'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

'Let me to battle, Brother. I shall sweep thine enemies as the wind, and thou shalt have vict'ry.' -St. Vedast's revelation to Hural

Winner of The Shards of the Storm Quest.

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.

Priest of a death goddess

What appears to be a simple fisherman's basket has a storied past and secret usage.

''Hear! That which you warred for it gone. In its place is my own creation under my own authority. This Blessed Great Blue is my patronage and you will have no part in it! Lest you soil my sacred waves, I will cause them to crash onto your lands and drown your own creations. End your fighting: the seas are mine.'
Thus she spake from the Merciful Deep.'
- Yamasatran oral tradition

The mysterious Sisters of the Sea watch the events of the Sectarian Wars unfold from the safety of their monastery ships. But how long can they remain neutral before war is brought upon them?

"Is it just me, or is this cave moving?"
- Obin the Spelunker's last words

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.

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

'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

A series of singers and strummers, summarily simple and sinuous, subsisting with singularly spectacular song-stylings.

I've sat on this one for long enough. Feel free to fill in the gaps.

'...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

"Hear, O Servant of the Just One! Hear and stand ye before him, the Celestial Judge! Hear and write: 'Thus speaks the Great Lawgiver, before whom the world shall be tried, the one that is just and righteous beyond all - I am the Law. I am Dalraaen.'"
-The Didache of Law

The worshippers of the Celestial Judge have kept peace and law for a thousand years. When they see great injustice across the Continent, what can they do but fight?

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

"Their so-called god, it is claimed, loves, and thus love is their virtue. Foolishness! Love is only fear of loss, and fear is among the keenest of weapons in our arsenal. Let us turn their virtue onto itself, and draw more souls into the Devouring Maw."
- The Paragon, address to his Overlords, in the second year of the Sectarian Wars

'Bristlebane ale. Tall.'

Mathus looked up. He didn't recognize the man ordering, but he seemed the type: muscles beneath a layer of fat, a snarling expression with most of his teeth missing, fists like summer hams. 'You want it in a bottle?'

'From the tap.'

Mathus nodded. 'This way,' he said, stepping from behind the bar and into the back room, the 'customer' following.

A fresh-faced young man sitting at the bar looked around, confused. 'Bristlebane? Sounds adventurous.'

'You couldn't handle it, son,' an older man said from across the plank bar with a hint of derision. 'It'd right kick your ass.'

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

'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.

A minor mess of magnates for myriad monarchies.

Now with Scroll functions! Add your own!

'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