Of all Ricoba's monsters, none are as infamous as the wererats. Many outsiders expect the lycanthropes to be slow-witted scavengers, only tenatively emerging from the sewers at night. The Ricobans know better. Cunning and secretive, the wererats are the ubiquitous predators of the cities. There is nothing attractive or redeeming about these creatures. They exist only to hunt and spawn. Packs of wererats swarm through the streets at night, seeking human flesh and plunder. Few precautions can keep the lycanthropes at bay, as they are capable of finding their way into the most inaccessible areas. Many families have locked themselves securely in their homes at night, only to vanish by morning. The lycanthropes constantly seek to increase their numbers through infection and matings. A staggering number of Ricobans lead double lives, disappearing into the sewers at night to be with their brethren. Suprisingly, a great number of Ricoban nobles are wererats, though normally there are only a few such creatures to a family (the Reniegos are the exception, of course). Other wererats choose to dwell entirely in the sewers, never maintaining a human facade.

The wererats keep company not only with normal and giant rats, but also the intelligent foul rats. What few outsiders realize, however, is that the wererats have powerful leaders called rat kings. Although the rat kings were once normal wererats, a disease transformed them into bloated monstrosities with devastating magical powers. Rat kings never come to the surface, preferring the eternal night below, where they plot the expansion of their subterranean empires. The wererats divide themselves into clans of interrelated lineages. A clan usually controls a large section of the sewers in a single city. The rivalries between wererat clans are bitter, being grounded on true matters of survival such as territory and food resources. Clan wars are incredibly brutal affairs which occasionally boil up into the streets of Ricoba's cities. Wererats must also contend with the ratweres, their relatively rare but more powerful shapeshifting cousins. Unlike wererats, ratweres are solitary creatures, who enjoy hunting humans purely for thrill. They also have a taste for wererat flesh, and promptly devour any lycanthrope which becomes separated from its pack.

Though many folk think of Nosos as the domain of unmitigated filth, Ricoba has its share of waste problems. Though it is not in plain sight, the offal and trash of thousands of souls clogs miles of twisting sewer. There are areas of Ricoba's sewers that are so foul that even the wererats will not venture there. In places, the cramped tunnels open into cavernous chambers of unimaginable filth. These chambers are filled with literal lakes of human waste, fed by a continuous stream from above and draining below to unknown places. Such cesspools are the spawning grounds of every conceivable fungus, mold, ooze, slime, jelly and pudding, as well as fetid life forms found nowhere else. The wererats even believe that there is a city of evil, sentient fungus men somewhere in the labyrinthine tunnels, hidden beneath a subterranean mountain of garbage. There are also rumors that a clan of excrement-eating vampires have a temple dedicated to Juiblex the Slime Lord underneath Monesterio.

Some Ricobans say that the sewers are not only connected to one another, but also to the cthonic realms deep beneath the earth. This is truer than any suspect. An enormous underground sea lies beneath much of Ricoba, and its briny shores are home to all manner of unspeakable horrors. A small group of mind flayers has some interest in the surface world, but they are hesitant to emerge through the sewers. Of more immediate danger are the horrid aboleth. Even the wererats are not immune to their mental slavery. At night, enslaved humans and lycanthropes--as well as the occasional skum--abduct Ricobans indiscriminately from the streets of the domain's cities, and drag them below. The aboleth deign to build an empire beneath the domain, and such an endeavor necessitates thousands of slaves. As disappearances increase at an alarming rate, and sightings of hulking fish-men spread, the Ricobans are becoming convinced that the Pit itself is seeping up into their lives . . .

In northern Ricoba, the Monastery of the Blessed Children stands hidden in the whispering forest. Few Ricobans even know of the Pescadores monastery's existence, and though the Vistani avoid the dark abbey, they will not speak of it to giorgios. Although the structure appears to be in disrepair, the gates of the Monastery remain open, as if ready to receive weary travelers. Anyone unfortunate enough to stumble upon this woeful place may believe that they have found sanctuary. Unfortunately, though the good brothers still walk the halls, they are now heucuvas. Their abbot is known as the Black Friar, a mummy who has the power to kill with a single touch. Additionally, he commands the tribe of gargoyles that dwell in the monastery.

It is widely known that the smiths of Santoņa produce the finest swords in all the Demiplane. The finest blades are sometimes enchanted by clerics of the Three Faiths for worthy warriors. Unfortunately, such a mighty weapon carries a heavy price for those who do not have the discipline to use it. It is said that someone who slays a rival out of jealousy with such a sword will rise from the dead as a bladewight. Though these undead swordsmen resemble death knights in many ways, they also boast strange powers that such fallen knights do not possess. They are said to be able to force a duel upon unwilling enemies, transform metal to crumbling rust with a touch, and even turn a foe's own weapon against him. Though a bladewight is normally a bitter, soiltary creature, a small group of these undead horrors have recently formed an unholy fraternity in the catacombs beneath Santoņa. Although they pursue their own unfathomable interests as a group, these bladewights are by no means devoted allies.

Situated in eastern Ricoba near the Caizada River is the infamous Castle Without a Gate. If the Castle ever bore a true name, it has been lost to time. Its walls are constructed of a coal-black granite not found in Ricoba, and vultures constantly circle its towers. As its label implies, no drawbridge or gateway affords access to the Castle's mysteries. Legends say that a beautiful woman--called simply the Maiden--is imprisoned in the Castle, where terrible creatures torment her. Many knights have scaled the walls in search of her, never to return. In truth, the entire Castle was transported to Ravenloft from the world of Mystara. Its lord is Uric Stonehart, a foul necromancer who was transformed into a nagpa by an Immortal for his evil ambitions. Stonehart is magically imprisoned in his castle, but his years of isolation have given him time to hone his arcane skills to impressive levels. He has developed many unique spells, magical items, and forms of undead. His neverending goal, however, is to escape his prison. Though the Castle appears immense from the outside, its interior is truly enormous. Through some extra-dimensional trick, its corridors and rooms seem to go on forever. Indeed, it may be that some who sought the Maiden were not slain by Stonehart, but still walk its halls, vainly searching for a way out.

Ricobans who choose to dwell in the Lonely Sierra are rarely law-abiding folk. Numerous brigand bands have fortresses in the craggy hills, from which they raid throughout the domain. Such robbers are well-coordinated, and they conduct long-term, aggressive campaigns on the trade routes between Ricoba's cities. Ricobans whisper that some of these robber bands are controlled by minions of the Pit. One group of particularly bloodthirsty brigands is frequently the subject of such rumors: the Serpents of Doom. Their numbers include soldiers with a taste for murder, expert archers, and a handful of evil dwarves from Necropolis. Though the Serpents are not truly under fiendish influence, their leader, Esmerelda, is in fact a lamia noble. Only her most trusted lieutenants know of her true nature. Esmerelda commands loyalty from the Serpents through a subtle blend of respect, desire and fear. Although the lamia no doubt has grander schemes than mere thievery, none can guess what they might entail . . .

The Lonely Sierra is also home for many wizards, who seek to carry out their research in isolation. Although some of these mages are simply reclusive and eccentric, many are exceedingly evil. Their dwellings take many forms, from fortified acropolises to subterranean catacombs to innocuous huts. Some mages go so far as to conceal their strongholds magically. One wizard who makes no such precautions is the elemental lich Iljavo Caravaca. His citadel, the Tower of Dust and Ash, rises above the surrounding country like a skeletal finger. Brigands, wildlife, and even monsters regard the Tower as a place to be avoided at all costs. Mad beyond comprehension, Caravaca currently labors to open a gateway directly to the Negative Energy Plane, which he hopes will devour the Demiplane in an entropic maelstrom. Needless to say, he is a dangerous individual indeed. His Tower is said to contain magical secrets that rival those of Azalin, but is guarded by both elemental kin and undead, not to mention grave and pyre elementals of staggering power.

Though the denizens of the Lonely Sierra are terrible indeed, there is one name that even they fear: Scald. The twisted progeny of a red dragon and copper dragon, Scald originally hails from an unknown world, where he was outcast from other dragonkind. Red dragons viewed him as weak and pitiful, while copper dragons regarded him as inherently evil. He found his way to the Demiplane of Dread shortly after Ricoba formed, and has since lurked near Lake Guernica. Scald is quite insane, and spends most of his time skulking in a cramped cave. He prefers solitude, alternately wallowing in self-hatred and plotting revenge on his dragon peers (he believes that he is still on his homeworld). Scald refrains from terrorizing Ricoba and Mordent's cities only because he was enslaved by humans during his youth, and remains terrified of mortal civilization. He is not, however, above devouring anyone who violates his privacy. Occasionally, he emerges at twilight to hunt in a fit of rage, the setting sun glinting off his scarlet, metallic hide. His breath weapon is said to be like gooey, burning oil, but fortunately Scald lacks the discipline to learn wizardry . . . for now.