Skip directly to content

Pal Rai Yuk

A rare, marine mutation of amphisbaena, a Pal Rai Yuk is capable of reaching enormous size. The largest confirmed killed was as long as three men, and larger still have been reported. Each head splits into an elongated maw of needles, slightly eel-like and slightly lupine, while a nimble and retractable frill runs down each side, allowing the creature to change direction with startling speed, or venture brief, serpentine visits onto land or decks.

The appearance of a Pal Rai Yuk near a coastal town heralds doom. The Glist are terrified beyond words of these creatures, and will not willingly visit a region haunted by them, depriving it of their trade and mirth. Their presence also draws Thaia-thaan'ag cultists who come to worship and feed the chaos and fear. Too many abandoned fishing settlements are carved with icons of a two-headed serpent and littered with charred and worried bones.


Kin to the samaelisk, nagas are the guardians of Thaia-thaan'ag, watching their hidden temples and warding their leaders.

Nagas have the body of an enormous constrictor snake and a bald human-like head with milky eyes. Smaller eyes run down both sides of the creature's body at regular intervals, starting at the base of the neck. It lacks the intellect of the samaelisk, and has no arms at all, but its hyper-awareness and crushing coils make it effective at its task.


The Thaaskith are the hideous serpentine creations and idols of the Thaia-thaan'ag. Primarily reptilian, most incorporate some amphibian and humanoid traits. All share the ability to burrow and hibernate through the cold winters.

Though the bulk of the creatures are secreted within cultists shrines, some number are released into the wild each spring to sow despair and terror. The people of the Land of Still Waters must view each thaw with under a dim shadow of fear - Thaia-thaan'ag would not have it otherwise.


Clever, strong-willed ghasts sometimes turn on their masters - these beasts are known as wights. They seem to carry a resentment and animosity towards humans, working in disturbingly subtle ways to sow havoc. Worst yet, a ghast may lurk among its herd undetected for months, sheltered by the very community it strives to undermine. When discovered, these beasts frequently rampage, attempting to flee to the wilderness while attacking any who impede them. From there, they harry roads, slaughter game, and bellow in the night, preventing rest.

It is unknown if the surge of intellect and malignancy in wights is the development of something new, or the casting off of some ancient mental shackle.


The Wood clan of Gasmithon holds a fair at its current head's keep every third spring, celebrating marksmanship, carving, and the delicate liquors bred of many winters. This gathering is one of the few things known to pull the Glist from their coastal routes.

Festival of Bells

Early summer in Acadia holds the Festival of Bells, where each town and city rings its song at sunrise and sunset for a week, and hymns rise from the streets to meet the peals. Each evening brings dancing and feasting as well, and many pilgrims and tourists journey here to revitalize their body and spirit among the warm breezes and rolling chimes.

A quote for Acadia

It was a valley that I had known well when I was young, but I had not seen it now for many years. Beside me stood the tall flower of the mint; I saw the sweet-smelling thyme flower and one or two wild strawberries. There came up to me from fields below me the beautiful smell of hay, and there was a break in the voice of the cuckoo.