''Rrrbit! Rrrbit! Great Jove has found you unworthy, human! Now prepare to die !''
Isolated from the known world by the seemingly endless watery wastes of the fabled Vaet Ocean, the Eshal rule the watery continent of Tarrod with an iron fist, ever ready to carry out plundering raids on the subject races at the slightest excuse. Proudly calling themselves the Brave People,the Eshal are a race of savage warriors and fanatics that are driven by the consuming need to find an ever larger number of victims to feed the monstrous thing known simply as the Matriarch .
Prowling the wild seas of Acqua like the ravenous raiders that they are, these militant priests of Holy Jove are sworn to their sacred mission of destroying the unbelievers and infidels wherever they may be found on the open ocean.
‘‘We are the Lords Of The Straits, Rulers Of the Sea, and the very ocean acknowledges us as Her children! Men of Pan-Kor, nothing sails on the waters without acknowledging our might !’’
‘‘Is not the emir himself a slave of the Allmighty? Everyone should be a slave. Unchecked freedom is a terrible curse and burden that will destroy us if we are not subject to the will of our natural superiors that have it in themselves to elevate all that is noble and proud in their slaves, while stifling that which is head-strong and foolish. Unfortunate is the free man who has no master to rule over him’‘.
Blessed enough to enjoy friendly relations with many nobles, some of them very close to the king of Haracon himself, the Guild leaders of the Keepers are the criminal big-wigs every wealthy and famous animal collecter wants to invite to the grand opening of his exotic zoo or animal park.
The Quarsooth stands regally, watching impassively with its disturbingly beautiful golden eyes, as masses of sweating labourers haul massive block of lime stone towards the river banks of the Obo, the most majestic and the largest body of moving water in the little barony of Farkhon. Ample in fish stocks, the new masters of the land have deemed it perfect for humanity’s first fledgling attempt at advanced aqua-culture. If this ambitious prject proceeds as planned, the Quarsooth colonizers will introduce into the rivers, aquatic life-forms from their own native home-world that breed abundantly and are platable for the digestive system of most creatures, thereby guaranteeing their subjects a bulwark against mass starvation in the disastrous event of crop faliure or a cattle disease epidemic.
‘‘From the great home land above, do we desecend to this dark world to civilize long sundered kindred that have relapsed back into the degraded state of barbarism. For it is only on their humble backs that the splendours of noble Zor-Tanis can once again be revived to their former majesty. Then shall we resume our rightful place as the keepers of the flame of high civilization in the entire mass of creation’‘.
Serving extensively in the armies of human kings determined to eradicate the last tribal enclaves of ferocious non-humans that still stubbornly refuse to release their hold on the large tracts of wilderness which yet remain, this mercenary company has only one requirement of any potential recruit willing to sign up with them:He must not not be able to claim kinship of even the slightest kind with their employers..
The siblings of the Emperor:The High Priests
The Brotherhood’s goal was to preserve traditional Eshal practices and customs, with emphasis being placed on the belief that every member of the tribe mattered and that to ignore his rights and contributions, would result in the Clan collapsing.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.