Slain by thirst and heat, these sad souls seek moisture - any moisture - to quench their eternal, burning thirst.
A gigantic insect, native to the arid badlands of northern Aquur, where fierce desert warriors roam the dunes, and the sand storms can flay a man to the bone in minutes.
"It was another beautiful sunset in the wastes. In the distance I could see an entire meadows worth of plants sliding to a safer place for the night." Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIII Blue Guild Press
"...I watched in morbid fascination as the Spider and the Rat circled each other. Soon one would be dead. My silver was on the Spider crawling away from this fight. ..." Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIII Blue Guild Press
"Just when I thought it could not get any hotter, we cleared the crest of a small hollow. There was the most magnificent sight, a huge shadey tree hidden in the depression. It must of been there for decades for I had never seen a Drooping Tree that large before and in my decades of prospecting since," Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIII Blue Guild Press
"Tumbling dang danger" the old old prospector said.
The dual, muted voice called out it’s siren wail across the dunes, “...Of course, no one as brilliant as yourself would ever enter the deeper desert without one of my extra light canteens. Why, I haven’t seen anyone come out alive without them! If you act now I can give you the reduced price…”
The shark is the most efficient hunters in the realms. This has empowered the Shark Spirit, to become the Beast Hunting Spirit. This powerful spirit has bound elementals of various kinds and places with a shark imprint. These bound spirits spawn new shark races: land sharks, sand sharks, sky sharks, and as for here, The OcrheMaws.
From their home, the winds high above the desolate lands below, these giant winged creatures strike silently and sure.
Deep within the shifting sands, natives whisper of creatures trapped within ancient tombs, their insane wails audible through feet of solid stone seals.
Read, now, as I delve through the mystery and bring forth the facts about the Tah’k Mumz’kar; the Bandage Beast; The Mummy.
Storm clouds! The folk of the caravan were overjoyed! They had been moving through the hostile desert for weeks, and this was the first they had seen of any sign of precipitation. The people actually cheered when the first drops of rain hit the desert sand. But soon the cheering turned to cries of confusion as the sand beneath their feet began to move…
Worse than those of the Shattered Orb are those who have fallen from the Bright Path and Axtrami’s grace. Yet among them are some who have recieved the extreme blessing of Axtrami, to become glass themselves…
The city of the Bright People fell, but the spirit of its people remains. A legend of the Ouzquin Dremorix.
Come, face Hak-Hakunin, the accursed and undying spawn of Dancer Kallina. Watch him trek through eternity, a cruel and heartless executioner of infants and innocents. A cold toy of the Gods, a death bringer and prisoner of fate.
Known in folk-lore as the Blighted Storm-Serpents, the reclusive Kumbra are far more than any might guess.
The hot sun was murder to my pale skin. I didn’t realize how harsh it would be, after all I read about the harshness of the burning sands who would have known that the tombs would be an understatement? I left my Lemiean guids yesterday, they refused to travel where I required to go. They are fearful of the Surtur, and frankly if what they tell me is true, I do not blame them. We will see.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
The bipedal sentients of the Southern Desert.
The Daharvati bear a striking resemblance to large kangaroos forced to breed with apes by some deranged scientist.
In Gaeaioa’s wings, inspiration is physical.
The majestic, draconian riding beasts of Tarran.
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.