My World, by Hiro.

Manmade Were-creatures ( The beasts of war, or BoW's)
After suffering a grievous loss at the hands of the original, vicious Were-beings at the very walls of the Hobliggin's home town, The Hobliggin People set out to do the one thing they know better than anyone else. Invent. In hushed whispers, they set to work to create something to combat the evil that had beaten down their door once before. There was no shortage of volunteers for the tests, a bit of coin goes a long way in convincing anyone to put their lives on the line. After countless failures and dead brethren, their first creature stood above the swathes of dead test subjects. A brutish mix of Man and wolf. The first creations were horribly rudimentary, hardly able to walk and comprehend basic instructions. Still, they were unrivaled in melee combat and manual labor.  As the process was streamlined and the kinks worked out, more complex mixes of man and beast came into fruition. Now they could transform at will, speak in coherent language, and they even retained their motor function while in their beastly forms.
Armed with claws and explosives, they were set to work as guards, able to defend the Hobliggin people  from ever suffering such a horrible defeat again. The technology to merge Man and beast has become highly sought for, and like true Capitalists, the Hobliggin people intend to hold a monopoly on the market.

Deltharion, The City of Light and Plague.
The Last vestige of Humanity on the Continent of Arskiel. A walled city towering over the land. The ever lit vigil in the uppermost tower providing a beacon to any remaining humans towards the city.  The massive walls are under constant watch by massive holy knights, empowered by the light of the Divine Maker. Chosen by the deity, their souls are filled with a fervor to smite down evil, and the magic required to do so. However, any magic that isn't “Divinely” given is cause for excommunication and Exile into the blighted wastes. This includes those afflicted with Lycanthropy. They are expelled from the city as soon as they are discovered and are promised if they ever are to return, their soul will be purged ( an act which results in death).
These warriors of the light, These Paladins are no beacons of hope. They are necessary evils that the populace of Deltharion must live with, hoping their holy wrath is never brought upon them.  They stand stalwart in the face of the many evils that lurk outside the city walls, charging into battle head first without question. Their plague masks protect them from inhaling the toxic fumes which have spread slowly throughout the landscape, bringing disease and plague magic on its warpath.
The citizens inside Deltharion live restricted, censored lives, but compared to the alternative of living outside the walls where Sludge elves, werewolves and other beasts await, they happily partake in the censorship.
Secret libraries filled to the brim with arcane knowledge are kept under watchful eye. Even so much as gazing upon a cover without explicit permission is an offense punishable by death.


The Blighted Plains:
Aptly named. These plains are where the Scourge of the plague began to seep from the earth when the Sludge elves rose from their pits, carrying with them plague enough to obliterate mankind. Trees grow in gnarled fashions, with limbs growing in disjointed, leafless formations. If nature could scream, this land would wail.
Most towns and cities around the area where the elves appeared was lost almost instantly, leaving husks of once bustling trade centers. The elves now call these places home. Their homelands swamp marshes which now stretch across the plagued lands. The sludge elves live in these swamps, only venturing out to scavenge materials. In one heavily protected swamp den, there resides a woman. Some say she created the plague, others insist she is merely a tool for guiding it, and that the plague itself was forged by a god. Whatever the case may be,none may pass her domain without being infested with the plague, and after a person is infested, they aren't precisely allowed to leave. She infests them, and if they fail to transfigure, they are executed before they are turned into another mindless zombie. Zombies are no works of art, they are stains upon their attempt at creating a perfectly plagued world.

The Sludge elves themselves see nothing wrong with their plague spreading. In fact, they find it to be a good thing. To bring everyone into the embrace of the plague, to morph every creature into hellish monstrosities, that is their goal. They do it not because they hate, but they love. They feel as if the plague is a gift, and each time one of their spells touches and effects another living creature that they are enriching the lives of those effected. This is the exact reason they constantly try to better their poison, to kill less and less of these unrefined beings. Killing a human is no good to their cause, merely turning the afflicted into a mindless zombie, good for very little. However,  when the beasts do transfigure, they become affiliated with the sludge elves, and after being exiled from Deltharion, they are picked up by the elves and brought forth to the swamps and put to work, the newest member of the collective.
Magic is their prime source of damage, being able to control the very ground upon which they stand. To summon mutated wasps,  or even in the case of some tribes, control the flow of zombie hordes.
Their weapons are forged from the earth, created by the plague magic twisting the tainted earth into the image of a deadly blade or spear. It emerges from the ground as one single organic piece of weaponry.
Constant battles are waged upon the elves, with Paladins riding their griffins over their swamps and sending spears of light splintering down to the creatures below. The Sludge elves retaliate  by tossing plague infused bombs into the walls of the city from the backs of their Corrupted griffins, now called Manticores.
A war which will wage until one side is completely obliterated.


From a far away mountain range, another race watches the battle unfold, preparing for both outcomes.
Minotaurs, brutish inventors work tirelessly upon the mountaintops to create destructive weapons. Their cities resemble stretched out labyrinths, endlessly extending in every direction, though the Minotaurs have no trouble navigating these towns. They lumber with slow determination. Being slow creatures, they have long since put themselves to work to creating the heaviest armaments that will likely never be known to mankind. Shoulder mounted chain guns,  hand mounted cannons, no weapon is too large nor impractical for these beasts. They have spent their entire lives working to keep themselves safe and to rain down hell upon any who come within range of their civilization. They are a private people, learning to not trust the intentions of anyone after a few sour encounters with both the Paladins and the Sludge elves. Though, on the off chance that a Minotaur is befriended, they are known to be loyal to their dying breath. Never one to turn on a fight and always the one to shoot first, Minotaurs are to be feared upon the fields of battle. Never faltering, never ceasing fire, never surrendering, a stalwart people in the face of their own demise.
Their social construct is very basic, you are judged and ranked upon how well you can invent, shoot, and provide for the city as a whole. There is no ruler, though that isn't so say there isn't rules. They are firmly rooted in the “eye for an eye” approach to things, where it is commonly accepted to retaliate with equal force to one who has wronged you. This simple rule guides their day to day life, wrong no one and be wronged by none.


Far away from all combat,  over the mountain range that the Minotaurs call home, the world ceases to be so horrifying. A quiet land, seemingly forgotten by the world. An overgrown forest stretches for miles in all directions. It is hardly an easy area to navigate, given that landmarks are few and far between. However, a single monument stands above all else. A gushing waterfall, surging forth water purified of the plague into a basin. The water so pure, so clean that it has attracted the attention of the native species of the woods. Large, hulking bears who stand upon two legs like a human being, they have no name for themselves, but those who see them refer to their kind simply as Ursamen.
 They are brought together over one thing, their love of the drink. The belief that alcohol in all of its forms is a path to knowing one's self and even reuniting the spiritual and physical plane.
They have cobbled together distilleries, massive grand buildings used to create, store and sell alcohol. . These bears constantly offer their drinks to any who wander through their lands, encouraging enlightenment through constant drunkenness. The bears also practice combat, multiple monasteries dotted around the landscape, filled with drunk bear-monks who constantly stumble, tumble and drink their way through constant brawls with their companions and enemies alike. These training grounds are open to every person who walks the earth, but only once a substantial feast is had and dozens of beer kegs lay strewn across the ground.
Festivals are held in the basin constantly, many creatures native to the jungle coming to participate. During these festivals, during the drunken dancing and jubilant songs, the spiritual energy of the Ursamen is released, powerful primal magic that seems to originate from their drink. They are unaware of this magic, however, considering that it only comes to them while in a drunken haze.
Their entire culture revolves around alcohol, with all the efforts of the bearmen going towards better drink for all. As such, their towns are created and maintained when a well known and well respected brewer takes his drink from the basin. Those who favor his brew over another will follow him, and set up tents, torches and fires where ever he plants his keg. Some colonies are large, but many are small knit communities of twenty to fifty of these hulking bears, united only by drunkenness and their preference for a drink.