Lightning elementals are rare, the conditions required for a bolt of lightning to become self sustaining and self aware are very unusual and uncommon. As such, artificial elementals far outnumber wild ones.
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.
The Jiangsi was the name of an undead being in Chinese folklore and mythology. Usually translated as zombie or vampire for Western palates, the Jiangsi was really neither. They appeared as simply risen, fresh corpses. They moved (peculiarly!) by hopping rather than walking, and sought out the living to suck the Qilife force from their victims.
Perhaps significantly more interesting than the Jiangsi itself, was the lore surrounding them. "Zombie wranglers", or "Corpse Herders", usually Daoist priests, were men tasked with delivering these undead beings back to their respective home towns. Tradition in China placed great importance and emphasis on the return of the dead to their homes and families, and thus the corpse herders came to be. By using magick words and talismans they would animate the dead, and by placing specially inscribed parchments of paper over the Jiangsi heads and faces, the corpse herders would be able to control the hopping corpses. Then like pied pipers, they would lead processions of subdued undead, across many miles, rhythmically chanting and ringing tiny bells.
Special inns were built across China to house these undead caravans, as the zombies could only travel by evening and night, the sun anathema to them. Rows of doors opening to barely a closet-space, lined the walls of these special establishments. Behind these doors, the corpses would be stored upright while the corpse herders rested in rooms.
The Jiangsi under the control of a corpse herder were quite harmless, merely hopping after him, silently and without complaint, for weeks and months. If however, the magicked parchment would somehow be removed from their faces, the creatures would immediately seek living humans to kill. Their thirst for Qi was unquenchable.
The job of a corpse herder was an interesting one to say the least.