Before Final Fantasy turned Bahamut into a dragon, it was a fish
Vastids - man-maimers who live in contaminated water areas and Balrin Algae.
In the dark one morning, the Bloated Black Beast slowly rose to the water's surface. Whence it crested, great gouts of flame erupted from its Misshapen Form and were hurled hundreds of feet in all directions. It dove again, and appeared as nothing more than an Inky Shadow of Malice. With no purpose, It swam on; occasionally cresting and flaming, but still without purpose.
This sea monster seeks to devour more than just mere flesh..
"Greetings, Mortal," Said the bubbly, hissing voice in his head… What the hell was that, he thought. "Not hell, the Ocean. Walk into the surf, my child. I will protect you."
She rose from the waters and cast her eyes across us. I dropped my spear, and the man who was moments before intent on my death did the same, letting his sword and shield fall to the sand at our feet. Let it not be said that the gods do not care for the deeds of men, nay they do care. And in our bloody case, they dissapproved.
Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook?
Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons?
or his head with fish spears?
Have a family that is ever at odds with each other? Beware lest the Slurran comes for you..
The Flowing Death is one of the most feared monsters in all of Vallermoore’s rivers and ocean, not because of the numbers of people it has killed directly, but because of the semi-starvation it’s visits bring, and because it cannot be seen until it attacks it’s prey.
The air had grown chill the minute they descended into the strange valley, which was unmarked on any of their maps. It was so strange here, devoid of animal life and completely silent. The horses were nervous the entire journey through the vale. As they set about to collect firewood for the campfire they could hear their own voices as dim echoes through the eerie silence.
The food didn't taste anything that evening and their sleep was cold and troubled by nightmares. While they are clearing camp the next morning, one of them stumbles over a piece of stone jutting out of the ground nearby the horses. On closer inspection there seems to be runes engraved into the polished surface. The symbols true meaning is no more known among mere mortals and if they decide to dig deeper, they will discover that it is an ancient altar buried within the soil.
Any historically oriented party member will recognize the largest symbol to be the insignia of the powerful warlock who ruled this realm several centuries ago. At their departure from the area, something will seem amiss with one of the party members and all will remember the stories of the warlock's thousand curses.