Travelling the shifting sands at night was always a dangerous task. Freshly recruited into the Ouzquin Dremorix army, young Fallava and Moruz followed the grizzled veteran before them. They were hunting a band of Latrani orcs, and the trail was fresh. The grey-haired Avaki raised two fingers in a sign of silence as the trio neared the top of the rise, and slowly, the man breached the top of the dune. "Aaahh," Avaki exhaled mournfully as he slung his Ouzala over his shoulders. Down the other side of the dune lay an oasis, and as Fallava and Moruz came forth they saw the reason for Avacti's sigh. The corpses of a dozen Ouzquin Dremorix lay in pieces across the bank of the water. Blood stained the sand. Without looking back to the young man and woman, Avaki spoke softly, "Vauraki has fed well this night."
A chill ran up Moruz's spine. He could have sworn he heard a wilting howl inside his head.
They have no souls, but they live. They are formless, but they walked. They are unseen, but they reveals. They walk the dark plains, but they show the lights. And they were given a chance to choose side. And yet, they chose righteous. And that's the Farons. Creature that walks the void realm.
Kalraka Dzeik is a sentient lightning storm with a following of cultists. It has much in common with a natural disaster or a plague; it starts at a single point but spreads like wildfire if given the chance. It is capable of terrible destruction, and will take heroic effort to stop, if it can be stopped at all.
Ghorion was once one of the Three Troll Kings of the Cloudsteeth Mountains. Undeath has only made him crueler, and much, much more powerful.
Watcher comes now. It comes to set me free
Of its curse of dark and emptiness and endless misery.
...And 'lo, the days of Bennu drew to a close, and he built himself a pyre from which to be reborn in cleansing fire. But trickery snared his form, blackening radiant feathers to twilight...
He stood before me, a freankenstien of a man beast that towered twenty feet tall or more. Its rigor colored flesh stunk of eons of decay both sickly sweet and of putrescence beyond what the mortal mind could fathom. I tried to gag it from my throat but my stomach refused to relieve its contents and for that made me more uneasy.
Former Cult Leader who outlived his usefulness
"Bah, dere be no such thing as no 'peripheral beast'. How can their exist a creature you canno' even look at?"
Torax Shieldbreaker, Dwarven explorer
Somewhere in the endless deserts of Iuhai, Daazan the Iron Gate and Utheleii the lovelorn Earth Elemental wait for time to end.
The most fearsome creatures ever to be encountered by an adventuring party, and what to do when you do.
-Magnus Eriksson, 2nd Ranger, Queens Shadows.
Meles, the eyes in midnight bands
the plagues would see him dead
yet Meles, his brood unchained
they ate the plagues instead
Nine times out of Ten, it's the undead that do the running.
Rabbit-leonine like grass dwellers, for flavour
Magical miniature blue oxen. Tufted.
They hop, they bleat. They shed their skins.
Vastids - man-maimers who live in contaminated water areas and Balrin Algae.
Tihewgoe is a dark god of nightmares. Not the darkest and definitely not the biggest, but still a god in his own right.
When a thousand years of dust settled upon the worked stone floor of The Grey Tomb, a new sage was born. A creature, of dust, time, age, wisdom. The dust that was once the bodies of ancient wise men. It coalesced and swirled into being, small and wispy, dry as its home. It mutters words of wisdom for no one to hear. Begging its dark home for a soul to learn from.
The Macabre style of architecture is common in ancestor venerating societies, or societies that have been afflicted by a long term period of loss of life. The style is best noted for its use of a morbid and gruesome, skulls and bones, severed limbs and the like. It also alternately honors the spirits of the dead with stunning works of art, and mocks death through caricature and comedy. Macabre is the common architectural style in Ozea.