There are three Nature dieties in the Etherian pantheon:
• Meredia (the Word Spirit)
• Rajan (Lord of Beasts) -- this the diety in [mwcard=MW1J01]Rajan's Fury[/mwcard], [mwcard=MW1E21]Hawkeye[/mwcard] and [mwcard=MW1E36]Rhino Hide
[/mwcard]
• Rihanna (The Quiet Cultivator)

Druids usually tend to worship Meredia, who is thought of as the energizing life force that animates the world, or Rihanna -- Rajan’s twin sister -- who is concerned with nurturing the harmony between the humanoid races and plants.

Griffons are used in Westlock, both for combat and for transportation. Maybe Lithann's parents chartered one.

I think you could make a case for using either adjective form, but if you choose to go for the single adjective, here's an excerpt from Xer's Guide for Eldritch Design and Etherian Grammar.

Westlock
Adjective form: Westlockian
Note that Westlock is made up of four provinces, each called a March (South March, West March, North March, East March). Citizens of the provinces sometimes refer to themselves based on that (South Marchman, West Marchman, North Marchman, etc.), rather than calling themselves Westlockians.

Ivarium
Adjective form: Ivarium
Note: Ivarium sees itself as the successor of the Pellian Empire (precursor to the current Westlock/Ivarium/Sortilege balance of power). Sometimes Ivarium uses the adjective Pellian when they refer to their culture or heritage.

Sortilege
Adjective form: Sortilegian

Salenia
Adjective form: Salenian
Note: Salenia encompasses several cities that were once part of the Pellian Empire (and now many have been annexed by Ivarium). Each city has its own culture, so most citizens refer to themselves by their city affiliation, not as part of Salenia.
• Delias (near Westlock) — Adjective form: Delian
• Atticara (near Ivarium) — Adjective form: Atticaran
• Iklosas (south near Viridian Sea) — Adjective form: Iklossi
• Meladon (free city) — Adjective form: Meladonian

Anvil Throne
Adjective form: Anvillian (rarely used)
Note: The Anvil Throne is a very homogenous place, almost entirely composed of Dwarves. For that reason, the adjective generally used is “Dwarven”

Blood Wave
Adjective form: Bloody (I joke!)
Note: The Blood Wave is a catch all name for the loose affiliation of tribes (orcs, goblins, trolls, giants, ogres) who live on the Terevian Peninsula (the western end of the continent). So technically, the right adjective is “Terevian. In practice, individual races names are generally used “orcish”, “goblin”, “ogrish” — similar in nature to how “dwarven” is used to refer to the Anvil Throne.

2. ARRAXIA RISING: The Circles of Fire

For over 500 years, the Arraxian Crown has plotted and schemed to bring about the destruction of the nations of the world, through whatever means necessary.
ARRAXIA RISING is a chronicle of its stories, plans, and machinations, played out across Etheria and the Dark Realms.


Infernia, Chamber of Embers
And so Infernian eyes watched the unrest that continued to play out across Etheria, unrest that was already in motion, even without the nudging of the Arraxian Crown or the plotting of the Demon Lords.

Through the coalescing mists of the Chamber of Ember’s scrying table (http://forum.arcanewonders.com/index.php?topic=15389.msg49608#msg49608), they watched as the Blood Wave moved south under command of the warlord Trokoth, swelling with a daily influx of orcs, trolls and minotaurs. Once it passed the Bloodcrag Mountains, the force split into two units — one, barreling directly at Victoria, Westlock’s capital, and the other hugging the coastline, pummeling its way south into Westmarch, the breadbasket of the nation.

Meanwhile, far to the east, Ivarium’s forces mobilized as well — but not to aid Westlock against their northern invaders. Instead, the forces of the Seventh Legion swept across Selenia, annexing the city states of Atticara and Iklosas. (For more: http://www.arcanewonders.com/converging-fronts)

“Now is the time to set Taranis’ plans into motion,” growled Abbadon, Lord of Destruction. He eyed Bael and [mwcard=MW1C01]Adramelech[/mwcard], searched their faces for alignment, and found it. “Are your operatives ready, Grethmane?”

“They are, Lord” the fat demon said. It was his responsibility to coordinate the machinations of the Arraxian Crown in Etheria with the will of Adramelech and the larger Council of Embers. “From Sortilege to Djer-Tet, Ivarium to the Anvil Throne, the warlocks of the land wait for word to rekindle the embers of Arraxia.”

“Good. Then let it begin.”

***

Westlock, city of Elbereth
An explosion of stone, sparks and flesh punctuated the night sky as one of two enormous Blood Wave catapults pummeled the battlements onf the inner wall of Elbereth, largest and most fortified of the cities of Westlock’s western province. The huge seigecraft had already ripped a hole in the city wall, and many Blood Wave attackers were swarming through.

The slow moving machines (politely referred to as [mwcard=FWJ01]Akiro's Hammers[/mwcard]) had gained a reputation for destruction ever since they had punched through the walls of the first Westlock city that stood in the path of Trokoth’s advance. That city had withstood an assault by a pair of the machines for little more than twenty minutes before it fell prey to the invaders. Since that time, the two seigecraft had been nicknamed Destruction and Woe, and their arrival heralded what was to follow.

However, apart from the siege engines, the Blood Wave army was primarily just a collection of orcish and goblin foot soldiers, fortified with ranks of hardier trolls and [mwcard=MWSTX2FFC03]minotaurs[/mwcard] from the Bloodcrag Mountains. The Orcish Warlord Trokoth had wasted no time in capitalizing on his forces’ core strengths — raw power, superior numbers, and a driving desire for conquest, and had opted to put little stock in calvary, or air superiority. His strategy was straightforward and brutal: batter down the walls of whatever city his forces came to, crush the city’s defenders, and continue his conquest of the Western nations.

While Trokoth himself was thought to be with his eastern forces (http://www.arcanewonders.com/converging-fronts Chapters 7-8), the horde that assaulted Elbereth was in capable hands. The orc [mwcard=MWSTX2FFC07]Gurmash[/mwcard], known by his troops as the “Warmaster”, had long campaigned with Trokoth. He was known for being as relentless and unstoppable as a hail of stones, and his promotion from Sergeant to Second General was proof.

Since taking command, Gurmash had planned all his attacks under cover of darkness — and this siege was no different. The overcast sky covered the waning sliver of a moon, and the stars were all but blotted out — bad news for the primarily human defenders. Orc and goblin sight was not as keen as other humanoids, but their night vision was just as clear as it was during the day.

Blood Wave soldiers streamed through the city through the gaping holes in the outer walls like a writhing mass of shadows, the red glow of torches and firelight glinting off their piecemeal armor. More heavily armored Warlords waded among them, throwing up walls of earth and stone behind the onrushing defenders, separating them from their support, and trapping them against the onslaught. It was far less of a battle than it was a slaughter.

Gurmash stood atop a summoned watchtower and surveyed the shifting movements of the soldiers below. The siege had lasted little less than an hour, but the signs of the city’s fall were eminent. Siege warfare was swift when spell craft was involved, and so was rank and file fighting. This was the lesson first learned in the Elemental Wars, and then again during the Infernian Interregnum.

It was time for the final hammer stroke. The Warmaster lifted [mwcard=FWQ06]a massive warhorn[/mwcard] to his lips, and gave a series of carefully scripted blasts. At the base of the [mwcard=FWJ02]watchtower[/mwcard], a squad of Warlords he had held in reserved summoned phalanxes of [mwcard=FWC09]Iron Golems[/mwcard] to advance on the left and right. Though slow, they would drive any remaining defenders to the middle of the field, where his main force stood ready to crush whatever little resistance they had left. As they advanced, Warlords accompanied them, slinging spells and [mwcard=FWA04]summoning boulders[/mwcard] and [mwcard=FWA03]hails of stone[/mwcard] to clear their path of any resistance. The green glow of their Earth magics painted strange reflections on the polish surface of the golems’ skin, and struck even more fear into the overmatched defenders.

It was not long until the end was near for the beleaguered forces of Elbereth. The remaining [mwcard=MW1C22]knights[/mwcard], [mwcard=MW1C28]archers[/mwcard] and impromptu soldiers of the city that were left huddled close, sent up fervent prayers to Asyra, Bim-Shalla and the Dawnbreaker to protect them from the unprovoked aggression of their foes.

***

The answer came in the smell of sulphur and the afterglow of [mwcard=MW1I28]Mass Teleportion[/mwcard].

***

The sound of teleportation is distinctive, and even in the chase of battle, soldiers note the strange pitch of Voltari magic. And that is but the sound of a single mage — not the sound of hundreds, appearing in formation. In the briefest of seconds, in the middle of the carnage, standing atop the bodies of Elbereth’s fallen — were hundreds of Warlocks in three concentric circles.

Male and female, the warlocks gave a fearsome shout in the momentary silence. Male and female they stood, a force forged from all the nations of Etheria, each wearing the [mwcard=MW1Q05]distinctive armor[/mwcard] of their homeland.  Members of the outer circle were each armed with [mwcard=MW1Q14]fiery whips.[/mwcard]

In the ring’s center was a tall man with shoulder-length white-gray hair, red-rimmed eyes and ornate blood-red armor. Even among the inhabitants of Elbereth and the other cities of Westlock, he was known by his dread reputation — this was Sabrath Kell, veteran of the Shackled Frontier and General of Ivarium’s legendary Sixth Legion.

Well wasted no time; he raised his legendary longsword [mwcard=FWQ09]Sectarus[/mwcard] high. Even in the chaos of the battlefield, the unnatural blade projected a fearsome presence — rumor was that the sword itself was alive, and that it was a tactician of a level of Kell himself.

“Warlocks of Etheria!” Kell called out from the center of the rings. His voice was harsh, commanding, accustomed to obedience. “"Unleash hell!”

And so they did.

***

As one, each of the Warlocks blasted outward with a [mwcard=MW1A12]Ring of Fire[/mwcard], joining their spells together to weave a massive rippling wave of flame. It radiated outward, engulfing the Blood Wave soldiers on all sides, spreading fiery woe deep into their ranks.

“Again!” Kell commanded. As the next wave of flame burst outward from the ring of mages, he paused long enough to conjure a [mwcard=MW1J19]grotesque statue made of Infernian basalt.[/mwcard] Its appearance was that of a tortured soul, twisted through pain and lacerated by a collection of wicked spikes. Kell laid it at his feet; as he did so, the idol’s face flared to life, stone eyes searching the field. Soundlessly, it opened its mouth and a crimson mist poured forth, growing and expanding as it blanketed the battlefield within the city of Elbereth, cutting off all who touched it from the healing power of Celestia.

“General Gurmash!” Kell said, his voice carried on the winds of some Dark magic. It was clear he knew already who led this army of Blood Wave forces. “Your march on the Western nations is over. You may surrender now, and I will spare your forces. If you refuse — and I certainly hope that you do — we will turn your amy to ash, and light up Infernia with an offerings of their burning souls. I have heard you value honor in the Blood Reach; if so, take solace in that — for you will take solace in little else here today. What say you Warmaster?"

The fighting stopped. A silence slid across the city, punctuated only by the crackle of flames. Knights, orcs and warlocks waited for the response.

“General Kell!” Gurmash replied from across the field. “For my part, I am glad we have met. I know little of the politics of this land, and even less of Ivarium. But I know this from stories told around campfires and on festival days — the Arraxian Crown was crushed once before, and that was with the [mwcard=MW1J06]Gate of Fire[/mwcard] open, and the demons of Infernia at their back.” He paused and let the echo of his words die away.”I see no army of demons helping you today, General. What I see is my battle-forged forces, surrounding you on all sides. So light your fires, little mage, and fling your curses. Victory is not enough. Today, we will write history in blood, and break the Arraxian Crown once more. Surrender or not as you will. It will make little difference to the crows come first light."

Sabrath Kell nodded grimly. “We shall see.” Turning, he addressed the orcs and goblins that surrounded the rings of warlocks under his command. "Soldiers of the Blood Wave — hear me now. Your souls have been forfeited by your leader. By the dark of the night and the fire of the flame, this city belongs to its people, and the blood that will be spilt here to Taranis. You will find no quarter from us. Fight or flee or die. It makes no matter.”

He raised [mwcard=FWQ09]Sectarus[/mwcard]. “Warlocks of Etheria! Westlock needs us, though they could never ask such a thing. This day, Arraxia chooses to be the savior of Etheria, to break its foes and [mwcard=MWSTX1CKI01]drain their souls.[/mwcard] Let us show them the power of the Dark!”

And with that, the city erupted in a scream of sulphur, swords and death.

Here's some good info on the Bog Queen from Dralln4.
http://forum.arcanewonders.com/index.php?topic=126.0

She's a pretty mysterious figure thus far.

Meravaran was a simple, though charismatic Ivarium soldier, who became a general and a symbol of hope.

The Dark Realms are those planes in which the Dark Gods and Goddesses dwell. Infernia is the plane of fire, of which the demon lord Adremalech rules as Imperator, and which is under the sway of the Dark Gods.

As a side note, Adremelech is hugely powerful in his own right -- especially on the plane of Infernia -- but he is not a god. Taranis is generally acknowledged as the leading Dark God, though his consort The Silent Lady (or Silent Shadow as she is also known) is more often worshipped by Necromancers.

The other demons mentioned in the story hold other offices and responsibilities. Of note are the three demons of the Council of Lies: Princess Esemere, Prince Selverane, and Prince Grethmene. These three are referred to on our lore page under the Arraxian Crown section (though not by name).  http://www.arcanewonders.com/story-and-lore

Terius Meravaran was the leader of the movement that fought against the demonic invasion of Etheria (known as the Infernal Interregnum). To combat the demonic forces, he knew he needed to forge a powerful army, so he built a great alliance, uniting human insurgents, the Elven nations, the Anvil Throne, and even mercenaries from the Bloodwave. This force — called the Grand Alliance —  struck the Demonic occupation, through many costly and bloody battles. Finally, when the Grand Alliance was on the verge of collapse, Meravaran  convinced the Celestial Forces to intervene. The angelic forces, led by the Archangels Malaked, Valshalla and Samandriel breathed new life into the movement, and ultimately drove back the demons and shut the Gate to Hell.

For demons and Arraxian Crown supporters, this was a pretty terrible blow. For the rest of Etheria, pretty great news. The power of Westlock and Ivarium, and the Mage Wars Accords are all possible because of this victory.

And to answer your question Sailor Vulcan, Infernia is still recovering. It’s not an easy thing to mount an attack from another plane of existence, even for the very powerful demons and gods of the Dark Realms. While demons can be summoned, the more powerful beings are only able to exist her as a shadow, unless some powerful magic like the Gate to Hell is open to allow them to pass more physically through.

1. ARRAXIA RISING: The Chamber of Embers

For over 500 years, the Arraxian Crown has plotted and schemed to bring about the destruction of the nations of the world, through whatever means necessary.
ARRAXIA RISING is a chronicle of its stories, plans, and machinations, played out across Etheria and the Dark Realms.



“I will have silence.”

The words cut between the planes, through the portals that temporarily connected the demon lands of Infernia with the vastness of the Dark Realm. The voice was terrible and utterly calm, spoken from a being worshipped as the embodiment of Evil, a being whom even the Demon Princes feared and obeyed.

Those around the table in the Chamber of Embers ceased their posturing, and silence fell. The portal to the Dark Realm shifted and roiled above them, and through it, they could see the Throne of Taranis, Lord of Darkness. He stood, gauntleted hands clasped behind his back, in front of a throne carved from the void itself. Like all the gods, he could project whatever appearance suited his whim, but today he stood tall and powerfully cut, clothed in a cloak of midnight and shadow with a high collared hood.

Seated to behind him, to the right of his throne was a woman with red rimmed eyes and a [mwcard=DNQ01]Cloak of Shadows[/mwcard]. She said nothing. She had no mouth. She was the Silent Lady, the Keeper of the Dead and the grave. No matter. As Taranis’ consort, she was here to observe. At least so far.

It was by design that the Princes were forced to look up at their Master. Any looks they passed to each other would be perfectly viewed by the Lord of Darkness and his consort. In a world obscured by searing winds, volcanic cinders and poison fumes, seeing things clearly was highly prized. The Chamber of Embers was one of the few places of Infernia which commanded such a view. The Infernian sky was dotted with eternally molten islands, each dripping earthward like the talons of a bloodthirsty beast. Below, a delta of lava scarred the landscape, ever-shifting with the fiery gusts of a storm of sulphur and ash. On the largest of these floating crags, a fortress had been hewn into the stone. It was from within this fortress, the Bastion of Chaos, that the Chamber of Embers looked out upon the demonic realm.

The Chamber was large and unevenly shaped, a reflection of the aesthetics of the Darker Realms, and more than half of the room was exposed to the orange-red sky. Across the floor, ancient runes of power had been set, shielding the room’s inhabitants from the elements, and obscuring them from the prying eyes of those outside. Dark obsidian panels framed the infernal glow of the horizon, and were punctuated with inset carvings depicting the terrors Infernia had inflicted on other realms.

In the center of the room rose an ancient table, carved from living elemental flame, and wreathed in glowing demonic script and bathing the room in flickering light. The center of the table turned and folded upon itself, dark shadows and sulphur mists coalescing and dissipating as if they were a bubbling cauldron. Within the mist, miniature shades of mages from Etheria stood — warlocks, necromancers, primarily, but with the occasional beast master, force master or proclaimed servant of Asyra. These were the servants of the Arraxian Crown, placed in positions from which to maximize the power of their Masters.

Strategically seated around the table were seated the Demons of Power, the overlords of this realm and terrors of Etheria: [mwcard=MW1C23]Malacoda, Prince of Pestilence,[/mwcard] Moloch, Lord of Curses, Abbadon, Lord of Destruction, and Bael, Lord of Blood. Between them sat the lesser demons of the Council of Lies: the succubus Princess Esemere, the pale-skinned Prince Selverane, and the heavyset Prince Grethmene. At the head of the table, in a raised, fire-ringed throne of molten metal was [mwcard=MW1C01]Adramalech, Lord of Fire and Prince of Infernia.[/mwcard] The ore struggled and writhed upon itself as if it were a living thing, ever-shaping itself in an eternal tribute to the power of flame, the symbol of his power, and of his absolute rule over the denizens of Infernia.

Taranis did not ask for silence twice. “Too long have we stirred the ashes of our past failures, kindling sparks to ignite our plans. We assemble today to kindle a new blaze. A blaze that will consume the machinations set by lesser gods and men. A fire to sweep across the nations, as it did once before when the [mwcard=MW1J06]Gate to Hell[/mwcard] was opened. A conflagration that no one can ignore, nor extinguish.” The words cracked like a [mwcard=MW1Q14]Lash of Hellfire[/mwcard] across the Chamber.

Rather than cringe at the words, the demon Adramalech — Lord of Fire and Prince of Infernia — smiled. It was a rare thing, and fearsome. Long had he waited for this meeting, more than half a millennia since his forces had been turned back by Meravaran and the Angelic Forces at the end of what the inhabitants of Etheria called the Infernian Interregnum.

“What is your plan, My Lord?” Adramalech asked. Anticipation and the desire for revenge were thick on the words.

Never had the Lord of Supreme Darkness addressed them without a plan. In fact, it was a trademark of his rule. While those who did not follow the Dark Arts assumed leadership of perpetual chaos, the reality was much different. Tyranny, power, control — these were the marks of Taranis’ rule, and by extension, the guidelines for the Arraxian Crown. "Domination through power, power through planning.” While Lord Bellicar (the Warlord’s God of War and Combat) was widely held as “The Supreme Strategist", and prayed to by most warriors on the eve of battle, the plans of Taranis were thorough, solid, and deadly.

The other Demon princes at the table grew still. They would listen now, absorb Taranis’ words. Later, when this Council ended, they would twist the plan to their own devices, to further their aims, to disrupt the reach for power of their peers and their nemeses. Allies perhaps, but none were friends here.

“The Dawnlight Compact is failing. Much has changed in the 500 years since we opened the Gate of Fire to the mortal lands and fought against the Angelic forces. Over 500 years since our failure.” He paused to let the words sink in, his silence a reminder of the defeat the Dark Forces had suffered at the end of the war.

“But our time has come again. Westlock struggles to repel the Bloodwave army at its doorstep, and the servants of Asyra no longer command the power and awe that they once did with the Angelic legions at their back, and are spread even thinner with their ‘peacekeeping' forces sent away to the lands of Kumanjaro. Riots, mobs, and fear are increasingly common.

"Sortilege rots from within, their pride and power blinding them from seeing the larger picture. While they profess to uphold the treaties of the Dawnlight Compact, they care little for those around them, save for preaching about their understanding of the Voltari, and for playing to the crowd during their arena games. What diplomacy they keep is reserved for covering up their past magical failures that now live and thrive in the Darkfenne.

“The Straywood and their woodland allies? The Beastmasters are simple, ruled by their passions and not much more intelligent than the pets they keep. The Fairies, Fey, and Druids keep to themselves, battling only within their borders. And of Ivarium? And the remnants of the Selenian Ascendancy? They are bent on war and conquest, and remember nothing of the past.

“In short, Etheria is ripe for the taking. And to do so, all we need do is one simple thing. So simple, and yet, if we do it, they will run to us, forgetting their mistrust, forgetting the past.”

The demons, and the shades of Shadow Council hung on the words, this moment of reforged opportunity:

“We will save them. We will give them unexpected aid, and will ask for nothing in return. We will give them the protection that they cannot find. We will provide them with security, we will drive off their foes. We will give them the peace that they distantly remember, and then, when they come to rely on us fully, when a true calamity falls upon them, in their moment of greatest need, we will let them BURN. We will let them grovel before us. And when their groveling ceases to please us, we will make slaves of the nations to do the bidding of the Dark Realm and its servants.”

It is said by the loremasters that demons do not get goosebumps.

But loremasters have been known to be wrong.