Phostus
by Barinellos
Status: Public


In the many realms of the multiverse, there are oases where the light shines brightest, where a wanderer can take their ease and there are no hardships. Worlds whose inhabitants never know suffering and live lives filled with happiness, paradises and kingdoms of shining justice and mercy. There are worlds that would seem a heaven unspoken in tales, for words could not capture such sublime wonder.

But there is a balance to all things. Where there is light, there shall always be darkness, and in the darkness terrible things lurk. Where there is a heaven....

There shall always be hell.

Phostus is a world whose name is spoken of only in harsh whispers and cursed oaths. It is a blighted world, built upon suffering and terrible might. It is a darkness to balance out the light of other planes in the greater realms.

Phostus is a world ruled by demons.

Geography
Phostus is nearly perpetually cloaked in thick dark clouds. The rains, which fall almost daily, are the only crutch by which life survives on the blasted and treacherous surface of the world. The heat of the world itself dries and cracks the vast plains, and they are wastelands where little to nothing grows. The rains offer brief respite, and it is a precious resource that the inhabitants capture, though the more daring can find water elsewhere, including the explosive geysers which occasionally form.

The heat of the world comes from the surface of the plane itself, though there is little explanation for why the scorching earth is as it is, for the deep caverns and their underworld cisterns do not share the same torrid conditions above. The subterrain is also the only place where the wilds can grow unmolested, though few would ever recognize the stunted greenery in the caves near the surface as being anything like a forest, but upon Phostus, it is the closest one can find.

For all the terrible conditions, from the cold pits of the underlakes to the scorching caldera of the sulfur spires, it is not so unlike many inhospitable worlds. It is the sky that sets Phostus apart. The dark clouds that hang ever present over the lands do not always block the pale wan light from the sky. The sky itself blazes with jaundiced light, whose only twilight is brought by the clouds gathering.

The most disturbing facet is the source of the light, for it does not come from the sun. The firmament itself shines with the painful light and the sun.... The sun burns black. It does not shine, but seems to absorb the light, sipping from the heat of the world. It is a black star whose baleful gaze is disturbing to behold. The terrible heavens of this hellish world are what make Phostus the disturbing place it is.

However, the worst is not the blighted land, but the beings who can survive on such a world.

Inhabitants
The Demon Lords of Phostus
Demons rule the vast stretches of Phostus, but though there are many of their kind, not all can claim dominion over the world. The lesser demons must make do with whatever they can scratch out wherever they are allowed, but most have chosen to swear fealty to those more powerful than themselves. In truth, they are just waiting for a chance to betray their promises and seize that power as their own.

But such petty ambitions begin to fall apart as one climbs the hierarchy. It is strange to think that any demon possesses a sense of honor, but as one considers the demonic ranks of Phostus, that is exactly the conclusion one is faced with. Politics and subtlety become far more influential than the clumsy, brutal attempts of the less powerful. Though they are far from noble, the demonic nobility are the true masters of the world, and virtually none can hope to match the highest of their ranks: The Seven Demon Kings.

The Kings each rule from a fortified city built around grand opulent palaces that serve as the center of their vast empires. The Demon Kings' cities are among the few true instances of civilization on Phostus, though they are not the only that can be found if one searches hard enough. Thousands of beings find some small comfort within these cities, swearing their service in exchange for an easier life, and as undoubtedly evil as they are, they are true to their words. You may become their property, forfeiting claims to your soul and possibly that of your family’s, but most of the lords do not press the issue. For them, it is enough to own you, few of their number ever feel it needed to remind their subjects of the fact.

Despite being ruled by demons, life in a Phostus city is not terribly different than the life you could expect to find in any other sufficiently large city. There are markets, guards, taxes, and basically anything else one could think of. The economy is even not all that different than elsewhere, gold and silver drachma being the standard denomination for trade. The one exception to this truism is a demon's payment. They do not trade in precious metal, but instead choose a coin known as an Obol. A coin crafted from a soul. There are many uses for an obol on the world, but generally, it is not wise to traffic in such coinage.

The Rise of the Courts
The balance of power between the demon kings reached a stalemate since the destruction of the eighth demon king centuries ago. It has left two factions whose hatred of one another has threatened war as much as it has guaranteed peace. They are divided for reasons that most mortals can never grasp, and even though there has been a change in membership over the years, they have managed to maintain the same power balance in all this time.

It should never be thought that just because another demon is a member of the same court that it makes them an ally. Though there are seven demon kings, only six of them claim allegiance to one court or the other. The last king, Lilin, is the king with the smallest holdings, and yet, despite that, she may very well be one of the most powerful beings on Phostus. She perches precariously between the two courts, never committing herself to either, and while she may be vulnerable because of her non-declared state, she is also far more free to play the political games that the others cannot. That freedom has made her too dangerous an opponent for any to openly attack, and so, in her own way, she maintains a hold over Phostus that neither Luxenyx nor Samakira can claim to match.

The Demon Kings
The Black Court

• Luxenyx – The Black Lord: The king of the Black Court, Luxenyx is an androgynous and impossibly beautiful being whose name was taken from the black sun itself. The throne xie rules from is located in the immense terraced city of Ghena, xier palace forming the uppermost plateau of the mountain. Luxenyx is an effective if negligent ruler, basically apathetic to the lives affected by the plots and whims of the Black Court. No matter the callousness and boredom Luxenyx is possessed of, the shrewd mind that lurks behind the pretty body is one that is truly chilling. Luxenyx does not act swiftly or impatiently, but instead lays plans that may take a century or more to come to fruition. As a result, xie tends to use beings as pawns in the silent wars xie wages, caring little about sacrificing one or another for the possibility of a greater reward. Despite that, it is that long sightedness that makes Luxenyx such an effective king, and often times the lack of focus on trivial matters benefits the citizens of Ghena more than you might expect.
• Adys – The Soulbroker: Adys rules the most sprawling city of them all, choosing to actually forgo walls to proclaim his disinterest in the brutish methods many of the others engage in. Violence means little to nothing to Adys, and Artrix is ultimately ruled by only one thing, and that is the cold metal of coins. Adys is perhaps one of, if not the wealthiest of the demon kings, but rather than sink it into celebrating his own ego, he has chosen to hoard it, which might very well explain the lack of walls around Artrix as well. Adys is a cautious demon, and that caution has made him very deliberate in his actions. He does not indulge in much of anything, but rules Artrix and the rest of his empire with a carefully measured hand. Adys is a dark figure, imperial in bearing and appearance, but his eyes are filled with the void from which his ilk were born, and it is from that abyss that his patience stems. Death comes for all, to those patient enough to wait, and when that day comes, Adys will collect his share as well.
• Hjala – the Oathbreaker : Hjala rules in the far north, in the canyons and valleys between two sharp peaks. Nebhos is a strange place, even to those who live there, and what is and what seems to be are often two very different things. The clouds hang lower over Nebhos than almost anywhere else on Phostus, rain falling in a near perpetual drizzle, and it has done much to color the city’s reputation. However, that reputation will likely forever be marred by Hjala herself, and the sort of beings who have come to Nebhos in the first place. Hjala is called the oathbreaker for a reason, but it is not because she is untrustworthy, any moreso than any demon that is, but because she specializes in breaking the oaths of others. She has collected a vast population in Nebhos of beings who have sought to escape the deals they have made. It is this reputation that has earned Nebhos the moniker “the city of cowards.” Hjala herself is similar to her city, driven and desperate, but despite how gaunt and wasted she appears, some would still call her hauntingly attractive.

The Crimson Court

• Samakira – The Crimson Lord: A much more imposing leader of his court than Luxenyx, Samakira is thickly built and casually powerful. While others of his kind show some modicum of restraint, Samakira is simply unconcerned with the display of his power, and he is unquestionably powerful. The city of Edom has been sculpted by his power alone, and it is an astounding work to consider. It is doubly disconcerting when one knows that Edom was once the prison Samakira had been banished to. Bound inside the prison, he reshaped the land around him and has turned his former cell into the throne of his power. No one yet recalls who could command such authority that Samakira would bend to their will, but it makes little difference as, quite obviously, they are no longer present in the world, and Samakira is. If anything, Samakira is now more powerful than ever before. It is not just arcane might that he wields though, for one glance at his body speaks of the unholy might he can bring to bear, and the thick horns sprouting from his head and chin is all the crown he sees fit to wear.
• Enma – The Bull King: From the tall spires of the mountain city Akaran, Enma rules all that he surveys with an iron fist. Far below, the land is cloaked in the shades of heavy clouds, thick with lightning and ash from the volcano upon which the city is built. It is by sheer force of will that Enma keeps the volcano within his control, a fact that has inspired a great deal of fear and some degree of desperate loyalty from the citizens of Akaran. Despite his fearsome and, quite frankly, brutal reputation, he is a gregarious lord, who is open about his passions and hatreds. To be in his good grace is a surprising boon, but to fall from such means a very short life. Enma is a tremendous, near titanic figure who is very likely the most physically intimidating of all the demon kings, but it is his army that has earned him the moniker “The Bull King” for most of that force is composed of the homeless minotaurs which he has let settle in his city.
• Teth – : Teth rules the largest area of any of the demon kings, but his kingdom is ultimately one of the least valuable despite its size. Situated in the north, Amenthes is surrounded on all sides by vast stretches of desert capable of supporting very little life. Despite that fact, he has crafted a kingdom of his own, almost out of spite. Within the walls of Amenthes, one would find it hard to believe that the wasteland outside its doors was present, but Teth has spared no expense for that illusion, trading a wealth of knowledge to both the Amphin and Ouroboros so that they would turn Amenthes into an oasis, one that he keeps jealously guarded. His city is built on the alchemy of demonic magic, amphin waters, and snakefolk magic, and it is only Teth’s influence that keeps all three bound together. His court would be a tense place if not for the regular duels between courtiers and the excesses of his pleasure dome. However, no matter the odd collection that occupies his court, there are some who seem to dominate it. Amenthes has become the second home to the draconic generals which command the demonic armies, and Teth is to whom those generals answer, proving that his importance does not lay in his city, but rather in his court.

Lilin – The Shadow Mistress: Iriala is by far the smallest holding of any demon king, but more important than size is tactics, and that is something Lilin is an unquestioned master of. Iriala is built with a mind for both strategic importance and commercial success. Virtually every trade route manages to find its way through Iriala’s gates, and Lilin plays a generous hostess, while slowly collecting her power, scoffing at the larger armies that are needed to secure the other kingdoms. For her own, she has taken an utterly loyal and unique army as her own, that of powerful artificial warriors that she herself has constructed. That is to say nothing of the many spies she has lurking in the shadows, for her spies are the shadows themselves. While most demons show their wealth in Obols or great displays of wealth, Lilin instead chooses to hide her strength and find more useful ways to spend her power, and of course, amass more. All the while, she lurks in the background of both demon courts, making promises that even other demons must worry over. In some ways, Lilin’s own appearance is a reflection of her politics, for she is exactly what you would expect, but looks are invariably deceiving. Her horns, for example, are hidden within her raven hair, and it is a metaphor that should scarcely be forgotten.

The Regent Dragons


The dragons are allowed unparalleled freedom despite their servitude, but the yoke they bear is one that they can never throw off. Some would say it is a yoke that they hardly seem to feel any longer. They have long since adapted to their role, and even come to enjoy the life that they would have otherwise never known. In many ways, they have become decadent creatures, but the fire still burns in their chests, and they soar the skies with fierce abandon, heedless of the dangers that lurk within the clouds.

The dragons have been appointed the generals of the demonic armies and are afforded respect by the tinier creatures under their command, a respect that nearly borders on worship, and that suits them in a way their kind could never have predicted. The demons are well aware of the dragon’s proclivities, and urge them, subtly, to indulge in the violence that shapes their hierarchy. So long as they remain at one another’s throats, they will never realize the carnage they might turn against their masters. If tested, the worship their soldiers throw at the dragons would wither under the demon’s sway, but it would be devastating in the interim.

The dragons of Phostus are a dark crimson that borders on black and their chests glow with an inner fire, the shadows of bone standing out starkly against the softness of their underside and light spills from between the umbral scales. Thick scales armor their backs, and four immense wings bear them aloft when they take to the skies. They have blunt, almost skeletal maws with bared fangs and sharp, cunning eyes beneath the thick ridges of bone that plate their heads. They have taken to donning armor, not for necessity but merely adornment, an ornate mark of status.

Gargoyles, the Last Protectors
Some travelers might mistake the proud gargoyles for demons, beings with monstrous appearance and a severe manner, but underneath the intimidating visage beats the hearts of warriors, heroes, avengers,… protectors.

Gargoyles have existed for as long as demons have, and they have always stood in opposition to their terrible machinations, but sadly that nobility has cost them in ways most cannot understand. They suffered for many years against the growing powers that took root in the world, a thankless defense of everything they hold dear, but it is their nature to struggle against evil and hatred. A gargoyle could no more stop protecting their home than they can stop breathing the air. In their long fought war, the demons sought some advantage that would allow them to at last shrug off the constant battles against their eternal enemy. Finally, twelve hundred years ago, they did the one thing they knew would break their foes. They lured them into a grand battle and while they were away, the demons destroyed their homes, casting the gargoyles to the four winds of Phostus.

The demons gained the upper hand after that, and continued to rise until the world was all but theirs. And then they turned on one another.

The gargoyles might have been beaten, but they were not a shattered people. In their exodus into the Duidain Wastes, they found new ways to fight, and more importantly new homes to defend. The humans, the ouroboros, even the minotaurs, welcomed them, gave them a new purpose and shared their hardships. Though their numbers were few, they continued to stand sentinel in the wastes and kept their hope alive.

Then came the fall of the eighth demon king and the rise of the Free City, and at last the gargoyles long vigil in the wastes came to an end. They flew in the hundreds from all corners of Phostus, more clans than had been assembled in centuries, they all came to watch over the grand city, and the gargoyle people gained a citadel home worth their long ordeal. There are still clans who watch over the nomads of the wastes, but they are no more than patrols, guardians-errant far from where the heart of their people lies.

Gargoyles are incredible warriors, fierce, and unbelievably strong. They are a great deal larger than humans, approximately the size of the minotaurs, and their wingspan is immense. As strong as they are, however, they do not rely purely on brute strength, and have a great deal of skill with weaponry as well. While their martial prowess is incredible, it is not their greatest ability.

Gargoyles are the strongest white mana casters on Phostus. Their particular specialty is in lithomancy, stone shaping, and that is what has made them such amazing warriors. With their magic, they can turn their flesh to stone to armor themselves in battle, though it makes them far too heavy to fly. That is where their other advantage lies, with the ability to fly. That comes with dangers of its own, but their great leathery wings are perfect for catching the thermals rising from the scorched ground. From their lofty position, skimming the clouds, they can travel faster than most any other being on Phostus and can plummet without warning to give battle at a moment's notice.

Gargoyles are fertile once every decade after their coming of age, and can lay up to five eggs at a time. The eggs are buried in the warmth of the ground for up to a year before they hatch, and the hatching grounds are one of the most carefully guarded secrets of the gargoyle clans. It is at least partly for this reason that the gargoyles so fiercely protect their homes, for they cradle the future of their clans.

Each clan has a unique arrangement or formation of horns that marks them as belonging to a specific lineage. It is not unusual for a gargoyle to spend an inordinate amount of attention on their horns as a result, and while they are not overly concerned with clothing, they go to great lengths to adorn their horns. Clothing, in general, is scarce with the gargoyle people, in part because it is so much easier to simply cast stone upon themself if modesty must be maintained. What clothing they do have is made of either leather or reptile skin.

The 108 Human TribesThere is some doubt as to the true number of the tribes of man that actually populate Phostus, but 108 is an ancient symbolic number to their kind and so, regardless of the question of accuracy, humanity has chosen to refer to itself by the old moniker. More than half of humanity's number lives under the rule of the demons in their cities and outposts, perfectly normal lives safe behind the walls built by bloodstained hands. The humans of the cities do not aspire to great things, but normally live satisfying, if mundane lives. They do not strive for more, accepting their lot in the world in exchange for security.

There are those, however, who have chosen to wander the wastes, throwing off the demonic yoke. They eschew the easier life, choosing mastery of their own destiny over the comfort of chains.

The Nomad Tribes
To the nomads who eke out a ragged existence of tight discipline and rigorous hardship, the people who live in the cities are weak and corrupt, but if faced with the truth, they have to admit that those simple folk are no more evil than they are. That does not mean that the nomadic tribes do not resent the choice the others make, just that they cannot hate them for the same.

The nomads manage to survive the harsh wilderness thanks to their rigid lifestyle. They take nothing for granted and spend a great deal of time securing what resources they can, collecting the rains, trading for goods, and hunting the massive beasts that roam the wastes. Most of their trophies can be found in many of the other races' havens, traded for items or drachma so that they can survive in the wilds. Leather, bone, water, even their considerable skills, they trade everything so that they can live by their own laws. Nothing is so sacred save for survival itself.

As much as they are loathe to admit, they contribute as much to the demon's rule as their city bound brethren. Their goods and trade often end up stocking the bazaars of the cities, and they even going so far as to eliminate the beasts that might otherwise interfere with the caravans and trade by which the cities thrive. They are hunters and they cannot help but take actions that benefit the greater good, even if that good later supports evil.

It is not a comfortable life. It is often not a happy life. But it is a righteous life, and it is scarcely a lonely one. The nomads, for all their severe discipline, are on good terms with many, and have managed to accrue a tremendous number of allies in their travels, a fact which they trade heavily upon.

The Eighth City
There is single place on Phostus where the power of the demon kings is not a threat in some way. Limus, better known as the Free City. It is the only such world power not ruled by one of the demon kings, but that was not always true. Nearly three lifetimes ago, a demon ruled Limus, but his own hubris ultimately weakened his power base, his reach exceeded his grasp, and no others would support the weakness his rule brought to them all. In fact, some even whisper that the other demon kings manipulated the events that would ultimately topple him from the throne. Regardless, there came a revolution, his own population settled within his own walls, rose against him and managed to tear him from his castle, dragging him through the streets and publicly destroying him for all to see.

The years following that revolution were chaotic, due in no small part to the machinations that managed to survive the demon's fall, but finally, after nearly a decade of anarchy and upheaval, Limus finally found a form of peace. The city was given over to a new council, a congress formed of the tribes who had led the revolution, and declared themselves neutral ground, meant to prove themselves no property of the demons kings that claimed the rest of the world. And surprisingly, it worked, though perhaps through no bravado of their own. The balance of power upon the world's stage shifted, and suddenly, no king could commit themselves to putting the insolent whelps in their place. If any king tried, it would leave them vulnerable and exposed.

Then strangely, the demons began to see the advantage. So the Free City, known among the demons as the Eighth City, became a haven for the demon's shadowy plots as much as the refugees they had opened their walls to.

Amphin, the Secret KeepersThe amphin are one of the few people who, even in service to demons, have maintained their independence. They are lore brokers, magi, seneschals, and confidantes to demon nobility, sworn to neutrality by their most sacred symbol: The Knowledge Pool, an almost mythical well rumored to lay beneath the capitol of Mixolotlan.

All water is sacred to the Amphin, who believe it is the vessel of the world’s knowledge. It would seem a strange philosophy to any who do not understand the Amphin’s origin, deep beneath the world’s skin, in the darkness of the underground pathways and cisterns. In that cold stygian darkness, the Amphins have carved out a civilization, a network of tunnels and pools that stretch beneath over half the world. None save the desperate journey there, for no light exists in the Amphin’s domain. They have no need for it, for they are blind.

Their cultural beliefs begin with the knowledge pool, and the loss of their sight.



Without sight, the Amphin’s hearing has become extremely acute, and is further supplemented by specialized organs. They have tendrils on the backs of their heads covered in sensitive sensory organs that detect mana pulses. These pulses map images in their minds allowing them some form of mental sight, which they believe are a gift from the Knowledge Pool, a small shadow of omniscience. However, when the Amphin travel away from their homelands, the conditions above ground trigger a metamorphosis that cause these tendrils to disappear. Without these neotenic tendrils, their psychic abilities become much more potent.

The amphins share some tunnels, particularly near the surface, with the Ouroboro with whom they have a violent history. However, in most recent eras, the amphin have a practiced apathy towards the “Coatl” (their somewhat derogatory term for the Ouroboro). They have a long-standing arrangement with the other that allows them to pass through the Ouroboro territory unmolested and in return, they give them a percentage of the metal they take from underneath the ground.

Cinders, the fallen Elementals
The cinders have a legend passed to them by a nameless traveler from a distant land. They call it their secret history, their darkest shame, but it is anything but secret. Everyone on Phostus has heard the tale in one form or another, but it seems the cinders are the only ones who actually believe it. Many believe they're insane because they think such an outlandish story is true. Most just think they're insane regardless.



The cinders are terrible shells of fire, their skeletal visage and broken obsidian bodies bleeding the flames that make their soul. It is that fire that is their obsession and so long as it flickers, it means their lives will continue. However, that flame burns on life itself, but it does not necessarily need to be a cinder's own life. To ensure that their flame is never extinguished, they have found an equitable trade, their services for the vitality of others. They have found no employ more lucrative than that of demons, who pay in heavy obol coins for the cinders to burn so that they do not have to spend their own lives to exist.

Cinders make up the highest combat echelons of the demonic armies, shock troopers, knights, and elite guards. They revel in the violence and find the life suits them well. It is best that they find it agreeable, because few others in the cities wish to have much to do with them. The demons seem to be the only ones who do not mind their presence, and even then, it seems they are more amused by them than anything.

Cinders possess a touch that burns the flesh in a way that will never heal, for it is a necrotic burn that scorches the soul from the body, consumed by the dreadful foe that inflicted it. It is not uncommon for someone marked with a cinder scar to be viewed as a person to pity, and many on the streets begging are nothing more than cinder victims.

Despite finding easy employ in the demonic armies, there are still a few of their numbers who choose to wander the wastes and steal life from whatever they happen across. They are near feral scavengers, who take whatever they can find or kill for. It is not hard to tell a wild cinder from one of the others, for they bear a clashing collection of armor and weaponry without the steady supply the demons provide. Despite their violent and desperate lifestyle, they live a more spiritual life, in some ways, but it seems to only support the other race's opinion that they are all psychotic.

Devils
In the vast tracts of history, there have been petty tyrants who have done their best to ascend to heights never touched before, to dominate the world in a way that left no question as to who the master is. In one such effort, the ruler of former demonic city sought to create a new soldier who would reap destruction and chaos untold, to command an army of soldiers that were completely expendable and were possessed of no fear, beings more potent in numbers greater than any other force that had ever been assembled before. These beings would require no supplies, subsist solely on the bloodshed they inflict, and reproduce quickly and in overwhelming numbers.

This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a terrible move.

The devils hatched from that first generation have gone on to become one of the most pervasive and malignant pests Phostus has ever known. In many ways, that demon lord was far more successful than he intended, for he created a race of beings that are cunning, resilient, and utterly fearless. (Or idiotic. It’s difficult to tell at times.) Unfortunately, what he did not predict in his experimentation was that by creating something with so few needs, that they’d have no need to follow his orders. In fact, they almost immediately turned against him and escaped into the wastes. They exist solely to spread anarchy and chaos and have few needs and absolutely no loyalty. They have no civilization nor any true culture, only malice.

Despite their chaotic natures, one should never think of devils as being stupid, lack of self-preservation aside. They are actually extremely intelligent and patient creatures, and though it would seem strange, they are often given to deep reflection. For all the anarchy that they wish to spread, seemingly their only wish, they do fit seamlessly, if at times violently, into existing societies. Be that as it may, they are solitary by nature and a devil should never be trusted. For all the dire warnings and recklessness, they do have their uses to those who are clever enough to persuade them to follow an objective.

Devils have scaly scarlet skin, tiny white teeth, and immense green eyes with an inner membrane. They possess short nubs of horn and thick claws, both of which are glossy and black like their lips, and they seem to have a reptilian countenance about them. It has led some to speculate that whatever they were originally constructed of included aspects of the dragons. This is further supported by their reproduction method, as devils are known to produce clutches of eggs from which their young hatch. However, if there is a dichotomy between the males and females, none has been observed, suggesting they are asexual.

Minotaurs
There was a time when the minotaurs possessed an independent society of their own, a great civilization built upon the words and teachings of the celestial shamans that guided their people. That was over six hundred years ago, and in that time, the story of the fall of the minotaurs has reached every corner of the world. It is a tale of corruption and the terrible weight of doing what must be done to survive, even at the cost of everything one once knew.



Freedom, on Phostus, is a relative term though. While they have found a way to live by their own choices, most of their kind have had to become sell-swords in order to survive. Those that have not are related to one who has, and their once proud culture has been slowly chipped away by the choices they've been forced to make, like the shards of their obsidian blades, the symbol of their people. Caravans need their protection as surely as they need the nomads of the 108's guidance. Some few have even taken to living with the Ouroboros, but neither is terribly comfortable in the other's presence. The only place where they have found any amount of true prosperity is at the gates of Akaran.

Enma has found good use for the minotaurs, opening his city to them, knowing full well that they have few alternatives. Rather than abuse this though, he has built a mighty army of these people, sworn on a blood oath to fight for him. In fair trade, they defend their families within the walls of his mighty fortress from Enma's foes. The threat, thinly veiled as it may be, is clear. The minotaurs fight for their families, not because the threats beyond the walls are so great, but because they are well cared for hostages within their own homes. The quickest way to ensure the safety of those they care about is not to join Enma's armies, though most do. No, the surest method is found in the pits of Enma’s coliseum. The risk may be greater, but in the long term, it is an easier life and after the hardships the minotaurs have endured, it is one they willingly choose.

The minotaur who chose other cities often take a similar path, selling their services to the gatekeepers and defending the walls of the demon kings' sanctuaries. Many that have none to care for though, have taken a freer path, and have become bounty hunters, roaming the streets and wastes searching for their next lucrative target.

The Ouroboros
There are some who question how predators, purely carnivorous beings, became the stewards of nature. The answer is a strange culmination of nature and culture that led to their unique social milieu.

In the beginning, the ouroboros were ambush hunters, well suited to the obscuring greenery of their territories, close enough to the surface to maintain heat and sheltered enough that they themselves did not become prey. It was an ideal location for the nascent snakefolk. The plants and shelter attracted prey and their society flourished. However, as time wore on, their numbers swelled and they quickly overran their trap. The prey could sense their presence and their ability to hunt dwindled.

A great exodus followed after the near destruction of their kind at their own hands, and what survivors there were left to find similar homes, but the memory of the conflict and its cause remained, and with it came wisdom. To feed life, there must be death, but to nurture life, one must find a way to nurture all life. With that lesson, they spread and grew, fostering the life of plants that made their shroud, and in doing so, coming to understand the world and their place in it.

As their druidic practices grew, they began to attract attention that they had not before. It was not the eyes of their prey which turned towards their growing people, but instead that of other cultures. What the ouroboros had in great numbers was a resource scarce anywhere else on Phostus. In that awkward first contact, the seeds of their future were sown. They became traders and tutors, demonstrating their ability to grow plantlife to other cultures, trading the fruits of such labor, and gaining both knowledge and food that they did not strive to collect themselves.

In particular, they formed a strong bond with the minotaurs and humans, but for vastly different reasons. The minotaurs had suffered famine before, and the ouroboros had so much of what that exiled culture required in their hour of darkest need. Their trade helped to stabilize both cultures in those early days following their social upheaval.

The humans tribes, however, found something unique in the ouroboros, a kinship based on identity and nature. The ouroboros possess a special trait amongst their kind to ensure the continuation of their race, the ability to change genders should something terrible happen to their population. Humans were among the only other cultures that had such fluid gender identities, and that fostered an understanding that furthered their peaceful connection.

However, not everything the snakefolk encountered would prove to be as fortuitous as their experiences with the minotaurs and humans. While the surface proved fruitful, the depths and stygian darkness from where they drew their waters offered a threat that nearly overwhelmed the ouroboros. The Amphins.

It was only with the assistance of the gargoyles that a treaty was forged between the nature loving snakefolk and the water dwelling salamanders. Treaty or no, though, the hostility between their people is still present and an ever-present threat.

The Bestiary
Of course not all creatures are noteworthy enough to warrant their own set of notes, but nevertheless, there is a surprisingly rich menagerie that makes up the wildlife of Phostus. The aim of the bestiary is to provide a sense of the scope and majesty of the less social beasts, or those who may be commonplace, but not as fantastic as the likes of their more distinguished brethren.

The Unseen Devourers
Within the ceaseless churning clouds lurks the most singly destructive beast that calls Phostus home. They are the Leviathans. They are little more than an immense maw filled with towering fangs and tremendous scales along a sinuous body. The few features they bear other than that are the sparred fins which more resemble wings, the drifting barbels that flow in the wind, and the colossal fluke that stirs the air behind them into terrible hurricanes. No other beast, land nor air, can rival the size of a leviathan, which grow as large as a city.

The storms of a leviathan’s wake are ultimately little worse than the turbulent storms that blow up every now and then, but where the true devastation of a leviathan’s passing comes from is when they plunge below the clouds, to rip furrows through the ground and swallow whatever is in their path. In the not so distant past, such an attack, if one can call it that, struck one of the lesser towns of a demon’s keep, one of the inconsequential barons, and everything simply… vanished between its jaws. If such an event should ever strike one of the greater cities, the loss of life would be catastrophic, on so many levels. Around the cities of the demon kings, and even the free city, defenses are meant to dissuade a leviathan should one ever breach the clouds near them, but if they were to ever choose, there would truly be nothing to stop them.

The leviathans’ diet comes mostly from feasting on drakes, but they have been known to swallow dragons, and entire clans of gargoyles whole. Such beasts are lost for all time, for a leviathan consumes its prey entirely, digesting them utterly and leaving nothing behind.

The only being known to have ever tamed a leviathan is Hjalla, and the terrible creature she has in her thrall is legendary in its own right, Mistrosorm, the greatest leviathan within all of Phostus.

Drakes
Drakes are omnivorous scavengers who feed on the carcasses in the wastes and feast on a specialized fungal growth, one of the few things that can manage to survive the environment that they grow in. Commonly found in the higher reaches and in places where the clouds hang low, this fungus has a symbiotic relationship with the drakes, and covers their bodies in spores when they perch to feed. The spores then scatter as the drake takes flight, but if it does not pass these spores within a certain period, they will take root inside the creature and eventually lead to its death.

When a drake dies in such a manner, they crash into the wastes and their bodies burst and are quickly overgrown by this root like fungus, which because of its associations, are known as mandrake.

Hydra
While Phostus is no stranger to fierce beasts, no beast of the earth, not even the blinding speed of a hellion, can match the threat that the hydra poses. The hydra is a terrible engine of violence, a venomous creature that wanders the wastes trying to satisfy its all-consuming hunger. The terrible multi-headed creature is known for its titanic healing ability, but what most beings do not understand is that the heads that grow from the ragged stumps are not so often shed by blade or magic, but by their own terrible hunger and jealousy. When a hydra seizes its prey, every head wishes to consume its prize, and it will gorge itself on its own flesh as it tries to seize it from the others.

It is an unspeakable sight. Even demons grow pale to watch the appalling event.

The hydras of Phostus are an unnerving chimera, the leonine body of an immense cat makes up the bulk of the creature and horns sprout from the massive hump of its shoulders, a thick bundle of muscles that support its many heads and stores water. The maw of the hydra bears the tusks of a boar and its heads and necks resemble that of dragons, replete with fierce horns. While each head is immense, the necks of each successive head grow shorter as they sprout from its shoulders. A great barbed tail splits from its body for every head that it attains, though why this is remains a mystery. Few have ever grown curious enough to attempt to study the beast, even from a distance.

They possess dark crimson scales which bear a striking resemblance to that of the dragons, driving home the thought that the two may be related, but by what unholy hand it was wrought, be it nature or something far more sinister, that connection, if any, has been lost to time. The most disturbing thought of all may be that the hydras are as intelligent as the dragons whose resemblance they bear. If that is true, then the beasts are far more cunning than one can assume by their mindless rampages, but it is only cunning that remains inside any of its heads, for if there were any thought, it has been driven out by the madness of hunger.

A hydra hatches in broods and usually feasts on those of their number slowest to hatch. The greenery around a hydra’s nest is particularly thick, and stretches far deeper underground than anywhere else on Phostus. The cause for this is linked to a hydra’s blood, which has no effect on others of its kind, but is extremely deadly to other animals, and a young hydra’s blood is far more potent than that of their older kin. It is strange though, for though it is fatal to creatures, it has quite the opposite effect on plant life. Even a small measure of hydra’s blood causes plants to grow incredibly swiftly, and it is much prized for those who, like the Ouroboros, tend to the cavern forests and indoor gardens of the cities.

The Hounds
On many worlds, it is said that a dog will begin to resemble its master. That is disturbingly true on Phostus.

There are none left alive who can explain why the hounds of Phostus are capable of such adaptation, or even what force might be responsible. Any that have grown curious enough can only trace the phenomenon back millennia before the notes simply cease. Some speculate that it was one of the earliest examples of demonic magic influencing other beasts, or some experiment from some distantly forgotten demon lord. Whatever the case, it is clear that the result has far outlived its progenitor, whatever it may have been. One of the oddest traits of this experience is that while dogs and wolves are closely related, the wolves do not display this same adaptive characteristic. This seems to be further support that it is unnatural and tied to the actual domestication of these beasts.

Despite its apparent artificial origin, the trait has spread to other members of the wild canid families, such as jackals, and of course the wild packs that wander the Duidan wastes. Given the basic rivalry such groups have with wild wolves, it is less surprising the trait has not spread to that branch of the family, even given the proximity of their territories.

While hounds are very common in human camps, they seem to have no physical alterations, but do display an incredible intelligence beyond that of dogs from other worlds. The most common breeds with physical differences are as follows:

• Foo: Perhaps ironically, they are most often found in the company of the Gargoyles, though they were not the ones to name this beast. The name was given to them by the Minotaurs, who first came to know the beasts when the gargoyles sought refuge with them. The Foo dogs are guardians by nature, immense beasts whose flesh can become like stone just the same as their masters. They are fiercely territorial, but highly loyal creatures which make them ideal as sentinels and are often found guarding the home and young of their companions.
  Unlike the gargoyles, the Foo do not have wings, though they share the affinity for heights that their master have. They have thick claws capable of carving stone that they use to climb higher, taking their vigil as high as possible.
• Hellhounds: No better name could exist for these elemental beasts, the horrid spawn of the cinders' companions. Their "skin" is charred and cracked, resembling nothing more than coal and the flesh underneath glows with an infernal light. They are gaunt, nearly skeletal, beasts and their weeping fluids hiss and burn the ground they walk upon. They appear to be most closely related to jackals.
  The hellhound are hungry, fierce creatures whose habits are closely akin to their masters. They search endlessly for something to satiate them, but it is rare that their rabid nature is appeased. They are often found in the company of devils as well as the cinders.
• Barghest: There are no other hound as terrifying as the barghest, the hounds of the demon lords. They are enormous beasts, standing nearly as large as a dragon and their very aura is one of fear and hatred. They are hairless monstrosities whose skin resembles black velvet with empty eyes that glow like the sun above. Nobody is quite able to work out what causes these beasts to swell to the size that they do, as none of the other breeds seem to grow as large as the barghest.
  A barghest is best recognized by the horrible growling it makes, a sound that more resembles a quake than a sound a living being should make. However, as unnerving as their growl it, is is nothing compared to the sound of a barghest's howl, which can carry for dozens of miles in every direction. It is a sound that many people have heard shortly before their deaths, particularly in the canyons of Nebhos. Hjala has several of these beasts which she personally leads on hunts for those who have disappointed her.

Alraunes
No aspect of life on Phostus can truly said to be unmarred by the touch of demons. Something as simple as the blessed growth of nature magic has a shadow of its own. Sprung from the alchemy of demons and druids, born of a ritual union of mandrake blooms, hydra blood, and fueled by the destruction of a human soul, the homonculi known as Alraune were grown.

Alraune superficially resemble the humans whose souls are consumed in their creation, but all the same, there is something subtly wrong about the creature's mannerisms. They display a full range of emotions, but often at the wrong times, as if possibly only mimicking by observation. They demonstrate genuine emotion, but it is difficult to decipher which is which. Upon closer inspection, further discrepancies show through. Their flesh feels wrong to the touch, their blood is clear, their eyes dead.

Manticore- the manticore are horrible creatures who lurk in the heights of the mountains. They often act as guides, and demand prices only once their service has been rendered. If their quarry cannot or will not pay, then they are quickly consumed by their supposed "guide".
Hellion- A subterranean predator that roams the wastes. The Amphin consider it to be the most deadly thing to their society.
Mirage- The mirage are a pseudo illusory creature whose full nature is barely understood. Some believe them to be spirits, some think of them as malicious illusions conjured by Phostus itself. What is known and what is believed depends entirely upon who you ask.
Shade- the result of the closest thing to necromancy on Phostus, the shades are the spirits of the dead who have been bound in service to a demon. From their connection to their demonic lords, they can harvest great amounts of dark power, but have little free will of their own. Lilin is the primary lord to whom most shades owe allegiance.