Chloe Snake - an actual anaconda, used in hollywood productions of the 1940s, Chloe is best remembered for the dismemberment of a boatload of bimbos in Jungle Terror Trollopes, 1943. Chloe later made the news again when she escaped in the Amazon while filming the ill-fated Amazon Harlots of the Quicksand, 1945, never to be seen again.
Rumours persist however, to this day, that the the surely now-gigantic Chloe is still alive somewhere in the deep jungle, and fans hope that she sees this squib, and slithers back to stardom on the silver screen soon.
Sylvon Jivealot - Better known as "the Dancing Dryad", Sylvon was one of the greatest disco dancers of the 80's. Like all dryads, her life was tied to her tree (a California Redwood); or rather, was, as her tree was cut down by a villainous land developer in '89 to make room for a parking lot - many consider that day to be the day disco died. The project never came to fruition, as the developer shortly after lost his fortune to a gang of jive teens, and her grove is now the Jivealot National Park. It is said that her ghost now haunts the park that bears her name, and can be seen dancing the disco whenever there's a full moon and a cloudless sky.
Urquhart Q. Esquire, Esq. - well-know Transylvanian vampire lawyer, Uruquart defended the insane but beloved psychotic wrestler, Chunga Mumbola, who had arisen from a time capsule in the year 2525. When Uruquart attempted to drain Mumbola's blood, because of unpaid fees, he learned that even vampire lawyers can die, if torn into enough tiny, tiny little pieces and jumped up and down on for long enough.
Zonkmond Von Stonertonne is a pet rabbit notable chiefly for his large size and intensely soft fur. He loves cuddles, carrots and death metal. He has one ragged ear as a memento of the time he fought and killed a huge stray tomcat that tried to eat him. If you tickle his chin he will roll over for you like a dog, and he knows seven commands.
Ezeander Portsmith - Lord of Portsmith Manor, which burnt to the ground in 1327, Ezeander is best perhaps remembered via local legends, which aver that he could have, possibly, under the right circumstances, and without a bit of bad luck here and there - become the most, or at least one of the most, feared men in the entire county. This, plus rumours of vampirism, or ghoulishness, possibly even lycanthropy, none of which was ever proven or even investigated due to the fact that Ezeandered wandered off after his house burned down, and was only ever seen again by passing caravans of Gypsies, sitting in a tree, strumming on an instrument of indeterminate origin- convinced people that Ez was possessed, or that he had at least flipped his fez. Later rumours concerning whispered tales about the possibility that Ezeander had been seen robbing various wagon trains, centuries later in a whole different part of the world, are equally unfounded. Further research reveals that Ezeander may have been traveling using the assumed moniker>>>
Mathusela Hornebolt-His actually government name is Arnold Sheinberg, an Accounts Payable manager for a PVC pipe distribution company based out of Yonkers, N.Y. But after his uncle Neil in Tel Aviv sent him a scroll crafted by King Solomon he received in lieu of money for a poker game debt from his neighbor, Arnold was infused with divine powers upon reading the mystical scribbles.
Arnold now posses fearsome and haunting powers of divination and telepathy, and in the most dire of circumstances, can summon an angel of Yahweh to aid in his crime fighting adventures after his shift at the plant ends.
But they won't assist in installing new tile in the kitchen, which is what he really wants. His wife Sheila is driving him up a wall about the linoleum peeling around the refrigerator.
Don't forget to tune your retinal implant controls to the NeuroFlix network today, for the world premiere of Max Casualties, PhD, the sidesplitting, full sensory spy-com hyperseries, starring Artificial Intelligence 7XB2B1 in the lead roles of the hapless, bumbling secret agent Max, his long-suffering supervisor Phil Chandrasukar, head of OMNI-INFO, and his glamorous sidekick, Professor Zero. Your serotonin levels will reach new highs as you watch Max tackle the sinister forces of RAGNAROK, while tripping over his feet and spilling hot coffee on Phil's symbiotic pet and sharing a VR embrace with the lovely Zero.
(NeuroFlix is an equal opportunity employer. Supporting roles will be played by human actors whenever possible.)
He may be short in stature, but the first halfling in history to become a Special Agent for the Bureau of Pipe-Leaf, Magic Swords, and Ale stands tall when it comes to stepping on the furry toes of crime in the Underburrow Projects!
Sam Fraley has stumbled upon a criminal enterprise of Sauronian proportions. When Sam discovers a cabal of dragons has been flooding the Shire's back alleys and strip clubs with cheap, knock-off pipe leaf laced with a dangerous alchemical synthetic drug called "Nazgul", it's up to the 3 foot tall, pointed eared avenger to un-sheath his enchanted .40 caliber pistol, and bring this unholy Fellowship of Ring-leaders to justice.
But corrupt cops, Barrow Wights, and the hardships of still being carded for liquor at the convenience store because you look like a kindergartner, despite being 74 years old, stand in his way from dropping this One Ring to Rule all drug syndicates into Mt. Doom Federal Penitentiary!
Special Agent Sam Fraley....He's putting the STING back into sting operation!
Designated Unit Murder-tron 10,000 was recalled today, replaced by the SuperSlayer 1500-B series of crowd control-bots, which are expected to be used at footie matches on Mars, once the quarantine ends and civilians are allowed to emerge from underground. None of these matches will be televised, and no survivor are expected.
Clench Tuffnell is believed to be the person behind the assassination of Theiltix Theilixi (3219 - 3228) - the last emperor of the Theilixan Empire (2874-3228) - who was killed at his 9th birthday party by exploding balloons filled with an extremely volatile gas. The balloons where acquired from a company owned by Clench Tuffnell. Tuffnell was lynched by a mob within an hour after the assassination, therefor little is known about his motivation or his factual involvement.
Of Clench Tuffnell himself not much is known either. An proprietor of party gadgets in a time of economic decline, civil unrest and climatic upheaval, he continually struggled to keep his company economically sound. He was unmarried, was not politically active and kept to himself much of the time.
Because the Theilixan Empire was followed by The Chaotic Period (3228 - 3754) - sometimes referred to as The Clenching Age - it is highly unlikely the full story of the fateful assassination of Theiltix will ever be known. Conspiracy theories abound.
Poor Tahoolah. The busybodies wold have you believe she’s a woman of low character. Maybe they did dig up those bones just down river of her place. But that’s Chicago for you. Besides, Ms Thedosy runs a fine establishment. Bankers, starlets and senators all patronize Auntie Tula’s.
Always the doting host she regales her guests with sweet meat fresh of the barbecue, a cheeky shot of bourbon (The Eighteenth Amendment’s more a friendly suggestion anyway) and if they’re lucky her enchanting rendition of Dem Bones. The neighbourhood has gone downhill after those tragic disappearances (Vagrants, tramps, winos and the like). But her steaks have never been juicier.
Vehngovar's binding to the Irishman was a pitiable affair. He was seven and a half feet of seething, caustic malice encased in a lethal chitinous shell. His twisted horns, razor appendages, and acidic breath once cowed every denizen of the hells from which he was drawn, save those formerly counted as angels. Now he was little more than glorified bodyguard for the drunkard Mac, who seemed to find no end of trouble in every pub from Dublin to Belfast. Now his talents were put to ill-use, the soft shells of the humans were sundered like overripe fruit under his ministrations and after the first half dozen disembowelments most men had ceased challenging the myriad offenses his bind-master gave. But perhaps the most grating insult was the requirement for a demon to take on a bind-master's name until his task was complete or the riddle of his binding solved. Until such a time Vehngovar the Flesh Curler was simply... Vehngovar MacDonald. The name chafed on him like a rusted yoke.
At least his six arms found purpose in the consumption of the delightful human elixir called "whiskey."