Bardag Ol lies in the midst of the Adaz Pass, on the Great West Road. A product of a mixture Old Sohari architecture and frontier pragmatism, it is an interesting blend of sophisticated pomp and grizzled realism.
I don’t know what it was that set Shoutin’ Sam off, but when he left, it was like goddamned Apaches had busted in here and had a scalpin’ party in the saloon…
The hideous and hairy Houtsunomuh is the mythological Stalker of Graveyards and Eater of the Dead, one of the Eight Great Monsters of Enohountsun mythology.
Stebanos paint is a tool of the poisoner’s culture of Tekne, mixed in with make-up, to make a Tekneani noble’s pale adornments deadly.
A sturdy, primitive Pictish axe
He’s a strange foreigner who doesn’t act like us… Suspicious.
The spirit which dies with a murderous rage upon it’s conscience cannot rest, and re-inhabits the corpse it once dwelt in, stalking the earth in search of one thing: revenge.
The Aukstatians are the people of the Rujien Mountains, north of the Highlands. They are the enemies of the White Towns and the Darkpine Hunters to the east.
The Cyahoi are horrific undead beings created as powerful servants by the cults of the frightful Lord Sarku, flesh-eating Master of the Living Dead. They are animalistic and violent creatures whose lower, animal souls have been driven wild with spiritual starvation, and whose higher, reasoning souls are held captive in their black hearts.
The Cynocephali are those wretched beings who are cursed to walk the earth after death for the betrayal of those most dear to them. The gods look upon such traitors with terrible anger, and as such, those who do nothing to remedy their betrayal or offset the sin are doomed to an eternal unlife, bearing the head of a dog.
Brutish masters of the Highlands, the grey-skinned, wolf-riding men of the Flinthill Clan are famed for their ferocity and their savagery.
The Sark-Hound is a basic form of Sark which is created for a very specific purpose, to wit, the hunting and killing of the necromancer’s enemies (in Centas, the place of the banal zombie is taken by these creatures).
The Poison Eaters Tribe dwells deep in the jungle glades of the Ushaika, in the lowest reaches of the undergrowth where no sunlight pierces through the leaves, and where the marshy ground wells up with tea-colored water at the lightest step.
Below the surface of the Earth, dwelling in darkness and forgotten catacombs, the goat-headed Ghouls, dark spirits of murder, feast on the dead. Ghouls dwell in old, forgotten places, luring others down into the grasping claws of their evil tribes.
The Crawling Ghosts (from Parsic “yabuj”, “it crawls”) are the loathsome, disturbing ghosts of those who die lonely and rejected, shut-ins and the forgotten.
A Hungry Ghost is born when the lower soul (the animal soul of the body, containing physical urges and violences) becomes angered and, rather than descending to the Underworld, lashes out against the living, which, in its instinctive state and having dulled senses, it percieves as enemies who have “wronged” it.
The Azhag (‘ah-ZHAHG’; from Old West-Carmanian azadg, meaning watchman, sentry), called Tomb Guardians or Demon Shadows, are the terrible Undead guardians of the tombs of the Ancient Ones.
Hiding deep within catacombs of the ancients, in low, deep alcoves where they lie, spider-like, awaiting the taste of fresh blood, there are the hideous Torlakia, dark beings who once lived and are now, fearfully, undead.
Undead are, simply put, among the most horrific things one can think of. Can you imagine anything more frightening than a being which is dead and yet still walks? Can you imagine the horror of being faced by the hollow shell of being, a hollow shell which must feed?
Arshii’j Daru is the capitol of the empire of the Daruni, a jungle state lying to the south of the Holy Land, and home of a staunch Qoruxi state. Waves of invaders have enriched the culture and history of the state and created a powerful kingdom capable of withstanding both the assault of the Qoruxi raiders of the Holy Land and the assault of the Meixingu Holy War.
-WARNING: VERY LONG AND VERY COMPLEX-
The party has found the source of the strange creatures roaming the countryside. The rift in this reality glows with a silver hue, rippling with the wind but never moving. They step through and are immediately assaulted with the scent of rotting meat, some have to muster all their strength not to vomit. Strange cries similar to the beasts the party had faced before can be heard in the distance. Looking around, they see they are in a forest of grey and red rather than the normal brown and green. The trees are sticky to the touch and writhe, perhaps to get away or perhaps as a warning.
The deeper the party goes, the more the forest seems to slither and move underfoot. The cries get closer and more numerous. Creatures lurk in the shadows, all the same color of their surroundings. Whatever the party came in here for, they had better do it fast.
The forest of flesh is waking up, and it is so very hungry.