His name is an elaborate curse in the local vulgate, but that's just because they are uncultured savages who don't know the Imperial tongue. They called him Ass for short. Sometimes they even used it for a name rather than a description.
He is a drunken rant on incompetence and bloody stupid in a Grundistad bar after the blacksmith gets off duty.
He is the on the lips of bards singing the tragicomedy "Ass of the Interdictor" to the raucous laughter of audiences around the world.
He is a frothing rage from an undead gun toting spirit of vengeance spat forth every time before splitting a petty thief's head open.
He is a guilty story told to dozens of children with red hued skin and a penchant for pyromania when they finally ask, "Where's my daddy?"
He is one of the names on a breach of contract form submitted to Thompson Acquisition & Life Insurance for "collection".
When we pass, all that is left of us are the words of our deeds passing around world in stories and paperwork. Ass is all that and two Words more.
Ringing in his fused glass tomb, humming, whispering, screaming, singing. Two Words, Ass shaped, burning incandescently bright, trapped, heard by no one.
The first party that ran in my world dealt largely with themes of immortality, definitions of, methods to attain, and then what to do with forever on your hands. This is one immortal's fate.
Nobles are privileged. They get to have the private law the word implies. It is not necessarily a more civilized one.
Before heading out to uncharted lands, the party did some time, in the penal sense of time, in the largest city in the Palatinate, Goldenfork. They were given to Detective-Inspector Dezet with a snigger by the assigning officer at the Constabulary of Goldenfork to help him with his neverending quest to solve the Smilin' Jack Vampire Killings from the previous century. The party came as close as ever to catching Jack before it all went wrong. Dezet released them in the hopes that they'd catch Jack. The party left Goldenfork faster than a Irishman flees a bar without whiskey.
( A Lonely Dwarf )
I bring the first in the D&D Perspectives Series, wherein in I, DM Extraordinaire, relate the experiences and feelings of the victims of player character depradations. For this first episode, I bring you Brenlin M'Ossusend M'Or, an undead elf of the Ossusendi Clan of the Or Tribe. It had recently returned from a raiding mission for a little bit of rest and recuperation in its ossuary sconce in a nearby barrow mound.
( Brenlin's End )