These are the various races of humans in Locastus, City of Mirrors.
Predator, nightstalker, brother to beasts, call me a monster long enough brother and I very well might become one.
Jaurmes, Augrune woodcutter
Humanity is as varied as the stars themselves.
There are different sorts of demons in the world. Some are indistiguishable from normal people. Some are a little different, but pass initial scrutiny. And some are much more monstrous.
Every Court needs its servants…
"That book?" sighed the librarian. "That one is hard to find. The priests say it is heretical. But," he continued more quietly "word is they have a few copies, and study them very carefully. That even they consider it true."
A reptilian race of space-travelers whose addiction to a drug they need for survival leads them to a less than stellar reputation.
The Others are a magical, elder race, that occasionally interact with Humanity.
Their wyrm tainted blood and slaver ways mark them as not Human. These are the Evil of the Old World. They are Dylori.
Of fire, but not elementals. Short-lived, yet intelligent. Bound to this world they are, more than most of its mortal inhabitants.
These creatures are foul things that prey on the weakness of loss. Their home society, and indeed, their home, in completely unknown, as all that have been found have been killed to out standards.
Evil gives birth to many foul creatures, of these creatures the Negasek have emerged from a womb of darkness and terror. These powerful insect-like creatures radiate the dark force that gave birth to them, born of sheer negative energy, nearly dripping with the foulness of their diabolic nature.
“I… I only wished to help. But… I had nothing to give… save me… and this… unclean thing took advantage of it. And now I have given birth to another of the creatures. I cannot take care of it. My family would… I just can’t.
May gods have mercy with it.”
The peasant girl puts the little bundle to the convent’s door, rings the bell, and flees.
A misunderstood and much maligned race, goblinoids are a much more complex and sophisticated people than any human has ever given them credit for.
In fear, the families fled from the paths into the darkest lands of their despair. When the darkness changed to gray, they returned to the world with new hope.
How empty are their bellies that already so much man and horse flesh cannot fill them?
Excerpt from the Lex Predatoris
The wizard Wodan the Red craves power and will perform almost any atrocity to reach his goals. Here are some of the many minions bred for such a dark purpose…
Beware the old woman clutching at the folds of her clothing..
The symbiosis of plants and animal has always been present, but long ago a special bond was formed to make the survival of plants coincide with the survival of their caretakers.
These beautiful women first steal your heart, then your mind, then your soul…
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.