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.

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 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.

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.

[quote=”Writ in the Stars”]In ancient times, the minotauren towns dotted the landscape of the mountains, the green caves overflowing with the sweat of their brow and harvest of their labors. They managed to draw out crops from even the blasted ground outside the cavern walls and though the life was a rigorous, it was their own. They made their own path on Phostus, and resisted even the insidious influence of the demon kings. The shamans of their kind divined the paths they should take and warded against the powers that would seek to enslave them. Under their guidance, the minotaurs stood proud and unsullied by the terrible world around them.

However, this was not a task that was easy to undertake. In turn for their leadership and protection, the shamans demanded a tithe, which allowed them to focus on their own work and the fortification of the soul of their people. For generations, it was an arrangement that served the minotaurs well, but as a great famine crept in, the demand began to take its toll for the shamans demands for a tithe did not decrease. Faced with a serious crisis, the shamans took drastic action. The first step, controversial as it was, was to exile all criminals, no matter how minor the crime. They branded them and sent them to the wastes, away from the protections they had known their entire lives.

As time wore on though and matters grew worse, new laws were passed, increasingly stringent and more and more of their people were exiled, and yet the shamans still sat within their pious chambers as the famine became worse. It became obvious that the protections the shamans offered were simply not worth the amount of work they demanded of everyone but themselves. Rather than live under the oppression of the supposed holy men, the minotaurs took the only option they could think of. They chose another path. They fled in a mass exodus away from their homes, to find some way to live, no matter the cost to themselves or their people.

They chose freedom over sanctity.[/quote]

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.

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 millenia 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 follow:

• 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. The Foo seem to possess a sixth sense, able to
• 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.

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.

• 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.
• Spikes- the sluglike arachnids are some of the worst parasites that the Ouroboros have to deal with, often destroying great portions of their work.

Samurai
Dwarf
Moonfolk
Surrakar
Licid

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.

• 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.
• Spikes- the sluglike arachnids are some of the worst parasites that the Ouroboros have to deal with, often destroying great portions of their work.