The abominable servants of Igg’soteku.
The living airships of Locastus, City of Mirrors
Perhaps the most destructive of Kel’Regar weapons, Summer’s Extinguisher plunges the world it is deployed on into a deep and permanent winter.
The whales of the Epoan skies…
In the heart of the storm dwell the aerial creatures known as tempest blades.
At that moment the drizzle eased, and Ledoik could see as plain as day a blight upon the fields near the edge of the forest. Like a rock dropped into a pond, a wave of lighter shades of green emanated from the blights centre. Growing from the forest, where it was darkest, the field got lighter and lighter the further away it was from the blight. It was clear enough. The commander barked words, organising the archers, the few catapults they had and the giant rockslings to this side of the battlements. He motioned them to aim towards the blight, the dark patch near the fields edge
"I have to give the creature credit. After it stood its ground for a bit, it charged me. Sure I outweighed it by nearly 100 stones, but that would not deter it. I almost didn’t have the heart to kill it." Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIV Blue Guild Press
"...The spider did win, but his victory was short lived. The Crawler came down from the rocks above and killed him, then eating the Waste Spider, The Rat, and the small bit of jerky that I started this battle royal with. " Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIII Blue Guild Press
Rats. Why did it have to be Rats?
Now was to be the Third such invasion, and who knows who would be writing the records….
The Tsgara, commonly known by non-Rephatians as ‘Shark-Warriors’ carry that name for both skill in battle, and their appearance. They are the dominate member of the Warrior caste in the Tshaal and Tynarma Nations of Rephatia.
The Thoron. The great crystal ones. The Speakers of Lightning. The unstoppable wall. The unmovable force. Many are their names, few are their numbers, even less is the understanding Man has of them.
And in the name of the great and powerful I command thee to return to your body, hearth and soul, so that you might walk again and continue in the gods plans.
See that. . . wait. . . what!?! NO! I knew it was too risky here. You have brought ruin to us all. Why you ask? Ready your weapon, a traveler has come.
-Father Hayden, performing a ritual on the deceased outside the protection of the church.
The life and time of lady Shayla was not all to long. She was the second founder of the Holy ground, after a thousand years, when the disserperance of the lengendry Moon rider tribe. She was also the founder of the great and powerful staff of destiny. Lady shayla preformed a dance of passing in the Holy Ground, that sent on the spirits and dead creatures of the many years that had pasted. But to the time of today Utopia lies in ruins of darkness as it transformes into the abyss….
Faith is a powerful thing.
Belief in ones self can help you push yourself beyond the limits imagined.
Belief in others can raise spirits and make them work with greater fervor.
Belief in a religion can make people perform actions which would otherwise be unacceptable.
Once however, long ago in times forgotten, someone believed so deeply; so strongly, that in an eternity of darkness, a glass eye opened.
Nethernimbus - Also known as Wraithstorm, Necronimbus, The Great Blackness
The product of a conjuring gone horribly awry, the Devourer hungers, and it hungers not for anything of this world, nor of the next..
Regional insult for someone considered stubborn, or gullible.
The screeching and squealing sound pierced our skull like a hot poker edging at the back of our mind and taking over any free thought. We knew what it was that was coming for us and could run no more, trapped like a mouse in a maze we frantically ran in circles trying to get away from the inevitable. It towered over us like a frozen monster . . . wait . . . it was. It ran its limbs against its own body knowing what the sound did to us. We cried in agony and horror; in pain physically and mentally. Knowing the fate that would befall us we cried in tight balls on the floor . . . the sound . . . it stopped. I looked up to see it walking away, its shoulders heaving. If I didn't know better I would think it was laughing at me for my fear of it. I'll never know for sure, I hope against all hope that I never will.
- Srowley, adventurer and historian