Known fully as 'Nind Vel'uss Tahcaluss whol nind ehmtu siltrin' or 'They Who Hunger for Their Own Flesh'
Dwarven Undead with a hunger that won't be satiated by simply your blood, brains, or flesh.
He raised his sword to fight the foul undead thing in front of him, which was when it threw something only just glimpsed in the beam of his torch at him. When he blocked it with his sword, the resulting explosion both shattered his sword and took off his hand. As he turned to flee, screaming in pain, the Dumuzid he was facing stabbed him again and again until he fell dead to the sandy floor of the tomb.
The Nurglur stand taller than a man, though they are stooped and hunched so their faces lie at a height similar to ours. Their bodies are slim with a muscled, wiry strenght and their feet are turned with three bird like talons.
*Sphhisshh* *Sphhissh* *Sphhissh*
Van Torxus first line of defense against intruders into his realm.
As you emerge from the shop in the alleyway, not-too-distant clanging and stamping makes you wary. Further investigation reveals a massive Balgrian protest march flooding the main street, banners roaring about the inhuman conditions in which this ethnic group is forced to live. City guards stand helplessly by, beating up the odd protestor, but unable to hold back the flow. Onlookers throw vegetables at the Balgrians, and shout abuse.