Also known as Ghost Wasps
Beware, beware, the hidden snare.
Where the shadows linger, and fiends do fare.
Go on, run, hide and pray.
For the elder crow feasts,
on our souls' decay.
Strange creatures, half dreamed half imagined, figments of delerium, wisps of insanity.
"Do you feel it?"
"Feel... well, never mind, I'm just not feeling well"
So you want to rub a lamp, do you? Here are many mighty Genies, beings of great magic who might turn out to be your greatest boon or your greatest bane.
"A little bit of the arcane, hidden within the mundane."
-Victroinox, Archmage of the Circle of Masters
"I saw him! The Sorcerer! His skin cracked and glowed like it was smoldering beneath. His eyes burned like Sol and Radia. He spoke with a voice like a legion of hellspawn, in a strange tongue that parted the skies and reigned fire down upon the earth."
-Excerpt from Mycenae's Dissertation on Sorcerers.
When a life is snuffed out through a cause other than old age and natural ailments, the spirit lingers in the Mortal Realm rather than immediately entering the Spiritual World, as is its due. The incorporeal form attached to such a being is what is commonly referred to as a Ghost.
How much hatred does it take to buy revenge?
They say you give up a few things, chasing a dream. In those mists that's the literal truth, for every dream of yours that comes true, a piece of yourself, mind, body, or soul, gets taken by the mist. Worst part is, you won't even know what the cost of your dreams are until you go to leave, and by then you might not even have a mind left to change...
A fragment of the mists of creation, drawn to those desperate to make their dreams come true. Suitable for any magical fantasy setting.
The Red-Wind Rag; Trappings of a Bloody Death; A Malevolent Sheet of Scarlet and Ichor.
The poor boy.. Man, I mean. I tend to forget his age, given his appearance...
When a mission becomes something more.
have made thee as no other. All the treasures of the earth shall lie between thy eyes. Thou shalt cast thy enemies between thy hooves, but thou shalt carry my friends upon they back. Thy saddle shall be the seat of prayers to me. And thou fly without any wings, and conquer without any sword.
The everyday kin to the elementals and the demons
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
The leftover remnants of Mind can sometimes cling to existence when the Body fails and the Spirit departs…
You see a glowing figure, four feel tall, it looks like it has been waiting for you. Suddenly, it flies right through you, and it looks like its coming around for another pass…
Behold, the Harbinger of ill-tidings, the blizzard rider, the thief of winter, the Stamagast.
Any being or creature made of spirit energy that exists on the astreal realm and non material realms.
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.