Beneath crumbling towers wait
Ishafel’s Horror and Hate
A monster grim and bleak
Go to it if death you seek
Shirion may have been a human once. That time is long past. Now, it is an ever-shifting being, its form lost to time.
Having spent many years facing the Swollen Shadow and it’s lieutenants, the dwarven resistance fighter Vars is one of the few people who could be considered an authoritative source on the most active and malevolent of the Shadow’s Minions, the Haints.
Featured creatures of the Swollen Shadow Codex.
“We beg the protection of the gods. Of Deneth, divine father; of Larisa, queen of the heavens; of Mynis, guardian of the gates; of Tychis, master of secrets; of Desha, she who protects. Grant us safety from the sons of the devourer of worlds. Grant us protection from the Jandoshan.”
- Ethalani prayer
Several arson attacks, and two deaths later, as the Mayor retreated from the ashy figure before him and his curtains went up in flame, he decided that burning the Bishop had been a very bad idea.
homunculi of the Old World, epargner daemons were once as common as cats…
When in towns or near human habitation, be careful what you use your swords on, for that large sluglike Velvet Worm you might be facing could well be someone’s beloved family pet.
“The last thing we ever saw was its inky tail as it swept under the door. I fear the scions of Durnthar have taken yet another piece of us.” - Gould Maran, Keeper of the Throne Seal
What happens when the very fabric of magic is transformed into something else by accident. When the theories of transference are shattered due to lack of preperation and study?
As long as you do not experiement around your stash of magic scrolls, luckily you will never know.
Some are called dhampir, others exalt as champions of undeath, and yet neither of these are correct…
Bound to serve, unable to leave, many go insane with the duty of a ghoul.
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.
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.
Below the surface of the Earth, dwelling in darkness and forgotten catacombs, the goat-headed Ghouls, dark spirits of murder, feast on the dead. Ghouls dwell in old, forgotten places, luring others down into the grasping claws of their evil tribes.
The Azhag (‘ah-ZHAHG’; from Old West-Carmanian azadg, meaning watchman, sentry), called Tomb Guardians or Demon Shadows, are the terrible Undead guardians of the tombs of the Ancient Ones.
The Kythrythe are a different kind of people. Given their worship of the Insect God Kythrellemen, they are more than just Humans. These people, except for their eyes, will be normal people at first glance. Some might be quite big or small or graceful, but they look like people. At second glance you will notice their small antena peeking out from their hair. Every now and again, you will see one that has been "blessed" by the God and granted "Marks of the God", insect like physical abilities.
The call to Him is unnerving. The power He gives is unmatched. He is the reason why I turned my back on my God and now worship Him. I will live eternal for the trade of my Soul to a God. I can live with that.
-Rakeos -Follower of Sethalis, fallen Priest of Aduivo
The first sign of one of the Few is the glow that surrounds it.Most of the survivors of such encounters only saw the glow, for few can fight face to face with the Few and survive to tell the tale.
As your advisor my liege I am apt to tell you the difficulty in what you ask. Enemies are indeed everywhere and what you propose will inevidable be the end of your line. It is not always the enemies in front of you with a sword that are the worst, it is the ones behind you with a dagger you should watch for. Do not fear that which you see my lord, fear what you do not!
-Inaeius Keal - Advisor to the King of Kerrabar, Prophet and Seerer
Jemas Lorne, the most celebrated poet of the age, was found dead, clutching a fragment of verse torn from his journal. The tantalizing fragment spoke of wealth:
Golden sands, empty and cold,
Treasure's crypt, forgotten gold.
Under stone, ancestor's doom,
Noble's prize, troubadour's tomb.
Rumours claim that the poet's father, an eccentric nobleman, had hidden much of his wealth before his death. Perhaps the missing journal has more clues?