“Our enemies lie just across the plains brothers, may our God King see it in his wisdom to grant our masters victory at the loss of our blood. But let our enemies pay for that blood with every breath.”
-Ziegtaur Soldier at the Battle of Forgotten Sorrow
“The Masters have ordered our advancement on the enemy. They are entrenched and well defended Legatus, what is your intent?”
“The Masters say kill, we kill. They order and we obey. The difference in ordering an infidel and a weapon, is the weapon enjoys the order. Slaughter them all and pray to the Weapon that Kills that this day will be bloody. Sing the song of your God and may they get you through today!”
- Legatus Suuhai - Commander of the Minotaur Armies of the Blades
“My Lord Oweadyen, the enemy awaits our presence on the Plains of Forever Sorrow. Our advanced scouts have seen no possible threat of flanks, what are your orders?”
“The infidels shall quiver at my thunder and feel their complacency at the fall of my sword. Send in the Taurs, make them bleed.”
Slaughter them all and pray to the Weapon that Kills that this day will be bloody. Sing the song of your God and may they get you through today!”
- Legatus Suuhai - Commander of the Minotaur Armies of the Blades - The Demon Wars
Bound to serve, unable to leave, many go insane with the duty of a ghoul.
Swarming, never-ending, sea of teeth, muscle, and scales. They are all pervasive, all consuming, and they will destroy you. Devouring body and soul. They are hatred and fear incarnate, a punishment from the foul and incomprehensible gods.
The spirit which dies with a murderous rage upon it’s conscience cannot rest, and re-inhabits the corpse it once dwelt in, stalking the earth in search of one thing: revenge.
Forget the rickety, fragile skeletons. Remove all thoughts of the limping, weak zombies. Shrug off thoughts of blood-dependant vampires. Whereas the former are reflections of necromatic magic, the Mogrolyth is a creation derived from the pure essence of unholy power - namely pain.
In the strict caste based society of the mystical sub-continent of Valur, belief in re-incarnation is powerful and the concept of ‘‘dah’‘, or the actions of one’s previous life having far reaching consequences for the present one, holds powerful sway. Thus, does one receive great punishment or reward in his next life, depending on the actions of his current existence.
The Cyahoi are horrific undead beings created as powerful servants by the cults of the frightful Lord Sarku, flesh-eating Master of the Living Dead. They are animalistic and violent creatures whose lower, animal souls have been driven wild with spiritual starvation, and whose higher, reasoning souls are held captive in their black hearts.
“Since the vile Plante’s Deceased Hoste is not technically a Part of its Anatomy, any attemptes to Kill the Monster using regular methods is likely to prove Futile, especially that of Beheading the Creature. It seems to regarde its Head as a most Unnecessary part of its Composition, and thus as it moves its Head exhibits a frightening lacke of Expression, and lolls in a way most Unpleasant to observe.”
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.
Simultaneously feared and desired by mages, Cool blue reasons are the collections of negative energy and the absence of emotion. A Reason appears as a tapering worm of translucent blue-black color, nearing one foot in length at the time of creation, though through their feeding on emotion can grow to be miles long.
The Cynocephali are those wretched beings who are cursed to walk the earth after death for the betrayal of those most dear to them. The gods look upon such traitors with terrible anger, and as such, those who do nothing to remedy their betrayal or offset the sin are doomed to an eternal unlife, bearing the head of a dog.
Seemingly lit from within, autumn foliage blazes with color in the late-afternoon sun. Yet, is is spring.
Trodways Known by Ericus Huntcrafter pub 1185 p. 245
Brutish masters of the Highlands, the grey-skinned, wolf-riding men of the Flinthill Clan are famed for their ferocity and their savagery.
The Sark-Hound is a basic form of Sark which is created for a very specific purpose, to wit, the hunting and killing of the necromancer’s enemies (in Centas, the place of the banal zombie is taken by these creatures).
Many of the Undead face this terrible fate for mistakes of their own. Dark sins, or conscience heavy for the criminal deeds they have commited, they cannot pass on and linger in this world. But some do not deserve this curse…
There are some men who treat their wives the way they would chattel,that is,with utter control and domination,regarding their spouses not as independent beings entitled to their free will,but as mere objects of theirs,subject to the will of their lords. Such is the nature of those doomed to become the Possessive Ones,upon their death.
They come in the night, and they take things. Nothing neccesary. Maybe they’ll take some candle wax, mabe a few sticks, a curtain, anything. But guard all your possesions boy, because if you don’t, they’ll come down on you like a hellbeast in one of their damned machines.
The Poison Eaters Tribe dwells deep in the jungle glades of the Ushaika, in the lowest reaches of the undergrowth where no sunlight pierces through the leaves, and where the marshy ground wells up with tea-colored water at the lightest step.