Its intricate knitting defining all description, the hyperdoily is the world's best resting place for cookies.

The Hanset are a sleeping giant of a race. Once the owners of an empire of Alexandrian proportions, they new reside in their hidden sub-tropical home, living the simple lives of tribesmen. Though bereft of metal tools, they have adapted to their forest home and it to them. Though their empire is long gone, they still hold onto the seed of its greatness.

An evaluation of the limited advancement of technology in standard genre fantasy.

"In all my years of research, perhaps the best way I have found to summarize the Hermit of Wither Tor is the name given to him by the inhabitants of the Grassdancer ghettoes. These unfortunates call him, in their own tounge, An´rah Grun´dar Ahr, which roughly translates into He-Who-Speaks-With-His-Fists....."

From "Locastus and beyond", by Darius Moak

Glistening in the light of Acheron, the crystalline structure of the Atrium is a fragment of Earth, carried across the void; a snapshot of green and blue amid the pale tans and reds of Tarterus, a promise and a dream.

A subtle, and effective improvement to the standard gravitic shielding common throughout the Starkin Federation, this device rapidly degrades and destroys energy weapons brought to bear against it.

The product of centuries of slow, careful, painstaking work, a testament to the Old Ways and the power of Thaumaturgy, the Cathedral of Light is known of across the whole of Kuramen.

The dead, imbued with the divine essence of magic, walk again, ever hungry for the missing spark of a living soul.

An arcane substance able to convert kinetic energy directly into matter.

Loathsome creatures born of magic gone hideously awry, the trolls of Kuramen are little more than ever-hungry masses of cancerous tissue.

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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.

Though each drone possesses little intelligence of its own, together, they are the Kth'k'k'kt, who span the stars.

You can always recocognize a guardsman by his truncheon, tonburry hat, and pimple coat.

"Don't worry, I've fought necromancers before! Wait, what the..."

"The time I spent in East Point was almost as hard as time in a military prison would be," said the Colonel to his junior officers, " but I am pleased that I went there as it made me who I am today.

''I tell you, if you seek to cross the dunes of the great desert alone, you will never return. Vile fiends dwell there, evil monsters that delight in feasting upon the flesh of men. I fear that if you persist in your foolish quest, you like the others before you, will end your days as a feast for these foul denizens of the desert''.

Everytime you look at something in The City, there is something going on behind it. It is a moment caught in the tangles of time of some other persons life. It is those little moments that make The City seem so alive.

Stone peckers, foul-tempered beasts, better suited for cooking and mattresses than being allowed to breed

Anjet of Cenn Caerwaith

The forgotten realm