Kisah-kisah yang unik

Once, long before the time of our fathers and grandfathers, the land was whole. It was as rich and abundant land, a land of rolling hills and pristine forests and its people were many and exotic. Some arrived on ships from distant lands and chose to stay. Some were descended from the hill-folk, and could recite the names of their ancestors beyond the most ancient histories. War was not unknown, but peace was the rule: a peace born of strength and abundance. Nowhere was the glory of that age greater than in Serpentholm, the keep of the Dragon Clan. Forgotten sculptors fashioned its walls with such cunning that the peasantry believed them alive; a forgotten shogun forged its laws both strict and fair; forgotten masters trained its warriors in fighting techniques subtle and fierce. Even its wisest scholars wrote proudly on sheaves of gilded parchment that the strength and honor of the Dragon would endure forever… …and then, in the span of one year - one sowing, one harvest, one terrible w

A father-son duo attend to the old colonial Fort of Medine in Mali, preserving history and passing on a legacy.

The people talk more and more of Great Monsters. A black shadow wanders through abandoned villages, white flames burn on the marshes, and the snow will not melt in the forests. These are all purported to be portents of the Fierce Freeze - an endless winter sent down by one of the Great Monsters. It may just be a legend dreamed up by peasants who have lived long years in fear. Bu even they are worth listening to.

Though the deterioration of the Mistwood and its evolution from idyllic expanse to death-filled tanglewild was a slow, wizard-fueled process, most scholars agree the true beginning of the end was marked by the interdimensional arrival of the Primal Beast. A creature hatched into an existence devoid of all feeling but hunger and pain, aeons of carnage shaped the Primal Beast into the apex predator on a planet filled with violent terrors. Desperately banished by would-be masters with failed hopes to control him, the beast was cast into a new world — one where he could ascend from mere hungry predator into an invasive killing machine with nothing able to stand in his way. For thousands of years, the Mistwood served as massive stomping ground for the beast's destructive play — and even the feared durana beasts made for tasty snacks. Indeed, there could be no rivals for the beast's territory, only minor annoyances. Until one such tiny annoyance employed vile trickery to trap the uns