Oct 172012
 

Big thank you to everyone who got involved in this, for a final roll call and what it has meant for the blog, click here. And if you do want an NPC, check back next November, when I do it all again. For now though the offer is closed…

That’s right, yesterday we passed the 10,000 page views mark. This is great news for a blog that’s only just over four months old, and as such I couldn’t help but celebrate. I was wondering how best to do it, and after a while realised that best thing to do would be to offer something to the community that has made me feel so welcome.

Since I started writing on here, the RPG community online has been amazing. I’ve gotten to make friends, and contacts, from all over the place. I’ve even got sponsorship from a truly top notch Chap. People have been so open in sharing what they know, and what they’ve been working on. I have a folder on my desk top with over thirty free RPGs in it that people just put out there for anyone to play. In other posts I’ve spoken about designing a card game of my own, that when it’s complete will be available to download for free. That’s not quite enough though, and still some ways off.

So what I’m offering, is a free NPC that I will write up for you, for anyone who comments on this blog post. I was originally thinking of something like asking you to click the Facebook ‘Like’ button for this blog to grab your free NPC, but if you like it, the button’s right there on the home page and you should click it anyway. Instead, all you need to do is write something below. If you don’t mind what you get, just a quick, ‘hello, can I have my free thingy’ will be enough, but if you want something genre specific, tell me what you have in mind. The only thing I won’t be doing is stats for any systems.

There are simply too many out there and I do not know them all. I will make it clear in the description and background what they’re good and/or bad at, and trust the people who know the systems better than I to work the numbers out. So, if you want a spacefaring pirate, a child in a Steampunk game, or anything else at all, just let me know, and I’ll get right on it. Closing date for this offer will be one month from today, so the 17th of November. I will endeavour to reply as speedily as possible, but depending on demand, it could take a wee bit longer. Oh, and if you like your NPC, and this idea in general, then please send your friends here. The kind nature and sharing of cool stuff that people find out there is what keeps this community so interesting.

Kind regards, and massive thank yous to everyone. Shorty

  122 Responses to “A big milestone has been passed, so you can all have a free NPC. Each.”

  1. Just found the blog, I like it a lot! Just added it to my blog reader so that I can check it out daily. Thanks.

    We’re playing an OSR campaign called “The Black City” (home campaign at Dreams in the Lich House blog). I’m looking for a Viking adventurer.

    • Halldor Rodmarson is the seventh child of a once famous warrior of the same name. HE gave up using his given name the night of his Father’s funeral. The other sons and daughters cared not for martial prowess, living off a name that meant something, but by their inaction, dragging it through the mud.

      At the height of the funerary celebrations, with everyone in their cups, dancing, singing or passed out, he stole onto his father’s longboat and wrested his ax from his cold stiff hand. He then made way from the country of his birth with one goal, to keep his father’s name alive and in honour. The fine bearded ax he had carved with the Kenaz rune, and stories tell of the wounds it inflicts seared closed with a magical fire when Halldor fights in the red rage.

      He can be found these days travelling the land, joining up with any person or party whose deeds could bring him and his name renown. He asks for no payment, bar his share of any treasure, most of which makes its way into the hands of Bards and Skalds for them to sing of his glories.

      Always happier in a fight, he is quite when not engaged in martial activity, but not so much that he comes across as impolite, just often deep in thought.

      Physically, he is as big as any Northman, and sports the long blonde hair and beard seen so often among their people. he stands a little over six feet tall, and is broad across the shoulders, with a handsome face and a ruddy complexion.

  2. Hi Paul, I’m looking for a retired veteran living in a frontier community (tent city) who would have some talent that he could offer adventurers (words of wisdom etc) that would earn him beer money without putting him in danger.

    [This is for our low-magic D&D campaign]

    Thanks!

    Don’t forget to enter my DARK SHADOWS blu-ray giveaway: http://www.heropress.net/2012/10/dark-shadows-blu-ray-triple-play.html Even if you don’t have a Blu-Ray player it makes a great Christmas present ;)

    • Bariesou Kallas makes his living these days selling supplies for the hunting and trapping of animals. he knows his wares backwards and always has time to tell his customers how best to use them. He is strong believer in the adage that it’s best to to teach a man to fish than give him a fish already caught. When encountering people who fit more of a lawful good mentality he becomes all business, and speaks only to answer questions, but to everyone else he is a very open and likable individual, with plenty of stories to tell.

      It soon becomes clear why he clams up around the more noble of people as he made an awful lot of coin in his younger days as a poacher. He would trap and butcher wild animals, usually kept on land owned by nobility, and sell the rare organs and other sundries to enchanters and the like. because of the various uses of these body parts, Bariesou is surprisingly knowledgeable on matters arcane, and will offer his experiences to younger adventures to live that life vicariously through them once more.

      Although he likes a drink, he is still in good shape for a man of his years, and gas maintained a lithe build that kept him out of the worst scrapes his ‘career’ could have gotten him into. He is also very charming – a result of having to talk his way out some awkward situations from his youth – and still has an eye for the young ladies.

  3. Wow, you’ll have 20k before you know it. Added you to my RSS reader.

    Messing with Pathfinder, DCC, and DnD Next at the moment. I’m in need of an eccentric spell caster of some sort. Maybe a tone-deaf bard.

    • Nergüi Khünbish always knew he would be an adventurer, and spent his formative years in various taverns and inns, hanging around with warriors and rouges, hearing their stories, and quickly becoming something of a mascot. They would buy the young man drinks and regale him with stories, often laughing at his attempts to join them. He has a slight build that would make him a poor warrior, and his almost total lack of coordination would ensure he had a very short career as a thief of any type. That being the case he devoted himself to the arcane arts, but quickly realised how hard that was and sated himself with a few low level spells that would be handy to a group of adventurers.

      His main talent lied with telling stories, after all he had grown up listening to them. he couldn’t play an instrument worth a damn though, and had a singing voice not even a other could love. Instead he would compose epic poems and soon found himself accompanying parties of adventurers on the promise he would share their exploits with the world. the drinking was a big problem though, as his epic poems were very long, and he would drink throughout, slurring his words and forgetting his compatriots’ name before he made it half way through.

      he still longs for the excitement of a quest, and will willingly join anyone who will have him, still firmly believing that one day his name will be sung throughout the world. In the rather pleasing baritone that he wrongly imagines himself to possess.

  4. Oooh, I’d like a charlatan in a low/no magic setting.

    • In a world where people were looking for a magic elixir, Grayson Dashiel was the person to provide it. He grew up as the son of a leather tanner, and worked in various trades to do with the dyeing of cloth and fabric. He became an expert on creating the most wonderful colours to adorn garment, but found that he was never appreciated, or paid any where near what he expected.

      But he always watched the so called miracle workers as they made their way into town, with fancy potions and magic cloaks that promised the world. He watched them work, picked up the words needed to part fool from coin, and set out on the road himself. Instead of two-bit back waters, he found large tent cities and gatherings of people all intent on making their fortune in rediscovering lost gold and ancient relics. they were easy pickings as most had left home for the first time to try their luck in a new discovered tomb, and hardly any would get out alive to complain if the healing potions he sold them were no more than coloured water with aniseed flavourings.

      Before long he was selling magic items that could be made to glow a little at the right time, and amulets laced with contact narcotics to give a feeling of invincibility. He’s close to having enough to retire on now, is old Grayson, but he’s still looking out for one last job.

  5. A dwarf who does not drink alcohol, making his way as a thief. Does not like to talk about clans, and only sings dwarven songs about treasure or the fall of great houses.

    • Norgrim Goronthrall should have brought shame to his family. true, he knew to hold an ex, but only long enough to wing it at someone. After his first naming day celebrations, when he got as drunk as you would expect a dwarf, it took him a week to recover, and he swore off the ale and mead from that day onward. His parents and clan mates soon started to shun the light footed and quick dwarf, enjoying the company of more… Traditional dwarfs. Rather than his accept his place as an outcast though, Norgrim would shadow his kinsmen, listening to their stories, and as some slight revenge, taking small items from them if he heard them speaking about his failings in ‘being a real dwarf’.

      Eventually he tried something a bit too risky, the thrill of pocketing loose coins and small items of jewelry quickly diminishing. He had his eye on the prized battleaxe of his uncle, a mighty warrior who was rumoured to have slain dragons with the finely crafted weapon, back in his youth. Norgrim did everything he could to steal the item, knowing that with the act, he would be removing himself from his clan forever. What he did not know was that the ax was enchanted, and it would do more than tear through finest armour as if it was paper; it was soul linked to his uncle, and when Norgrim placed his hand upon it in the dead of night, its screech woke the whole hall of his clansmen.

      Rather than banish him, they imprisoned him, and he was left alone for years at a time, until eventually a face he hardly recognized stared at him through the bars of the cage he called home. His sister, many years his junior, and already showing signs that like him, she would never be accepted unless she changed her nature. Together they planned to flee, to make new names for themselves. his sister was not so subtle though, and talked to someone she thought she could trust about this plan. She was shorn of all her hair and banished into the cold. Many years later, Norgrim found his own freedom, and searched many decades for his sister, eventually finding her grave in a pauper’s cemetery. He promised that he would not let that happen to himself, and has since wandered the world as a thief of unexpected cunning and guile. He talks little of his dwarvish past and keeps his beard trimmed short. At the end of the night, when most of his kind would be drunk or unconscious, he sings beautiful songs, about the riches he hopes to posses, and what happens when his kinsmen fail, and their great houses rot underground, to be picked over centuries later by treasure hunters and grave robbers.

  6. Well done!

    I’ll take an NPC for a late 1960s supers campaign set in LA. Go wild.

    Oh, the superteam of this campaign has their HQ under the Playboy Mansion (West).

    • In the early 1960′s Jacob Brookmyre was in the stands at the Riverside Grand Prix, cheering on his brother. It was not to be though, and due to a collision in the later laps, the elder Brookmyre – Phillip – was forced to retire, ending the ambitions of the newly created racing team, Castillaro Nostro. With their investment wasted the team vanished quickly, and Phillip struggled to find work. A year later though, he was racing again. Jacob was thrilled, but due to a mechanical failure it was to be his brother’s last race. The car exploded in a huge fireball five laps in, and the only comfort to Jacob was that his brother never suffered.

      Fast forward three years, and Jacob was a racer himself, and doing quite well. Everyone thought he could have been the next big thing, but one night while celebrating a win, he found himself involved in a bar fight and someone on the receiving end of a thrown punch passed away the following day in hospital. What no one knew, as Jacob wanted to keep this secret to himself, was that the man who had struck, was a willing accomplice in his brother’s murder. His car had been rigged as revenge from the company he had doomed with one bad race, and Jacob was happy knowing his brother had been avenged.

      Prison was hard on him though; apart from his quick temper, Jacob was a good man. when he was offered the chance of an early release he jumped at it, all he needed to do was volunteer for a medical trial on some of the inmates. He was not to know that what they were testing was another in a long line of supposed super soldier serums, nor that those who were successful weren’t released, but kept locked away in a secret institute for further testing.

      Jacob was one of the lucky ones though, and not only did the serum work on him, giving him superhuman levels of fitness and endurance, allowing him to easily outdistance even the most advanced racing car, he also made friends with one of the scientists, who saw in Jacob a man who should not be in prison. With the right paperwork and a glowing recommendation, Jacob was soon released, and with the help of the Doctor Charlesworth, he embarked on a career of crime fighting, targeting the same organised crime families that had been responsible for his brother’s fate.

      These days he is known as Thunder Road, and to most people he is a blur of dark blue as he speeds through Los Angeles, bringing down mobsters wherever he goes.

  7. [...] celebrate getting over 10,000 hits, Shorty Monster is offering to write up free npc, in the form of brief prose character sketches, for people to use. [...]

  8. Great idea, and very generous indeed! I’ll take a freedom fighter in a steampunk AI-controlled dictatorship, and a side of fries!

    • Only 8 years ago, the name Delilah Bleys did not exist. The body that would one day carry that sobriquet did, but not in many ways that we consider human. Then, she was born, released, a fully grown woman with no concept of self or the world, but released into it, kicking and screaming, pale and slight. The years seem to have been kind to her though. Her physique now more impressive than most men her age, and an easy going smile on a face that could have once been pretty, but is now masked with scars.

      She chose her own name, and the path she would follow. There were others who know how to evade the clockwork Watchers, always looking out for rogue humans to return to the Hub. There were even free humans who knew how the automatons communicated, and could change the way they thought. Bleys wasn’t very quiet, and didn’t have the patience to try and understand the Difference Engine’d overlords of her world. What she had was the strength and conviction of purpose to push her large scarred fist through the chest plates of the watchers, and draw out the cog-wheeled innards that kept them moving. That gave them such an awkward parody of life.

      Oh yes, and a heart as big as her fist. You couldn’t hope to meet a more friendly human, someone who had lived through hell, and still came out the other side with a smile, and a bear hug that could crack ribs.

  9. Lovely idea.
    Nimble: an elven illusionist burglar whose motto is “He who travels lightest, travels fastest and bestest.”

    • Some time back, Nimble quite working for a thieves guild. he enjoyed the company when he was on down time, but when it came to work, there was no one he trusted more than himself. He can climb walls with little effort, pick a lock without springing a trap, and could create his won distractions. There were of course other reasons for his solitary life.

      He used to work as part of a crew, and a lot of people in the know would tell you that he was a sure fire bet to be leading his own some day. They did great jobs together; big, daring jobs that had noble houses in fear. Complex jobs, months, sometimes years in the planning that would pay off so well that they had months and years to plan. he won’t talk about the last job they did together, but of course everyone knows. Some times people went to extraordinary lengths to prevent thieves accessing their homes, and who the hell plans for a victim to have bound a Daemon to protect themselves. The chances of it working were so slim, the price so high, that it was inconceivable. This time though, it was his crew that paid the price.

      All of their tricks and feints were for naught. Nimble left behind close friends that day, and almost his right arm. The scars still itch furiously on hot days. these days, he’s his own Elf, he takes small jobs, and walks away with the coin he needs to survive. He never stays in the same place for long, even though there’s plenty who would be happy to offer someone with his skills a home and a job. What no one knows, even those who claim to be in-the-know, is that Nimble never stopped planning, never stopped getting ready. the fact that no one expects it, means that when he pulls of the next big job, he’ll do it alone, with the possessions in his pack, and no one will ever suspect him.

  10. Cool idea, thanks. I’ve been considering a fat sword and sorcery swordsman.

    • It takes a killed swordsman indeed to make their living as a paid second for rich gentlemen’s habits of getting into duels they cannot win. And Grantham De La Sacre really, really did not look the part. Often to be found in drinking halls and venues offering the finest of fine dining, he looked more like a retired business man who sported martial attire and a very fine sword indeed as some sort of affectation. He was quick to laugh and low to take offense, and even if he did, his sharp wits were all most people were ever on the receiving end of. he took all comments about his size in good humour, buying drinks for those that found new and humourous ways to make light of his girth.

      And every once in a while, he would step in for a drunken fop in the cold light of dawn when they realised the low born drinker who had so offended their drunken sensibilities the night before was in fact a sergeant in the watch, or a bodyguard of high repute. If you wanted Grantham as your second, he was not cheap. And many a swordsman scoffed as they saw him climb slowly from a carriage in the morning mists. the smile thinned as they saw that the sword he drew – a long curved saber, more often seen wielded by men on horseback – was not only made of the highest quality steel, but had clearly seen some use in the past. With two practice swings he was ready to go, and would patiently wait for the lighter footed man to come to him.

      In a flurry of steel he could disarm his opponent, or give them a scar on their cheek that they would never loose. If it was to be to the death, he would waste no time on fancy sword work, respecting his opponents too much to embarrass them. Instead he would end it as quickly as he was able, and if his opponent was an honourable man, defer half of his payment to the family or widow.

      And then it would be time for a large breakfast and another day full of good humour and fine company!

  11. Congrats on the milestone.

    I’d love a merchant in a starport, someone with a storefront, appropriate for a Star Wars type game.

    • Like all Chadra-Fan, Trage was covered in a rich dark fur from head to foot. Very few of hes kind took the time to style the fur on their heads as she did. It was lifted into a long Mohawk and interwoven with fine gems and precious metals. She was very proud of her ‘hair’, and when dealing with her customers could often be seen to stroke it and make minute adjustments to the crest. Some think that she’s compensating for her small stature, small even for the bat-like species she is part off, but the few her know her well, understand it as pure vanity.

      She has done well for herself has Trage. using her natural gifts of salvage, and then hiring others to do the dirty work, she runs a successful business on an affluent star-port. Buying damaged components, and sometimes whole space faring vessels that are beyond repair, and stripping them down to the component parts. these are then refurbished and sold on at a higher price as replacements. Although she knows how to make a fast turn-around on a small investment, Trage is always honest with her clients and customers.

      In her world it is too easy to make the wrong kind of enemies if a business deal goes south, so she makes sure she is beyond reproach. This has helped her in her successes, but has recently started to cause her an unexpected problem. A criminal Cartel, the Umbruc, have seen her success, and her reputation as straight shooter, and have started to threaten her business. They see her as a perfect front for their smuggling operations, but she knows it will mean say good-bye to her integrity. For now, no one else knows what is troubling her, but if the threats become too much, she has very few options open to her…

      Star Wars type, has become just Star Wars. The Chadra-Fan looked pretty interesting so I used them. I’m sure you can quickly make up a name for the race if you decide to set it in your own universe though.

  12. Well done Shorty!

    I don’t yet play any RPGs, and I’ve had to back track through your blog to find out what a NPC is. Because of that, this page has intentionally been left blank.

    • I’m guessing you have now been made aware of the acronym? Think of them as supporting characters that the Protagonists would meet on their adventures.

      And thanks!

      • Yep – I’ve been learning a lot since you started the blog!

        Please can I have a NPC who is vaguely aware of quests and things, is happy to stop and chat for a while, but has no active inclination to get involved, and is busy getting on with other things?

        • Ol-tor the Magnificent is widely renowned as the finest of men. Offering to help out whenever he can, to anyone who needs him. Sadly this means he is almost always busy on some quest or other, or just relaxing in a bar after completing some epic quest.

          So he might lend a hand, and is definitely thinking about it, but will probably just chat with you about it for a while, while drinking a few pints.

  13. Gratz man and id like to take your offer of a NPC and choose an errant knight with huge problems for Pendragon :)

    • Sir Baxley de Courcey isn’t so much questing for something as running from someone. Not that he’d admit that to anyone.

      The tall blonde Knight Errant has a reputation to maintain, and it’s that reputation which gives him the excuse he needs to never return home, and never have to face his father. If they were to ever meet again, de Courcey would surely perish at the will of his father’s witch. As a young boy he should have known better than to antagonize the old woman, but she lived a hermit lifestyle and it was practically a rite of passage for all the youngsters of court to steal into her den and bring something back.

      What the young man did not know was that no one else had ever been brave enough to enter the squalled hole she called a home, and instead found trinkets and claimed they were relics of witchcraft. Baxley was either too brave – or too foolish – for his own good, and one night braved the sunken hovel, returning with a small wax doll. He was lauded as the most honourable and brave of the young men, but the witch did not forget. She spent years working her way into his father’s favour, becoming a trysted adviser by means dark and unknown.

      When she had the elder de Courcey wrapped around her thin and stunted fingers, she demanded justice for the slight visited upon her the boy who was now a man. The father had no choice, and declared his son to be no heir of his own, and that he was to be dragged forward to face death for his villainous crime. de Coursey ran from his home that day, in act of cowardice that would forever haunt him, and now lives off the kindness of others who think him the epitome of the chivalric code.

      they can never know that he lives in mortal fear of all witches now, believing that any one of them could inform his nemesis of his whereabouts. So, he keeps moving on, engaging in acts of bravery as way of denying his cowardice, knowing that his own father wants him dead. One day he may find redemption, but not until he makes a move to seek it…

  14. I could use a villain for my low level borderlands campaign. Nothing too horrific; PG-13 or so, since there are kids in my group.

    • Quick question, when you say Borderlands, are you talking the console game or some other RPG I don’t know about?

      • As in the Keep on the Borderlands. An area at the fringe of civilization, on the edge of monster-infested wilderness. Pretty generic D&D milieu, in other words. I didn’t realize there was a console game by that name. Sorry for the confusion.

    • Every once in a while new adventurers came to the Keep. They always brought a lot of their own people, but never enough to run it as smoothly as they would like. That’s were Carthar came in.

      He knew a lot of people from the surrounding areas, and could always find someone to work in the keep in a lowly position, out of the way and nondescript. They’d just be there, bustling about and carrying things around. Sometimes they’d carry stuff all the way back to Carthar, but that was far from his main line business. No, he traded off information gathered from his workers in the Keep, and passed it on to some of the bandit leaders and what-not who made their living in the forests and caves near by. Those he disliked would pay for information that would prove incorrect; they’d attack the adventurers in groups far too small. Once the dust had settled Carthar’s boys would move in, claiming everything left behind. Adventurers wouldn’t care for no-magical items anyway, but Carthar could sell them on.

      To those he liked he would give the best stuff. Give them a fighting chance against Adventurers who were getting too big for their boots. If he thought he was in danger of being found out, if his network of informants and thieves was being compromised, he would wait until he knew the Keep was empty of adventurers, then sneak in with his boys, through passages he has hidden well and cause as much chaos as possible, then leave. Eventually they’ll move on, and new bodies will occupy the Keep for him to torment.

      Why would he behave like this? He was once a man in good standing in the Keep. He worked hard for his master, until he was framed by someone he thought of as a friend. he was vilified and cast out to the dangers of the surrounding lands, where everyone knew he was a man from the Keep. He quickly turned this to his advantage, and although he no longer looks like a well turned out servant, he still has an upright baring and the manners of someone used to serving. He uses these to mentally disarm his enemies, then sends in his boys who know a lot more about how to wield a weapon than he ever will.

      • Yes, he’ll do quite nicely. Now I just have to figure out some hooks to get the PCs entangled in his schemes…

  15. Congrats on your 10,000th view! How about writing a character description for Savage Worlds and I’ll include the character in Wild Card Creator! (Statting out the character is optional).

    • I do know the Savage Worlds system very well indeed, but to be fair to people whose systems I didn’t know, I’ll leave the stats up to you.

      No gentleman should be without a Valet. They are indispensable aids and confidants, with an ear to the ground throughout all of society and can protect their employer from all manner of scandal.

      Well, most can. Master Shaw is a different kind of valet. He protects his employer from actual slings and arrows, and allows outrages fortunes their freedom. An ex-soldier he is a proficient rifleman, pugilist and horseman, an although he costs more than a regular valet, his past employers all speak very highly of him. If you are heading out of London on a Grand Tour, he is just the man you need. Within London, hire him only if you have need of his particular skills. Although his most senior rank held as sergeant meant he still had to obey the chain of command, members of the aristocracy who aren’t paying his wage don’t fall within his ideas of said chain, and are sometimes spoken to as such.

      His large build and imposing height, topped with a head of black hair and an impressive set of mutton-chops can also draw attention away from his employer at society events. There have been many a well born lady who has fallen under the spell of his stern good looks and darkened complexion. None will compare to his lost love though, and as such, his honour is beyond reproach.

  16. Nice idea, I need a travelling preacher for my Deadlands campaign :)

    • Father Davies believes. Some who visit his tent revivals find his fervour too much, and assume that it’s nothing more than a show designed to strip them of their coin in the name of saving their souls. Most though find his rapturous sermons uplifting in a way they have never experienced. His following has been growing over the short time since he heard The Voice.

      The Metatron came to him at his darkest hour, The Voice of God, able to commune with mortal man in the name of the Almighty dragged him the gutter and the arms of his naive and impressionable parishioners. The Voice empowered him, and drove him forward. Although he seems unable to perform physical miracles, of the type often plied by healing hands ministers throughout the Weird West, he has seemingly unbound levels of charisma. If people turn up to a meeting with an open mind, they leave with it filled with the glories of God as seen through Father Davies eyes.

      A lot of people have tried to take advantage of his new fond popularity, but so far none have been able to fool the Father or make anything from him, as the money he takes from collections is simply enough to keep him fed and travelling; the rest he donates to good causes wherever he finds them. these vagabonds have no idea of the protection father Davies has surrounding him though, thinking him to be a conman like themselves. But he has a supernatural guardian; The voice is still with him, empowering his words and keeping him from harm. Sadly, The Voice has no divine qualities at all, instead being a Reckoner who is using Father Davies to plant suggestions in the minds of those who come to hear him speak. He has no idea himself, and would be mortified beyond belief if he knew what the Voice had planned…

      • Cheers boss, this will be surfacing in my campaign shortly, with a few tweaks in case any of my players read this, of course…

  17. [...] for your time and patience in this matter. To pay you back, I will offer you a free NPC. Just click here and follow the instructions.  Share this:TwitterFacebookLike this:LikeBe the first to like this. This entry was posted in [...]

  18. Congratulations, that’s a really nice milestone!

  19. Great blog Shorty!
    I really like the horror aspect you go into.
    Keep up the good work, and congrats on the milestone.

    I was wondering if I could get an eccentric, young, witch/wizard type in a steam-punk setting?

    • She always found the symmetry beautiful, watching cogs turn in clockwork motion, instantly able to calculate lines symmetry in the ticking of second to second to second… Each movement changing the pattern as the machinery worked. Eliza always knew how the cogs would mesh, what the patterns would show, and how to use this knowledge. Some called her a Witch, as if her powers of precognition were supernatural in nature, but she just knew how to spot patterns, how to connect the spinning wheels of what is, and see what will be.

      People used to travel great distances to have their future laid out for them, back when she was very young. Now she is a little older, nearing twenty, she has spent a large part of her life travelling, learning and teaching as she goes. It’s not just that she sees the future anymore, but my applying her knowledge, she change it. As long as she likes you, Eliza can raise you from a pauper to a Prince, but she is quick to change her mind, or forget about you entirely, as she turns her attention to the beautiful symmetry that surrounds her, in the shape of the most wonderous devices every crafted…

      This lack of focus means she she pays so little attention to herself that most imagine her as nothing but a crazy person, with unkempt hair, and mismatching clothes hanging off a frail physique and hiding a plain face. If you were to pass her in the street, not knowing the power she possesses, you would likely cross over to the other side, hearing her mumbling about angles and integers, and lines that reflect perfectly…

  20. My next game will be set on a STL spaceship near the orbit of Jupiter, the crew are privateers for GE who is at war with ExxonMobil. The ship is set up for boarding and capture.

    Just any NPC that would be on this ship.

    • It as almost universal truth that ship’s cooks have a long and interesting history, ideal for spinning yarns and entertaining cabin boys who will go on to great things. While no one could deny that Hamish was certainly a man of mystery, and must surely have some stories to tell, he never offered them up, no matter who asked. He was a miserably cur of a man, with a face pock-marked and ugly, scarred from bar fights he would start at the slightest provocation. From the look of him you would think winning the bar fights was a rare event, but his size belied his past. Collapsed muscles that looked like fat, and knuckles mangled from his time as a fighter.

      The old hands on the crew knew to leave Hamish to himself, not even bothering to find out if actually had a last name. The food was as good as it could be based on the dry rations they subsisted off, and as long it kept coming, they would leave him to it. It was only when he drank that he spoke of his past; his life as king of the ring! When he was younger and less damaged, when women wanted him and men tested their mettle against him. Of the time he killed that poor young buck who had only wanted to impress his lady friend.

      Now he lives far from his home, with a view out of the ship revealing the void that he feels inside himself. He usually drinks alone, and everybody leaves him to it…

  21. Nice Blog. I will come here often.

    I think a NPC based on my son would be cool. He would love it. He is eight, slight of build, but thinks he is buff. Athletic with a wild imagination. Very polite and observant. Anything in a High Magic fantasy setting would be ideal. Or super hero.

    Thank you.

    • This sounds great, and very sweet of you. If you don’t mind me asking, does he have a nickname, or a shortened version of his given name? Something that he will recognize as being him…

      • Tyler or Ty.

        • Ty-son du Vey is a force to be reckoned with. No magical scholar has yet been able to explain how someone with such a small frame, especially one so young, could perform the feats of strength that seemed so natural to this little hero. At just eight years old he knocked upon the door of a farmhouse, looking over his shoulder when the door was opened, as if looking for someone who had just gone out of sight. The farmer took him and him fed him, bathed him – although that was harder than it should have been, if Ty did not want something to happen, it took a considerable effort to make it so. he was taken into town the next day, trying to find his parents, but no one recognised the boy at all. While the grown ups were talking, Ty become bored and wandered away, it was only the sound of a woman’s screams that alerted the farmer that his charge had vanished.

          He rushed towards the screaming and saw that it was issuing from a young lady; she was in a dread panic as the young boy had wandered into the cattle enclosure and was walking straight towards the prize bull, a smile on his face, unaware of the danger he was in. As the lumbering beast charged, Ty held his ground, one hand held in front of his face as a scream of dismay echoed around the clearing, everyone knowing there could be only one result. One minute later the farmer went into the enclosure to see if there was any hope of saving the bull. It’s body had crumpled into the hand of the boy, as it if had run into an ancient oak tree. The boy had stroked the bull’s head and carried on as if nothing had happened.

          The farmer had no clue what to do, so took the bot to a local wise man. From there Ty has traveled the land, with scholar and wizards unable to fathom the source of, or even the limit to, his powers. Still a young boy, Ty walks with them, helping anyone in need as he does so, his strength kept in check by his good nature and affable curiosity.

  22. I’m taking you up on your Reddit offer, but congrats, it did bring your site to my attention, and it looks pretty interesting.

    Any way, right now I’m running an Over The Edge campaign, (modern day weirdo conspiracy / fantasy.)

    Anyway, my group has decided to start a street gang, and needs a few drug wholesaler connections. Could you provide one? Please, no references to breaking bad, I already jumped that shark earlier in the campaign.

    A suggestion: A modern grower / cook that fancies himself a modern day alchemist. Use it if you like.

    • To say he was a drug dealer, Karl ‘Twitch’ Hansberg made people nervous. He always looked on edge, looking over his shoulder like he was expecting trouble. It would be easy to suggest that he was partaking of his own concoctions, and he certainly seemed to know a lot of first stories about their effects. But he was so damned good at making them, and offered them so cheaply that he always got repeat customers. ON the right nights, hanging at the correct corners, his small frame and shock of near white hair could just about be seen behind crowd of people all eager to sample his wares. Only the hulking form of ‘Knuckles’ seeming to stop the masses from rushing him and taking what they wanted.

      What no one knows is that Twitch is nervous for a reason. He knows nothing about making drugs, and does partake a bit too regularly. This has been allowed to continue for quite some time as it distracts attention away from the brains behind the operation. The huge slab of meat with the obvious hand cannon ruining the line of what would be quite a nice suit is actually the creator genius behind this little operation. From the get go he wasn’t taken seriously, people saw the jutting neanderthal brow and assumed he had no idea what he was taking about. So he hooked up with Karl; a loser one step away from hitting bottom, and went into business. As long as Karl keeps it together when they’re on the street, then everything will just carry on as planned. And Knuckles – otherwise known as Frederich Berg – can carry on his experiments with a willing test subject.

      • Awesome, they’re both in, (perhaps after replacing Knuckles’ gun with a machete due to the oppressive gun control involved in the area.)

        They both seem like they’d be right at home in this game world.

        • Glad you like them. And of course you should feel free to adapt as you see fit. The idea of him with a kick ass sword is actually quite a cool one.

  23. Awesome!

    I’m running a Zombie Apocalypse campaign. There’s a group of scientists who can cure (somewhat) the virus. But they aren’t exactly doing it to save human kind. They’re just pure breed scientists and want to experiment. They sell their product as working, but they themselves have no clue.

    What does the leader of this small gang of scientists look like? (the group is 4-5 scientists, including the leader).

    Thanks!

    • When anyone first meets this motley crew of lab monkeys, the person they assume in charge is not. He may be tall, with commanding good looks and a full head of hair, but he also knows that without Doctor DuFort the project would have fallen by the wayside a long time ago. In her sixties, and looking like everyone’s favourite elderly Aunt, Catherine DuFort has a brilliant, but cold, intellect. She hides this side of herself well though, and when wasteland survivors make their way to their safe house, following the rumours of a cure, Dr DuFort is the perfect guest.

      She knows how to talk to laypersons on scientific matters, but never talks down to them. She is patient with their inquiries where the other scientists just itch for new test subjects. It all pays off though. It’s hard to resist a simple ‘blood test’ from the frail old woman when she promises it won’t hurt. If they come in large groups, they leave with the ‘product’, and assurances of its efficacy, but a lot lighter in the way of supplies and anything else they have to barter. Sometimes smaller groups come, maybe even lone wanderers with little to trade and nothing to lose. That’s fine too. Dr. DuFort is always looking for test subjects…

  24. Saw this on Reddit, thought you could help me with a character. I normally tend to play small races, but this time I’d like to play the complete opposite. Someone large, male or female or anything really. Weapon – a katar and a set of chains (which are usually kept wrapped around their hands). Mean and fierce, but at the same time has a side of femininity and emotion and yet don’t come across as kind and gentle. Has the ability to use powerful magic, but doesn’t really use unless absolutely necessary. Got to get onto fleshing out a name, more personality/quirks, and a background.

    • Grey Kale had a start in life that meant she was lucky to sea her 15th birthday. Not that she had any idea when that was. Most girls taken as slaves at a young age take their own life or retreat so far into themselves that they might as well have done. Kale wasn’t exactly pretty though, and was put to work in a different field. She was fierce from the moment she was taken, clawing and biting anyone who came near her. She was quickly chained and taken to a Master of Games. He saw in her a fighting spirit and used it well; pitting her against wild animals in pit fights. It wasn’t long before she became just as wild as the creatures she fought. With a length of her chain in each fist, she would charge at the beasts, screaming and flailing, able to ignore the pain from the multitude of bites and scratches.

      She lived through this for years, and never saw, or even understood that there could be, an end to it. But the Master of Games had enemies, as all evil men do, and before long they came for him. Instead of relishing her chance of Freedom Kale struck out at those who could rescue her. It took three strong men to eventually subdue to teenager, and they all suffered for their attempt. When she came too, she was once again shackled, but not in a pit, or a cage, but in a moving wagon. A tall woman stood over her. A woman she would eventual come to call Lara. For years Lara raised this young woman, taught her to focus her aggression, and how to turn the links of metal into weapons that could be wielded with finesse. She was taught to inscribe the links with powerful runes, making them even more effective.

      She was taught her name, and how to write it down. How to read from ancient scrolls and transfer the power in them to steel and iron. She learned that other people aren’t all bad, and that friendship was to be treasured.

      In her mid twenties now, Grey Kale is built like the pit fighter she spent her formative years being. Her hair long but tied back, and so grey as to be almost white. She still wears her chains, but they are finally wrought and wrapped around hr wrists and hands, the initiated may even be able to spot the fine rune work engravings, and might wonder how this uncivilized looking warrior came to possess such power.

  25. Hey man.

    Cross marketing from Reddit really works. I always like adding sites like this to my collection for resource and information gathering. Grats on the milestone as well!

    Tomorrow I’m starting a new campaign with my group. I plan on it being a lot darker than what we’ve been used to in the past. The well-being of an entire city rests on them figuring out how to prevent a plague from spreading… if they even choose to save it. Nevertheless, there is a king who has promised his daughter’s hand to one of the adventurers. She is to play a neutral party and a sort of light in the darkness. I’m having trouble coming up with a decent, non-generic, backstory for a princess, as well as some sort of motivation for her in this whole ordeal.

    I appreciate this, and it’s a really cool way to give back to your audience.

    Cheers

    • The first daughter of the King always knew what she was destined to be; a bartering piece in trade negotiations or a peace treaty. The first son had an even clearer idea. The rest of the King’s offspring were trusted to find their own way. Selena, the third daughter grew tired an bored with antics of her siblings. Most lived their roles as expected, concentrating on the courtly aspects of their existence. Her older sister turned from that path; wearing clothes better suited to a Prince than a Princess and caused her father endless sleepless nights. Selena did not want to upset anyone, but was not happy at all with being promised to man she may never have met to make life easier for the Kingdom.

      She turned to the church. In a quite way at first, shunning the harsh discipline of the Sisters but taking comfort in the routines and the solace offered by the prayers and rituals. She had a gift for the healing arts, and after two years of study was considering taking her vows of holy order. She would need to discuss this with her Father of course; a Princess’s life was not truly her own to live. She just wasn’t quick enough, and found out before she could broach the subject that she was to be wed to some hero of the realm… or some such. Many would have expected her to be inconsolable, but she was made of stronger stuff.

      She retired to her chambers to pray and seek guidance, guidance she received directly from her God. She was to be wed, and nothing could stop that, but she was going to be in a position where her healing gifts could be used to great effect. Not only that but she could spread the Word to troubled souls who had had their faith tested by recent hardships. The next morning she awoke with resolve, and knew that no matter what happened, her God walked with her and they could do good things together.

  26. Thank you for doing this! I’ve been trying to find someone to help create a character so his is perfect :)

    I’m creating a small world in a space-western type setting (think Firefly meets Mass Effect race diversity/politics). I need a NPC crime lord who rules the 2 million people who live on his little world. He’s not a nice guy, but he cares about his world’s survival and it’s inhabitants (who will soon be under attack).

    This is a Savage Worlds campaign, so grandiose, over-the-top activities are welcome! Thanks again.

    • From a distance, the first thing that people think when they see Wei Tou is ‘diminutive’. He sits hunkered over, and walks with his head bowed. He hires body guards who loom over him, and the women who drape themselves over him are always tall slender things. he wears simple suits, but they are expertly tailored for him, and hide his pistol and knife most effectively. getting closer his features become apparent; of obvious oriental decent, he keeps his face clean shaven and does nothing to hide the scar that runs from below his left eye to the left corner of his mouth, and down to his jawline. If he was ever to smile, the effective would certainly be upsetting to those of a fragile disposition.

      Although small he got where he is at such a young age with a ferocity that staggers belief. Men almost twice his size never expected the physical onslaught he brought to bear against them, killing them quickly and bloodily while others could only look on. These days no one changeless Wei for supremacy on his own world. there are those who appear to be in power, who daily condemn him and his actions, who openly call for his death or exile. Wei owns them all. The foolhardy young boys and girls who join because these rallying cries are quickly brought before him and offered a choice; to fight against him, or to die.

      Those who impress him are left alive, treated with respect and often become his most vocal supporters. Wei understands he needs to keep people on his side, and is never needlessly cruel, showing mercy when it is least expected, but brutally punishing those who actively move against him. Because of his machinations, he has a veritable army at his disposable and he can strike down hard at any who try to take what he claims as his own.

  27. I think it’s really cool what you’re doing here.

    If you could write a male character that fits in a Noir style setting, that would be wonderful.

    • Frankie knows women. They just can’t get enough of him; the hair, the clothes, the smile that promises that everything will be fine. With a wink and a tip of his Vodka Martini he can leave the club with any woman he wants.

      He spent his formative years perfecting his craft did young master Rossini. The school nurse, his Mother’s single friends, and any number of waitresses. After school he surprised everyone. people expected him to trade on his looks forever, but Frankie’s Momma didn’t raise an idiot, and he knew that getting laid wasn’t going to pay all the bills. He graduated with a Masters in economics and went to The City. Turf accounts came to dread his winning smile seen through the security glass their tellers sat behind, passing him more winnings than anyone could accrue through luck alone. His easy charm, the married women it attracted, and his supernatural skill at picking winners soon made Frankie some powerful enemies.

      His charm saw him through it all with nothing but a broken finger, and now he works for for the Muniz brothers, running their gambling houses for them, and protected by their reputation. He lives the high life now, paid well without ever needing to gamble on the throw of a dice or a fist, but still partakes when the mood seizes him. One too many bad bets, the wrong woman on his arm could end it all, and other crime families know this. Frankie though. he’ll just tip you the wink and buy a round, smiling all the time…

  28. Love the blog. Had to take your offer on reddit.

    I need a suave evil wizard. I was thinking he was the scholarly type or researcher, just full of himself. Kind of like a noble looking down on others. As for race i was considering eladrin or elf in general.

    Thanks a lot.

    • Nibenon Heilwidis is an Elf of two parts. The first half is what gave him the opportunities he has in front of him. He was a gifted student from a young age, pushing past his peers not only in the natural talent he possessed for the arcane arts, but also in the scope his magics were to encompass. Some of his tutors thought he was going too far, others embraced his willingness to push the boundaries of what could be understood using arcane powers. He always stayed squeaky clean though, his natural charm disarming any who opposed his works.

      He spent many years at study, and delved deeper into dark arts than even his most ardent supporters felt comfortable with. It was after centuries of study that he knew he would be best away from other of his kind while he continued his work. Nibenon had no shortage of sponsors when it became clear the power he possessed and the realms of mysticism he could control. He now finds himself living the other half of his life. Behind the scenes he manipulates those in power to do his will. he knows he is better than those who support him, who provide the materials he needs to carry on his work, who ask so little of him. Sometime soon he will outgrow their petty concerns and take their worldly power for his own. For now he is content to let them think that others pull his strings, and continue his research…

  29. Hi! I followed you here from Reddit!

    A cocky swashbuckler/rougish fellow for a Pathfinder game!

    Many thanks!

    • The Chalaxian Navy is a fine thing indeed, it’s seafarers some of the best known to anyone. They are a stern lot though, drilled regularly to ensure they remain a dominant force on the water. This life doesn’t always suit those who take it up. Decius Spurius was just such a man. he joined up when he was but a young man, expecting a life of adventure on the high seas, instead getting rigorous training and unrelenting discipline whenever he stepped out of line. Each shore leave he promised that he would never return, but hungover and without a copper to his name, he would trudge up the gangplank again and again, each time promising himself it would be the last.

      he would probably have carried on like this forever, if it wasn’t for an error with some charts and some bad luck with the weather. All hands were lost that morning, all but the dark haired Decius with his weather tanned face and athletic build. He dragged himself onto a rocky outcrop and thought he had passed. A day later he awoke, hungry an thirsty, only broken wooden beams and a few face down corpses for company. He could have given in so easily; he could have sunk beneath the waters or just sat there ’til dehydration took him. Instead he realised that he finally had to do something for himself, not just what he was told because it was easier and he was paid for it.

      He spent the whole day dragging as much wood as he could together, lashing it into a raft with torn strips of cloth from his former crew mates. He set out into the ocean, with a basic understanding of navigating by stars and wind, and the next morning washed ashore. He staggered into a nearby port town and was given help by the locals; they fed and watered him, provided him with clean clothes and asked only for his name and his story. He was happy to provide both, and relished in the freedom of the lack of expectations. He signed on shortly after that with a trading vessels crew, making friends easily as he was always in good spirits. These days he will sail with anyone, on any heading, keeping everyone’s spirits up and rushing to defend those he befriends, often while a little merry from drink, and by jumping across tabletops with a smile on his face.

  30. This is Tyler. Thank you for making my character. It was great.

  31. Wicked Stuff!

    I need a mid-level villian for my 4e DnD game. Dunno if you know much about the base setting so I’ll try not to be confusing.

    Someone / something with significant means that has ties to Skulks (a race of stealthy, civilization-hating murderers, hunted nearly to extinction) and Dark Ones (denizens of the Shadowfell) who is providing support to a Cult of Elemental Evil in service to the Chained God Tharizdun. Bonus points for a cool reason that He / She / It would knowingly support a god that would literally destroy reality.

    Thanks in advance!

    • After posting I saw that my request was the longest by far and now I feel bad… Ignore the skulk / dark one stuff if it helps.

    • A man newly promoted to the head of a warband has many enemies. The men below her are constantly pushing upwards to secure a better position for themselves. Other war leaders worry about this upstart and how she came to take control so quickly. The chiefs above him, they make sure they keep stamping down on gingers reaching up to grab hold and pull them down. It doesn’t help that promotion in this field is by filling a dead man’s shoes, after publicly ensuring that no one else tries to claim said footwear.

      Crawther Bloodhelm was just such a woman. While others were vying for petty advancements, she had her eye on a bigger prize. Killing the war leader was easy, maneuvering the situation so she would take his position was the tricky bit. She used her considerable savings to line the pockets of other challengers, and those who wouldn’t fall inline where killed by those who were happy to see her advance. Although she had no problem getting blood on her hands, she knew that spreading the blame would divide her potential enemies and keep them from working together to oust her.

      She has other friends too. The Skulks were more than happy to sow mayhem and discord around her to make her path clear. She was instrumental in starting the rumours that she could control them, and soon fear was doing a better job that intimidation. Still, sometimes they get hungry, and there are always people who cause trouble; people who won’t be missed. People who get a little bit too close to the truth of her motivations. A long time ago, she realised that revenge on the people who had put her where she was would not be enough.

      An entire system was in place that meant she was bound to end here. True, certain individuals deserved to be tormented for decades before they succumbed like all of creation will. But when everything falls, her constant and unrelenting pain will finally end. The scowl that never leaves her face as the agony of a decade old wound still tears through her will finally soften. As long as she knows that the guilty parties will suffer much as she has. All of her pain, her disfigurement because of one mistake, because she trusted one person. because she one job, and ended up killing someone important. In revenge for this one live, hers has been a never ending misery.

      They will wish they had killed her, not left her to drag herself away across the blood slick stones with what remained of her broken limbs.

  32. I found this blog when someone posted a link on Reddit, and I’m glad they did. I don’t have any particular ideas for an NPC, but I’m currently GMing a Runequest campaign in a semi-historical Viking-era medieval setting, and I need some low-to-mid level villains to flesh it out.

    • Everyone knows the Northmen control powerful magic. Just by carving the correct rune into an time, they can imbue it with element effects and the gods alone know what else. What few people know about is the magic of their women. They’re usually called witches, even though most of their craft is based on healing.

      Then there are the others. Female magic users who curse their enemies, and enslave the minds of others to carry out their will. They exist on the fringes of Northern society, feared and repulsing those who know they exist, but often tolerated nonetheless. They keep dangerous creatures at bay, and if you can the pay the price, will happily perform dark majiks. The men of such settlements are weak willed and frail of bodies, but will often succumb to a berserk rage if their mistresses are in danger.

      the real dangers are the witches themselves. The Völva commune with dark spirits, sometimes working alongside them as they push for the destruction of all life, a return to an age of shadows. Luckily they are few in number, and do not often tolerate the company of other witches. One such is Jofrid Tveitdotter, an old woman now who has spent almost all her life away from her kin. For company she has half a dozen old and mute men who wait on her. She has long since forgotten their names, calling out to which ever is closer when she needs something. Although a skilled healer, she was banished from her village when she failed to save the life of the Jarl’s only daughter. She still carries the scars given her by the stones that were thrown at her as she cowered away from the only family she had ever known.

      She became, as one would expect, a bitter woman, and remains as such to this day. Instead of dealing with outsiders, she casts glamours on the area around her home, tricking them into fighting themselves, or causing accidents, then takes what she wants from the bodies, sending her men to trade it for supplies. She knows she is coming to the end of her life now, and her powers are growing weak. This could make her even more dangerous as she lashes out wildly, but it could also be possible to get through to her, and end this blight sooner than nature would alone.

  33. Hello, currently doing a Changeling the Lost campaign, and thought it might be worth bringing in something random to the table. Currently the campaign is set in Victoria British Columbia Canada, if you want some more to work with.

    • Humans are often taken to live under the yoke of the Fae. And so are animals; creatures of all sizes and genus, as pets and novelties in a land where almost all life is possible. Like humans, empty vessels are often left behind to take the place of these animals. Granth knows this very well, and does his best to capture and control as many as possible. One of the Lost, he long gave up trying to reclaim a previous existence, instead taking advantage of his ‘gifts’ and the things that he can see which no one else seems able to.

      he now controls a veritable army of Lutin, animals controlled by Fae creatures, and uses them to cajole and threaten people to get whatever he wants. Without them he would surely perish, he is small and slight of build, with a sickly pale complexion and lank dark hair. His skin has a constant greasy sheen to it, and people who spend too long in his presence always feel like they need to shower after they leave it.

      Although powerful in his won way, he is far from a master of his craft, and often needs to trade for things that he cannot acquire through fear and guile. Anyone wishing to do business with him should be wary though, he is not above lying and there have been rumours about people vanishing after they had dealt with him. he denies it all of course, but then, he would wouldn’t he…

  34. This is awesome! I just started checking the other posts and what you’re doing here is really great!

    Anyway, I’m about to start a Deadlands old-west campaign.

    I was hoping I could get an annoyingly-charismatic, lady-wooing, gun-slinging cowboy with rocket boots? He’s quite charming to those dumb enough to fall for his flashy smile, but is a obviously a tool to anybody else.

    • Is he truly the most astounding inventor and ladies man in the west? Well, if you ask Conner Foxworthy, then you’ll get a resounding yes. Some of his conquests might even agree, if they are naive enough. Most of the other people who meet Conner, know him for what he is; s decent enough chap with delusions of his own superiority.

      In a fight he can easily be counted on, because it gives him a great opportunity to show off his favourite invention. With his ‘flight suit’ strapped on (to the casual observer it looks like a jumpsuit with a few fish fins inexpertly stitched onto it) and his Proto-Accelerator Boots strapped on, he truly is a sight to behold. As long as there’s no real cross wind to speak of, he can maneuver excellently, and it turns out he can wield his iron with a skill that actually matches his words, fanning the hammer on his custom seven chambered pistol as he flashes across the sky.

      Of course, that pretty much ends his skill when it comes to the weirder parts of science. If it wasn’t for the fact that Robard was very taken with the device, and offered him a pretty penny to sell them through his company, there’d be no way Foxworthy could afford his dapper suit, topped with a very fine derby indeed. he keeps his pencil line moustache waxed, and his raven hair slicked back away from his face, which even people who don’t like him must admit is more than passably handsome. He struggles to keep friends, but is always in a fine mood, possibly due to not noticing the people talking behind his back. He can usually be found in a local drinking hole, entertaining people with his outlandish tales of adventure, buying drinks for anyone who will listen to him, and doing his best to find a young filly to take his arm for the evening.

  35. So I want to thank you for doing this, congrats on the milestone! (Might I add you have a great imagination, fantastic character ideas you’ve given people!)

    My idea is for a campaign I’ve been working on that would be an open world pathfinder setting. However before it opens up I would like to bind my PCs together through a combat/challenge tournament hosted by the king of the land.
    Winners get an adventuring contract/some gold.

    Long story short the king’s right hand man does all the recruiting for the tournament, who is he? Does he enjoy setting up these tournaments every five years or not?

    <3

    • Thanks for the kind words boss, it’s actually been great, and I’m thinking about making it a yearly thing. Quick question; do you have a race in mind?

      • Human or Half-Elf preferably but I don’t have a preference.

        • This will be the fourth tournament that Caleb has organised. He had other duties sure, but from one week after the last, he had been preparing for this one. He tried something different last time, and was pleased with the results. He was fairly sure that the results could be replicated on a larger scale without too much effort, as long as he covered his tracks well enough.

          Last year he managed to seed three warriors of his own choice in the competition, none of them knowing about the others. they had done everything he had expected of them, mercilessly following his instructions, and also willing to take a beating when ever he required it. He had offered them so much money, along with power and prestige, and was almost certain that they would have followed even his darkest of instructions. Almost wasn’t quite good enough though, and three trained killers was simply not enough. For almost five years he had been recruiting the most vicious killers he could find, and using every one of his not inconsiderable talents and powers to bend them to his will, psychologically conditioning them – and even using magic if it was called for – to do whatever he willed. Almost half the participants were in his pocket this year.

          True, he could not hope to keep them all alive, but if enough survived, he could act. If not, he had no problems watching them kill each other and having the last man executed for treason last time, just to cover his tracks. he smiles as he thinks about it, pitying the new arrivals who hope to succeed against his chosen warriors. Until the time came though, he must maintain the charade that had fooled his Regent for so long. With his long dark hair tied back and his shaved smooth face, he was an open book to be read, with nothing to hide except a sense of pride in his work that seemed to be his only vice. Not long now though…

  36. I like the work i’m seeing you do for others. I’m working on an adventure that will be set on a ship. I need a caption for this ship if you think you could help me with one. Thanks

    • Fantasy or historical?

    • There is an assumption that life about a military vessel is hard work, with harsh discipline and only an allowance of sweet liquor keeping the hands in check. Crewmen aboard these ships dream of one day joining a buccaneer crew and leaving behind a life filled minutia and regulations. They hear stories of brave Captains sailing where the wind takes them, and a crew that get equal shares while having a grand old time of it.

      Captain Trine Thornhand would laugh if she ever heard her own crew talking about such things. She captained a crew of freebooters who had all left the navy life far behind after dreaming of an easy life like so many before them. They did not get such an easy life as part of her crew. True, the discipline was less inclined to floggings, and lent more towards a stay in the brig until landfall. At which point the offending hand was swiftly removed from the ship’s compliment and replaced by another. If you were part of The Thornhand’s crew, you worked damned hard.

      There was always something to do onboard a ship, and everyone had a role. Although it was a shock to the system, it soon became clear that it was worth the effort. While lazier crews ran ships that were falling apart, The Angel of Dusk was in fine form indeed. She cut through the water like a razor through silk, and the constantly drilled crew were easily the superior force than all but military ships.

      She is a tall, striking woman, with an athletic build and an olive complexion, framed by chestnut hair. Many a new recruit has thought himself up the challenge of wooing the Captain, and she is always ever so nice to those that make the effort. After she has drank them under the table, they will wake to find themselves stripped naked and hanging upside from the rigging, with taunting words and arrows painted over their body. After a few short hours, they are released, given their clothes back and set to their duties, with never another word spoken about it. They certainly won’t be the last to make such an attempt.

      • This is great. I know one of my players will try to woo her (happens at every stop we make). This is going to be good.

        • I just wanted to let you know that this character went great in my campaign. It was her own 1st mate that tried to make love to her and he woke up with allot of regret.
          She ended up also being killed by her first mate who took over the ship. But don’t worry, he died after eating a cursed bread loaf. Thanks again

  37. Congratulations on your 10000 views. Hopefully you will get another 10,000 on top of that.

    My current campaign is in a city controlled by a Mage’s guild who, in turn, control the king. I am in need of an interesting NPC who leads that guild. He would be human or maybe a half-elf. He would be racist towards non-humans and would sneer at anyone who is not in the pursuit of arcanic knowledge. This would likely be my big bad guy or at least a nuisance to the PC’s. If it makes any difference the city is a very large port city with the majority of the population being fisherman oppressed by the nobility.

    Thank you for doing this. If you want any further information please let me know.

    • In his later years Ysgrim Faneclaw has allowed himself to go somewhat to seed. He mastered his craft at an unusually early age, and for the last decade has been concerning himself less and less with corporeal concerns. Until that is, someone tries to get in his way.

      When allowed to pursue his own goals, Ysgrim seeks seclusion and hearty meals, so that he can delve deeper into mysteries that have eluded some of the greatest magical thinkers for centuries. These days he only interrupts his reveries when important matters of state need attending to. His puppet King is constantly seeking aid and advice, terrified bout what would befall him if he made a decision that the Mages disagreed with. He would drag his not inconsiderable bulk upright and walk with a grace that must be magically augmented to his own throne room to listen to the petty concerns of mere men. With subtle shakes of his jowls he influences trade negotiations and condemns men to death. Sub-human races being tortured before they were allowed to leave this plane of existence, as befits those who are less than ideal in Ysgrim’s dark and sunken eyes.

      There are some withing his guild that push for his position, but he has lived far too long, and too well, to let them remove his just yet. Maybe one day, when he has mastered the ultimate magics will he allow someone to step into his shoes and rule with arcane powers of their own – the only real way to subjugate a common people – but until that day, he remains; obese and angry, quick to lash out when he is interrupted in his studies.

  38. hey this is pretty awesome of you!
    I’m running a 3.5 ed campaign. What can you do for me?

    • Ragvaran Dwingomdal looked every inch the typical Dwarf. Long beard plaited into a fork, and a two-handed bearded ax strapped across his shoulders. He was not one to wear traditional Dwarven armour though, preferring dark grey clothing, in a light material that allows him to move easily. If anyone was to get the chance to look under his shirt and breeches they wouldn’t be at all surprised to see his thick and muscular frame covered in Dwarven tattoos. If they were skilled in rune magic, they may have done a double take though. Covering almost every inch of his flesh are runes usually seen expertly engraved into the finest Dwarven armour.

      A closer look will show that they are indeed old scars that have been tattoo’d over, as if they have been applied like they would to steel and iron. Dwingomdal cannot remember how he came to be marked in such a way, and is unable to explain to anyone how the runes work for flesh rather than steel. But work they do, and allow him a freedom of movement that would be impossible for anyone wearing armour that would offer the same protection, that allows him to fight with a finesse rarely seen among his kind.

      It also allows him to sneak around too. Not for him the chink of mail or the creak of leather straps. His upper body strength gives a decided advantage when it comes to climbing too. Although much more a fighter than a sneak thief, he often surprises people when it comes time to apply subtlety rather than steel.

  39. [...] now 34 more free range organic Shortymonster official NPCs in the world. You can check them out by clicking this link and scrolling down through them. For now that is. I’m about to start work on getting them [...]

  40. Hello there! Just discovered the page.

    I’m looking for an NPC to use in a 4e D&D campaign setting based on the Crusades.

    • Oops. The offer had ended, but I forgot to update the page showing that it had. Since it was my fault, not yours, I’ll happily cook something up for you, just as soon as I modify the article so this doesn’t keep happening. ;)

    • I’m just going to write up some basics that would fit a Crusades campaign, and let you change whatever needs to e done to make it fit in your game world.

      Hassan Ibn Fakhouri is a man torn by loyalties. His mother is a subject of the caliphate, and he grew p under the same rule. But he was raised to the ideals of his father, a man he never met as he had died before he was born. His mother clearly loved him though, and was very proud of him, especially Hassan’s green eyes, unique amongst men with a skin tone as dark as his. When the Crusade began, the Caliph’s men came for him, and made it clear they would not take no for an answer when offering him work as a spy. With his mixed lineage, he was a perfect mole to place as a sympathiser within the invading force.

      The crusaders had also thought the same, and now he leads a double life. Expected to betray both sides in this war to the other. he does his best to feed information that will offer no real gain to either side, but now measures his life expectancy in days, as the higher ups push for more from him. He knows he can only keep playing both sides for so long, and is fearful not only for his own life, but for that of his wife, and their young daughter. So far neither side has used them as a bargaining chip, but if anything were to happen to them, he would surely realise he had nothing left to lose. that would make him a very dangerous man indeed, and he would be willing to die to hurt the men responsible.

  41. [...] an announcement though, and this one comes straight off the back of me writing a gaming blog. Some months ago I offered a free NPC to any one of my readers who wanted one; all they needed to do was give me a very basic idea of what they needed, and then I let my [...]

  42. [...] A Big Milestone has Passed, so You Can All Have a Free NPC Each [...]

  43. [...] much says it all in the title, but the back story is fun, so I’m going to share it with you. When I hit my first big mile stone on the blog, I wanted to thank everyone who had taken the time to head on over and check me out, so I offered [...]

  44. […] see, around about this time last year, I had hit a particular milestone, and decided to celebrate by doing something for anyone who had taken the time to check out my […]

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