When inventors, scientists and researchers die, they don't always take their ideas with them.
Few things define a ship more than her guardian spirit.
When a mission becomes something more.
It is unwise to speak the name of the Great Demon of the Ocean if you are close enough to the sea to smell the salt in the air. It is inviting disaster to speak it’s name when you are on the ocean itself.
have made thee as no other. All the treasures of the earth shall lie between thy eyes. Thou shalt cast thy enemies between thy hooves, but thou shalt carry my friends upon they back. Thy saddle shall be the seat of prayers to me. And thou fly without any wings, and conquer without any sword.
"Aye, 'dis here is yer problem, squire. Yer gone and got yerself a Cog Devil infestation in the ol' gear box, haven't ya? Look at the little bugger squirm, eh? Nah, dont be embarrassed, squire. It's better than lice on yer privates, innit? Coz, they're harder to get rid of, they are. And a lot more expensive too.."
Istherm Mild (esq.), licensed steam engine mechanic, overheard advicing one of his customers…
The everyday kin to the elementals and the demons
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
The leftover remnants of Mind can sometimes cling to existence when the Body fails and the Spirit departs…
You see a glowing figure, four feel tall, it looks like it has been waiting for you. Suddenly, it flies right through you, and it looks like its coming around for another pass…
Behold, the Harbinger of ill-tidings, the blizzard rider, the thief of winter, the Stamagast.
As the small group of mercenaries settled down for the night, they failed to notice that some small pieces of barbed wire sticking out of the ground nearby were moving like tentacles.Until it was too late and they woke to feel it clutched around their throats and squeezing hard. As their blood spilled upon the ground the Barbed Arms had claimed yet more victims.
Sometimes, the places remember. Where Destiny’s threads intertwine, echoes of the past live again.
Any being or creature made of spirit energy that exists on the astreal realm and non material realms.
Gentlemen, BEHOLD! The celestial spider!
The rules against nighttime travel in the Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin are there for some very good reasons, not least the highly dangerous Geyser Ghosts.
It is the tortured and imperfect souls who most often cannot find a clear path to the afterlife. Weighted down by sins unforgiven, sins for whose forgiveness they never ask, sins they never regretted.
To be added to Remaking Undead when finished
A wretched entity of the frozen lands, the WinterKill is the remnant of a mortal left to die in despair and endless cold.
"They come with the mist, and fight to protect us. Protecting their people meant so much to them that they kept fighting for us after they fell. Count yourselves blessed that the Company of Stars watches over us."
- Mylnes, Ethalani Elder
Malignant entities, these beings have existed in unlife for so long that they have forgotten what it means to be mortal.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.