There are scummy dives, and then there is The Rotten Bastard.
The father of the Hanaset society, who to this day watches his people through reptilian eyes…
Beware these shrub-sized gaurdians of the forest.
Representing a primal force of nature which wants to strangle and slay all humanity, to bury their works beneath the roots of trees and their bodies as fertilizer.
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.
The Big Picture of the World of Nyathis, for the time being…
The Caretakers of the Vast City - Stoneholt, a race of great skill, persistence, and antiquity…
Swords are deliverers of death to the living. This one offers something more to those already dead…
The Wands were created by the Aldruku as a weapon to finally destroy their Nyorian enemies.
A fine chessboard indeed, but do not dwell overlong on your moves…
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.
What follows is an passage from the journal of the famous Beastiographer Laans Torier
“Many have said the Old Men of the mountain were mere myths, or had been wiped out by the Theosians many years ago, but I am staking my reputation on the fact that they do in fact still exist!”
Before the lands were colonised by the Modern Races, other intelligent beings called them home. One of these races was the Alun - a people much like and much unlike mankind
In the great lake of Ture are hundreds of islands of various sizes, and not all have been completely explored by the Modern Races. One such island, with rough and craggy coastlines discouraging landing, is quite remarkable and worth a visit.
In the interplay between nations, espionage has always been a tool of statecraft. Those realms with magic have opened to them many more tools for application to spycraft.
The Scratching Stone has always been an area of interest for the local people. A huge slab of granite with a top a couple of acres in area, it is out of place when compared with the other rock formations in the area. It has bore many names - Evenstone, the Great Altar, the Giant’s Dinnertable and others lost to time.
“No my lord!” cried Herithi. “Have Mercy! Take my eyes instead!” Why did I say that?! thought Herithi, shock registering through him.My eyes? Shalali protect me…
Once a decorated Theosian Soldier, now a wanted deserter.
Ruan was the first of Tarak’s troops to disappear. When it was time for him to take a turn at watch, his bedroll was empty, and tracks led away from the campsite.
..The inn was filled with the sounds of leather creaking and seams bursting, as muscles swelled and grew dramatically. Then came shouts of fury and rage as the mob began charging outside, into what would be a very bloody night.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.