Intelligent cockroaches of frightening size
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A shuddering heap of corpses and rotting soil, Logeko the Vile is a demon of of death and decomposition
The sins of Goldeveki are beyond count, but chief among those sins is the creation of the chimera that bears their name.
Youth passes quickly for this race of elves, though middle age lingers for millennia. They have no love for the forests or other natural places, preferring their carefully crafted and tended walled cities.
A relentless and unearthly durable type of dimensional fatigue 'denizen'
Fluorescent Alcoholic Fungus, also known as FAF, is a special kind of neural-sentient fungus, commonly found in non-hygienic taverns..
The good: You don't need light. They are very beautiful and provide a special ambience in the room.
The bad: The noise. The noise!
The Neko, or Cat-Girl; as they are also known as.
The name was chosen, in order to disassociate from the cosplay Cat Girl of Batman.
With no given form, she can take on the persona of choice at will.
The Regal Tombs of Orbis were the place where the richest of the rich were buried, and Bert was sure that if he could break in to a recent two-month old burial he would be wealthy for at least the rest of the year. Since tomb-robbing could get somebody the gibbet, he had gone alone, and now he cursed as he fought hand to hand with the bulbous, distended, decomposing corpse that had leapt up when he tried to steal the grave goods and now beat and clawed at him and swiped at him with a rapier. Every wound it inflicted on his body, he got a little weaker and to his horror, it grew a little stronger and a little less rotten. Not long afterwards, a seemingly living man left the tomb, leaving the body of a grave robber behind. A body that would soon rise...and walk...
Originally test bed versions of automata, pribnow dummies are popular in the public sector and for personal interaction.
A vulgar name for a very minor creature, granted, yet the whore-spider doesn't seem to mind its appellation.
Expies are cheaply made autons with artificial brains.
Imperfect simulacra, ever attempting to improve themselves, to make themselves better
The spell Animate Dead has existed for a very long time, with many variations. The spell Cadaverous Companion is another such variation, but it is tailored to the animation of companion animals, rather than human corpses
You can't miss it, it's eight feet tall, glows in the dark and breathes ghost flames. Even if you're blind it utters blasphemies and damnations, a black poetry of the underworld. If you're deaf and blind you can feel the cold in the air when they turn up.
Say hello to our large robot friends. You will find them kind, generous, compassionate, and friendly. They are strong enough to lift several tons with one arm, but gentle enough to pick up an infant. Unharmed.
~ Salazar Vector
The only true god of the Stolen World.
Sometimes names can be deceptive
It's always the creepy little kids
The dark side of the ubiquitous skeletron, corrupted from within by it's own basic technology.
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.