Cold, mystic master manipulators.
The adventurers hear a noise and turn, only to see a bottle clatter down the street. Shrugging it off, they continue on their way, blissfully unaware of the hulking mass of junk taking shape behind them...
Droids, Drones, and the Neo-Cortex.
Strange creatures, half dreamed half imagined, figments of delerium, wisps of insanity.
"They're many names given to the things of this vast consciousness that we don't understand, are afraid of, or otherwise just don't want to be associated with. These creatures, though familiar in appearance to many common races, have no name for themselves, but have been appropriately named "Concordare Iram", Translated: Harmonized Rage."
Also known as automatics, dummies, skinnies, and mannikins.
Genimals are the stock and trade of BioCreches and one of the foundation technologies of the biosphere repair effort
The Fae, they are called, though the reason they are not called by their true name, the Fairies, has been lost to the ages- at least, by the humans. The other races know, the other races know well of the Fae.
Humans have a very short memory. The elves, the dwarves, the goblins, the orcs, they don't. They remember of the interactions between Atheians and the Fae all those years ago in that other age. They know what happened. But the humans... they have forgotten.
This is why they will be the first to die.
"That's old lady Serisia's house... We don't go in there anymore." the children looked forlornly through the iron fence to their lost ball, deep within the overgrown gardens of the massive front yard.
From deep in the foliage, a menacing 'Yowl' sounded, followed by an eerie droning.
This sub is a little bit silly.
Trapped in Atheus, blocked from returning to their home of Congeria, the daimon is (usually) a minor demon- though this does not mean that they are not a highly deadly adversary.
Favored minion of the necromancer Warmaker, the Ossilyth is a tank of an undead.
A model of efficiency and effectiveness, also a model of horror in the Cosmic era
Written in support of the Flight of Retribution, a Cosmic Era splatbook
The panic inducing robotic shock troopers of the Cosmic Era.
A collection of Chinese mythical lifeforms representing Bad Omens or associated with the onset of Disasters
A collection of Chinese mythical lifeforms representing Good Omens or have divine associations (more entries will be added)
A collection of Chinese Mythical Lifeforms that can pose varying degrees of danger to adventurers and the general populace
A collection of relatively harmless Chinese Mythical Lifeforms
Two creatures, forever cycling between the phases of the 5 elements, unable to rejoin.
An army can be compared to a craftsmen. Both produce for gain. A craftsmen produces a product, a good, for monetary gain. An army, however, produces corpses for resource acquisition. Be it on the battlefield or in the medical tent with the severely wounded being put out of their misery, the fillers of graves are being produced.
Any mind of the modern age has thought about putting those bodies to work. Necromancy has long been socially inacceptable. Besides, no one enjoys seeing a former comrade, a former brother-in-arms, walking around fighting and killing with a spear hole in his gut and a couple arrows hanging from the arms. And the only other way was to throw the dead body into a catapult and throw it at the enemy, in the hopes of giving them plague.
It was Obstarian military who first unleashed the Raveten on their foes during the World War. No one was prepared for it. And so people died.
Oazduke's Vengeful Head.
The head haunts all headsman and executioners.
A floating, bloody head, long separated from its body, is a particular legend among a very particular group of people, executioners, specifically those that chop heads from a block for a living. It was that infamous highway robber, Oazduke the Vengeful, who when finally captured and put to the axe, screamed his foul hex, seconds before his head flew off.
"You will know it is me when I'm through
A curse on your ilk and on you!
May my severed head haunt you eternal
Frightening you headsmen infernal!"
Years later, not one but two(!) weary, puffy-eyed, spooked, headsmen, haunted day and night by Oazduke's insufferable severed head, approach the party cleric in order to hire him to exorcise the ghost head once and for all.