Let it never be said that fate has no sense of humour, for the only region of Vaarn blessed with vast bodies of standing water is the polluted swamp-sink of Ikor Quag. The foolhardy travellers who drink from the toxic canals of the Quag die in convulsive agony, and even touching the water of the… Continue reading LAMIGATOR
The Crimson Soul, Ba, is contained in the heart and liver, and thus it nourishes and irrigates every corner of a living being.
History records that in the latter reigns of the Autarchs, the God-kings of Urth were hesitant to rely upon human troops alone, fearing that the commanders of their legions might seek to usurp the iridescent Peacock Throne and establish their own bloodlines as living Gods instead. Many of the horrors that now plague Vaarn are… Continue reading CACKLEMAW
As every being learned in theology knows, humanity is possessed of four immortal souls, two of which leave the corpse after death and two of which remain.
It is known that the Titans, the great machine intelligences who once ruled as suzerains over humanity, grew decadent and mad as the centuries passed.
Although the origins of many beasts and monstrosities that haunt Vaarn are shrouded in uncertainty, all who behold one agree that the chromavore is a species not of this world, and is likely a fugitive from some other strange dimension. These beings are best described as a living colour, for their bodies consist of nothing… Continue reading CHROMAVORE
Hypergeometry is the long lost art of folding space and time into shapes beyond the ken of humanity, a mystic practise codified by the great minds of the Titans and held a jealous secret by the Guild of Philosophers during the reign of the Autarchs.
Pursuit of eternal life is not encouraged by the sages, for the Blue and Golden Souls must return to the universal cycle for spiritual harmony to be achieved.
The origins of many creatures that can be found upon the Urth in these late red days are no longer recorded and the natural philosophers who debate such matters in languid smoke-dappled parlours are guided towards their conclusions only by intuition, legends, and dreams.
They come from the depths of the blue desert, marching across the azure dunes in single file, their moss-green plastyflesh mottled by heat damage and their green eyes staring glassily at the horizon.