Descriptions
Appearances, personalities, backstories and titles to flesh out a character
A6
Alien DescriptionsRaceMales of the species run more reckless than the females, their markings deeper in tone, whereas the females tend to be more giving.Males of the species run warmer than the females, their markings deeper in tone, whereas the females tend to be more talkative.Males of the species run quicker to anger than the females, their markings deeper in tone, whereas the females tend to be more crafty.
Angel DescriptionsA breath later there is nothing there but settling dust.The light gutters out, and you are alone once more.Then it is gone, and you are left wondering if it came at all.
Animal DescriptionsThese animals tend to be aggressive when cornered, marking trees and stones as they pass. They breed rarely, and with few young and they feed the young long past weaning, which, given their rapid maturity, leaves them ever on the edge of decline.These animals tend to be patient almost to a fault, marking trees and stones as they pass. They breed only in the wettest months and they teach the young to hunt by example, which, given their long lifespan, ties their fortunes tightly to the seasons.Home for them is deep forest, where they live in cooperative hunting groups. Being chiefly grazers, they feed on stinging nettles with a barbed bite and split tongues.
Armor DescriptionsLeatherA breastplate of quilted-and-pressed leather guards the torso, and it extends past the waist into a short tasset.The helm is a close-fitting leather coif, fitted with a sculpted snout of cured leather, while braided leather tails cover the gap above the shoulder.The rerebraces wrap in three banded sections, lacing loosely so the vambraces beneath carry a tooled border of vines.
Armor DescriptionsPlateFor the legs, the thighs are armored by a paired cuisse-and-tasset set hinged at the outer hip, with the greaves held by a back-seam hinge meeting a front turning-pin.For the legs, the thighs are armored by a hooped fauld feeding into plated tassets, with the greaves held by sprung side hinges that snap the shell shut.Crowning the set is a close-faced bascinet, the face shielded by a row of breaths bored beneath the sights, and stepped temple flanges flare out above the gorget collar.
Army DescriptionsAt the front go the lean and expendable, sent to test the ground, behind them come the seasoned ranks who win or lose the day by inches, and held back for the killing hour ride the guard, hand-picked and sworn to die where they stand.At the front go bowmen in loose order, stringing as they walk, behind them come the heavy foot who will hold the line when it bows, and held back for the killing hour ride champions in gilded harness ringed by their oath-men.At the front go outriders combing the road ahead for traps and snares, behind them come drilled regiments that hold whatever the front loses, and held back for the killing hour ride the elite cohort the general spends only when he must.
C9
Castle DescriptionsOutside the walls stand weathered statues of old kings, their features half lost to the rain. For all that, this castle has been patched so many times no two stretches of wall match.Banners of houses long extinct still snap from the outer poles. For all that, this castle is beginning to crack at the joints, though its bones hold for now.A dry fountain shaped like a coiled serpent sits in the forecourt. For all that, this castle stands as solid as the day the first stone was laid.
Character DescriptionsWhat lingers is harder to name: a presence that is deeply private, leaving most with the sense of standing before a closed ledger and, beneath it, an urge to straighten the disorder of the room. Strangers keep both hands where they can be seen and, when they think it unseen, measure the distance to the nearest door.A scar from a slaver's whip starts at the edge of the hairline, fades pale through the middle, and ends where the collar would sit. They wear it without explanation, though it dates from an order that should never have been obeyed, the same season as the famine that followed the long drought.A scar from a riding spill on the ice rises from the corner of the eye, fades pale through the middle, and finishes below the chin. They wear it without explanation, though it dates from the last argument before a death, the same season as a sister married off to settle the family debt.
City DescriptionsNowhere does that blended past come through more plainly than at the table. Count the tea houses, the ramen counters and the ramen counters by the hundred, each feeding a different craving, while kite days out on the headland, street performers and rooftop stargazing decks stand ready for anyone after something other than a meal.Nowhere does that blended past come through more plainly than at the table. Count the tea houses, the rooftop canteens and the carryout hatches by the hundred, each feeding a different craving, while kite days out on the headland, gallery crawls and after-dark dance halls stand ready for anyone after something other than a meal.Nowhere does that blended past come through more plainly than at the table. Count the midnight markets, the coffee bars and the chophouses by the hundred, each feeding a different craving, while kite days out on the headland, the cliff paths above the bay and the riverside walk stand ready for anyone after something other than a meal.
Clothes DescriptionsFancyFitted gloves climb past the elbow, and the cloth there is thinner than the bodice, almost weightless on the skin.The jacket is cut close to the shoulders and carries a fine pinstripe that runs the length of the body in pale grey threads. It is double-breasted with a four-button stance, and its front fasten through fabric-covered shanks that sink quietly into the weave.The look is finished with a lapel pin and, to match it, a tie bar.
Clothes DescriptionsMedievalThe sleeves gather tight at the wrist and are slashed to show the lining beneath, breaking where the cuff begins, changing to a beaded band set along the cuff of sheer cloth.The sleeves hang open from the elbow and widen into hanging bells, breaking across the forearm, changing to a braided band set along the hem of thick cloth.The sleeves gather tight at the wrist and are split and tied with ribbon, breaking before the hanging fall starts, changing to an embroidered band set along the shoulder seam of sheer cloth.M·F·N
Clothes DescriptionsRagsHer sole smock drapes loose where the seams have given way at the sides, and the cloth around her last frame tells the rest of the story.Her grey tunic drapes loose where the seams have given way at the sides, and the cloth around her faded frame tells the rest of the story.Her only smock drapes loose where the seams have given way at the sides, and the cloth around her faded frame tells the rest of the story.
Coat of Arms DescriptionsTrailing from the helm, sparse and trailing mantling falls away in feathered fanning plumes, framing the arms without crowding them.Trailing from the helm, doubled and lined mantling falls away in deep curling flourishes, framing the arms without crowding them.Crowning the whole sits a delicately tined coronet of smoked steel over a cap of cloth of woven gold thread, the rim set with a single large solitaire over the brow.
Constellation DescriptionsA child born under the Reed reversed is taken for someone trusting the work more than the worker.A child born under the Ferryman reversed is taken for someone counting losses and calling them lessons.Look for it crouched at the foot of the dipper. It burns clearest during the rains that close out the year.
Country DescriptionsInland Velmoria is mangrove-fringed tideflat, the weather rain-sodden, the people scattered thin across the interior and gathered into walled river towns.The land itself reads as weathered to a uniform grey-gold.The land itself reads as haunted-looking but plainly worked.
D5
Demon DescriptionsThat skull-thin head rides atop a body that is wiry and festering. Tattered remnants of skin hang loose, though the creature seems not to notice.That skull-thin head rides atop a body that is muscle-bound and festering. Tattered remnants of skin hang loose, leaving you no wish to learn the cause.That many-faced head rides atop a body that is barrel-chested and smoke-wreathed. Hooks and barbs jut from its back, though none of it slows the thing down.
Disease DescriptionsOn the same chart, the sign of every meal tasting of nothing is felt all the harder for the sign of a rawness deep in the seat.- an arm too sore to liftOn the same chart, the sign of an ankle that flares when pressed can be made keener by the sign of a fight to force out a single drop.
Dragon DescriptionsUnderneath, the belly wears the same pebbled hide, colored more mottled than the back.Underneath, the belly wears the same iridescent scales, colored cooler than the back.Within the creature's spur-browed, tapering skull, its hooded molten gold eyes sit almost on the sides of the head and lend the whole face a cast that is feverish.
Dungeon DescriptionsLift your torch and the light picks out the bones of a great beast chained to the wall, crusted over and swallowed by time itself.Lift your torch and the light picks out carvings of faces that seem to follow you, softened to ruin and all but erased by time itself.You press on into the dungeon's deepest reaches, past junctions that all look the same, and you learn quickly to count the lefts and rights. Then the corridor ends. A squat iron door bars the way, long, deep claw marks are scrawled across it, somehow spared by time and weather alike. You lean in for a closer look and.. wait.. the writing changes while you read it
Dying DescriptionsBe well, the lot of you.There's a chair just there. If I could reach it I could rest, and if I could rest I could think, and if I could think I'd know there's no reaching it.The ground rose up to meet me, or I fell to meet it, and the distinction stopped mattering the moment we met.
F3
Farm DescriptionsFields opened out marked off by weathered fence posts gone soft with moss. Here and there cattle and cattle clustered near the water across the sloping pasture, and a shallow irrigation ditch threaded hugging the line of the road.Fields opened out rolling gold and green toward a band of hills. Here and there cattle and draft horses cropped the grass low across the fenced pasture, and a dry-stone boundary threaded veering sharply from the road.Fields opened out until the horizon swallowed them whole. Here and there cattle and draft horses clustered near the water across the sheltered pasture, and a hedgerow gone shaggy threaded leading straight off the road.
Flag DescriptionsCentered on the field rests a broad-winged condor, set on a field of scattered stars, passed down through nine generations of the house.Centered on the field rests a coiled fire hose, wreathed in a coil of morning mist, worn by every sworn rider of the realm.Centered on the field rests a fanned plume of feathers, set above a low garden wall, granted only to those who hold the pass.
Forest DescriptionsUnderneath all of it sits a welter of beast-noise: mostly the work of nosing critters that saturated the air and fell oddly in time with the wind threading low and gentle through the trunks.Underneath all of it sits a mix of creature-calls: mostly the work of bolting beasts that lifted the whole place and ran against the grain of the trickle of a slow river current.Underneath all of it sits a welter of living noise: traced to scavengers that rolled through the trees and fell in step with the crack of a heavy beast breaking twigs underfoot.
G4
Garden DescriptionsThe planting boxes are thick with bees from the first warm hour of the dayThe fountain settles a little deeper into the soil each year. The flower beds make their claim and then politely recede, and the juniper carry the scent farther than the sight reaches, but the hollow elm presides like an elder over the green
Gem DescriptionsThe appraiser logs one Reldenstone, lightly flecked and dressed in a pillow cut that holds it near the size of a fingertip. By reputation it is back in demand after a long lull and can be found by anyone willing to dig, while the gem itself is alleged to dampen a wearer's fear, and on that strength alone it would serve as a healer's ring touched to the brow of the sick.The appraiser logs one Nethorite, chipped at the culet and dressed in a tablet cut that holds it near the size of a thimble. By reputation it is a staple of provincial jewelers and surfaces only when old estates are sold, while the gem itself is fabled to slow the spread of poison, and on that strength alone it would serve as a healer's ring touched to the brow of the sick.This Vossarite shows a wedge cut, no larger than a marble, and is feathered with internal cracks; championed by a single influential house and is common enough to bargain over. The stone is claimed to ease the ache of old wounds, which makes it well suited to a courier's seal pressed into hot wax.
Ghost Town DescriptionsThe park where folk once strolled belongs to the deer now, who graze the long grass in the morning sun with no one to scatter them.Strip away the foxes and the roosting birds and what would be left is a loneliness almost too complete to bear. And yet the bones of the settlement still do good work, holding off the weather for the wild things that crept in to claim them.The ruin has a melancholy beauty to it, the kind that makes a traveler linger longer than is wise. And yet the town serves still, no longer for people but for the animals that have turned its bones into a home.
God DescriptionsdessA congregation grown quietly over generations of retired soldiers and wandering tinkers are asked nothing but their true name, for the goddess turns none away should they keep their head uncovered, repaid with votive carvings or fasting if they have wronged none present.A congregation drawn equally from the ranks of grave-tenders and retired soldiers are housed and fed at the temple's own cost, for the god turns none away should they keep their head uncovered, repaid with silent procession or river bathing once the gate-toll of grain is paid.A congregation held to a strict and secret roll of oath-breakers seeking pardon and marsh-cutters are asked nothing but their true name, for the goddess turns none away whatever their station or birth, repaid with fasting or silent procession if they will speak only the truth within.
H4
Hand Gesture DescriptionsHold your left hand with the palm toward the ground, the little finger thrown out alone, level with your right with the palm toward the side, four fingers crossed and the last thrown out, and you make a gesture that marks a vow taken in earnest throughout the city of Duflarn.Raise your left hand, palm toward the ground, the ring finger alone bent into the palm, and you make a gesture that blesses a field before planting throughout the territory of Pashaith.Raise your right hand, palm toward the side, a single finger thrown out, the rest crossed, and you make a gesture that grants a favor freely throughout the country of Nuchind.
Holiday DescriptionsAcross the warm half of the year, folk keep the Feast of Borrowed Names, marked by feasting that runs till morning. Where it began is argued over by the learned, though by now the day means little more than ferrying lanterns across the dark pond, letting the youngest lead the songs, feeding the first plate to the dead and marching to the grave-rows with candles.By the old reckoning the feasting lasts the better part of four days, though the children would happily make it a month.Across the longest weeks of winter, folk keep the Feast of the Quiet Loom, marked by more dancing than sleeping. Where it began is owed to a long-dead ruler, though by now the day means little more than dunking the bold into the river, feasting in silence until the bell, pouring out the last of the cider and settling quarrels before sundown.
House DescriptionsClimb the stair and the upper floor stands wider than the floor beneath, given a slim viewing gallery that overhangs the hall beneath, and as a matter of taste it follows brick for brick the rooms below.Crowning the whole, the roof carries tapered to a soft conical crown, sheathed in wind-scoured slate. Paired stacks bracket a small attic light between them. Slatted vents beneath the eaves let the rafters breathe.Climb the stair and the upper floor stands matched in size to the floor beneath, fringed by a run of little balconies across the front, and as a matter of taste it gently refines on the rooms below.
Humanoid DescriptionsOn either side of its crested, angular head sit long, pointed feathered ears, the whole of it sheathed in matted spines.On either side of its horned, fur-matted head sit small, rounded pierced ears, the whole of it sheathed in tangled banded scales.A coat of matted bristles sheaths the body, and the shoulders sit even with the pelvis, which bristles when it tenses.
M4
Magic Source DescriptionsSealed records hint that the founders knew how to move it, and chose not to.Whether the heavens are running out of grace is a fear the high priests will not discuss.Across the Faltreach, sorcery wells up from the heat of a beating heart spent like fuel so nothing draws breath without holding a little of it. Mostly it is healers and the desperate who learn to call on it, and whole guilds have grown rich renting their lifespans by the hour.
Martial Art DescriptionsThe weakness of Quiet Mountain method shows against weapons it was never built to face, where every committed strike becomes a lever for the counter.The weakness of Whisperstep craft opens up once the pressure has nowhere left to push, where every committed strike becomes a lever for the counter.Sundered Mirror art is a loose-limbed discipline whose fighters answer an attack through clinch work that smothers the room a striker needs, drilled around committed follow-through and distance management and built on a hair-trigger sense of range and supple wrists and shoulders, all of it hinging on keeping the fight at the seam between two ranges.
Meadow DescriptionsThis broad muddle of pasture and petal basked in the late-spring heat, troubled now and then by a wandering cloud, and demanded nothing from a passer-by who lingered. Set down here a while, a body wanted for almost nothing.The warm, blinking torpor of the downs lay loose under a kind sun, left whole beneath an empty sky, and demanded nothing from a passer-by who lingered. Stay past dusk and the wheeling stars paid back the waiting.The warm, blinking torpor of the downs warmed gold from edge to edge, dimmed for a breath as cloud crossed the sun, and demanded nothing from a passer-by who lingered. With a friend or two it begged for a camp and a shared fire.
Monument DescriptionsWhere it stands now, it is taken to stand for the hard-won peace that the founders bled to secure.Where it stands now, it is taken to stand for the bond between the valley folk and the river that feeds them.Where it stands now, it is taken to stand for the hope that the next age will ask less of them than the last.
P7
Pain DescriptionsThe exhaustion landed first, then the pain found it and settled in beside it, the two of them pressing down together. Giving up whispered that no one would blame them, that the world would forgive a single honest surrender. Then came the remembering, the faces and the promises and the long reason this had begun at all. The legs were told, not asked, to carry on, and they staggered into obedience under the weight of the order. The pain stayed, but it no longer ruled, reduced now to a passenger rather than the one at the helm.The exhaustion landed first, then the pain found it and settled in beside it, the two of them pressing down together. A treacherous comfort bloomed in the chest, the comfort of imagining the fight already abandoned. A small clear voice cut through the clamor and reminded the body who it had promised not to abandon. The grip tightened, the spine straightened by sheer insistence, and the next movement was forced into being. The pain followed all the way to the end, but it followed, and never once led, and that made the difference.Heat radiated from the overstrained legs in pulses, each one timed to the slow hammer of the heart. The will to continue thinned to a thread, and that thread frayed a little more with every heartbeat. Then came the remembering, the faces and the promises and the long reason this had begun at all. The legs were told, not asked, to carry on, and they staggered into obedience under the weight of the order. And though every part of the body voted to stop, the count was overruled, and the journey went on.
Personality DescriptionsThey are gracious though, this is what they're pretty much loved for. There are many times when friends count on this and their sentimentality in times of need.They are upright though, this is what they're kind of cherished for. Friends tend to count on this and their considerate nature in times of need.Unfortunately their dishonesty will forever be something to deal with.
Planet DescriptionsField designation: Pavestrand, so called by the crew that nearly starved in its long winters, the planet counts as one of a young and unsettled gathering of five worlds bound to a single star.The dominant minds are tool-users who never developed metal, building instead with grown coral and lashed bone into cities that breathe with the tide.Plant life clusters around the geysers, timing its flowering to the eruptions and scattering seed on the rising steam.
Plant DescriptionsPollinated by gusts of mountain wind, the spent blooms set a cluster of glassy berries that shatter to scatter their seed.Pollinated by long-tongued bats, the spent blooms set a cluster of glassy berries that shatter to scatter their seed.Pollinated by wading marsh birds, the spent blooms harden into barbed burrs that ride out on the hide of any beast.
Plot DescriptionsOne drifter pausing on the way through steps into the picture, and the buttoned-down world of a woman in her prime hangs by a thread that any small thing might cut.Yet, suppose this face surfacing from years gone is no perch to lean a weight on. Or suppose this digs far past anything they were let to hear. Why would a plain boy scarcely grown ever tip the scales in a business of this heft? The die is cast, and there's the end of it.The drifter pausing on the way through insists that the stripling not yet bearded is among the rare souls fettered to a warding beast-spirit, that such fetters are well marked and hallowed in rites kept near every week, and that the hour has struck to take the heart of one such rite. Edgy over the affair and faintly chary of the youth no soul can place, the slip of a lass with inexplicable relish goes along with it, reasoning it would at the least drive the matter forward, come good or ill.
Potion DescriptionsAfter a full day of rest, return the pot to a bare heat and fold in the last yarrow tuber before standing it in the cellar to chill through the night.Bring it gently back to warmth the following morning, working through the last duskmoss stem before setting the pot in cold water to drop the heat fast.Gather a chilled lump of lichen shavings.
Prophecy DescriptionsFrom the dawn when the bell tower leans and does not fall: the keeper of the lost seal will answer for the kindling of a holy war, and in its wake the throne will sit cold for a generation.On the day the cock crows at the heart of the night: a wound that will not close will lay bare the toppling of a false saint, and in its wake an heir will rise from a forgotten hall.Should the night come when a banner falls that was never let go: the brother thought long dead will answer for a winter that buries the high keeps.
R2
Realm DescriptionsClimbing through the vein-threaded channel sunk beneath a dry well, the country past the seam lies as a moor where peat smoke drifts low and the ground sinks soft underfoot. The current tugs hard at the shallows, hauling at the legs of anyone crossing. And granting that nothing here is gentle, the worst of it can be skirted by anyone paying attention: the smoke is a toll that proves bearable with rest and food. Off at the edge of sight, a cry answers another from further off, where the shapes refuse to settle into any familiar form, their nature poised between menace and indifference; marked by the dragged earth, some ridge-backed, some lumbering, the rest pack-bound, they invite a wide path, so the cool head chooses the longer way. The packs tell their own story: shelter and dry wood will be hard to come by ahead, while the pull to see what lies ahead wins out, so an early start before the heat, a quiet trim of every comfort, and a tighter ration of the bread stretch the days, and the once-distant horizon begins to take shape.Crossing through the rippling rip drawn across a salt flat, the terrain rolling outward is a moor where peat smoke drifts low and the ground sinks soft underfoot. Hidden roots and runnels snag the ankle of anyone who lets their eyes wander. Still, granting that nothing here is gentle, the dangers yield to nerve and a slow, deliberate route; the dark here is the dull complaint the legs make and then forget. Past the last clear marker, a chorus of clicks rises and falls, and the cause keeps its outline soft and uncertain, their intent toward strangers left to chance; picked out by the picked bones, one slow-eyed, the next darting, a third scaled, they warrant caution, so the better part is to circle wide. As for stores, salt and medicine are down to a handful of doses, and yet the far country calls louder than caution, so a firm cap on the evening fire, a leaner load left at the cache, and a tighter ration of the bread keep the road open, and the realm opens wider with every mile gained.Climbing through the salt-crusted fissure breathing under a frozen lake, the prospect waiting beyond is a barren where cracked clay bakes and the heat shivers above the broken ground. The wind carries stinging grit that forces the eyes shut at the worst moments. Yet allowing for the steady risk, a wary newcomer rarely meets anything they cannot sidestep, for the smoke is an irritant the seasoned learn to ignore. Up where the land folds away, wings beat somewhere above the ridge, though the beasts responsible keep to the distance, their first move toward a stranger anyone's bet; read by the broken brush, some slow-eyed, others thin-flanked, a few heavy-footed, they are best left alone, since the sane choice is to widen the gap. Provisions weigh on the mind: forage looks thin across this stretch of country, but the far country calls louder than caution, so a daily check of the failing boots, a measured sip from the skins, and a steady eye on the water level buy the room to press on, and the long way forward becomes its own reward.
Religion DescriptionsTravellers crossing into temple country soon hear of the Lantern Communion, a sprawling faith whose clergy keep returning to the silence in which truth can be heard as the lesson that matters. The young are brought to it by vigils that test the will more than the mind, and you will know a follower by a circle broken at the top carried somewhere plain to see. Outsiders meet the congregation of the Pale Reverence with little of the old wariness now.Travellers crossing into temple country soon hear of the Whispered Rite, an unbending faith whose clergy keep returning to honesty even when a lie would be kinder as the lesson that matters. The young are brought to it by labour shared in the temple fields, and you will know a follower by a sprig of dried heather carried somewhere plain to see. Outsiders meet the congregation of the Loom Keepers with little of the old wariness now.Travellers crossing into temple country soon hear of the Hollow Saints, an unbending faith whose clergy keep returning to the silence in which truth can be heard as the lesson that matters. The young are brought to it by fasts kept together through the dark months, and you will know a follower by an unlit candle stub carried somewhere plain to see. Outsiders meet the congregation of the Cradle of Names with little of the old wariness now.
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