The Eldest of the Oraki, and for long their leader, Lifthrasir-1 has helped his children survive the throes of their birth, and has at last stepped aside, so that his waning years do not bring harm to his people.
"I hear that he walks the North these days, strides amongst the Silver Firs of those harsh lands. His followers struggling behind in the frost mist. New ones joining the lines everyday the, drawn to him by some mysterious force."
Orn himself was a past peasant hero and champion, in a largely rural and agricultural area, who dared to stand up to a conquering force, and inspire his fellows to do the same.
As the world grows and changes, so to do the gods. One such creature is Verdichtung, Reaver of Steam.
"In all my years of research, perhaps the best way I have found to summarize the Hermit of Wither Tor is the name given to him by the inhabitants of the Grassdancer ghettoes. These unfortunates call him, in their own tounge, AnÃ‚Â´rah GrunÃ‚Â´dar Ahr, which roughly translates into He-Who-Speaks-With-His-Fists....."
From "Locastus and beyond", by Darius Moak
I have lost everything which is dear to me… I am… Lacrimosa.
Scale and bone and tooth and claw,
All are symbols of His law
Mourn not the fallen, sick, or weak,
They are His to claim and His to keep!
In dark times people are willing to do and say anything for their salvation.
The dark wizard of Locastus, now long dead and gone….. Or is he?
"Humans think of plants as food and decoration, but they are living creatures in their own right."
Brine S’Vick is the Shark Lord, a giant man amongst the ocean curent.
One of the first prototypes of the Oraki, the red-headed Lilith remains one of the leaders of their race to this day.
The corrupted god of war, felled by the lost god of vengeance to his present pitiable state.
The Lord of Agony, He of Corpulent Pain
Life dies in my wake, sacrificing itself to my hunger
The Masque of Hunger
Sha’Dann, equine God of shadows, father of the vile Sasheem and his brother, Merindel, the fair unicorn.
The father of the Hanaset society, who to this day watches his people through reptilian eyes…
A contract Made before Durmenthir is a contract kept.
"Hail! You there, farmer. We are in need of aid; do you have a temple or a priest? We ran into some bandits up the road there and are injured. Jonst won’t last much longer." A large man bellowed from the broken roadside.
"Of course stranger. You can find Luayas in the center of the village proper continue on until you see a large apple tree; she can aid your wounded. Please be gentle and offer tithes for her generosity." A gentle eyed man in homespun clothing, simple yet comfortable in the heat.
"Thank you farmer, we are in your debt. What does Luayas look like so that we might find her quickly? Does she stay by the tree often?" saying over his shoulder in thanks as he half pushed, half carried his companion along.
"No stranger." The farmer laughed, "She is the tree."
Be a good little prince and stop throwing tantrums of the Black Jester will get you and eat you up.
Words of many a Nanny and noblewoman
Caution: Graphic Content
village of the damned. A village of people that have been 'raised', from death by priests, too many times. At first glance the folk appear as any other, but upon closer examination, they are pale, drawn, and tired...