A firebow, though no longer the staple weapon that it was during the era of it's modernity, is still a powerful and versatile missile weapon in it's own right.

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

These ghastly beings are corrupted to do the bidding of Hosok, The Hand That Sees

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 gargantuan engine of destruction that has slept for centuries. But it has tired of travelling the paths of sleep and dreams...

Built to house riches that never came, the ironically-named Treasure House now lies in tumbling ruin.

The Poison Eaters Tribe dwells deep in the jungle glades of the Ushaika, in the lowest reaches of the undergrowth where no sunlight pierces through the leaves, and where the marshy ground wells up with tea-colored water at the lightest step.

In the burning desert stands a symbol of hope, prosperity, and peace, the place known as Glass Mountain.

A Sport that Heroes and GMs can enjoy!

The Azhag ('ah-ZHAHG'; from Old West-Carmanian azadg, meaning watchman, sentry), called Tomb Guardians or Demon Shadows, are the terrible Undead guardians of the tombs of the Ancient Ones.

The children of the Sea of Pandemonium, the Viles of Salt are always thirsty, and they draw water from living beings with even a single brush from their crusty white flesh, dessicating those who are touched.

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

Gods for the Roman-themed nation of Imperial Arcturus.

The Lavas are animalistic warrior-demons who converge in packs like lice on the inconceivable walls of Hell, filled with inconceivable fury and berzerk bloodthirst.

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.

The principal axiom of the Curalon Hestaris, and the basis of all its teachings, is this:

"Inhale. Kill. Exhale."

Getting sick of people who's destiny it is to save the world? Well, that's sure as hell not anything Randolphina's like destiny!

Undead are, simply put, among the most horrific things one can think of. Can you imagine anything more frightening than a being which is dead and yet still walks? Can you imagine the horror of being faced by the hollow shell of being, a hollow shell which must feed?

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.

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