As we viewed the island from afar, I knew we would be forced to land there. Our hull was breached and we are taking on water rapidly. My hope of us making the island is grim, but I keep a face up for the crew. The rumors every sailor has heard of this dreadful place makes even the stoutest sailer make water. We shall see.
-Captain Edver Brakuars, Second to Last Journal Entry.
Out of the three giants I am hunting the jotun have been the most aloof. It seems like they stay out of my sight for a reason. Who knows. I will track them down as i have the others to gain their knowledge. Damn, even the surtur were not this hard. Wait, I hear a noise, a drum perhaps… I will follow to see if I can find the jotun.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian. His last entry.
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
From afar I hailed the large man in the dialect of the keirn, thinking him to be friendly. To my surprize, the closer I walked to his large boat, the alrger he became, until he towered over my small frame. His frightning size and pose did little to hide his friendly face and then I knew, that I had found the Aegir.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
Some claim that the giants were the first mortals to walk the land in the wake of the spirits rising when the gods began breathing life into the souls that Kasal deposited on Hewdamia. As elusive as they are at times, here are my findings of their cultures in my search for the truth.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
Protos in Elder Tongue means ‘first’. This name is supposedly given because the Protoss were the first beings through the eyes, but some say it was given to the humans who first met them.
The Hill Folk are friendly, as well known for their crafts as their crops.
To see one of the wolfkin running is an inspiring sight, they move as if they had wings instead of legs, as if they were not tied to the ground, but could soar among the clouds
Something of a new take on the traditional forest guardian. Like a dryad or a tree nymph but at the same time something completely different.
An aloof race of intelligent amphibians, the S’krae are an honor bound culture who have unusual customs.
A race of little peoples, that have found the key to immortality. Sadly, it has evolved to more of a curse than of a blessing.
Lets face it the Hobbits are dead and gone so if you would like to create a race to ease the pain of their departure or use necromancy to bring them back from the dead then this is the place for you.
Some are called dhampir, others exalt as champions of undeath, and yet neither of these are correct…
There are three types of Ma`no, each one nearly a different race as they have evolved through the years. They were all created by Sethalis for his master idea to take over the civilized races, but it was a failed attempt. These abominations live in multiple parts of the world, and will never be seen allied together as their dislike for each other is stronger than that for anything else.
There are three types of Ma`no, each one nearly a different race as they have evolved through the years. They were all created by Sethalis for his master idea to take over the civilized races, but it was a failed attempt. These abominations live in multiple parts of the world, and will never be seen allied together as their dislike for each other is stronger than that for anything else.
There are three types of Ma`no, each one nearly a different race as they have evolved through the years. They were all created by Sethalis for his master idea to take over the civilized races, but it was a failed attempt. These abominations live in multiple parts of the world, and will never be seen allied together as their dislike for each other is stronger than that for anything else.
Many know the image of the Night-Mare, a sable horse wreathed in a nimbus of hellfire sent from the underworld every night to deliver dreams of terror and fear to the living. While this is not entirely incorrect, the truth is more complicated…
An enormous Angoath was holding a young recruit in his hands, his body broken and blood seeping freely from between the cracks of his banded armour. The dead legionary’s head lolled unnaturally; obviously the neck had been crushed. It was amazing how fast these creatures could move and suddenly it lowered its head and charged headlong towards me, no doubt intending to skewer me on that sharp, spiky ridge. All around me I glimpsed similar scenes. The Angoath were washing over us like a wave of black silver, their claws rending us apart, their teeth chewing into our armour.
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The camp was eerily quiet this evening. The fire itself seemed nervous enough not to crackle; the wind seemed too scared to whistle. These treks into the Blade Peaks always worry me, what am I doing here? I find myself asking that very questions even during the day time now, not just during the night. Tales of rangers heading into the peaks and not returning were always common, what worries me is that myself and the group of rangers are heading into these blasted mountains in search for one such group. How my life would be much better had I not learned the truth. The Oricks are here, small brutish little bastards for true, but ruthless and uncaring. I just want to return home. Wait, a sound in the darkness. A scrap? A grunt? oh no they are here!
- Ranger Arkisa, Last journal entry,