Sometimes, the places remember. Where Destiny’s threads intertwine, echoes of the past live again.
The Ky’iish are greatly advanced in the arts of magic and created many strange and powerful materials and items. Some of their weapons were the most formidible artifacts found on Neyathis, dwarfing both physically and magically virtually all the works of man.
Dont mind him, he’s just a rag man
Clochardshire resident, common quote
The Caretakers of the Vast City - Stoneholt, a race of great skill, persistence, and antiquity…
Once she was Archmage Stewart’s beloved wife Emma, an acomplished which in her own right, now she is but a husk of what she once was, and yet the Archmage loves her too much to put her shell to rest.
Malignant entities, these beings have existed in unlife for so long that they have forgotten what it means to be mortal.
Not all vampires suck blood, there are those who suck feelings as well and you often have no idea of it until the vampire is feeding upon you.
Some places are better left undisturbed…you never know what may be waiting there for you.
Crawling among the garbage and offal, the detritus of what men call civilization, the myrie bugs claim their own small domains. They eat, and breed, and wait…
Moon Hunters or Moon Riders is what they were called. These wonderous and magicial dancers roamed the lands for many, many years preforming dances for kings and roality alike. But not all were dancers, one girl had a simple but different talent. She was the songtress of the group. Her amazing voice filled the hearts of all people. But at her last preformance…..
For the coddling of the weak and mewling shall one day be the Downfall of All Races!
—Morkoel Rasher, denouncing Moleskin in verse.
It is said that a ghastly ghost of glowing glass haunts Vallermoore Cathedral, the spirit of a fair knight of centuries past…
Et deprecabantur eum spiritus dicentes mitte nos in porcos ut in eos introeamus (Mark 5:12)
A beast made of writing; a strange, sad, and beautiful being that haunts the libraries and universities of the Sacred World
His breath faltering into a final rasping final gasp as the stone coils crushed his throat, these last words resonated through the fading mind of the would-be grave robber.
‘‘You dared to defile the tombs of the ancient kings, Lusoh scum, but die knowing that I will never allow once inch of this scared land to fall into the hands of those would seek to destroy the nation of my divine fathers. Long live the Shining One, Goya Varman. For I am him..’‘.
Created as a weapon by the ancient sorceror-primotologists of the Iron Triangle Nation, the Cutsman still stalks the underhalls of the city of Mehxaiyul, a spectre of blood and blades.
the Apple Tree of Selilion holds the secret of life and death
This demon was the pride and joy of the summoners guild. They used it in their war with the Vampires. But the Vampires’ freed the demon hoping that it would destroy it’s former masters.
“You know that saying that man made god? No, of course you don’t. But we didn’t make god. We made the Devil, and god is just a word the frightened cling to, to protect them from their own creation. And you? You are my creation. You are my devil.
Beneath crumbling towers wait
Ishafel’s Horror and Hate
A monster grim and bleak
Go to it if death you seek
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?