Some claim that the giants were the first mortals to walk the land in the wake of the spirits rising when the gods began breathing life into the souls that Kasal deposited on Hewdamia. As elusive as they are at times, here are my findings of their cultures in my search for the truth.

-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian

I'm beging to wonder if there can be victory? Please don't let this go on...

Memoirs of the Nameless soldier

You are sailing along the sea when you see a lighthouse in the deep blue middle. It is a lone light house, built on a rock not much larger than the tower itself. It is an oddity.

These magnificent warhammers were created during the War of the Elder races, a war between the Elves and the Dwarves. Made for Elven clerics to use in battle against their dangerous foes.

Tower Isle gets it's name from the tower of gleaming ice that climbs high above the surface.In the summer it gleams in the sunlight and can be seen for miles away.But even in the summer the tempreture never climbs above -5 degrees, and in the winter it is not a place where most people would want to be.Myths say that a king slumbers there waiting for the world to end.

While Ozea, Dreifach, and Sangreal are the main cities of Falhath, they are by no means the only ones.

Many who have landed upon this island's golden sands have never escaped alive, hence it's name.Only fools, it is said, will attempt to take the island's gold.

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..

The sea is calm, the morning mists clear, the seagulls cry out, and land comes into view

The Drung, known as the Tribe of Starvation, savage warriors and uncompromising foes.

...and a little something extra for yourself

The undisputed head of the Trinity, and the story of Falhath's oldest folk hero.

Clad in a rainment of silver scale and chain armor, Ixia is the second member of the Trinity

The Axe has long been the symbol of Ozea, and the weapon of choice from the common footsoldier to the one time King.

Proof that some times truth is stranger than fiction. (Sometimes)

The Unique Life cycle of the Grex. A forest Decomposer.

Not all the beasts that threaten humans are large.There are those who despite watching out for dragons, bears, giant spiders and the like, have underestimated this downright nasty little ant and paid for it with their lives.

Resembling more a beetle than a seacraft...

Voz's bones! It's been a long time coming come in and welcome to Ozea me guest.

At the end of a long day it's always nice to run across an unexpected inn...

'From the desert I come to thee on a stallion shod with fire.'

The calcobrinian Hotblood. One of the Oldest and purest of all horse breeds. Also a foundation breed for all know types of light riding/racing horses. It is considered by many to be the single most beauitful of all the breeds as well. With it's refined head, dished profile, large expressive eyes, high spirits, and unique floating gait.