Hidden in the snowy mountains lies a small settlement. Not unlike others however this village is entirely populated by undead. These undead are atypical.
“The Armored Avenger is dead!"
"Look at him! He looks like hamburger, but his admantium armor is untouched! What could have done that?”
Classified as a category 4 threat, the Elib is somewhere between a vampire lord and Godzilla for limits of escalation. Yes, I would consider using a nuclear device to kill just one. I am that sure that I want it dead.
Dwarven Undead with a hunger that won't be satiated by simply your blood, brains, or flesh.
"It was just after nightfall when it came; a horrible, rotten mass of bone and flesh, with a voice that was like a thousand screams braided together. I only survived because I ran - I ran and I've never stopped running, because I know it's after me. Me, and everyone else who was there when the city of Vesta was slaughtered." -Hans, Former Captain turned nomad
He raised his sword to fight the foul undead thing in front of him, which was when it threw something only just glimpsed in the beam of his torch at him. When he blocked it with his sword, the resulting explosion both shattered his sword and took off his hand. As he turned to flee, screaming in pain, the Dumuzid he was facing stabbed him again and again until he fell dead to the sandy floor of the tomb.
Small puppets who take on the likeness of their owner upon death. They act as a silent sentry, militia, or officer of the law in the war stricken Dim-Sii Tribes of the Southern Lands
Wooden constructs skilled in the art of battle as well as extermination.
The first sign of the Army of the Lost are the legs. Blown off legs, hopping along wearing their military boots. And not long afterwards, the rest of the Army arrives, and the horizon from left to right is filled with the decomposing bodies, many of which carry weapons. Unless you can outrun them or fortify your position, you will soon be joining this army of the Undead.
The Harakan have been created with only one purpose in mind. They hunt the despised slaves of the Empire
A.k.a. Belcher, Fleshbag, Mr. Soupy, Spitter, or a Walking Cauldron
Support for your zombie legions...
The Mihradhz shrieked, with a sound like fingernails on slate, as it was dragged headlong into our world by a greedy and uncaring spellcaster whose only desire was to defeat his rivals.
"Neither steel nor stone could cause any damage, my Lord... It was simply too big, unlike any enemy we have ever seen."
Legion Captain Meron's last report to General Lorgar
"When the trees shuddered and the earth shook, we knew it was far too late to retreat."
Excerpt of General Lorgar's last report to Emperor Paulus, following the loss of his entire army of 10,000 men
More subtle than artillery, Mul'Tals, the siege-vine of the Kel'Regar, is more than capable of reducing the strongest of defenses to rubble, growing, twisting, and devouring its way through them.
"For days, we've heard nothing but cricketsong, from the coming of dust to an hour past dawn. Nothing he happened, but I'm sure something will."
last journal entry, Traggion the Explorer
Circle help me, I ran like a little girl…
Picture the wildest rodeo you’ve ever seen. Now picture it half a mile above the earth.
The Kir’bret’rasach is the Kel’Regar answer to the question of the main battle tank. More than one foe has been caught unaware by its massive strength and tearing claws.
Undead abominations born of the Light, the glow of the Accursed’s warped flesh strikes terror into those who behold it.
The result of a disastrous summoning accident involving a fire elemental, a pig farm, and a farmer’s daughter, bacon elementals can only be described as delicious.
Poison can only ever be the tool of a murderer - as such, alchemists are tightly regulated by the Crown, and anyone found in posession of an unknown substance is forced to taste it themselves.