'I have seen the beast, tentacled and cruel. Tore out me eye, it did, like pickin’ a plum. It’s cursed, I tell ye, cursed to its cold heart.'
-Jerboam the Sailor

Misunderstood and much maligned, the Hek is a traveller who dreads violence. If it only understood the violence it caused.

Forsooth! A fair flock of faithful friars, from fanciful to factual.

Priest of a death goddess

'Woe, brethren! What hath these gods wrought? For a thousand suns we have had peace, and now in an instant the light is being extinguished. How can any survive in these Wars of the Sects?'
- Arbiter Ariston Nikomachus

The Continent and its faiths have thrived with little fuss for a millenium. And now, with a few holy words, all of heaven, earth, and hell seem to be at war...

The powerful wizard Sumuho styled himself as a god and was worshipped far and wide. After his fall, his vast temple sank into the desert long ago. What secrets lie in the Sanctuary of Sumuho?

'Jones, when was the last time ye cleared yer hulls?'
'Mm, a few months back. Why?'
'Yer ship. She's comin' outta the water.'

Failure. For most, it is an occasional streak of bad luck to be suffered. For others... well, it's a living.

The sight of a war forbici on the battle field makes some laugh, others fearful, and some simply confused. In well-trained hands, however, it can be a lethal weapon.

'As he said this he blessed them with his amulet that held the Firestone, which is called also Seenu's Eye. Immediately the priestesses began to praise Tinay, and the people were greatly amazed.'

- The Gospel of Dorcas, 7:20-21

'De Kanaar folk tink all dere gods and medicines are secret. But I live in dese marshes long enough to hear dere gods, whether pointy-ear folk like it or not. I can hear dere comin's and goin's, an' I can make dem see you or skip you as you like.'
- Tonis, hillaq of Rakart Village

'Anyone can draw a map, boy - there's no more difficulty in that than laying brick. What makes maps useful is when they are so proper, so precise, that they are living images of the places they represent. Encompassing knowledge of the geography, and mastery of the very space itself - that, child, is cartogramancy.'

- Sage Pakpao Sasithorn, Chief Lecturer, the Ezagun-Darkbolt College of Cartogramancy

'...and thus it was said that Adaleer the Blest could reflect the true nature of any soul. Now some of his followers believed that his ranger gear, as much a part of him as his faith, was also so blest.'
- Dauneth, Lore Chronicles

A common domestic animal in the Siogalish household, the buckfowl isn't much different from a chicken at first. Until you get a look at its head.

'In the Black, dead souls creep
Seeking vengence without sleep.
Sacrificed for precious stones,
Rend they now flesh and bones.
Bloody staind and drenched in tears,
Stones cry out to one who hears,
‘Treachery has sown the seeds!
Now you'll be the one who bleeds!
Wear us well, you who brave,
Next you'll be in the grave!''
- Tas-Vessina's curse

A minor mess of magnates for myriad monarchies.

Now with Scroll functions! Add your own!

A hat should be taken off when you greet a lady and left off for the rest of your life. Nothing looks more stupid than a hat. -P.J. O'Rourke

The dread pirate Corvorane was legendary even after his capture and conversion to a privateer. His secret fortress and hidden treasure are of equal fame. But more than gold lurks in the depths of Corvorane’s Cave.

The magical instruments that created the world, long since scattered. Fortunate is the player who finds them, and great is the band that can make them sing again.

An aloof race of intelligent amphibians, the S'krae are an honor bound culture who have unusual customs.

'Dat woman... She was terrible to behold. Terrible but beautiful. She sat on a great throne, surrounded by her gatorfolk servants. She stood and she looked mighty angry. She look down at me an' Tergryn an' de rest, and she yell in some strange tongue - de elf-folk, I tink. She had a fury in her soul, an' I could feel her evil eye on me. Doric - hui, poor Doric! - she had 'er gatorfolk slash his belly wit' his claws and tore out his entrails. De gobbled dem up... Poor Doric...'
- Jorif Grisold, survivor

She is the high priestess of Jampiri, the outcast of the Kanaar, the guardian of the gatorfolk. Swynmoor's resident witch is powerful and knowledgeable, keeping the natural balance in the swamps.