The armies of the Treaty States go to the fronts of the Great War armed with the sturdy, trusty and effective Dirziet Model-6, a magazine-fed bolt-action rifle.

Fiery-Feathered Phembu, the First Among Pheasants, went to Moeqhu-Qaz, the Leader of the Seven Sand Dragons!

Locked away for his crimes by the gods themselves, he is the greatest spellcaster of all time.

Everyone knows that that Senthia Khlack died with her father, the Duke Eldward Khlack, after their failed Rebellion. But what they do not is that Senthia still lives, after a fashion.

I'm bored of dwarves. So, I'm trying to create my own dwarves. I've decided to call them the Duerga. Here's my basic ideas, and I'll flesh them out later, hopefully with your help.

“Return to me,” she said, and as he died, he said: “I shall return”.
And though the years flew like sparrows from disturbed nest, he did return, year after year…

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.

In the savage wastes of Daemonland the More, three armies chase each other in a circle for all eternity....

'First, I nibbled on his earlobe. Then, I bit into it, letting the red, red blood roll down his neck. Then, when he screamed and started tearing at me, I ripped the flesh from his hand. Ah, it tasted so good! Yes, yes! Then, I ripped through his jugular, and bit through his spine! Yessss.....'

Trapped forever in the grip of the Sea of Jade, paralyzed by the Great Curse, the Fleet of Nazran has become a hellish prison of eternal torment, and the tomb of adventurers from across the Earth.

Within a palace that is also a prison, Muggar the White Despiser wages war against the light, seeking to make all mortals his slaves.

Stebanos paint is a tool of the poisoner's culture of Tekne, mixed in with make-up, to make a Tekneani noble's pale adornments deadly.

The heroes storm the Temple of R’gu, the God From The Stars, to steal the Ruby of the Winged Master

Of old, this city was the home of a coven of the Sarkukai, foul devotees of Sarku, Lord of Worms, the God of Rising From The Grave. Though they were driven out, the city remains tainted by the memory of that ghastly cult.

Unleashed from the high white temples of Hosok in massive swarms, the Handvermin are among the lowliest and most disgusting of the children of the Hand That Sees

Gods for the Roman-themed nation of Imperial Arcturus.

Malignant entities, these beings have existed in unlife for so long that they have forgotten what it means to be mortal.

Since the New Look At Dwarves was such a success, I decided that I would try an overhaul of another fantasy standard which I find boring, the Orcs. I'm using the Orcs only as a very loose base.

In an ancient cycle of time, an empire of sun worshippers ruled the world from their great holy city.

Aher Wolfhound, called Wolfhound The Historian, a man crushed by the weight of the world's cruelty