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This is a curious mark. According to my sources, they hail from beyond Il Mheg’s borders, and may well roam all across Norvrandt.
It’s a mean bastard, even for a wandering eater. We’ve received reports of it actively seeking out veteran hunters, as if it craves the thrill of the fight. Which isn’t to say that it fights fair. Sadly, several of our top Nutters have been ambushed while returning home from a successful hunt, which has led some to wonder if it commands lesser minions to guide it to promising prey.
As for who it was before it turned — some say it was an elven soldier who led others in open revolt against the rulers of Lakeland before the Flood, all at the behest of the mysterious Shadowkeeper, and that like the Virtues, its unusual hunting habits are rooted in its past life.
La Velue’s a right bastard of a wolverine. Been reported attacking smallfolk and devouring livestock, and on the occasions some of the guard were able to respond, he made short work and a quick meal of them too.
Understand he’s not some rabid, uncontrollable beast, though. He’s quick and cunning — able to size up an opponent and go to ground if he thinks he’s overmatched.
More than few foolish Nutters made the mistake of pursuing him like any other common prey... and paid the ultimate price for it. One of them was the fiancée of a friend of mine. Vengeance was sworn, as you’d expect, but I’d rather have you spare him the trouble.
The guard have their work cut out for them keeping the local fauna in check, but they manage well all things considered. However, there’s one mark that continues to be a nuisance.
The Ronka called it Itzpapalotl, a moth or some such that feasts on the blood of the living. You might scoff at the thought that a moth could be so dangerous, but know this: that moth once attacked a Crystarium outpost and claimed the lives of several good men and women. Do not underestimate the moth.
Ever heard the tale of Nariphon? No? It’s quite well known. Depends on who you ask, perhaps, but I’d like to think so. It’s a favorite of mine... I mean, it’s a story about fair maidens growing on trees! As in you could walk right up to it and pluck ’em from the branches. Tell me that’s not the stuff of dreams!
On the other hand, every naturalist you ask will swear that it was nothing of the sort. That it was people spying upon a tribe of cannibals in the middle of their dinner who convinced themselves they couldn’t possibly be seeing what they saw. Me, I prefer the tree explanation myself, but...
The Kingdom of Rainbows is filled to the brim with fae folk who delight in tormenting us poor mortals, often in ways that result in our demise. Well enough, I suppose, so long as they stick to their territory, but lately there’s been talk of some coming into Lakeland.
Don’t believe me? Then how else can you explain the otherworldly horse seen loitering by the shore, attempting to lure curious folk into the water? ’Tis none other than Nuckelavee. A Fuath wielding glamours, most like, though none can say for certain. What I can say for certain, though, is that if you killed the devil we’d all be better for it.
Sightings of this particular mark are first recorded in the days following the Flood of Light. When the doors of the tower that stands at the center of the Crystarium first opened, it is written that the Tyger came barreling forth like a shot from a cannon.
But despite its grand entrance, it behaved little different than any other wild beast, devouring livestock and attacking hapless travelers. It rather likes meat, though it has a clear preference for poultry by all accounts.
I can’t say I entirely trust the accounts of its origin, but given its unusual appearance, I would be not at all surprised if it was indeed a creature come from another world.
Oh, that’s a sad tale, it is. There was this pixie who couldn’t bear to be without company, you see, and so it used its magicks to fashion a constant companion — Domovoi. It was a construct loyal as they come, bound to serve its master forever and ever and ever... until the little pixie crossed paths with a sin eater.
No one knows how long it’s been since Domovoi was deprived of its master and meaning, but it still wanders Il Mheg, searching in vain for the one who gave it life.
Never heard of Vulpangue? Tales of its exploits were recorded in the annals of the Kingdom of Voeburt. Their naturalists described it as a serpent of unusual size that was rather docile that subsisted on a diet of bugs and butterflies...
But do not be deceived, for the creature fellow Nutters observed was anything but docile! Nay, it was both swift and ruthless when it spied a poor pixie out on a midday stroll and snatched it out of the air, swallowing it with a single gulp! One of the fae folk, brimming with all kinds of powerful magicks, gobbled up in a flash!
No common beast could do that, could they? Could they!?
About a year ago it was when a party of scavengers ventured into ruins of old Voebert and discovered a hidden passage that led deep underground to a secret gaol, and in one of its cells found a horrible beast bound in chains. A name had been carved into a sign: Pauldia. The same name as the younger princess.
Nearer to the fiend, writ in blood on the walls, was a message... “Blinded by my lust for the throne, I heeded a traitor’s honeyed words. I was a pawn in his grand design and paid the price. I beg only for the selfsame mercy my sister received...”
So the pixies are no strangers to mischief. Their penchant for transforming lost travelers and trespassers into leafmen is known by all. Well, one day, this particular pixie decides to try and work their fae magicks on a particular leafman to try and make something new, and the result? The mudman, a heretofore unseen abomination, is born.
Why mud? No idea. I’m told the victim was originally a portly Mystel woman — not that you could tell by the look of it now. Still, that crimson pixie that frequents the Crystarium has been known to embellish their stories from time to time...
Aglaope’s tale is quite old — a popular parable of the Voeburtites. It’s about a tiny pixie of surpassing beauty that loved to bask in the midday sun, whose voice was as the tinkling of bells... and another pixie that envied them so.
Said pixie wanted nothing more than to transform themselves into the spitting image of the object of their admiration, and so they used their magicks again and again and again to refine their own appearance, until eventually, they had achieved the impossible.
If the story ended here I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad, but it doesn’t. For you see, when the glamoured pixie’s “friends” saw what they’d done to themselves, they erupted into uncontrollable laughter. They mocked the pixie terribly, calling them ugly and terrifying beyond belief. Thus was the pixie Aglaope instilled with a terrible hatred and envy for all things small and beautiful, and ever after did they roam the land in search of little wonders to destroy with impunity.
You may have noticed the rails which roam the wilds surrounding Wright. Coquecigrue may be likened to a king of sorts.
On the whole, the beasts can be highly aggressive and territorial. Indeed, they drove away nearly all other competing species, and those they could they simply slaughtered. They’ve even been known to attack travelers and residents of Gatetown.
At this rate, I shouldn’t be surprised if they march on Wright en masse. And so before it comes to that, we believe we should teach these feathered menaces a lesson in respect, starting with their leader.
You may be interested to learn that this mark was brought to our attention by a resident of Amity, way up above. Apparently, it’s an automaton the Goggs originally built for mining that malfunctioned and has since been attacking anything and everything that moves.
Considering this spat I hear’s been going on between the dwarven factions for a while now, I wouldn’t be surprised if the malfunction was in truth sabotage... but regardless, a mark’s a mark.
Folks on Kholusia have never gotten on all too well with hobgoblins. There’s been conflict for as long as anyone can remember. They’re clever enough to use tools, but they lack patience and foresight. You’ll never catch them plowing a field, to say the least.
Building’s not in their nature — but thievery and destruction, they most certainly are. Li’l Murderer, as some have taken to calling him, is perhaps the worst of the lot. A liar and a scoundrel who has swindled countless innocents, relieving them of their worldly possessions and often their lives as well. He is a cunning fiend and is not to be underestimated.
Are you familiar with General Ran’jit’s familiar, Gukumatz? It is a creature born of forbidden foreign magicks, passed down from general to general. Familiars such as these are usually sustained by the aether of their master, which is why when they fall in battle, their minions fall as well.
There are, however, certain notable exceptions. Ran’jit’s father commanded a familiar as well, but when he was slain by a sin eater, Huracan somehow survived, and has been seen on several occasions since. One theory posits that since the master was transformed into an eater, the familiar endures, though it is no more than conjecture...
Ah yes, the Forgiven Pedantry. That one’s a notoriously vicious eater. In life, he was a fusspot of a mage. Fond of his own voice and making fools of those he saw as his lessers, he boasted that he would find a way to reverse the chaos wrought by the Flood of Light. You can imagine how that worked out for him in the end.
One day he up and vanished, and a short while after, an eater wearing his face appeared. For all his faults, his loss was felt keenly. He helped many with his magicks — powerful spells that utilized yarn he spun himself as catalysts. But I don’t suppose eaters have much call for spinning yarn, do they...
Story goes that there was this fellow way back when. Bloody obsessed with all things fishing and with a penchant for strange ideas. Heads to Malikah’s Well one day to take the air and to try something new. He’d caught a small but lively little worm swimming about in the sand, and reckoned it’d make for fine bait. Goes to stick the hook in, when what does the little bugger do but jump right out of his hands and escape.
Fair bit of time passes before the notorious worm makes its first appearance. Just how it got so big is anyone’s guess, but some speculate that it was that same worm, grown fat and strong off all kinds of fish in the well, hence the moniker.
This all dates back to when Nuvy’s Leavings was still bustling with activity. The tunnels were dark — as tunnels generally are — and children kept stirring up trouble with rumors that they’d been seeing ghosts. Ghosts of miners who died in a cave-in after digging too deep, or poor put-upon laborers tasked with hauling materials back for potters — all kinds of silly stories and then some.
Recently, however, this musty old tome came to light. Belonged to a mage of Nabaath Areng, who kept detailed records of his experiments. Apparently he decided to condemn one such “experiment” to a particularly deep tunnel, right around the time the whispers of ghosts first started.
So that there’s your logical explanation, if you’re looking for it. A misshapen fiend that shouldn’t be has been stirring up trouble for years and years. Or it’s been killing folks for years and years, and ghosts are real. You tell me.
Here’s a language lesson for you: Malik means “king” or some such in the old tongue, so take a wild guess what Maliktender means.
That’s right. You’ll know him when you seem him. Picture a gigantender, then picture his ornery liege lord. And there you have it. Some scholars say that the damned things can live more than two hundred years in the right conditions, which means this bugger could have been shambling about since before the Flood, for all we know...
People often focus on the material losses, but the Flood is also responsible for depriving us of wisdom and knowledge — and no few religious traditions. Without people to pass them down to, faiths wither and die.
But some survived, and with them stories, like that of the demon Sugaar. It’s a simple tale, to be fair. “Listen to what your elders say, or Sugaar will come and spirit you away.” It helped too that it was a big, scary lizard.
So when a particularly large sibilus was seen wandering Amh Araeng, it’s no surprise that people thought to name it for the legend. Nevertheless, it’s probably prudent not to ignore the wisdom of the aged, eh?
Tarchia is a saichaniae that plays host to parasitic vegetation that feeds off its host’s aether. Poor bugger, eh?
It’s awfully difficult to track down, but it is said to be somewhat, er... excitable in the presence of death. I reckon it’s anticipating the impending release of aether. Like if someone were to wave a freshly cooked haunch of mole meat under your nose.
That said, not all deaths are created equal. The flashier the better, if that makes any sort of sense? Distance is key too, I’d imagine. No point in putting on a show if the host is nowhere nearby. Maybe something explosively loud, too? I don’t know, you’ll probably think of something if you put your mind to it.
You have encountered the tomatl before? A plant which hungers for flesh, it masquerades as an earthen vessel, and bursts forth to seize unsuspecting prey, which it consumes after much softening with acid.
A dangerous foe indeed, but the Mindmaker is more so. Larger, stronger, faster, more deadly by every measure it is. Why Mindmaker, you ask? I cannot say with confidence, but I believe it has something to do with its habit of devouring the heads of its prey first, and the speculation that it grows wiser with each consumed.
Pachamama is a creature of Ronkan legend. A great serpent, the harvest goddess Yx’Anpa made flesh, which claimed the Greatwood as its home.
A regal creature of pure divinity through which the essence of life itself flowed, it was believed that the soil which drank deep of its blood would yield an endless bounty, and so many great warriors of Ronka sought to lay it low.
The slayer of Pachamama would be afforded much glory, their deeds celebrated for generations to come. Will you be the one to claim the honor?
There are many Ronkan legends that have been passed down through the ages, including one which speaks of a great colossus. A guardian spirit bound to serve its creators.
And now there are whispers this colossus walks the Greatwood once more, spurred by the discovery of massive tracks. What left these tracks remains a mystery, but I doubt it is this ancient being. Rather, it is likely one of the last remaining apemen. Their numbers have dwindled greatly since the coming of the sin eaters. Why Grassman has come to the Greatwood I cannot say, but I suspect he seeks his fallen brethren in vain.
Some time ago, there were a series of disappearances. Younglings who vanished without a trace from Slitherbough. We thought them taken by the Children, but eventually learned who the true culprit was.
Of the countless rails that call the Greatwood home, Supay is the largest and most formidable. Unlike its brethren, it feeds not on plants, but on flesh and blood...
It is an ambush predator, striking fear into its prey with a shrill cry before attacking in full force. This was witnessed by one of our scouts. Thus did we name it for a bird of Ronkan legend whose mournful song heralds death and doom.
The Viis are not the only ones who have safeguarded the ruins of Ronka for generations. Ancient records tell of an exalted priestess of the empire named Ixtab, a penitent woman and proud patriot.
So strong was her faith that she resolved to make the ultimate sacrifice. She consigned her mortal flesh to flame, and in death rose anew, her soul eternally bound to the Greatwood. For thousands upon thousands of years has she watched over these lands.
Should one intrude upon her home and by their deeds prove themselves a significant threat to peace and tranquility, she will appear to redress the balance.
Before the Flood, the Ondo had turned up all kinds of ruins deep in the ocean. Some of them saw deeper meaning it — religious meaning. But like the Church of the First Light and many other traditions, much of that was lost with the coming of the White.
Apparently one of those defunct traditions worshipped a great crab, Deacon. Perfection incarnate that surpassed man and Ondo alike, a venerated being that would guide the faithful unto glory everlasting. For a holy symbol he was awfully clever, too. Would stumble about like a drunken sailor and lure would-be predators to come close enough for him to reach out and crush ’em with his mighty claws. Aye, he’s definitely smarter than the average crab.
Gilshs Aath Swiftclaw is one of those benthos bastards. A master fisherman who works both the shallows and the depths, bringing in his catch with his bare hands.
You’re probably wondering why someone saw fit to put a bounty on a fisherman, eh? Well, that’d be because this one uses other fishermen as bait. Other Ondo and poor fools he’s dragged from Eulmoran boats, all in service to some long-forgotten god.
If you’ve been down to the ocean floor, you might’ve seen the dagons wandering about. They’re a nuisance to be sure, and not at all a pleasure to look upon. Well, there’s this Ondo legend about something even worse born of a dagon, a temperamental fiend that sows chaos if angered, but invites calm if appeased.
Baal, they call him, and under normal circumstances they might simply try to keep a wide berth. Unfortunately, it seems it’s a little too late for that. And now the fabled cleansing hour is at hand, when all creatures of the sea must bow to Baal or be destroyed. Neither option is ideal, so we’d all very much appreciate it if you could go and kill the damned thing.
Doubtless you’ve noticed the wrecks on the shore and at the bottom of the Tempest. Eulmore’s a city on the sea, and like most such cities it’s seen countless ships come and go over the years and decades. Accidents happen. A few merchant vessels sink, and it’s a small tragedy, aye.
But a royal flagship carrying a foreign queen? That’s another story. This one had no shortage of unfinished business, which is probably why her soul lingered where she died, her regret festering and twisting her goodly nature...
They say Rusalka’s bewitching beauty and hypnotic voice guided a hundred ships to their watery graves. She’s got far fewer to prey on now, though, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she sets her sights on anyone and everyone wandering the Tempest floor.
Gunitt was like most other dwarves of Kholusia — tough, hardworking, tiny. By all accounts he was content with his lot, until one day he spied a Galdjent three times his size strolling through the market, and decided he’d make himself tall or die trying.
So he travels the world, amasses all kinds of treasure, then pays a visit to a Nu Mou hermit who claims he can make his dreams come true, and would you believe it? Gunitt gets his wish! But then, in his greed, he steals the treasure sack off the table and runs off before the hermit can protest.
’Course he was a damn fool to try, cause the hermit gets their own back in the end. Curses Gunitt and transforms him into a twisted fiend for his avarice. Also sank his ship while he was making his escape for good measure.
And so Gunitt was consigned to the bottom of the sea where he has wandered to this day. They say his covetous nature still rules him, as when the denizens of the depths attempt to consume their prey, he will appear to steal it out from under them.
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