Those cast out of eternal life by the Great God Juffo find themselves lost forever in the Non. Here, away from both His Holy Warmth and the cold, harsh vengance of His Adversary, Zeln, there is truly nothing.

The product of a conjuring gone horribly awry, the Devourer hungers, and it hungers not for anything of this world, nor of the next..

"Didja see the way way I nailed that, Marty?" "Thunderingly effective!"

'She's dead, Jim.' 'We have the technology, we can rebuild her.' '... Yes. But should we?' 'We must, in order to counter his scheming.' 'Then we'll do it.'

Ringed round by ancient political foes, this ancient nation finds itself dealing with a powerful foe, one with far more sinister hungers than money or land.

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 countess-to-be, Alia duBois, who crouches within her golden jail, a puma waiting paitently to maul her captors...

The Thoron. The great crystal ones. The Speakers of Lightning. The unstoppable wall. The unmovable force. Many are their names, few are their numbers, even less is the understanding Man has of them.

This discreet and stylishly concealable weapon is quite capable of cleaning up its own mess.

All know that Elves cannot die, and that Men do. All know that Men go unto the Underworld upon their death, and that the Elves retire unto the Spiritual Elysium. Yet in the Great Scheme, where goes the one with one foot in the Underworld, and one foot in the Realm of Spirit?

When one cannot die, obsession with death is such a natural thing.

Undead abominations born of the Light, the glow of the Accursed's warped flesh strikes terror into those who behold it.

Taronia - Land of mystics and sages. Taronia - Land of the Gods. Taronia - Land of Conquerers.

This ice-crafted armor is a gift from the three-aspected Goddess of Water to her chosen.

The Crown Princess of Sadaren needs a husband! There's just a few teeny little problems.

The proper names and descriptions of a sword's parts.

A shield of odd design, created not only to parry, but to destroy the foe's ability to attack.

It's round. It's silvery. It's got a handle. It's been used to make a million excellent meals, and even more dogs. It's also got a face shaped dent in the bottom.

The shattered remnants of a divine weapon, a certain amount of power remains in these bits of celestial metal.

The Wise Woman of a small family of the giant hill people known as the Volgotoi, Korara's particular gifts of illusion have allowed her a surprising degree of influence over the local Imperial outpost, helping spare her people the ravages of 'civilization'.

An otherwise simple spear, the dread blade of Hatred brings rot and decay to all it strikes, be it armour, body, or soul.

A dark dagger of song, forged for vengance. It shall have that vengance.