The only true god of the Stolen World.
Sometimes names can be deceptive
Watcher comes now. It comes to set me free
Of its curse of dark and emptiness and endless misery.
Nine times out of Ten, it's the undead that do the running.
Thirteen souls the devil took
And thirteen sons back he sent
Lust, Greed, Gluttony
Perversion, Wrath, Envy
Pride, Vice, Blasphemy
Sloth, Misery, Catastrophe
Moon Hunters or Moon Riders is what they were called. These wonderous and magicial dancers roamed the lands for many, many years preforming dances for kings and roality alike. But not all were dancers, one girl had a simple but different talent. She was the songtress of the group. Her amazing voice filled the hearts of all people. But at her last preformance…..
For the coddling of the weak and mewling shall one day be the Downfall of All Races!
—Morkoel Rasher, denouncing Moleskin in verse.
Et deprecabantur eum spiritus dicentes mitte nos in porcos ut in eos introeamus (Mark 5:12)
A beast made of writing; a strange, sad, and beautiful being that haunts the libraries and universities of the Sacred World
Created as a weapon by the ancient sorceror-primotologists of the Iron Triangle Nation, the Cutsman still stalks the underhalls of the city of Mehxaiyul, a spectre of blood and blades.
the Apple Tree of Selilion holds the secret of life and death
This demon was the pride and joy of the summoners guild. They used it in their war with the Vampires. But the Vampires’ freed the demon hoping that it would destroy it’s former masters.
“You know that saying that man made god? No, of course you don’t. But we didn’t make god. We made the Devil, and god is just a word the frightened cling to, to protect them from their own creation. And you? You are my creation. You are my devil.
Beneath crumbling towers wait
Ishafel’s Horror and Hate
A monster grim and bleak
Go to it if death you seek
Shirion may have been a human once. That time is long past. Now, it is an ever-shifting being, its form lost to time.
Bound to serve, unable to leave, many go insane with the duty of a ghoul.
Some years ago a dark cult was founded in the Forecastle area of Hahvrensburg. The cultists were defeated by a band of heroes. A month after the heroes left the city and went on about their business, something massive came out of the earth.
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.