“Our enemies lie just across the plains brothers, may our God King see it in his wisdom to grant our masters victory at the loss of our blood. But let our enemies pay for that blood with every breath.”
-Ziegtaur Soldier at the Battle of Forgotten Sorrow
Swarming, never-ending, sea of teeth, muscle, and scales. They are all pervasive, all consuming, and they will destroy you. Devouring body and soul. They are hatred and fear incarnate, a punishment from the foul and incomprehensible gods.
The spirit which dies with a murderous rage upon it’s conscience cannot rest, and re-inhabits the corpse it once dwelt in, stalking the earth in search of one thing: revenge.
Brutish masters of the Highlands, the grey-skinned, wolf-riding men of the Flinthill Clan are famed for their ferocity and their savagery.
They come in the night, and they take things. Nothing neccesary. Maybe they’ll take some candle wax, mabe a few sticks, a curtain, anything. But guard all your possesions boy, because if you don’t, they’ll come down on you like a hellbeast in one of their damned machines.
The Poison Eaters Tribe dwells deep in the jungle glades of the Ushaika, in the lowest reaches of the undergrowth where no sunlight pierces through the leaves, and where the marshy ground wells up with tea-colored water at the lightest step.
Below the surface of the Earth, dwelling in darkness and forgotten catacombs, the goat-headed Ghouls, dark spirits of murder, feast on the dead. Ghouls dwell in old, forgotten places, luring others down into the grasping claws of their evil tribes.
They are the menace of the borderlands, travelling with their herds paths they used for millenia, and razing any signs of civilization in the process. When the winter is especially harsh or the summer unusually dry, they descend upon the heartlands of kingdoms like a plague, more a natural disaster than an enemy.
The Kythrythe are a different kind of people. Given their worship of the Insect God Kythrellemen, they are more than just Humans. These people, except for their eyes, will be normal people at first glance. Some might be quite big or small or graceful, but they look like people. At second glance you will notice their small antena peeking out from their hair. Every now and again, you will see one that has been "blessed" by the God and granted "Marks of the God", insect like physical abilities.
On Zetacron, the nature goddess Gaia did not create the elves, but wished to claim them as Her own (it seemed fitting to her, somehow, that elves should be bound to Nature). Thus, she used her divine powers to create a bond between Herself and the elves.
There was once a tribe of humans that was referred to as “the Wild Ones.” They were humans who were linked to the wild natural world, having animal characteristics.
Deep in the mountains, beyond where the trails end, one can find collossal stairways and long, cliffside roads, massive arched bridges and huge vaulted tunnels, spanning thousands of miles. These roads, though seemingly deserted, are closely watched by their creators, the reclusive and strange Iothun (“yoh-thoon”).
The First Ones, The Kan-Yow, are the only non constructed beings to know the face of their Creator God. They were born as the world was being made. Tutored by their God (Kanchiyonnaho), they developed a perfect society immersed in the magic of the world. The Kan-Yow breathed magic, they are saturated with it, and they are bound to it as the world itself. As the Gods have withdrawn from the Mythic Lands, as the blessing of Time has graced the World, they have become the guardians of The Magic and The World.
The Surash are without doubt,the most distrusted and least liked race in existence.
Pride. Strength. Skill.
These are the values of the Monroi, woven into their very being - for them, battle is not just self-preservation, but a need.
The Daharvati bear a striking resemblance to large kangaroos forced to breed with apes by some deranged scientist.
Towering giants that stand well above 15 feet,these inhabitants of the great grasslands that border the most remote boundaries of the nation of Xhiklus,are an intimidating cross between humanoid and rhino. Their massive heads resemble those of a rhino,but they possess the hunched,hulking lower bodies of a humanoid being,and are endowed with the ability to fashion and use tools with their huge,three fingered hands. Often called ‘‘the Grey Monsters’’ by most people of the Hundreds,they are a force to be reckoned with.
Ru-Men are an old race who dwell throughout the area encompassed by the Hundred, but are most plentiful in their traditional homeland on the Andraverly Mountains on the west coast of the Heavy Sea (northward of Peklichr). They live in small “nests” of 10-20 individuals which generally lie in the mountains or cliffs. Many call them the Crow Men or the Jackdaw Men, while others refer to them as the Black Mountain Bastards.
The Qwards were just another type of goblinoid race -a bit more odd than most- living in the cramped dark spaces. While durrable and intelligent, they could achieve no level of dominance. Upon the advent of Technology, their natural aptitudes came forth. They are born engineers.
Seldom does one see a Dunshar “nude”, as an amorphous masses of jelly. They can animate mud, earth, stone or metal, and use them as a body to shield their fragile self.
War of the Roses as a campaign plot. Two noble lines converge somehow, each line thinks it has the rightful claim to the throne. Deciding this long ago was handled by some divine intervention, requiring both houses to come together at some point. They aren't so willing to get together this time. Civil war, or a new king?