Non-Sslassti are no more then our lower caste. While they may have property in their lands, they are nothing more than the dirt at our feet. Even our lower class can order a human in our lands. One day it will be as such in their lands.
Rsskilarn, High Priest and second hand to Tlatoani
“Evil” often infests swamp. This tree thrives when the other plants wither under the presence of true Evil. However, this is not an evil plant, but a land healing one as nature attempts to reclaim its own.
On the muddy banks of the river deltas and the swamps they wait to wrap their prey in their crushing embrace.That is how they got their name.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman