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..

Welcome,o distinguished traders to the Great Market of Ushart! Here you will want for nothing when it comes to the exotic and wonderous!

Just mind that you have a strong stomach…

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.

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

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

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

‘‘By the strength in my sinews, I swear upon the spirits of my ancestors that this Curd will not forget the mate and children he has lost, nor find rest until his jaws have crushed the life out of the scum that dare to call themselves the Brave People!’’

Large lizards about 5 feet long, nothing about them seems to stand out. As drab and colorless as the parched brown stone of the desert, these things come across as your average (admitedly huge) reptile residents. But what most wouldn't know is that these scaly things are virtually unkillable, thanks to a unique gift that they possess.

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 .

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.

To experience liberation in the arms of Goran, one must first await the coming of the Uroghi..

''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

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.

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....

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..''.

Easily the largest city in the entire land of Yokaru and home to the infamous Keepers, Zibaba is a place simply teeming with the wild and rugged spirit of the bush. Welcome to the safari city.

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.

A reclusive race, the Ragori live deep in the heart of the Purvis Swamp.

Poor little Kankos..

Spat upon by his tyrannical superiors, this pathetic little office menial slaved away like a mule for the miserable pittance thrown to him..

Until he met the one that lurked in the shadows..

The frogs are thick and plentiful here. Everywhere you go, you're almost always about to squash one of the slimy things underfoot if you're not careful about what you tread on. And at night, the tiresome din of multitude of the amphibians croaking, fills the air and render sleep all but impossible. Worst of all, the disgusting things are prone to invading one's hut, huddling in dark corners.

In this dank land, the Bombo hold sway. And the frogs thrive, as do their more mysterious cousins...