Prowling the wild seas of Acqua like the ravenous raiders that they are, these militant priests of Holy Jove are sworn to their sacred mission of destroying the unbelievers and infidels wherever they may be found on the open ocean.

Some see him as a loathesome reminder of their faliure to cow a race humanity deems unworthy of existence. Others deem him a noble hero and resistance-fighter, a beacon of hope and courage to all the downtrodden of the galaxy.

Regardless, you don't want to smell his breath. Or ever see him up close.

The small planet of XX has constantly puzzled astronomers who are unable to make any sense of its constantly shifting location on the cosmic charts.

Other less lofty minds pay this oddity no heed, choosing instead to focus on the search for more more promising worlds to colonise and tame.

But unknown to the race of men, a ferocious rival lurks in the black depths of space, constantly on the hunt....

Have a family that is ever at odds with each other? Beware lest the Slurran comes for you..

'I stand before you now to tell you that the gods have spoken to me! Obey not the strictures of the Church! They seek only to deprive us of the very same pleasures that they enjoy themselves'.

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.

Founded on the promise of prophecy, this fiefdom owes it success to its previously worthless amethyst deposits. And its very survival as well.

Suffused with a love for probing every inch of the darkest and most unexplored depths of the ocean,this adventurous octopus like being possesses a dashing courage most odd for one of his race.

Not very surprising perhaps,when you consider the fact that this young explorer is insane.

Man, too, is a primal creature, though he binds himself with the chains named Reason and Law, locked link by link from birth. Yet, those locks can be opened, the links broken, in both the savage world of the street-slum, and in the gilded cages of nobility.

One such creature is the petty pirate, Gurad Sorgon. Unknown to those that dismiss him as being merely an ugly face among the multitude of floating scoundrels that abound on the lawless seas, this marauder conceals within him the soul of a prehistoric terror.

Beware the old woman clutching at the folds of her clothing..

‘‘There were five of them all together, these monstrous walking trees! Yep, trees that walked! By the look of those nasty things, they were probably trees that ate people as well. Tried to kill us with those giant rubber balls, they did, those hell-spawned overgrown bushes…

Cut that laughter out, damn you! We weren’t drinking salt-water when that happened! Those crazy things are real! And if you don’t believe me, sail there yourself, you lousy land lubber! Don’t tell me I didn’t say ‘‘I told you so!’‘, when those vicious monsters finally squish you with their roots’‘.

His breath faltering into a final rasping final gasp as the stone coils crushed his throat, these last words resonated through the fading mind of the would-be grave robber.

''You dared to defile the tombs of the ancient kings, Lusoh scum, but die knowing that I will never allow once inch of this scared land to fall into the hands of those would seek to destroy the nation of my divine fathers. Long live the Shining One, Goya Varman. For I am him..''.

''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

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.

Can a demon ever learn what it means to feel pity, grief, fear, despair, joy and the rest of those tangled emotions and feelings that plague humans? Can beings who obtain their deepest satisfaction from the suffering they inflict on others,ever embrace those very things they so passionately despise and hate about the mortal races? Mozrak,wisest of the half-demons and beloved of the Mother Godess, believed it not impossible. The Staff is both his curse and gift to his pureblood cousins.

Serving extensively in the armies of human kings determined to eradicate the last tribal enclaves of ferocious non-humans that still stubbornly refuse to release their hold on the large tracts of wilderness which yet remain, this mercenary company has only one requirement of any potential recruit willing to sign up with them:He must not not be able to claim kinship of even the slightest kind with their employers..

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.

There are some men who treat their wives the way they would chattel,that is,with utter control and domination,regarding their spouses not as independent beings entitled to their free will,but as mere objects of theirs,subject to the will of their lords. Such is the nature of those doomed to become the Possessive Ones,upon their death.

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

Isolated from the known world by the seemingly endless watery wastes of the fabled Vaet Ocean, the Eshal rule the watery continent of Tarrod with an iron fist, ever ready to carry out plundering raids on the subject races at the slightest excuse. Proudly calling themselves the Brave People,the Eshal are a race of savage warriors and fanatics that are driven by the consuming need to find an ever larger number of victims to feed the monstrous thing known simply as the Matriarch .