In this beautiful world of ours, there is truly no better place to be than within the great gilded halls and pristinely masoned streets of the greatest nation to ever grace the land—Onoria. Gorgeous, strong, a jewel carved by Onorus’s perfect hands in his perfect image. No lesser, beastly god could ever compare, for their so-called civilizations are harsh, unnatural, uncouth, and barbaric.

  Alas, it would be foolish to entertain the thought of viewing them as anything more than foes to be crushed! And yet… even those lesser creatures, though their souls may be of a cruder quality, still hold knowledge worth acquiring. To understand them is to understand the world itself. Knowledge, after all, is the greatest weapon. And so, by the gracious authority of our Holy Host and the wisdom of our glorious Senate, I have been granted the privilege of recording the ways of these so-called men we share this world with—for now.

  There are marvels I have uncovered in my travels, insights I have gathered that will no doubt prove valuable to the learned men of Onoria. From the frozen forests of Moravyr to the driest deserts of Ryvakar, even to the dark webbed jungles of Yth, I invite you, dear reader, to join me on this most enlightening journey as we document the peculiar, the fascinating, and the outright bizarre ways of these strange and wonderful creatures.

  Dictated by the esteemed Marcurio Saphirius, Scholar of the High Onorion Academy, Grand Curator of Ethnological Studies,Lord-Appointed Chronicler of Foreign Peoples.

  The Garuhm: Our Oldest Foe, The Scaled Beasts of Ryvakar!

  These creatures hardly need an introduction. Every child across our great nation has heard the chilling tales—scaled men slithering through the night, hunting for those foolish enough to ignore their curfew. It is said that those who waste food risk summoning them to their door, for their heightened senses can pinpoint discarded scraps, sniffing out the meals that spoiled children refuse… before scarfing down both the food and the child whole.

  Of course, such ghastly legends have a basis in truth. Many centuries ago, these foul creatures nearly brought our honorable nation to its knees! Their underhanded tricks in war, their brute savagery—yes, even then, they relied on deception and dishonor, as they always have. But in the end, their trickery was no match for our holy might. Onorus cast his righteous gaze upon them, and they fell as all who oppose him must.

  But, my dear reader… what is fact, and what is fiction when it comes to the Garuhm?

  Well, my dear reader, as you are no doubt aware, the ghastly descriptions from those childhood tales are painfully accurate. These creatures truly are scaled monstrosities—twisted, unnatural things, their bodies a perverse mockery of proper form. Their very existence is a catalogue of grotesque aberrations, each more repulsive than the last.

  In my travels, I have seen Garuhm so enormous they could stand six Onorion men high, like a wretched tower of flesh! Some bear long, snouted faces filled with jagged, predatory teeth, while others have squat, bloated necks that bulge with hideous spines. Many have great horns sprouting from their cheeks, some arranged like the Crown of the Holy Host itself—a blasphemous parody, I say! Others still have ghastly, flat heads like living shields, or bulging, bulbous eyes that dart independently, unsettling and inhuman. And of course, some drag themselves along on all fours like beasts, while others stumble about on two legs, swaying like drunken fools. Neither stance seems to make them any less idiotic, I assure you.

  Their scales, too, are varied, though always in lesser hues than the gleam of an Onorion’s polished armor. The most common is a dull, bronze sheen, though black, gray, and a wretched orange are also frequent among their kind. A strange sort of consistency for such wildly malformed creatures, wouldn’t you agree? But despite their grotesque appearance, do not be mistaken—these are not noble beasts of war, nor cunning hunters of the wild. No, the best of Garuhm are as slow-witted as the dullest of our children, and even their strongest warriors pale in comparison to the might of a properly trained Onorion soldier.

  Truly horrific creatures, the Garuhm are—but it is not just their grotesque forms that would appall any sane man. Their way of life is equally ghastly! Take their architecture, for example. Where we Onorions construct our great cities from precious metals and unyielding stone—sturdy, brilliant, each structure a glistening jewel set upon the sacred continent of Vallara—the Garuhm, in their barbarism, instead fashion their dwellings from the bones of their dead and the remains of those they have conquered, shielding themselves from the elements with the very remnants of their savagery.

  Yes, you heard that right, my dear reader—cities of bones, cities of the dead! Their scaled hands, coarse and clawed, twist and warp the remains of their own fallen with their grotesque imitation of our beloved Accord. Like those gifted with the binding touch in Onoria—our holy Adamantwrights, the master builders of our grand nation—these wretched lizards too possess a perverse mockery of that beautiful gift.

  I have personally dubbed them Hollowwrights, for what else could one call a people whose cities rest upon the sun-bleached remains of their own kind? A most fitting title, is it not? Their foundation is rot, their walls are decay, and, in time, they too will join the dead who shelter them.

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  Ah, but that day is far away! Today, we learn of these foul creatures and their ghastly ways!

  Now, you might ask, “Oh Great Lord Marcurio Saphirius, Grand Curator of Ethnological Studies, Enlightened Traveler of the Known World, what do these wretched creatures eat?”

  Well, my dear reader, allow me to sate your curiosity—they eat their own! Cannibals, the lot of them! The bigger ones hunt the smaller ones like a man might hunt a boar or an elk! Some even initiate duels, and when one lizard meets its end, the victor carves him up like a roasted pig. A barbaric tradition, if one could even call it that!

  But I must not let my disgust carry me away! Yes, these lizards do hunt other beasts of the Ryvakar, though even the most grotesque creatures of the desert would surely weep if they knew what monstrous tongues awaited them.

  Their preferred quarry appears to be the Great Humped Pachydermus, a beast as immense as it is tenacious, roaming the scorched deserts of Ryvakar with a resilience that would put even the hardiest of men to shame. Remarkably, these creatures can endure for long stretches even in the deadly Mire, that wretched blight upon the land—though, regrettably, this trait seems to have done little to prevent them from falling prey to the barbaric appetites of the Garuhm.

  Not content with merely hunting the Pachydermus, these lizards have the audacity to tame them as well, bending the mighty beasts to their will as both burden-bearers and banquet fare. Indeed, every part of the creature is put to use—their bones repurposed into architecture, their hides stretched into crude tents, and their flesh devoured with reckless abandon. A savage lot, without a doubt, but I must begrudgingly admit that, at the very least, they possess a ghastly kind of ingenuity when it comes to surviving the wastes of Ryvakar.

  Another curious query you might entertain—though I suspect you may be weary of it by now, sickened by the mere thought of such vile creatures—yet, ever thorough as I am (and thorough I am, being none other than The Great Lord Marcurio Saphirius, Grand Curator of Ethnological Studies, Enlightened Traveler of the Known World), I shall indulge your curiosity!

  You may wonder: How do these beasts mate? What are their primitive bonding rituals? Well, brace yourself, dear reader, for it is perhaps their most alien trait of all! Unlike the civilized peoples of Onoria—indeed, even those misguided Aurelan savages and the godless vagabonds of Rye, who, at the very least, bear their young in the womb as nature intended—these reptilian monstrosities defy even that most fundamental rule of creation. Instead, they lay eggs, like common barnyard fowl!

  And their courting rituals? Oh, they are just as violent and barbaric as one might expect! The male specimens of their tribes partake in brutal tournaments, beating and tearing at one another for the right to claim the strongest, most "valuable" females as their prize. The grand victor, naturally, takes the lion’s share, while those too weak to triumph must content themselves with scraps—if they even survive at all!

  Monogamy, as you might surmise, is not a concept these creatures comprehend. Instead, they indulge in a savage display of might, where the strongest hoards the most mates, and the weak are left to wither in disgrace. How very fitting.

  Truly, these creatures are the misbegotten spawn of the barbaric god Ruhmar, their supposed sovereign—though, as with all things concerning these wretched beasts, their faith is as fractured as their so-called civilization. Unlike us, the enlightened children of Onorus, who kneel before a single, perfect truth, the Garuhm—much like the superstitious Aurelan heathens—scatter their worship among a countless horde of primitive idols, pleading to a different god for every boulder in the desert, every trickle of water that dares bless their decrepit villages.

  Yes, they have gods for fighting, gods for mating, gods for beasts they hunt and devour! It is little wonder their people remain scattered and directionless, forever locked in a futile, bloodstained struggle to prove whose petty desert spirit reigns supreme. Although they at least seem to recognize their shared homeland under one name—Great Gila’s Fall, so named after some long-forgotten “great” warrior—this does little to unite them. They war endlessly among themselves, slaughtering one another in a pitiful, eternal feud over which of their feeble deities is strongest.

  But of course, they are all wrong. There is only one true God. Onorus, the Sole Sovereign. The Lord of Lords. And when the day comes that His divine order sweeps across the world in full, these beasts will either fall to their knees or be reduced to dust beneath His golden will.

  Now, you might wonder—if these creatures exist in a constant state of war, how do they fight?   If you were a scholar of my stature, you would already know, for we have clashed with these brutes before—and, more importantly, we triumphed. You must never forget that. But for those who are only now beginning their scholarly pursuits—fortunate enough to have this most enlightening book as their guide—I shall graciously illuminate the Garuhm ways of war!

  In their most stark contrast to us Onorions, the Garuhm wear almost no armor at all. Some might adorn themselves with decorated rags or skulls, meant to intimidate their cowardly foes, but beyond that, they march into battle nearly naked—relying solely on their hardened scales to shield them from harm. Many even forgo weapons altogether, choosing instead to fight with their natural claws and fangs, like the beasts they resemble.

  Even among their more divinely ‘gifted’ brethren, we see yet another twisted mockery of refinement. Where an Onorion Saporist—a Binder of the Tongue—might elevate flavors into a culinary art, these savages pervert the gift to serve their warlike appetites. Rather than conjuring the finest ambrosial delights, their tongues drip with poison, their mouths spitting foul acids upon their enemies. Again, they take what should be an art—a thing of beauty—and warp it into yet another crude tool of war!

  Yes, I can already imagine how you, my dear reader, must feel upon reading this. The disgust in my scribe’s poor, innocent eyes as I regale him with these terrible truths must surely mirror your own! But I assure you, all of this—and more—is true. And, indeed, I have many more horrors yet to share! The Garuhm are a strange, beastly, and horrid race of ‘people’—but they are not the only ones who infest the lands of Ryvakar!

  With just the turn of a page, prepare your mind for even greater marvels! Let your eyes alight with wonder as I recount my harrowing journey into the Webs of Yth, where I shall, in meticulous detail, unveil the bizarre insectoids who worship the enigmatic Ythsola!