The product of a conjuring gone horribly awry, the Devourer hungers, and it hungers not for anything of this world, nor of the next..
Behold, the Eldest.
This unique animal is sought after by many a hunter and lord. Many knights have sought to gain fame by capturing this elusive, graceful animal for whom calling it a beast is a crime.
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.
Not quite a race of its own, not quite the mortals they are so close to.
An ancient yew tree, touched by Death himself and chosen to be his witness throughout time.
Lutazum is an immense (32’ at the top of it’s shell) tortoise which walks on huge 2’ thick legs. It is dark green with speckles and looks about with suprising intelligance. On top of its shell are strapped leather containers of all description.
Demontrumpets, as illuded to by the name, are not normal plants, but are plants who hold their origin in the Abyss. Perhaps brought by summoned demons, perhaps created by a dark god for some purpose, perhaps simple plants mutated by an artifact of great evil.
The Great Black Stag of the Southern Forests, Donnerwunsch has drunken deeply of the rivers of the Desert of Divine Despair.
“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.
Sleep with a cloth wrapped around your face or you’ll be a frungy garden in the morning…
Regional insult for someone considered stubborn, or gullible.
Beneath crumbling towers wait
Ishafel’s Horror and Hate
A monster grim and bleak
Go to it if death you seek
A brief summary of the Pessimal Beast as revealed by the Pessimal Manuscript and other anecdotal evidence.
Shirion may have been a human once. That time is long past. Now, it is an ever-shifting being, its form lost to time.
Brendan stared at the creature in the pale moonlight, transfixed by the silvery petals that glistened beneath that perfect purity. It was not until his final breath that he gathered his wits enough to scream after the thing had descended on him, all muscle and thorns and hard, barklike skin. It was too impossible, even the crimson blossoms that shone in the light of the moon.
Fiendish of appearance, beware these black kine…
An offshoot of humanity arises from its underground home due to a massive civil war and other ancient fueds…
The current state of the mythical elder race who once ruled the world known as the Sorcen.
[Pariah] 4:20 pm: OMFG!!! It’s a gremil swarm.
The Mad Pope is a wandering mercenary. He is very well deranged as he considers himself to be the pontiff of the dominant faith. His robes are tattered, his mitre has seen better days and there are surely lice in his long ratty beard. What sets him apart from most addle-pated would be holy men is that he has armor under his robes and carries a large crossbow and several one-handed swords. While many would discout him as just another lunatic, for some reason, he inspires others around him and has demonstrated the ability to lay on hands and heal the wounded.