to despair.

:: Random NPC—Oyibo, Leonian Wunderkind ::

Oyibo (“White”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/11/16

a leonian

Race: Leonian

Age: Middle-Aged

Gender: Male

Stature: Tall

Physical: Narrow Shoulders

Outwardly: Enraged

Inwardly: Embarrassed

Profession: Law Enforcement

Magic: Wunderkind—Love/Enmity

Catchphrase: “You dare to enter the den of the Kahina, infidel scum!?”

Entering the forest clearing at last, you cross the threshold between underbrush and polished flagstone. The den of the Kahina spreads out before you in a perfect flat circle. At its center, nearly 50 feet away, a tall leonian male stands, facing away from you. A long, billowing ceremonial cape hangs from his narrow shoulders, as shock white as his albino fur. You take but one more step and his left ear twitches, marking the sound. An instant later a roar rings out across the den and he is upon you in seconds. “You dare enter the den of the Kahina, infidel scum!?” he bellows, bearing down on you, flashing clawed gauntlets of jeweled silver.

:: Random NPC--Forest Marshal Saturnina ::

Forest Marshal Saturnina (“To Sow”)

by Krista Kubie, 6/27/2015

a ranai bulb-lantern bearer

Race: Ranai

Age: Adult

Gender: Female

Stature: Tall

Physical: Broad shoulders

Outwardly: Exuberant

Inwardly: Joyful

Profession: Marshall

Magic: Wunderkind--Enmity/ Love

Catchphrase: “Heeey! You cut that out you crazy...person!”

As you hack and slash and slash and hack your way through the underbrush, you are suddenly halted mid-slash by a shrill exuberant voice. “Heeey! You cut that out you crazy...person!” A tall, braod-shouldered ranai woman swings in from a neighboring copse of trees, nearly tngled in the vine she’s riding. “You just cut through two snakes and a tree that just had it’s four-thousand-three-hundred-and-sixty-first birthday!”

:: Random NPC—Yale, Bórean Dendrite ::

Yale (“Fertile Upland”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/25/15

a bórean

Race: Bórean

Age: Adult

Gender: Female

Stature: Short

Physical: Small Head

Outwardly: Paranoid

Inwardly: Desperate

Profession: Physician

Magic: Dendrite—Awakened

Animal: Lion “Caerwyn”

Catchphrase: “You there. Is the Winslie village up ahead? Tell me truths or I will know! Hurry, speak!”

As you leave the Winslie village toward the Dreaming Desert you see a strange sight; out on the horizon a silhouette wavers in the heat. You take it to be a lion, but struggle to understand why it has the upper body of a snouted creature, complete with two massive clawed hands, growing out of its neck. You shake your head, wondering if the sands have already begun to take hold on your mind. Regardless, the silhouette is fast approaching.

When the beast reaches you at last, your eyes correct themselves—it is not one beast but two. The snouted creature turns out to be a bórean with an exceptionally small head. The mole-woman reins in her snow-white mount and hails you from a cautious distance. “You there. Is the Winslie village up ahead? Tell me truths or I will know! Hurry, speak!”

:: Random NPC—Devadas, Draconian Shaman ::

Devadas (“Servant of God”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/23/15

Race: Draconian

Species: Chameleon

Age: Old

Gender: Female

Stature: Average

Physical: Hunchback

Outwardly: Languid

Inwardly: Ashamed

Profession: Potter

Magic: Shaman—Spirit Guide

Catchphrase: “About time you got around to breaking open the door.”

You reach forward to open the entrance to the steppe pyramid, but instead of swinging inward, the whole slab falls backward, slamming with a heavy crunch, splitting into several uneven pieces. Wincing, you gingerly step over the rubble and enter a small antechamber where stands, shelves, and hooks are burdened with an overabundance of simple red-clay ceramics, a ghostly mist swirling inside of each.

You press further, into a slightly larger chamber—what appears to be a ceramist’s workshop—complete with a potter’s wheel, piles and piles of red clay, and an empty bed. “About time you got around to breaking open the door,” says a voice from the bed. Only after you look more closely do you see that the bed was never actually empty; it’s occupant had simply been so well hidden by natural camouflage that you had not noticed her before. The old hunched draconian sighs wearily as she rolls into a stooped sitting position. “Go on, then,” she says as if you’ve been well acquainted for years, “let’s hear what you have to say.”

:: Random NPC—Emyr, Bórean Mage ::

Emyr (“Ruler”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 6/18/15

a bórean

Race: Bórean

Age: Young

Gender: Female

Stature: Short

Physical: Long Neck

Outwardly: Sorrowful

Inwardly: Helpless

Profession: Farmer

Magic: Mage—Conjuration/Abjuration

Catchphrase: “Emyr.”

Entering the chambers of the Athanasian Council, the ambassadors all file in and take their seats. Last to enter is a siren holding the hand of a small, furry child wearing large clawed gloves and a hood featuring a mole’s snout. As the siren raises the child up to sit in one of the council seats you realize that it is not a child, but a little bórean girl with a longer-than-usual neck for her kind. Almost immediately upon being settled, she begins fiddling with her claws with a sad expression, clearly not paying attention to the proceedings. The ambassadors introduce themselves, ending with the little bórean girl. The siren reminds her to speak when it is her turn. “Emyr,” she says softly, and returns to staring at her hands.

:: Random NPC—Warrun, Córean Druid ::

Warrun (“Sky”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/28/15

Race: Córean (Ravens)

Age: Middle-Aged

Gender: Male

Stature: Tall

Physical: Tattoo on Big Head

Outwardly: Overwhelmed

Inwardly: Moody

Profession: None

Magic: Druid—Awakened

Animal: Whale “Akama”

Catchphrase: “What are you doing here…? Why have you come? Don’t you understand, you’ve ruined everything!”

The wind picks up, tugging the ship along a little faster across the waves of the Eastern Sea. High overhead, a black winged figure circles. With very little preamble the bird-like creature dives, cutting through the air between it and the ship. Alighting on the edge of the crow’s nest, the Córean cocks its large head to the side to get a better look at you. When he hops down, landing only feet away, you notice a large portion of his head feathers have molted off, revealing a tattoo of a stylized whale. “What are you doing here…? This ship can't be here! Don’t you understand, you’ve ruined everything!”

:: Random NPC—Wyrtweard, Stranger of Darkness ::

Wyrtweard (“Plant-Guard”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/28/15

Race: Stranger (Minor God from Another World)

Age: Venerable

Gender: Male

Stature: Average

Physical: Short Neck

Outwardly: Cheerful

Inwardly: Domineering

Profession: Gardener

Magic: Avatar—Darkness

Catchphrase: “Hello! What exactly brings you to my neck of the woods?”

You turn the map around in your hands, convinced it has somehow changed while you weren’t looking. The canopy of the dense jungle seems to choke the light of day into a dull haze, preventing you from gaining your bearings. Resolving that staying put could not possibly be better than pressing on, you step over one of several identical patches of shaggy ink cap mushrooms, choose a direction, and start walking. Suddenly, you are met by an invisible wall. No, not a wall, but a crumpled—yet infinitely sturdy—old man whose head seems to have collapsed onto his shoulders with nothing in between. He was so well integrated with the shadows that you did not notice him before. “Hello!” he says with a light laugh, as if he were greeting you at the entrance to a festival on a sunny day. “What exactly brings you to my neck of the woods?”

:: Random NPC—Lin, Winslie Wizard ::

Lin (“Gem”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/27/15

Race: Winslie (Spider/Octopus/Tree)

Age: Adult

Gender: Female

Stature: Average

Physical: Long Neck

Outwardly: Tired

Inwardly: Scared

Profession: Sheriff

Magic: Wizard—Summoning/Banishment

Catchphrase: “I am the sheriff. Summon the moot! There’s been an offense against the crown...or will be very soon!”

Upon advice from the locals, you go looking for the sheriff to settle the matter of your missing possessions. You find that she is not in the moot hall, and not in her arcane study. Only then do you hear a soul-splitting wail from the direction of the desert. Arriving at the edge of town, you see a cloaked winslie woman staggering forward, clutching her head. Extending her long neck in your direction, she hastily pulls her hood down over her glowing eyes. You mention that you were looking for the sheriff. “I am the sheriff,” she says with heavy breaths. “Summon the moot! There has been an offense against the crown...or will be very soon!”

:: Random NPC—Gotama, Dragon Druid ::

Gotama (“Best Ox”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/26/15

Race: Dragon (Lizards)

Scales: Blue

Age: Venerable

Gender: Male

Stature: Average

Physical: Small Mouth

Outwardly: Surprised

Inwardly: Overwhelmed

Profession: Sailor

Magic: Druid—Ranger

Land Type: Valley

Catchphrase: “What!? All this time and still a traveler comes to appease Gotama!?”

Descending the hills into the valley, you approach the river and drink to refresh yourself before moving on. As you settle your equipment, a geyser of water suddenly erupts from the river, throwing you backward to the ground with alarm. Slowly, steadily, the river parts and an enormous blue reptilian head lifts up out of it, showering you with sprays of water. The venerable dragon spots you, jerks back, and hauls all of its bulk out of the river at once, causing the earth to shake. It opens its small mouth and speaks: “What!? All this time and still a traveler comes to appease Gotama!?”

:: Random NPC—Llywelyn, Bórean Priestess ::

Llywelyn (“Lion”)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/26/15

Race: Bórean (Moles)

Age: Middle-Aged

Gender: Female

Stature: Tall

Physical: Small Hands

Outwardly: Angry

Inwardly: Troubled

Profession: Farmer

Magic: Priest—Dark

Catchphrase: “You have desecrated this unholy place. Now, by the command of the Darkness, you shall die.”

You cut through the farmer’s field to shave a little distance off your journey; surely what the old codger doesn’t know won’t hurt him. But as you walk, the sky begins to darken, and the clouds, once white and puffy, take on the bright red of blood. The roar of a lion pulls your attention back to the ground, where you see an enormous cat wreathed in a mane of fire. Beside it stands the tallest Bórean you’ve ever seen (still only the height of a tall child). The mole-person squints her beady eyes, raises her small clawed hands to either side, and utters: “You have desecrated this unholy place. Now, by the command of the Darkness, you shall die.” The flaming lion rears back to leap on its prey.

:: Random NPC—King Geoffrey ::

King Geoffrey (Gabrielle)

by Wm Jay Carter III, 5/23/15

Homeland: Toulouse

Age: Adult

Gender: Female

Stature: Short

Physical: Big Nose

Eyes: Amber

Hair: Brown

Outwardly: Shocked

Inwardly: Apprehensive

Profession: Ewerer

Money: Well-Off

Catchphrase: “Oh, my! Yes, well, you don’t have to… That is, erm. Speak…! I command you!”

You enter the throne room and are immediately flanked by the royal guard. They cross their spears and order you not to look upon His Majesty. As soon as you avert your gaze, they lead you to the throne and order you to kneel before the king. As you kneel, staring at the plush carpet, the king speaks: “Oh, my! Yes, well, you don’t have to… That is, erm. Speak…! I command you!”