Transformed by the Ghulscorch Ague, the Lords of the Ghouls walk among us...

Considered to be misshapen freaks or demonic menaces by the superstitious, these many-armed people dwell as outcasts on the fringes of human society, abused and reviled.

Come! Hear Uncle Jehan's band, by the river's side...

Last of the Lineage of Senach, young King Nemeroud gave his heart to an Aelfen enchantress and vanished from the lands of men, plunging the land into chaos. If only the tale had ended there

'Ye've 'eerd th' one 'bout th' king who'll send 3000 gold royals te th' lucky man thet sends 'im a letter back t' test th' Royal Mail, an' ye heerd aboot th' succubus that makes off wi' mens' kitlins after she 'as 'er way wi' em, but ha' ye heerd aboot th' beggar lad that wants a stone from ever' village in th' kingdom?

The Heretic Corvius bore a silken banner into battle, a blood-red standard embroidered with the ominous figure of a serpent.

Sometimes, the places remember. Where Destiny's threads intertwine, echoes of the past live again.

'Build a road, wide and surrounded by beautiful architecture, to lead from Guilders' Court to the new palace,' the Regent commanded Master Thraso.

An Empire was brought low by the vile astrologer Magnus Magisterius, but that was only the beginning of his evil.

In a shadowed alley near Bassage Market, the secretive master of the city's 'resurrection men' studies mysteries of life and death.

Nowhere else in the city would you find a place more tragically downtrodden.

The Connoisseurs of the land would remember Vigo Telaggio's masterpiece, but not in the way he'd intended...

Once a place where the great merchants of the city met, this decrepit square has become a thriving marketplace for the poor and the unwanted. Many a shady deal has been made among its stalls and hidden recesses.

Crawling among the garbage and offal, the detritus of what men call civilization, the myrie bugs claim their own small domains. They eat, and breed, and wait…

A weapon from before the time of men, enchanted in times of legend by the greatest of the land's druids.

In the depths of Destinen Wood, the grotesque pets of the Dark Lady lurk, belching forth their vile webs.

Even the sinister Aelfen lords of the Unseleigh Court knew to fear the eldritch vengeance of the Horned Lord.

The villagers paid dearly after they slew the stuttering old crone!

Legends say that the first of these bows of gleaming steel were crafted by the smiths of the dwarves, who gave them to the first of the land's great kings.

The smoky haze that shrouds this volcanic island hides a deadly legend...