Bestowed by the pagan Godess Inar,upon the king of Silamarh in the his nation's most dire time of need,it allowed to destroy nigh single-handed,the great horde of the infamous barbarian war-chief,Hordan.

The classic sword of the incorrigible munchkin,you think? Not quite.

The Quarsooth stands regally, watching impassively with its disturbingly beautiful golden eyes, as masses of sweating labourers haul massive block of lime stone towards the river banks of the Obo, the most majestic and the largest body of moving water in the little barony of Farkhon. Ample in fish stocks, the new masters of the land have deemed it perfect for humanity's first fledgling attempt at advanced aqua-culture. If this ambitious prject proceeds as planned, the Quarsooth colonizers will introduce into the rivers, aquatic life-forms from their own native home-world that breed abundantly and are platable for the digestive system of most creatures, thereby guaranteeing their subjects a bulwark against mass starvation in the disastrous event of crop faliure or a cattle disease epidemic.

And the Immortal Spirit shall unleash his wrath to strike down the maloveant forces that would seek to oppose the Chosen sons of Geshua..

-Fifth Verse from The Gospel Of Prophecies

Feared throughout the southern seas, the Jurokang are a deadly menace to any that intrude into their domain.

As the officer strides into the thick and oppresive pitch-black gloom of the jungle, he silently signals to his men to fan out in a classic Quarsooth battle-formation with a nervous hand-gesture. He is very tense, almost afraid. The soothing, omnipresent presence in his mind tells him that he has no reason to worry, assuring him that victory will belong to those noble warriors that carry the standard of the invincible race of Zor-Tanis.

But there is something else cutting through the easy promises offered by that pleasant, gently commanding entity in his mind, as if determined to seize all his attention and use it to torment his imagination until it begins to scream for mercy. This something he cannot define and put words to, but it makes his skin crawl nevertheless. Despite the heat of the jungle, his blazing gold body-armor had suddenly become a chill prison that raises uncomfortable goosebumps along his chest.

Woried muttering from the rear tell him that his men like him, are unsettled. Turning aound in irritation, he begins to hiss at them to remain silent, afraid of alerting the very band of murdering monstrosities they have finally tracked into this eerie wilderness. It would be a rather embarassing matter for their commander if the very quarry they had been relentlessly pursuing for the past week or so, were to suddenly turn around and massacre all of them.

Too late he feels a something slithering around his neck. Fearful that it might be a pyhton, he reackes for his massive ''fire-bow'', determined to incinerate the scaled menace before it can crush his larynx. But before his fingers even have a chance to close around the handle of the weapon hanging from his belt, another coil slithers out of the darkness and out of the darkness and pinions his arm, holding it in a painful crushing crip. As agony swamps him, he can vaguely hear a grim sound of cracking bones through the pain-filled haze that now holds him. His arm is being crushed. And then so quickly that his stunned mind has no time to register this new fact, there is no time left for more thought. The coil looped around his throat begins to squeeze, suffocating him. As the officer's head begins to swim in the final moments of his life, he finally gains an excellent look at the thing that is stealing his life.

It is not a snake, but a vine. As if in response to this discovery, a now terrifyingly familiar roar of bestial fury rings through the gloom of the jungle..

Destined am I to hunt down and slay the half breed called Rachat, for only his demise can bring me what I yearn for...

Throughly despising the intrigue and scandals of the royal court,Prince Michael has never mourned the loss of his crown and inheritance to a treacherous advisor of his father's. No,inflicting vengeance on the usurper and reclaiming his throne is too petty for him. He has a more important quest to fulfill..

A well crafted but otherwise ordinary steak knife. It makes the cutting of meat sooooooo easy.

''A thousand of the vile things we set alight, crying aloud the prayers of the Holy Redeemer as the demonic abombinations screamed in a chorus of almost human agony, utterly helpless against the flames that consumed their monstrous and deformed bodies. Never again will another human grace the banquet of these accursed fiends. But it pleases me even more to say that the gold which is so abundant in this heathen land, is now the sole propety of a nation blessed by the One God. No more will these repellent false deities lay claim to that which we have wrested from their worshippers''. -Corand Rogad, Conquerer of Tahutol

Just like with the sharks they so revere,a wrong or inappropriate action can provoke a lethal reaction from a Shura. As the other mer-races are so fond of saying among themselves,the only thing more unpredictable than a shark is a Shura. This is a prefered weapon, simple yet deadly.

A plague in improverished locations, the Rot Beetle is the bane of those who are not careful about where or what they eat.

8.) The Revolutionary
This guard is a secret revolutionary. He has a deep hatred for members of the aristocracy, and has made getting this job his lifes work, with the sole intention of assassinating members of the royal family when he gets the chance. So far he has been unsuccessful, first because he needed to gain their trust and then because he has never had the chance-other guards have always been in the right place at the right time. He did once use poison, but the result was not fatal for the target, who put it down to badly cooked food and sacked two of the royal cooks. In battle, he would try and kill as high-ranking a noble as he could: And if he could get away with it, a noble on his own side.

Honored and cherished by the people of the Ragosi mountains, the Osaki have allowed them to retain their freedom in the face of those who would enslave them.

''I am so very sorry to interupt your grand schemes for seizing control of the nether-realm, but I am afraid that my master, the Lord of the Desolate Shore, has raised some serious objections..''

Lying forgotten on the ocean floor by the children of Acqua,reposes the very monument that commemorates the passing of the islands from the hands of the Old Ones into those of their ancestors who sailed out of the mists long ago to claim them for their descendents.

But in a twist of extreme irony,others have come to venerate this creation abandoned by the race of man that built it. They are the Old Ones,the very same race whose defeat this statue is supposed to represent.

The jewel of the imperial shoal, this aquatic city is the emperor's seat of power.

Unique among the sea monsters that infest the oceans of Acqua, this abomination is cursed with a hunger for power that can never be satisfied.

''Parasitical worms that breed at an alarming rate , these vicious little creatures are indeed a great plague to other aquatic species that share their habitat. It is regrettable that some of them were able to escape their enclosures and infect our local fish stocks. But rest assured good people, that our illustrious and gifted leaders have an excellent reason for encouraging the domestication of these foul things. Trust in a wisdom that exceeds ours by far ''.

-Village Spokse man for the Quarsooth initiated aqua-culture project.

'Rrrbit! Rrrbit! Great Jove has found you unworthy, human! Now prepare to die !'

‘‘We are the Lords Of The Straits, Rulers Of the Sea, and the very ocean acknowledges us as Her children! Men of Pan-Kor, nothing sails on the waters without acknowledging our might !’’