>>17066065
Some of us were referring to specific areas and mentioning certain people along the way. The attached pic is a diagram of general areas, the critters in each, and a list of mentioned people along the way.

>>17066095
Then I decided, what the hell, a crude map of said areas if you really wanna work more on the setting rather than individual creatures.

>>17066117
The stories tell of men who wandered far off from civilization, into the dark reaches of forests and swamps, ages before men ever came to call For'Channar home. Whether adventurers or the misfortune, these people seemed to never return. But, so they say, beings made of wood and tree would be seen through the treeline, creatures made of the forest itself.

That is, at least, how they say the Greenfolk came to be. In the current era they are strong protectors of the forest, imagine a dryad who would much rather knock your jaw clean off rather than trade words. They are few and far-between. It is believed that the forest itself creates them. Nonetheless, they stalk the woods, protecting what they suppose is sacred, and are ready to protect it from whatever adventurers may travel too deep into the green.

>>17066117
The greenmen lie on the edge of the Uralaya Forest bordering the Wastes of Weylos to the south. Legend has it that the greenmen were once members of the native Alkhani people who committed grave crimes against their kind long ago and were banished to the dangerous southern edge of the forest to die in exile. However, they ended up being taken in by the mournful spirits of the forest who have lost much of their own kin to the slowly advancing Wastes to the south, transforming the exiles into the tree-like beasts they are known as today.

Sworn to protect the forests in which they defiled in their human days, the greenmen expanded their watch northwards through the rest of the Uralaya Forest, even into the Phrennoack Forest to the north, allying with Eltya and his Stags to protect the forests. As such, greenmen tend to be loyal allies, but also tenacious enemies. Watch what you do in the forests, lest you incur their wrath.

>>17066163
Hope that meshes well with your fluff on them.

>>17066137
You wish to hear of the Elementals friend? A great story, although one shrouded in mystery. Many variations there are, but I will not mince words with you. They say the Elementals came from the cardinal directions.
Across the Northern Sea there was Aetriul, servant to Lord of the Tempest.
Bolruk came from the Benalor Ruins to the east, as if made from the very stone that rests within those silent places.
The Wastewalkers Vioshru and Tyllia, of the west and south respectively, are said to be lovers, but few have seen any four to ever really know the nature of the Elementals.
Their purpose? None know, but they make their presence known in the realms through, whether helpful or violent, and are as temperamental as any person of the Empire.

>>17066200
I'm actually just an amateur writefag trying to get in the game. I made the fluff on the treelunks, but I figure whatever's is better is free to overtake whatever junk I write.

>>17066137
embodiments of the four elements given sparks of life, these powerful djinn have control over the stuff that makes them, and each exhibit certain personalities. powerful wizards may keep them as familiars and guardians

fire djinn are quick to anger and full of energy, but burn out quickly. reckless and impulsive, without control they seek to simply burn everything in their path

wind djinn are aloof and arrogant, used to being above all other creatures. they can be as calm as a summer afternoon or as angry as a storm, and can swing between emotions without warning

earth djinn are stoic, grim creatures who grind down their enemies in a battle of attrition. very little can wear them out quickly and theyre frequently seen as unstoppable juggernauts. specific subtypes of earth djinn exist, such as sand or diamond djinn

water djinn are unpredictable tricksters, able to ooze through any gap in pursuit of their pray. like wind djinn, their mood can change on a whim.

in rare circumstances, two djinn can fuse and create a powerful entity, such as a wind and water djinn fusing to become a tempest djinn

>>17066239
And I forgot an image.
Silly me.

>>17066200
The Limmians are strange, mechanical creatures that populate the Ruins of the Benalor, and equally strange is just how abundant they are. Tiny in size, it takes a keen eye to see this little busy bodies. They spend their lives scurrying around in an attempt to clean up the rubble of the ruins; surely a futile endeavor, but a lack of communication to the modern species does no good in re-purposing these creatures. But still, they scurry about cleaning up rubble, and whenever there is one there seems to be hundreds.

It is interesting to note that, despite the separate clan markings scribbled onto their chest, the Limmians have no qualms with helping one another, as if they view themselves equally, without malice for whatever differences they may have had during the high point of the Benalor.

>>17066176
There are tall tales surrounding the western Wastes of Vashial. Everything from the terrible Dreadnoughts to the many-faced Olakhaigur fills the fancy and curiosity of layman and adventurer alike. All of these monstrosities are remnants of the old Vashial magics which refuse to move on with the march of time and progress. But what keeps the magics going, despite there being no true Vashial survivors remaining?

Sure, there are the Shialar people who are descended from them, but they are not nearly as magically adept as the old Vashial. So who is perpetuating the horrors in which the western Wastes spawn? Some suggest that there is a solitary survivor of the calamitous civil war that consumed the old Vashial civilization whole, still alive after all these centuries. The stories only dub her as the Progenitor, the horribly mutated half-corpse of its former queen. Augmented with the most advanced magi-tech of her age, the Progenitor has beaten the ravages of time thus far, singlehandedly controlling the Dreadnoughts and the other horrors roaming the Wastes and beyond borne of her people as a testament of the old power.

Of course, those are just stories. There's no proof, no documents, no encounters on record. But adventurers head toward the Vashialian Necropolis in troves seeking the truth. Only a few come back and none of them seem willing to tell the tale...

>>17066239
Oh, I like your stuff. Keep writing!

>>17066302
watch their shadows
they may change their shape to fool you, but they cant change their shadows
theyll keep to dark places and avoid the light to obscure the shape of their shadows, and if they get you alone theyll turn back...
watch their shadows...

>>17066284
In the darkest parts of the Uralaya Forest there live giant, mossy creatures of wonder. Few is known about them, aside from the dark spots on their face that are supposed for eyes, and that their strength is might enough to reshape the forest. It is supposed that this is how they manage to stay hidden within the deepest parts of the forest. Highly territorial, few who even manage to see them escape alive. The first group to encounter them was a band of soldiers of a couple dozen; three made it out of there alive. They spoke of great beasts of green, and as such these creatures have been fittingly called the Uralaya Titans.

>>17066305
Thanks! I wanted to hop in on the last thread, and then I realize /tg/ had managed to create an entire area around all that fluff so I was a little hesitant. Hoping to get more done though.

>>17066302
The martial empire of Weylos was absolutely stunning in its prime. Battle-hardened warriors with impervious discipline and the most advanced training of their day, the magic-less Weylosians could hold their own with the powerful magics of the Vashialians and the advanced technology of the Benalorans. Leading them in their heyday was a brilliant tactician by the name of Tremine Laurense. During the three-way war over the central lands which would come to be known as For'Channar, Tremine managed to make Weylos hold their own, even with the escalation in power in both Vashial and Benalor. His tactics however couldn't help the desperation of his soldiers, killing themselves in troves through ritualistic sacrifice, despite his best efforts to stop them. Tremine's own regret manifested in his shadow, the shade sculpting itself free of Tremaine's weakened resolve to become the first Shadowshaper.

Though Tremine is long dead, his Shadowshaper, and those formed from the shadows of his once massive army roam the Wastes of Weylos to this day. Watch the shadows of yourself and your allies... if they change shape, run into the daylight. And if it's night time, pray that your torch does NOT go out...

>>17066163
Denizens of the deepest parts of the Phrennoack Forest, they are constructs conjured by a darker sect of the Eltyain People. They are raw, new life forced kicking and screaming into the carcass of dead trees, animating them and binding them to the will of their creators. Different trees have different purposes, of course. The slender, young tree corpses are used for fine crafting and manipulation while the gargantuan, gnarled elders that eventually died from old age become little more than glorified pack animals, their great age and lost wisdom earning them nothing but mockery. These wooden servitors are known as the Horns of Eltya.

They are the bizarre answer of the Eltyain People to the Greenfolk. They saw the majestic, wooden sentinels and saw something that they desired to replicate in their own fashion. Exactly how they are created is unknown to outsiders. Some say that they bind the spirits of deceased Greenfolk to new forms, since they are forever bound to the material world. Some say that they bind the souls of their disgraced dead to the dead trees, transforming them into the Horns of Eltya as punishment. The rumours are wide and varied, and no one knows the true answer but the ones who animate the Horns themselves.

The only confirmed fact about the stolen life that inhabits the Horns of Eltya is that the legendary Phrennoak Stags make them depart from their wooden bodies with their mere presence. The animated tree carcasses simply fall apart, as the mythical psychopomp escorts the freed spirits away from their prison, to their afterlife. The Eltyian People begrudgingly allow this; the Stag has their eternal respect and it may do as it desires with the flame of life.

>>17066256

Some people say the Kiraj Wasteland is completly devoid of life, with no man or beast wading through it's grey dunes and dark rocks.

Other people know that the sands are not quite as dead as they look like, specifically not if you happen to end up in an ambush of the Scavengers.
We don't really know what these things are - some believe them to be bandits with broken minds, while others give a more monstrous-description of them, with their dark,guttural voices and odd,jerky movements.

This is supported by the fact that noone has evern seen a Scavenger without his mask and their traditional thick fur coat, which covers their entire body.

Some older scholars actually believe that the Scavengers are some sort of Undead, the animated corpses of those unfortunate enough to get lost in the barren land. Naturally, this is doubtful, for why would those few men brave enough to fight the desert turn against their old comrades...

i am not good at this writing business. do you mind if i just post my monsters folder?

>>17066445
I don't see why not. Also compiling fluff into a Notepad document. May take a while...

>>17066479
Nobles had always been curious folk, especially those who chose to dabble in magic. But Lady Rennington? My my, what a strange woman that is.
There was nothing particularly wrong with her. She married well to Lord Rennington, had children... but a plague swept through and killed most of her family. Stricken with grief, she turned to powers that she was better off leaving alone. A dark tome here, a mysterious ritual there, and before anyone noticed Lady Rennington was carrying around with her a creature that could tear the fabric of reality. Cast out of her home, she now wanders the roads and inns, seducing men (and women) to feed the creature is now a piece of her.

>>17066400
The Empire of For'Channar is not safe.

From every corner, there are many threats and many creatures that require careful watching and culling. Countless beasts and threats exist that need to be handled with extreme care, less a situation blow out of control. The Knights of the Morningtide are but one of the orders designed to counter such a threat.

Based in Fort Deeanday, they are not conventional knights. Every squire they induct is taught to be a combatant and a physician in equal measure and they pride themselves on this balance. Rather than ride on horses, they fight on foot. Rather than wear armour, they wear leather coats that cover every spot of flesh, oiled and waxed to perfection. Rather than wear helmets, they don strange, bird-like masks with sinister red lenses, their "beaks" filled with sweet-scented medicinal herbs that protect them from miasma. Rather than carry swords and axes, they use canes and staves and cudgels and maces.

The Knights of the Morningtide were founded by a nobleman whose name is lost to history, an old lord of Fort Deeanday. His life was obscure and uneventful and he ran the town that he lorded over well, until disease came. How this strange fever came about is unknown, but it savaged the population. Half the fort was dead by the time that the lord caught the illness, no matter how he tried to hide himself in his fort. Horrified and not wishing to suffer a horrific death, he cast himself off the edge of a balcony, into the Northern Sea.

>>17066644
He did not die. The lord awoke on the beach before his fort, guards nervously prodding at his body, praying he was alive. There were no signs of buboes or disease; it was as if he was never ill at all. Praising the waters of dawn for curing him of illness, he returned to his fief and proceeded to cleanse it of disease with medicine, faith and the aid of the morning tide. Those men who showed the most promise as physicians became the first Knights of the Morningtide beneath the old lord.

To this day, they continue to eradicate disease, with both conventional medicine and their strange method of faith healing. Each morning, they submerge their bodies in running water, cleansing themselves of the miasma that may have entered their bodies the previous day. Their dedication to their cause is absolute; if no healing can cure their patients, they are not afraid either drown them at dawn or if they resist, simply beat them to death with heavy sticks.

>>17066711
the terrifying Deathdoom Spectre of Killcastle has a chicken phobia

>>17066445
For many outsiders, it is a complete and utter enigma why the Ashlanders choose to give service and offering to the twisted and malevolent demons that make up their Pantheon, but then again, few have seen their horrific avatars and survived to tell their tale.

In fact, the demonic deitys have only send out these towering monstrositys twice in the entire history of the Ashlanders, always to beat to a massive uprising of the mortals that threatened to lower their status in the pantheon and always driving the inhabitants of the Ashen Lands near extinction.

Though they appear to be unarmoured, the leathery flesh of the many-armed and many-headed beasts is as tough as rock and their hands are capable of sweeping away entire battailions of soldiers or smash even the sturdiest spire.

Even worse, the openings in the middle of their body or bodies is constantly dripping a strange ooze of acidic nature, strong enough to gnaw through iron and stone. Often enough, these Gar'akul, or Walks-on-hands-of-flesh as the Ashlanders call them, would often position their dark meat-holes over the mortals' stronghold and cover it with their goo, reducing it into a steamy heap of proto-plasma within mere seconds.

bump (in the night)

>>17066750

The results regarding the study of 'Red Tumors' has proven inconclusive so far. It remains unclear whether the origin of the disease lies. Some speculate that it must have been specifically tailored by some twisted sorcery or the curse of a long forgotten god. In fact, some have argued it is not a disease at all but a parasitic organism. While it's origins remain subtle, the effects are nothing if not overt.

The trouble of the disease are it's shifting symptom patterns. Some subjects have demonstrated nothing more than a cough before succumbing to later stages, while others lapse fully into a fever induced comma. It is not until red tumors, from which this sickness derives its name, begin to develop upon the lower and middle back.

When the subject reaches this stage of infection, and so far they all have, there is nothing left to be done save to euthanize them. Given time the tumors will grow and shift into a mass of sticky, puss ridden flesh.

Dissected subjects have revealed in the past that the human skeleton usually preserved beneath the tissue. Parts are known to harden and scab in order to create crude but effective armor or natural weapons like claws and fangs. Late stage victims are observed to brutalize and maim their victims before swallowing them alive if possible. Clothing, and other non-organic materials are shortly regurgitated. Curing a victim in the latest stages is quite impossible and there has been no break through in treating early stages as of yet.

Potential for spreading makes research difficult, but it must continue. Or soon I fear we will all suffer the same fate of the towns on the southern border.

>>17066932
oh god

Alright, and back. Here's a listing of critters, characters, and points of interest thus far in the setting: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/42061654/TG%20SETTING%20STUFFS.txt

>>17066978

The Flesh Wreath, is a unique organism found typical in swamps and marshlands. A colonial organism similar to jelly fish, it inhabits the bottom of murky waters feeding off of waste during their polyp phase, but upon reaching maturity will seek out a piece of carrion. It is at this point that the Flesh Wreath enters its final stage of life, where upon numerous polyps collect around a corpse of an animal, fish and in some cases, human and use the creatures skeleton to mimic its pattern of locomotion. The creature ascends from scavenger to predator at this phase, all polyps have small poison glads in their bodies, and working together are capable of unleashing extremely deadly doses. Death can occur within seconds of direct contact by larger specimens, normally after debiliating their prey with massive poison doses the Flesh wreath will simply lie on top of its victim, breaking it down with powerful digestive acids or swallowing it whole if it is smaller. The process of devouring its prey usually occupies the Flesh Wreath for the better part of a day if it is larger. Slow moving, they traditionally lie in ambush for as long as possible, but specimens with land based locomotion have been observed to actively seek out prey.

See the Ruhig incident for more information on attacks by Flesh Wreaths.

>>17066644
The Empire of For'Channar is indeed a dangerous place.

Though it is safe in comparison to many of the other areas in the world, the Empire is always under assault from within and without. The Knights of the Goldenstar, stationed in Fort Minnamack in the east, is the Empire's front line for one of the enemies from outside, the rebels of the Drakonid people. It is said that the Knights' shimmering armors of gold and brass are actually mechanical relics from the Benalor Ruins deep in the eastern mountains. These suits give the Knights a distinct advantage when warding off a wave of Drakonid guerrillas trying to overcome the Empire's eastern border.

Of course, to even use these mechanical wonders, the Knights operating them have to learn much in order to make it work right for them. As such, this leaves the Knights as a scholarly outpost in peacetime, housing the largest library of Benaloran tomes and records outside of the Imperial University, as well as housing the largest number of Benalor experts in the Empire. But do not mistake the Knights' pursuit of knowledge of their advanced armors as a sign of weakness, for they have the same rigorous training and famous discipline of the rest of the Empire's illustrious forces.

>>17067144

>>17067144
The To'chq Are a race native to the Wastes of Vashial, no one is entirely certain where they arose from given their rather strange appearence. Accomplished mages they have only recently come into contact with the empire.

Tall thinly built they are obligate carnivores and adore hunting for small game in their spare time. Sadly it would seem due to misunderstandings humans have fallen under this label at times.

>>17067150
Before the three-way war which led to the demise of the old empires, Weylos was once an ally of Benalor in its infancy. The largely tribal Weylosians were slowly coalescing to form their martial civilization, but were under the constant threat of the magical empire of Vashial to the west. Benalor knew that the only way the Vashialians could get to its lands was through the fledgling Weylos, so it took the young nation in as a buffer state. In return, Benalor shared some of its cruder forms of technology and afforded the tribesmen limited sovreignty. Surprisingly, some in the Weylosian ranks caught on to these more rudimentary technologies, re-engineering them to become the Ansal Corps, an army of armored power-suits designed to take the brunt of the Vashialian offensives.

However, they were rather inefficient at first. Unable to use mana, the Weylosians had to rely on hard-to-obtain chemical fuels, which allowed each of these Ansals to operate for an hour, tops. The Benalorans then introduced the Mana Redistributor (MaR's) to the Weylosians, teaching them how to install the devices on the Ansals. From there, they only needed enough chemical fuel to power up, and then the MaRs would use the ambient mana from the incoming Vashialians to further power the machines.

Later on in the growth of Weylos, the Benalor noticed that the growing nation had spies in Benaloran government. In retaliation, they remotely deactivated the MaRs, which led to their defeat and momentary occupation by Vashial months later.

Of course, Weylos would regain its independence years later under the wartime hero Tremine Laurense...

>>17066824
Words have power. There exist tools that can conjure the unlimited magic of text into reality, but sometimes, these tools are better left untouched.

The Imperial University has simply declared this tool "Gods' Ink." It occurs as a foul, black globule the size of a typical pearl that drifts upon the ocean once a century, its origins unknown - although some suspect it is a byproduct of the Obsidian Leviathan itself. The exact outcome of using the Gods' Ink varies depending on what is written. Fascinating creatures are produced every time, the product of the writer's words. If describing a creature that already exists, the Gods' Ink creates the beast - the only creature that this does not function regarding are Gods.

The creature created by the Gods' Ink only knows and is capable of that which it is written to possess. In order to truly replicate a person entirely with Gods' Ink, you need to know them completely and absolutely and essentially write an autobiography. In order to make a creature function properly, you need to describe its anatomy with perfect precision, otherwise it simply powered by the stuff of magic, with a disturbing lack of internal organs normally vital to the beast's survival.

However, Gods' Ink is most dangerous when not replicating an already existing creature, but creating a new one. No one knows how many beings have been crafted in this fashion or how much destruction the Gods' Ink has indirectly caused in this way.

>>17067320

>>17067345
Over-reaction, perhaps. Sorry if I avoid responding to the tech pictures, I'm not very good when it comes to magitech sort of stuff.

Have this, though.

>>17067192
Though the World Engine was diverted to avoid disaster for Benalor and thwarting the madman Nytherio Siev's plans, the walking mountain was still technically operational. Though it continues its circular path, grinding ever deeper into the Valley of Rickol away from Benalor proper, the Engine spawned forth smaller, but still dangerous beings from its crags. One of the first aberrations which ventured away from the Engine and the Valley came to be known as the Frostman. Grown from the side of the Engine's snowy peaks, the Frostman had both the immeasurable might of the mountain, alongside the insidious cold of its touch. Those who got too close to the Frostman would become frozen from the inside out. Usually before the freeze would set in, the thunderous swing of its arm would send the poor sod flying into the horizon. Fortunately for Benalor though, the Frostman was not willing to step into the warmer climes of the empire's settled areas, averting yet another disaster.

Perhaps Benalor believed their luck to be divine providence - soon after the discovery of the Frostman, the empire launched the Heavenrider program. And we all know what happened with that...

>>17067396
the ripper, An undead construct that has been found from time to time. It would seem that these creatures are often turned out by makers unknown to wreak havoc on unsuspecting villages. Rippers tend to be solitary creatures and often will not last long if force of arms is brought to bear. The beasts have no armor and are mostly muscle and tendon make slashing weapons incredibly useful.

>>17067362
Bone thief, huh. Well, it's wearing a skull, so we should be fine. Yeah, they're shy, apparently. They find a corpse-any corpse with a big enough skull, and put it on their face, sort of merge with it. They'll try to get antlers or horns or whatever too.
Nah, I don't really know where they come from. Or where they get those markings from. not like they have hands. Heard somebody say they were ghosts that died in personally shameful or embarrassing ways. I suppose I'd be trying to cover up, too.
What do they look like under there? Hell if I know. Hell if anyone knows, really. But if you see one wandering around without a skull on, run. If they don't have one yet- and these guys live out in the wilds, so thank your stars that most of them already do-but if they don't have a skull, well, they're liable to try taking one, if you follow my meaning.

>>17067362
There is a legend of a boy who came from the island of Daruraga a long time ago with the power to bond with creatures his people called "Totems". The Imperial University understands these constructs as the products of the Dreamchildren's imaginations, the living creations of the prodigal children's minds. This boy in particular, Osyki was his name I believe, took that power one step further - he was able to control the apparitions created from the minds of others. With this power, he protected his village from the supernatural threats of his time.

Sadly though, the legend stops there, given the sheer age of the tome in which it came from - it is assumed to be older than even the old empires of Vashial, Weylos, and Benalor. I do believe that the College of Antiquities has one of these apparitions in its collection though, a spear with the ability to speak to its wielder.

Speak with Master Vola for more information on that.

>>17067512
Dangit, you beat me to it.

And it's time to cook dinner here. I trust y'all will keep the thread going in my absence, yes?

>>17067609

>GuysheyguysI'mgoingtoputwingsonmylegs.jpeg.gif.tiff.bmp

>>17067439
The tribes of Phrennoack Forest take their funeral rites seriously for a reason - this is the fate of the Eltytain that the Phrennoack Stag does not escort to the afterlife.

They worship life, they praise life, they love life, they are life. They embody life to the point where their spirits cannot accept death without the aid of their psychopomp to sooth their souls and guide them into the afterlife.

The envy that the Elytain Geists have for the living is impossible to match and utterly devious. Each one conjures up its own plans and its own genius methods of ensnaring the living, so they may live their lives for them. They choose all sorts of odd objects as their hosts; some possess dead vines while others force their souls into lengths of rope or chain, or leather cord.

The bonds immediately come to life, seeking out the nearest sentient with a vengeance. Upon finding them, the chains or ropes that the Elytain Geist has possessed wrap about their wrists and their ankles and their limbs, turning the wretched creature into their puppet, using them to embrace life once more. The ensnared victim acts with absolute debauchery and disregard for personal safety, gorging themselves with food and engaging in the most carnal pleasures even as they scream and sob for the phantom chains to release them. In addition to this, Elytain Geists are obsessed with killing any of their kinsmen that they find or even better, abandoning their current victim to possess them instead. Their hatred for their living kin is almost unstoppable.

When the Tribes suspect that one of their people is dead and yet to recieve a proper rite, they send specially trained hunters known as Torchbearers, who use their mystical torches burning with the flame of Eltya himself to chase the Geist back to its corpse, so they may either perform its final rites or bind the lost soul to a dead tree, transforming it into a Horn.

>>17067634
ah, i see my character became epic level.

>>17067683
Glutmouthes are fairly simple scavengers that tend to infest the sewers of magically active cities. They grow to roughly three and a half feet long as adults, and generally weigh between 100-200 pounds, depending on feeding. Believed to be a mutated form of earthworm, a glutmouth can survive on nearly any form of organic matter it can fit into its slavering maw. While not particularly aggressive, they have no compunctions about eating an animal that still lives; the disappearance of children, pets, and even weakened or disabled adults can attest to their indiscriminate hunger.

>>17067801
Whoops, forgot to add content.

>>17067126
Slype Hounds. Ugly, mouthless things that stalk the Depths Below, they somehow are capable of not only making sound, but throwing it. When hunting in the darkness of the underground, they throw off about their strange, alien laughter. Sometimes their prey may hear their phantom snickering from the left only to be pounced from the right, or hear their deranged cackling from behind them, only to be pounced from above. They are stealthy beasts, designed to kill, rather than eat. They have no need for sustenance, they simply breed and butcher their prey for fun.

In a Slype Hound's eyes, what is prey? Anything they can kill. If they cannot kill something, it becomes prey when there are enough of them to kill it. Using advanced tactics, they stalk, surround and maul their prey as a single unit, with their claws. However, they are not united. Much of the time, they choose each other as their own prey - in fact, Slype Hounds seem to enjoy chasing and killing their own kind far more than any other creature. This is perhaps the only reason their population isn't entirely out of control.

>>17067888
While the psychopomps of the Phrennoack are seen as a blessing, some foul beasts attempt to use their blessed reputation for unholy purposes. Falserjacks will appear before those on the verge of death in the forest and offer to forestall their end if they pledge service to them. Those agree are surprised when the creature reaches down and tears their head from the neck, their mind still alive in the skull.

What the Falserjacks do with these poor souls is not known.

>>17067813
The Pale Baroness of Deceit and the Escort of Corpulence. Technically, she lacks a name just as she lacks a specific species. She and the rest of her... colleagues lack such specifications, simply referring to each other by grand, exaggerated titles in a mockery of mortal nobility and their practices. For lack of a better term, they are simply dubbed the Godless as she is one of them.

There is no specific region where she can be found, along with the rest of the Godless. Instead, they are found amongst specific people. In her case, she is attracted to fraudsters and con-artists, anyone who has made their living off of lies and meaningless words. Only they can truly see her for what she is and only they can hear her title; everyone else only hears a name that barely registers in their brains and they see nothing but a woman so mundane that their attention automatically shuns her.

She hangs off of the arm of these liars and cheaters like a new lover, pampering and showering them with adoration. This is an illusion. Only her deceitful victims are aware of the truth, which is that she has bound them to her strange, arachnid body with unbreakable shackles. For every lie that the victim makes, the Pale Baroness cuts away a pound of flesh, from the bottom up and feeds it to the fraudster. Onlookers do not see this. As more and more of the liar's body is carved away, all they see is him become fatter and fatter. When he finally dies, a bloated corpse in the eyes of the unknowing, the Escort of Corpulence severs the head and adds it to her collection, disappearing to find her next victim. The illusion eventually fades, disappearing completely when the victim is buried in a coffin, a headless body with most of its meat scraped off.

Like the rest of the Godless, no one knows why she does this or why she exists. They simply are and they simply do.

>>17067891
Eventually, there comes a time when someone sees too much death. They endure too much death. They are surrounded by suffering and lives being snuffed out, just like that. Eventually, they are so used to the barrier between this world and the next that the physical difference between life and death no longer holds on them. They are both dead and alive and at the same time, they are neither dead nor alive. They become Schröded Men.

It isn't a surprise. It's a slow, gradual change where what they are capable of becomes greater and greater. Becoming a Schröded Man is a state of nirvana for those who have seen more than mortal men should, that is gradually achieved as their apathy and fatigue grows to supernatural levels. They will stop caring about bleeding, so blood shall not matter to them. They shall not care about disease, so disease shall not hinder them. They shall not care about necrosis, so rot shall not harm them. They shall not care about being forgotten, so they shall fade away into memory.

Dolgems, Large highly infectious creatures that live on the borders of the vashial wastelands, rumor has it that Dolgems were once part of a small civilized village and were transformed genetically by the poisonous and plague riden gases of the near by swamps. These creatures seem to have a very strong social system, with the more deformed Dolgems being the elders and highest in power, and with the younger less deformed Dolgems being workers or soldiers. soldiers generally have more mutations favoring weapons, workers generally favoring more appendeges and brute strength. they communicate through a series of clicking noises and are mostly neutral towards others, though they tend to favor humans and human interaction rather then other races. Dolgems produce through spores and fungas, reportedly the females lay down fields of fungases(eggs) then males walk through the fields shaking and convulsing releasing spores(sperm) to fertilise the fungas these fields are closly guarded and trespassers are usually killed.

>>17068315
Eventually, the Schröded Men who survive for longest in this state do not even care about the fact that they lived and the world shall act as if they never lived. They shall be forgotten and in the eyes of the world, they never were and they never shall be. The Schröded Man achieves a perfect state of being, where he both exists yet does not; the world simply does not acknowledge him, no matter what he can do.

Of course, even those who reach that state of ultimate apathy can still be harmed or detected through arcane means, even if the mundane universe simply acts as if they have been. Not to mention if the Schröded Men ever go back on this state of mind and start caring about the world around them once more, they lose their position and all the advantages that come with it. Blood, disease, rot, memory and the universe suddenly matter again and they die immediately, from all of the suffering that they have inflicted upon themselves in their carelessness.

Another disadvantage of this state is that of course, when you have reached that state of perfect apathy, almost no one has any reason to take advantage of it. Most of the Schröded Men spend this nirvana simply brooding eternally, sitting in the same spot forever in a universe that they do not exist in. Yet there are a few rare cases where a Schröded Man still walks and still fights and still kills. Perhaps they killed for revenge in life. Perhaps they killed for king and country. Even when they stop caring about such duty, sometimes they still do it, simply out of habit - and if they didn't do it, what else would they do? Rarely, this habit continues even after Schröded Men achieve the state of non-existance, transforming them into phantom murderers, capable of making entire armies drop dead, with no one blinking an eye.

and pic

>>17068076
The false paragon. A semi-divine born from the juxtoposition of the ideal forms of the higher planes and the bestial flesh of this one. It was created in the minds of men who rejected the physical world seeing it as an inferior realm compared to the supposed perfect afterlife. The trickster itself feeds on the complusive need for perfection.

And I'm back. Let's see what I missed...

>>17067888
Finally, some plural critters for the Depths Below.

>>17067973
I definitely like these. Carry on.

>>17068076
A plot hook by any other name. I will steal this idea for a great many settings.

>The Otherworldly Court
They are urban legends at best, conspiratorial horrors at worst. The members of what the Imperial University dubs the Godless are beings capable of heinous acts, but also harbor a sense of justice and honor among themselves. They tend to prey on the morally and spiritually weak of civilized society, culling them out to make room for the morally righteous and spiritually fortuitous.

As the story of the Escort illustrates to the young, the Godless operate outside of the Gods' reach to do their work much more efficiently without such strictures. As people aspire to the Gods for guidance and providence, they also fear the attention of the Godless for their sins. Some of the other stories of this "Otherworldly Court", as some have come to call them collectively, are as follows:

The Fickle Lady and Artisan of Opulence (>>17068315) preys upon those with a penchant for excess at any cost, weaving their souls into her tapestry.

The Fake Duchess and Stewardess of Ambition (>>17068332) preys upon those who seek greater power with a fraudulent impetus, trapping her prey with such promises and absorbing them whole once they fall into her trap.

The Ivory Lord and Judge of Perdition (>>17066927) preys upon those who lose faith in themselves and others, whispering nothings of revenge and vengeance into their ears until he drags them down into a fate of an absolute, but burning darkness.

>>17067266
From the journals of Arrin Vola, Master of Antiquities.

With several months having passed since my first expedition to the Vashial Wastes, I believed myself healthy enough to make another venture. I traveled to the west, into the lands of the Crow Clan Shialar, longtime scavengers of Vashialan ruins that had been marked by mutation from the experience since years ago ( >>17067891 ).

From my guide, Arresk, I learned of a remarkable discovery. As he ventured into the Vashialan tower presently known as the "Guardian Spire" in search of artifacts for sale to researchers like myself, he instead encountered an imperious-seeming man in peculiar armour. He fled, but claimed that the man saw him but didn't care to follow. Moreover, his dark skin and powerful build marked him as one of the ancient Vashial!

From Arresk's account, the man was garbed in Vashialan war-armour, a remarkable combination of machine-crafting and magic that was reserved for elites in the mage-empire's army. The idea that a Vashial elite warrior would be alive today is remarkable, if unlikely. I shall endeavor to convince Arresk to take me to the location that I may see for myself.

>>17067019
One of the many-fold dangers of the Depths Below are the awful worm-like creatures known as Bone Keepers. While solid enough to break stone with their many powerful arms, the tissue of a Keeper is capable of transitioning from a solid to a liquid and any state in between. Like many creatures of Depths, they are exclusively predatory, lack any real need for sustenance, but instead hunt out of some sadistic urge.

True to their namesake, the lairs of Bone Keepers are littered with the stripped skeletons of their victims, usually in amounts that boggle the mind, considering the remote nature of their homes. This appears to be not a matter of poor house-keeping either; Keepers savor fear as much as the kill, and position bones in their flesh to augment their already terrifying appearance.

Any news on Endless Wilds?

>>17068495
Welcome back Master Vola. May as well namefag yourself and get it over with.

>>17068528
Liking this theme of sadistic hunters in the Depths.

>>17068532
Sadly none. Seems like interest has waned on that front.

>>17068005

>>17068005

Commonly refereed to as a 'Pocket Messenger,' these swift, constructs are commonly used to relay messages over short distances. When coiled, the messenger can be hung from a belt loop or chain and when deployed the same hooked tail makes for a useful place to put messages.

>internet won't let me post an image

>>17068550
I think the absence of physical needs helps add a bit of evil to it. They don't do evil to survive, they do it because they enjoy it. That kind of pure evil is something I find valuable in a monster.

>>17068550
Banes, as they are called, are one of the most visible forms of Vashian encroachment upon the Phrennoack wilderness. Beyond the simple dangers of Shialar capturing the titanic beasts that serve to quell the Wastes' spread and using them to regrow the unique Vashian flora, Banes appear to be directed forces that attempt to assault and destroy all signs of life.

The Shialar consider sighting a Bane a bad omen and often move on, but the creatures of the Phrennoack don't have the mobility of the Shialar nomads. I witnessed myself a host of Banes carving a burning path through the forest to assault an Eltyain settlement.

The Shialar maintain that Banes are the unliving remains of Vashian soldiers, driven by some unknown thirst for vengeance against their former enemies, but as the engimatic, burning creatures are elusive, we may never learn the truth.

Vile slimes, small slime creatures brought to life through magics and bond to their owners, these slimes are commonly found in market places in many different colors and sizes ushally stuck into some kind of flask or vile, upon purchase the merchant will take a hair from your head and drop it into the vile bounding the slime to you. the slimes are used for small chores and housework and can pick up and use certain items, these slimes do not leave sticky slime residue on items when used. They were specifically designed for in home convenience and aid, though earlier variations of these slimes would cause a huge mess and the bounding spell would tend to ware off depending on the amount of times you would use it.

>>17067973
Though the great Imperial explorer Ezel Carbane traveled the world over in search of new cultures and curiosities, his greatest find was interestingly enough close to home. After his expedition into the uncharted waters of the Eastern Sea and the far-off lands of Animar, Ezel was asked by the Master of the College of Antiquities in his day, a certain Reuben Vola, to help investigate the mysterious appearance of a porcelain mask in the deepest levels of the Capital's dungeons. It was a task which would end up being Ezel's last.

Escorted to the lowermost level of the dungeons, Ezel and his team scoured the area, looking for a clue as to why the mask appeared there, an area which housed the Empire's worst criminals and where absolutely no contraband was allowed because of such. In the far end of the hall, Ezel found his answer - a barely-visible seal of complicated symbols and shapes. Apparently something was being held back and likely for a very good reason.

Summoning elites from the College of Battlemages, Ezel directed one of them to slowly unravel the seal while the others were on standby to defend if there was indeed a beast behind the seal. Hours passed as incantation followed incantation, each symbol fading away from the seal until it was no more. No flashy entrance, no violent surge, just the section of the wall in which the seal held disappearing. The group slowly proceeded down a seemingly endless flight of stairs.

As Ezel, his team, and a number of the Battlemages descended, the darkness started to turn into an eerie blue haze, though the fog did not choke them. Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs and found an even larger seal than the one on the door. The trepidation was tangible as the team pondered about the significance of the find...

>cont'd

>>17068846
Dissipating from the haze came forth a dimunitive figure, clad in fine black silks and hardy leathers. Its visage comprised of four porcelain masks. Extending from the inky garb came eight arms, slowly swaying and gesturing as if performing a ritual. The Battlemages rightly took this stance as a threat, launching an assault on this fell creature, but alas their efforts were in vain. Their bolts of mighty flame and stilling frost reflected off of the precisely moved gestures of the creature's arms, felling the Battlemages in a frighteningly impressive counterattack. As Ezel's team cowered away in fear, the great explorer himself somehow knew what this creature was, mouthing two words: "The Founder". Before any elaboration were to take place, the team scurried back up the stairs just before a wall rose to seal the room once more. No one would hear from Ezel again.

Despite impassioned testimony from his team, the Battlemages which were stationed back in the dungeon, and even Reuben Vola himself, the new Chancellor of the Imperial University Prifa Carbane would not hear any of it. All of them sought to sully her father's great name, to seek fame and fortune at the cost of his life. What followed the trial was the largest execution in the Empire's history, even above that of the first Drakonid incursion which was still fresh in the citizens' memory. Since then, Prifa would come to be a woman who led the University with an iron fist, all in the name of her fallen father. Blood would be spilled. Truces would be broken. War would be inevitable.

>>17066095

You forgot to put Panthreig in the Persons of Interest area.

Panthreig Corvinoth is an explorer who seeks out otherworldly artifacts. He brings them to the For'Channar Imperial University laboratory to study their properties with his colleagues. He's very bookish and is soft-spoken, and has a distinct moral compass.

>>17068892
Derp, I forgot indeed, but I DID add him to the TXT file back in >>17067004. I'll refiddle with it to add him to the University proper. Enjoy!

>>17068904
And revised file here: http://dl.dropbox.com/u/42061654/TG%20SETTING%20STUFFS.txt

>>17068846
Recently I had the good fortune of meeting with a Shialar beastmaster by name of Karvu, a tall clansman with a natural empathy for various wild beasts. He informed me of several local 'safe zones' within the wastes, where one could rest without fear of infection by the ambient radiation or assaults by the local aberrations.

However, I cannot claim that I didn't find the Shialar's presence unsettling, especially during the night, as he and his beast shared a similar single glowing eye-- one upon Karvu's mask, and the other centered upon the beast's head.

I am uncertain what sort of creature it is-- perhaps a mutant harrukh-- but I have yet to encounter any like it since.

rolled 73 = 73

Does anyone mind if I go through some of my old drawings and make fluff for them?

>>17068990
I don't see why not.

Awesome, we're doing this as continuous threads now? A pity I don't have time to contribute this time, but I hope there's another one of these tomorrow. I may add some stuff if this is still here when I wake up.

This stuff is quite good. It's like DnD by Borges.

>>17069070
Just in case the thread doesn't survive, it's now archived. http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/17066065/

>>17069113
Yeah it is, isn't it?

We need less world-fucking horrors and more fantastical creatures that aren't an unstoppable alien threat.

So, I'm going to try and post creatures that can be interpreted as relatively mundane, rather than horrific threats.

oh and by the way sorry for not fluffing other peoples pics i cant directly qoute over a PS3.

>>17068975
Order of the Patch:
Native to the dark tangles of the Southwestern Uralaya Forest.

While having a drink at a tavern in Twaunae, I happened to strike up a conversation with a rather haggard looking fellow seated next to me at the bar. The jelly of his eyes was a most peculiar shade of orange, and his hair had all but fallen out. The rest hung in ragged patches around his scalp, and he brushed strands out of his face nervously as he drank.

I asked him his story. He told me that he used to be a bit of an amateur adventurer. Nothing fancy, but he acquired a certain thrill while exploring the far reaches of the Uralaya. Each time he ventured forth into the forest, he would go ever deeper, to the places where the sun and the moon never reach. On his last endeavor, he found himself in an unfamiliar patch of forest, in utter blackness. He realized that he had no idea whether or not it was night or day. Not wanting to get more lost than he already was, he resolved to wait for the sun, if it would come with time. After several hours, he began to see faint lights drifting through the trees around him. They were soft, orange globes of light, and they lurched unsteadily as though drowsy with drink. The lights came closer and closer, but their bearers could not be seen. He could make out that the lights were in fact coming from lanterns swinging haphazardly. They stopped in a circle around him, and he drew his sword cautiously.

>>17069373
cont.

Then, as one, with a ghostly laughter and a blast of flame, the bearers of the lanterns revealed themselves. In place of their heads were massive pumpkins with grotesque faces carved into them, and slavering, toothy jaws grinned from beneath hollow eyes. They wore simple black robes, soiled and stained by the forest. In unison, these foul creatures descended upon the adventurer, overwhelming him in an instant. He cannot remember anything after that but insane laughter, and the stench of rotting pumpkin. He awoke next to find himself back on the outskirts of Twaunae, and resolved to give up adventuring in favor of drink. However, no matter how much he drinks, the man cannot ignore the physical changes that are slowly but surely encroaching upon him. As he finishes his story, he devolves into a sickly laughter, coughs up a pumpkin seed, and orders another drink...

>>17069182
I've noticed that too. While it's fun to fluff antagonists, I agree that we need to work on some of the lesser critters.

>Onwards with fluff based on your picture.

The Cannonfly is one of the apex aerial predators of the Garvenus Steppe, swooping down from its hiding spot in the sun's gaze to take their prey by surprise. It is named as such not only because of its elongated neck, but also the signature boom it makes when it reaches the low point of its swoop, producing a sonic blast which may possibly stun prey on the ground if it is unable to outright catch it on the first try.

Stormlords tend to ride Cannonflies for quick transit across the expanse, as well as making use of their hunting techniques while hunting their own food. Male Stormlords are known to come of age when they are able to capture and tame a Cannonfly, the act of which easily able to kill the aspiring youth were he to lower his guard for an instant. If not a bite or a tackle, the sonic boom will do him in.

>>17069117
I'll keep an eye out, thanks. I mostly use these kind of threads to fluff my own setting, but I won't begrudge the use of anything I offer.

>>17067888
reminds me of that deer with the mask for a face and candles all over it's antlers from the last thread.

>>17069410
Right now I'm trying to just fill in some of the miscellaneous wildlife of the Wastes. A worthy cause but difficult without proper fodder.

>>17069449
Heh heh, should you be Master of Taxonomy rather than that of Antiquities, Arrin?

>>17069212
The Shialar clansmen are the only humans indigenous to the Vashial Wastes. In my travels through the Wastes, I've often been accompanied by several of their number, either as guides, porters, or escorts.

The Shialar are a tall, hearty people, but nowhere near as refined or powerful as their Vashian ancestors. However savage they've become, the Shialar are proud, and relics of their ancestry remain in their skillful metalwork and baroque garments. The baffling array of clans continually engage in warfare over the little remaining arable land, and especially for control over the local beasts.

The Shialar have a close connection with the warped beasts of the Wastes, such as the stubborn harrukh or the fierce shan-hound, wolf-like creatures. The role of beastmaster is vital to these nomadic peoples' lives, though some of the more wealthy clans establish permanent settlements.

Mutation is rife amongst their numbers, especially those clans that frequent the deeper Wastes, and some mutants become beastlike or monstrous, sometimes organizing into packs of their own. Most of the civilized clans kill mutants on sight.

>>17069478
So it would seem. Though regrettably the university failed to account for my increased interest in categorizing and researching the living things of our world that I encounter on my various archaeological expeditions.

>>17069520
I suppose as long as you are able to maintain your duties in Antiquities, the oversight shouldn't be much of an issue, yes.

An Excerpt from the Journal of Panthreig Corvinoth, Head Explorer of the University of Antiquities, Regarding The Scab Pillar of the Drakonid Highlands

A few weeks after I got back to the University from exploring the Depths Below and meeting the Cornerstone of Creation, I had received word from my colleagues that a large tower of flesh had sprouted from one of the mountains in the Drakonid Highlands. The pillar sprang out of the mountains and unleashed a blood-curdling roar, startling natives and wildlife alike. It was said to be heard all the way to Fort Minnamack. Naturally, my team and I were sent to investigate.

>>17067542
The Arthronax are an insectoid people who can be spotted on the path to the Eastern Sea, between the Wastes of Weylos and the eastern shore. They happen to be a VERY diverse lot, a living example of hyper-specialization in action. For the most part, they are relatively docile, skittish and nervous at the sight of any non-native beings entering the fringes of their territory, Imperials included. Venture too far though, and there may be hell to pay if enough of them isolate you for easy pickings. This brand of justice in which the hive-mind of the particular hive of arthronax acts as judge, jury, and executioner all at the same time.

Despite the drastic swing between their usual docile nature and bouts of territorial aggression, arthronax have the capacity to relate with Imperials and even form crude alliances with us. The Mistmite hive, an example of which is pictured in middle of the diagram, seem to be the friendliest of the hives we have encountered thus far. They even offered us to nourish ourselves on the fluids they secrete from glands in their thoraxes. A bit bitter, but it was more or less just water with an energy-booster suspended in the middle. I have observed this fluid being administered to some of the Mistmite larvae and it had a similar nourishing effect, so my assumptions are likely accurate.

>>17069805

Just as I was gathering my belongings for the voyage, the pendulum I had received from the Cornerstone began to vibrate. I held it up to my ear, and it began to whisper.

"You are ill prepared to travel to the Scab Pillar without a psychic among your team." it whispered, "Seek the assistance of a Monch-S'rrtep, or you and your team will perish." The pendulum spoke the word 'Monch-Srrtep' in the same backwards-breathing way that the people of the same name did.

Monch-S'rrtep are a species of sapient, amphibian humanoid with a large, melon-like head, three eyes, and a backwards-breathing language. Their heirarchy is simple, whoever has red coloration is made leader, regardless of that S'rrtep's actual capability. This would seem easy, as I could just fetch a jar of red fingerpaint and draw a vein pattern on my forehead, but this was only wishful thinking. In order for me to properly be accepted as a leader to these strange folk, I would have to smell and speak like them too.

>>17069032
Power comes from dangerous places, regardless of what one might be told. Some, of course, are worse than others. For Lasthene, power came with mutation, at birth. Born in the wretched slums of The Strack, the old scholars quarter of Illim now tainted by the ruins uncovered at the heart, Lasthene grew up on mean streets. Granted, many mutants make a special effort to conduct themselves with civility, ennobled by their staunch perseverance and refusal to descend to the bestial traits of which they stand accused, but this not the case with all. Besides which, some of the worst monsters have the gall to be born in the skins of men.
So she turned to crime, in her teens - it was that or the whorehouse, for many girls like her. Fortunately, she rolled with a similar gang of misfits, and had a unique advantage. Lasthene could see, in dark or fog, picking out the spark of souls and the edges of things. She could also destroy - her gaze, if unbroken, hollowing out the mind like a carved pumpkin, leaving the victim a drooling husk.
She wears a blindfold, but it impedes her not at all.

>>17070032
She became a skilled negotiator for her little gang, talking in polite, soft tones, alone in dark rooms. The threat of violence ended poorly for her opponent, and word would spread. Negotiations became more honest for that.
The sense of power this gave her, of course, went to Lasthene's head a little. Once demure and pleasant, she would fly into narcissistic tirades and heap scorn upon anyone whose showed weakness in her presence. She took lovers as she pleased and expected the very best - an admirable position, and not wholly unpleasant trait, one supposes.
The assassination of her less fortunate friends, and her own attempted murder, left her broken even to her own surprise. And angry, and vengeful, like a goddess in her wrath.

>>17070032
>>17070063
I'm assuming this is in the Vashial Wastes, given the mention of mutation, am I correct?

>>17070063
Something is always watching, always listening, for moments like these. For that cry of rage or gasp of despair. Something that wants to make you an offer you can't refuse.

Lasthene was almost blinded by the angel that visited her - beautiful and golden, with six wings to contain its radiance.
And it offered her a chance at revenge - someone so powerful, so beautiful, could not suffer this injustice lightly.
Heart in her vice, Lasthene succumbed. Pride having gone, she fell.

She might still be out there, somewhere. Or perhaps in Hell, freshly promoted. Who can? A beautiful woman, garbed in a manner both alluring and dignified - surely one could not forget her, nor miss her?
And maybe some have seen a woman with shards of the sun trapped in jars on her belt, and looked into her eyes.

>>17070079
Oh, well, I thought stuff didn't have to be specific to this setting, so I roamed a bit. But I see little reason not to put her origin there somewhere - I'm not up on the cosmology or metaphysics of this world yet.

>>17070102
It's easy to lose one's way through the mountains leading to the Benalor ruins. The crags are steep, the paths are winding, and sometimes it seems like you're just wandering in circles. But as the old hikers' tale says, look for the bird with the piercing stare. Its long arms will climb it past the crags. Its wings will soar above the paths.

However, be cautious... half of the time the Mountain Owl will lead you in the right direction, half the time it will lead you to its nest.

>>17069373
>>17069378
No one liked it I take it? :(

>>17070153
Sorry, I guess I'm making assumptions here.

>>17070159
Oh, I liked it, but I was busy trying to plonk some more fluff here and to keep the thread rolling.

Also beware of the dreaded smilies, some folks tend to rage at them.

>>17070165
Oh good! I was a little worried it got lost in the pile.

>>17069378
Now that I've had a chance to read it, I like it. Regrettably I have no constructive criticism - what's there is great.

>>17070165
If it survives three more hours, I'll come back and contribute what I can.

>>17070211
Keep on chugging them along. Even if there isn't immediate response, odds are that someone will read it. Also helps if you attach a pic to your post so we can continue the game. I'm starting to run out of stuff on the ol' hard drive.

>>17070222
Excellent. Now off to bed with you!

Anyhoo, bedtime for me. Be well y'all!

>>17069563
The Lesser Cave Dratch is one of the least formidable creatures of the Drakonid Highlands. Standing at only a foot or so tall fully grown, this sightless lizard makes its home in the deep caves formed underground rivers. The Cave Dritch spends most of its time diving into the underground rivers and lakes that carve out its home looking for fish and crustaceans in the cool clear waters.

>>17070631

Eons of living in a lightless, subterranean environment have eliminated its need for eyes.Without its eyes for guidance, the Cave Dritch has developed highly tuned senses of hearing and smell. Its ears have closed off over the generations to prevent water intruding into the aural cavity, working instead as a kind of sonar that detects vibrations as well as sounds. The nostrils, which are located just in front of the ears, are much closer to the brain than most animals. This is due to the fact that the Cave Dritch's nose is not connected to its lungs, but rather to a special pouch that detects the finest traces of scent particles in the atmosphere. This allows the Cave Dritch to use this ability underwater, aiding in locating prey that bury themselves in the muddy floors of subterranean lakes.

>>17070640

Cave Dritches are highly territorial and protect their stretch of river with their lives. A solitary creature by nature, it ony seeks companionship every 5 years to mate and produce a clutch of exactly three eggs. After the eggs hatch, the male Cave Dritch teaches the young to hunt, and the female teaches them to swim. From conception to the time their young are ready to leave the nest, the mother and father Cave Dritch become extremely dangerous to any animals trespassing in their territory, willing to fight to the death even with creatures several times their size. Coming across a family of Cave Dricthes when the young are just coming of age to leave the nest is exceptionally dangerous, as all five Dritches will be considered fully grown by the family and expected to defend the nest with their lives.

>>17070631
Were the monks of the Order of the Grigori ever aware of their loss? Did they ever know that Shialar changed beneath their feet? Not likely. Millenia ago, the monks assimilated with the greatest fragments of techno-mancy available to them, incorporating their designs and schematics into their own bodies. They would be monuments to that technology, preservers of the craft of their civilization's peak. After their assimilation, the monks locked themselves away in their hidden monasteries. Some say that the temples rest deep beneath the earth and sea, while others postulate that the Order of the Grigori watch from the night-sky, floating in monasteries bound to the deepest reaches of the night void.

>>17070905
The Sly'vek are cunning and potent wyrms, easily able to decimate a battalion of soldiers. They cruise beneath the surface of the earth, their root-like tendrils sensing even the slightest vibration around them. However, predation is not their primary source of food; Sly'vek are omnivorous. It is difficult for them to gain living prey in any sizeable quantity. So the titans of the underground burrow underneath the great forests of the world, resting, letting the roots of trees and grass grow into them, gaining sustenance from the foliage itself. They may rest like this for years, decades even, before moving from their resting places. Little disturbs them, save for the call to mate with one another, and the chance to consume more animate fare.

>>17070987
Completely lacking in this characteristic subtlety are their forest cousins, the Sar'Vek is built around a much more pressing need in the desert- conserving water. Despite its, well, 'squishy' appearance, the Sar'vek's hide is composed of tubular rings of armour plating. Although they are highly reflective at birth, constant exposure to the desert sands quickly tarnishes them into a rusty brown.
The bony plate on their head allows them to tunnel blindly, without fear of collision, relying on their highly attuned sense of touch to detect vibrations.

Some of these monsters in this thread need to be nuked from orbit.

>>17070154

"This, now this is the darnest thing I've ever heard.
Just the other day, this lad walks through the village, like he's spellbound by one of them flesh mages, all jerky and all.
He tells just about everyone who gives him the time of day that he saw something both beautiful and terrible, that somewhere in the forest is a clearing to a straight from 'nother world.
Says this place, the air's all different and the buildings are larger, there's women dressed like men and metal carriages that don't need no horses but fart something nasty. There's fireless light and everyone has magic in their pockets. Talking boxes with moving pictures, paper money, and there isn't shit on the hard black streets.

What a load of crap! I don't believe I stayed to listen to him finish his ravings! Farting carriages? Is that to make up for the lack of horse? Paper money? How does that work without gold? And I don't see who would take the time to clean the shit off the streets. Absolutely unbelievable. And the wizard said he wasn't under no spell too.

The best part, the best part has gotta be that now the Imperial University is getting involved. The Imperial University! All those scholars and mages! Planning an expedition into the woods! Over what a madman says!"

Now we limited to monsters or can we toss some environments around?

>>17067609

Of the many creatures in Tevinia, the Tevinian Drakes certainly have an unique appearance. Whereas most other drakes have wings on their forelimbs, the these Drakes have their wings on their back limbs. For the most part, they are docile to the point of being almost cow-like, though they still have the ability to fly surprisingly astutely and can snatch birds out of the sky with their claws, their favorite form of hunting. They usually grow to be roughly half a man's height, though larger specimens have been documented, one growing to be large enough to carry a man aloft on its back. The drakes are found in either family units or colonies, depending on the size of their territory, and though they allow for some intrusion by inquisitive scholars, they will not hesitate to push said scholar out of their high up nests, much to the man's displeasure and demise.
Legend has it that one night, a fauna mage got drunk and started ranting about his best idea ever. This mage then shut himself in his study for a week, and by the end of that week, Tevinian Drakes started appearing all over Tevinia.

>>17069932
The Raptor Lords of the Northern Seas are a people of battle. They live and die by the sword, from the cradle to the grave embroiled in conflict with one another. Death on the battlefield is not glorious, but a fact of existence. But not all meet their end at the blade of the sword. Some Raptors speak of a spirit visiting them as they lay dying on the field. These spirits, the Alkyr Sprites, bring life to fallen warriors. The sprites enter the soldier, and renew them with life, leaving a golden hue to their skin and a mark on their hearts. Such warriors are granted a reprieve from battle, and wander the north as soothsayers and magi, host to the Alkyr Sprites now inhabiting them.

>>17071037
>that somewhere in the forest is a clearing to a straight from 'nother world

that somewhere in the forest is a clearing straight from 'nother world.

Oi typos.

>>17069246
The Umiqua are small creatures that inhabit fresh water sources. They range greatly from 3" to a 1' in length. Not to be confused with there extremely larger cousins Umisea, The Floating Islands, which are ocean dwellers.

The Umiqua are nicknamed by travelers as the Water Spirit's Friendly Guides, because of their unusual habits. When a traveler steps into a stream or pond the Umiqua of the water will swim quickly to their feet. As the traveler moves the Umiqua will swim toward the shallow areas and toward sloping shores with easy footholds. Many adventurers have used this to keep their possessions dry and to avoid drowning. Tradition is to feed them berries from nearby bushes as thanks to the Water Spirit.

In the last century, Yuburt Amal, has made great discoveries when studying these creatures. It turns out that the creatures aren't helping travelers, but rather trying to get rid of them. The Umiqua lay their eggs in deeper waters and as such herd travelers away from deeper waters containing their nests. Their eggs have small barbs to help keep them in place while in the nest, but will latch onto clothing. The reason they lead travelers to gentle sloping shores is so they can grab any eggs that may have been dragged by the traveler on shore.

A side note was made at the end of Yuburt's research saying that the traditional berries are actually poisonous to Umiqua.

>>17071047
I think that you would be better served making a terrain-fluffing thread, and start making locales for creatures to occupy.
But I can't tell you what to do.

>>17071134
Besarian Titans are, in short, massive. Standing hundreds of feet in the air, these creatures are territorial and stubborn; bull Titans spend most hours of the day trudging through mangroves and shallow waterways (much like a hippopotamus), rarely leaving moisture. This keeps them fortunately limited to island chains and other secluded coasts and tropics, and not frequented by settlers. Females root along the riverbeds in brackish water, seeking the best place- somewhere moist and warm and sandy- for a new warren. A Titan spends most of its time, however, feeding. As sufficient biomass is difficult to maintain, the Besarian diet includes fish, tree branches, and mineral-rich deposits along the sides of most land formations in the area. Sharp, hard teeth bite into stone like giant wedges, feeding minerals into a massive stomach. Its size and anatomy make it sensitive to changes in temperature; were someone properly equipped or a cryomage were to disable or kill a Titan, the cold has been proven to be the most effective weapon. Steel has trouble piercing the thick leathery hide and no warrior has enough mass to engage it normally. There are a few but notable incidents of a well-organized platoon here and there, taking Titans off their feet and drowning the creatures, of all things.

>>17071177
Sounds like a good idea to me. We gotta have some world to dump these freaky critters into right?

>>17071220
Forgot a new picture. Here, have a curveball.

>>17071250

Dumping some images for your use, guys. Not conscious enough to fluff just yet.

>>17067396
Despite their hideous appearance and their humanoid stature, the Depth Grotesques are one of the less hostile and less intelligent creatures of the Depths Below. Their odd claws are used only for carving and mincing the flesh of carrion and when they are attacked, for defending themselves. They are nothing but ugly, deformed scavengers that skulk about the darkness, feasting themselves on whatever flesh they find.

In this way, they live in an oddly symbiotic relationship with Bone Keepers, who have no need to feed. It is not uncommon to find a Keeper with several Grotesque slaves, who are happy to strip the bones of its victims clean, so their master does not have to do the hard work. These Grotesques live in constant terror, their tiny minds only just comprehending that when their twisted masters become bored, it is their bones that will be hoarded and their meat that their brothers and sisters shall eat.

>>17068528
The Hadalfolk are strange, bearded hunters of the ocean who live in caves found on the Coast of the North Sea. They are excellent swimmers and feast themselves on the animals of the ocean, often hunting in packs to corner and direct schools for fish, so they may glut themselves on tasty morsels. While not as intelligent as civilised species, using sharp rocks found on the coast they make for excellent scrimshawers, often decorating their beards with bone talismans and sea shell fetishes.

For the most part, civilised men do not bother Hadalfolk and Hadalfolk do not bother civilised men. However, foolhardy young sailors often enter coastal caves in search of their enigmatic lairs. The legend has it that those who leave the caves with one of the bone talismans of the Hadalmen and wear it around their neck are forever blessed with good fortune of the seas, with the wind at their back and fish in their nets. Those who return from the caves without finding the Hadalfolk are damned, their children destined to die at sea.

>>17071743

The Attarosa are a race of fey that arise in dry, barren climates, with the purpose of rejuvenating the area and returning it to a plains or forest-type biome. They are said to originate from the deadly bramble fields of Pandemonium.

There are two main types of Attarosa: the Gatherers take the shape of comely humanoids wearing strange looking masks, which they use to exude a dangerous mist that entrances any animal life (or sentient creature) that inhales it. Gatherers send this fragrance far and wide to pull in as many fauna as possible.

The other type is known as a Distiller. Once Gatherers have successfully subdued their quarry, the body is fed to the Distiller, which then takes the victim's spiritual and physical energy to generate new plant life and scatter it across the landscape. Unlike Gatherers, Distillers are somewhat grotesque, though both possess the pleasantly sweet scent of roses.

I'd post some more monsters but really, I used up almost everything I have that's acceptable.

Everything else is pretty much "HUGE MASSIVE MONSTER OH M GOD" or "WHOA LOOK AT THIS STRANGE ELDRITCH MOCKERY OF A MAN" that this thread is already full of. Wish I had more small, not-so-hyper-magical monsters.

Good morning y'all.

>>17071037
Just when the College of Biodiversity finally got off the hook for the cloacamera incident, some of those madmen just had to make something even weirder. A fish with legs!? At least this thing had a proper face to it...

Hell, what did they call it?... an ichtyquus?

I mean, look at it! The body of an enlarged trout with some horse legs slapped onto it. How does it run without drying out? How does it swim with those bothersome legs? How in the hell does it even work!? Hell, the only thing I can imagine it being used for is temporary transport, and then killed and cooked for dinner afterwards.

Fortunately, the higher-ups at the University became aware of it and ordered them to euthanize the poor bastard right away. I also hear they're looking for new researchers for the College, so you may want to look into it, you know. Just make sure you don't go around making these abominations as well!

>>17071047
At this point, I don't see why not.

>>17072374
Given the fury and enmity of the Lord of the Tempest, researchers from the College of Biodiversity are unable to probe the depths of the Northern Sea. However, it can often spot aquatic wildlife in the shallower waters. One such creature is the Dandelion Crawler.

Though the dandelion crawler lacks many features of the more significant wildlife in the sea, it makes up for the ingenious ways it uses its small, spindly, gangly body. You see, it feeds on disintegrated food particles which it catches in the umbrella-like series of spindles which radiate from its mouth. These spindles also act as legs, which means that it can still grip to the sand and move even if a current knocks them around a little. Once the spindles have caught enough of these particles, the crawler will bury itself into the sand to consume its food, out of the view of the many predators it is sure to have in the hostile Sea.

>>17071250
During his trip to Benalor, the explorer Ezel Carbane came across a curious creature in the tallest parts of the mountains surrounding the ruins. It was pale white in appearance, diminutive in stature, and erratic in gait. Perhaps it was a descendant of the old Benaloran people, as the Shialar is to the Vashial, but the stories had the Benalorans as stout and proud in being. It would be difficult to imagine these creatures anything like them if they were to indeed be their predecessors.

As Ezel learned though, looks can sometimes be deceiving. Though comical and nonsensical they may be, they do have a knack for finding things. As a matter of fact, it was through the creatures - Bolds, he called them for their lack of fear around Imperials and their curious nature - in which the explorer found the ruins. During the expedition, the creatures would appear again and again, as if observing the crew marching through the passes. As time continued on, the bolds appeared wearing all sorts of outlandish garments which could only come from a different civilization. One even tried to mimic the appearance of an Imperial female by placing boulders in its outfit's bosom and rear. It afforded the crew a good laugh, but they soon followed it, seeing just where it and its colleagues found such garments. A day of following later and Ezel soon entered the crater in the mountains which contained the Benalor Ruins.

The rest is history, as they say.

Friendly afternoon bump.

>>17073049
This is an image of an Imperial Squathound. It is a common household pet amongst the nobility, after the Third Emperor of For'Channar demanded that the Chancellor of the Imperial University create an adorable pet for his child, using the artifact known as Gods' Ink.

For the most part, the Chancellor succeeded.

For the most part.

>>17075807
Guthries are hawk-like chimeras with strikingly humanoid features, including its head, hair, and toes, along with a cat-like tail. Given the reduced plumage and lack of a more bird-like tail, it is assumed that these creatures, native to the Wastes of Weylos, to be more opportunistic hunters and scavengers than anything else. They are found in areas of the Wastes in which visibility is greatly reduced by the dust storms which kick up during the height of the day. When they're not stalking the dust storms for wayward and easy prey, they are closely following the more active predators in hopes for at least a part of the meal.

Though they act mostly in a vulture-like capacity, the Guthries have a unique ability to produce a piercing, hypnotizing stare, even through the haze of the dusty afternoon. To an unwitting traveler, the gaze would seem like a pair of shimmering gems beckoning them to come closer through the maelstrom, right into their trap. Their dexterous hand-like talons would then grab the unsuspecting victim and then wildly lash at it with its sharp wings, both lacerating the skin as well as stinging it with venomous barbs at the ends of the feathers, paralyzing it so the creature can drag it back to its nest.

Perhaps fortunately, there is no certain account of what happens once the victim is brought to a Guthrie's lair...

>>17076031
Though in its twilight the empire of Benalor was greatly peaceful in its pursuit for the Heavens, it still recognized the continued threats of the magically gifted but internally crippled Vashial, and the martially disciplined yet quickly declining Weylos. Even though the Benaloran government has greatly reduced the empire's armed forces in the years prior to the launch of the ill-fated Heavenrider Program, they still kept posted a regiment of warriors to protect their lands. Combining magical research they pilfered from the Vashialian Court with their Intelligence Bureau with their own famed technology, Benalor dispatched the short-lived Aethergear Battalion throughout its lands.

These formidable warriors came from a stock who proved to be both skilled in battle and the operation of advanced machinery, their suits capable of replicating even some of the most powerful magics the Vashialian Magistry has ever devised. Their discipline and aptitude was even akin to the dying Weylosian armies during its heyday. For a Benaloran state greatly weakened after the three-way war for the central lands, the establishment of the Aethergears could be a great boon were they to gain anything from the Heavenrider Program. Resources. Knowledge. Intelligence. Anything that could give the Aethergears an advantage would help were they to reclaim their glory amid the old powers.

Unfortunately, the Heavenrider Program only spelled the end of Benalor, the first of the three old powers to be eradicated from the face of the world. Without anything from the Program other than the destruction of their motherland, the augmented Aethergears could only do what they can to pick up the pieces. Many of them died from adverse effects of their augmentations. Others died from the heavy burden and ensuing madness of their empire's fate. But there are stories of some still roaming the mountains, fueled only by rage, regret, and a burning need for retribution.

>>17075858
>>17075974
It's a well-known fact that the heart of the Vashial wastes is rife with arcane radiation, capable of mutating and warping living creatures into horrific monsters.

Most Shialar rightfully hate and fear mutants, but one tribe, the Talons of the Maker, instead embrace mutation. The entire clan dwells in the ruins of the ancient Vashian city of Am-Alhamuur, a former military citadel gravely awash in arcane energies. The Talons have been warped so severely over the centuries that they have stabilized-- no longer human, but instead savage, pallid-skinned and demonic-looking creatures. From their fortress of Am-Alhamuur, they scavenge armaments and build their numbers, occasionally dispatching raiding parties to gather human captives for unknown purposes.

The Empire has attempted to assault Am-Alhamuur numerous times, but the high levels of radiation and the savage assaults from the arcane-infused Talons have repelled each invasion with ease.

>>17071018
Though a wasteland Weylos may be, there are still patches of old growth which surprisingly survive in the barren expanses. And in the center of each of the growths lie talkative and relatively friendly spirits called Bramblefolk. Thought to be kin of the Greenfolk protecting the forests of Uralaya and Phrennoack, the Bramblefolk are incapable of locomotion unlike their northern cousins. They expend so much energy maintaining the small areas of vegetation that they are simply unable to travel any further. As such, Bramblefolk easily become lonely, seeking company of any kind that may come their way; creatures, spirits, adventurers - especially adventurers - are candidates for the Bramblefolk's lengthy conversation.

The Bramblefolk weave splendid tales of Weylos' former glory, about the lush forests, expansive vegetation, and diverse wildlife which could rival that of Phrennoack, Uralaya, and Garvenus combined. They would then segue into the coalescence of the Weylosian tribes into an empire and their subsequent exploitation of their lands. Finally, they would end their tale with the total, irreparable razing of the lands and the final downfall of the once proud Weylosian people, sparking the Bramblefolk's fight to retain what little is left and the desperate struggle to rebuild the wilds to their former glory.

Sadly, the Bramblefolk's guest would have been long gone by then and their loneliness would continue once more.

Friendly evening bump. If this thread is doomed to die, I would suggest we start a setting fluff thread, since we've come up with a number of areas, cities, and whatnot during these creature-fluff threads.

Regardless, I'm proud of you /tg/. That I am.

And off to bed with me. We'll see if the thread goes any further by the morning. Be well folks!

BACK TO THE FRONT PAGE WITH YOU!!!

>>17078532
I'll never forget the first time I saw that thing crawl out of Abloniset Lake. I knew strange things lived in our waters. But a race of... well, folk, I guess. A race of folk down there? Not in my wildest dreams.

I watched em' slither and hop up from the shore, walking in parade to our town. They left a stinkin', slimy trail in their footprints. Each and eery one of em' was dressed up like they were leapin' off to the market, their women in dresses, their men in fine suits, their lil' tykes in bonnets and hats. Damn odd.

Finally, they get to our village, and they start croaking and bellowing. I guess they were talkin' amongst themselves, but it looked more like they were callin' out to us. An angakoq, one of the wizards, he comes out and talks to them, bubbling and croaking in their own tongue. So he gives em' a box, all bound up in black, metal hoops, and they all hop away, some of em' even waving to us.

"The Dagori will give us good herds this year." He says. But kind of grim, he explains it, "But there will still be storms. And we will still lose our men to the water." Sure enough, that year, ten men go under. Hell of a season. Great season for fish. But those men? Well, we didn't really lose em', like the old angakoq said. They came back, just in a more 'local color'.

>>17080256

Elementals are creatures that base their forms on elements, concepts, or ideas. They appear to spring from complete nothingness, and they don't seem to have any limit to their capability of assimilating forms. This elemental was created amidst a heated battle in the Drakonid Highlands, when a clan of warriors started playing their bagpipes. When they stopped playing, a white smoke steamed out of their bagpipes and coalesced into the form shown here. The elemental was then ridden by one of the clan's members, shortly after it impaled the enemy army.

>>17079353
Huh, I like that idea as well. I'm sure between all of us we've got more than enough high-fantasy/steampunk/cyberpunk/whatever city wallpapers. We can just start drumming out stuff with those. Might actually get to put my /wg/ folder to use

>>17078095
Never trust one of those Animar bastards. Oh, they're pleasant. They come in with they're big flowery robes and their face tattoos and the 'chan' this and 'sama' that. But you want the truth? Stinkin' liars, every one. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could throw 'em after what I've been through.

See, couple of months ago, I was havin' a hard time sleeping. Bad dreams, back aches, gettin' up for no reason; it was murder. Shaman says it's nothing magical, just stress. Well I'm prone to agree with out good ol' angakoq. He never steers us wrong. So a while later, I head into the city to sell furs. Otter skins; hell of a good price in Tabula.

So after I've got my jink, I see this lil' medicine shop, sign with a kind of funny, blocky letters. Anyways, I head in, and there's that lil' old animar bastard sitting behind the counter. Now, okay, maybe he wasn't the most wholesome looking fellow. I mean, his jaw was rotting off, and his eyes were pure white, and he had a beard down to the ground. And, sure, his shop may not have had the most honest goods on its shelves, but I wasn't looking to buy a masked monkey corpse or shrunken heads, now was I?

So I tells him, 'Buster, I'm sleeping somethin' awful. You got anything to help?' He smiles real wide, like a snake, reaches under the desk, and pulls out a box of lil' rocks and pendants. Anyway, after he scuffles 'round a bit, he shows me a stone; looks like two little foxes curled up real cozy together, bound up in little ropes. He says to me, 'Put this over bed. Takes all the bad dreams from you. Tsunes very efficient. Make hard things in life go right away. Five coppers'. Well hell, for a price like that, how could I say no?

So I get back home. I put the rock over my bed. The missus looks at me funny, but she lets it go. That night? I sleep like a god. I wake up feeling ten years younger. Okay, five. Anyway, this goes on for about a week. Then weird stuff starts happenin' around the house.

>>17079353
Wha? Ya seen the Hag-Harpies, laddy? I'm surprised you made it away from them. Ya see, those damned Hag-Harps like to lure lone travelers, wandering merchants, and even adventurers like yourself into an ambush, where they normally rip you to shreds. Personally, I prefer that over their mating season. They practice horrible tricks and illusions to beguile their potential 'mates', and bribe them with offerings of power or enchanted weaponry. I'd rather be clawed and eviscerated into a thousand fleshy bits than stick my thing into one of them.

Whazzat boy? Wait, no, they're not Hagravens. Those things are completely different.

Also, make sure you bring an incense stick with you. Seems those Hag-Harps hate the smell of it.

>>17080724
Doors slam at night. There's a smell like piss in the kitchen. Muddy prints on the ceiling and wall. Then somethin' starts attackin' our chickens, bitin' their heads off in the middle of the night. The final straw was last week. The missus and me woke up to our girl crying. She says monsters came at her, said they were gonna' bit her eyes out, then she showed us the scratch marks on our stomach.

Well, I'm not stupid. This crap didn't start until that damned rock came into our house. I might like the sleep, but I love my little princess. So I head back into my room, and y'know what I saw? Two sneaky black foxes, circling my bed, sniffin' where my wife sleeps at. I yell at them somethin' fierce, and they stare at me, give me a yelp, then poof into shadows.

That's why this rock's got to go. It's the Dagori's problem now. I'm not livin' with this thing one minute longer. Not if these damn 'tsune' are gonna' come after my family.

>>17080724
What could we do? You get a madman bursting into the University and ranting and raving about stuffy air, large buildings, cross-dressing women, horseless carriages that fart their way through oddly paved streets, stuff like that. Usually we could just dismiss that as hogwash, but the poor sod that came to us was none other than Asper, one of the Emperor's sons. Great, either we fulfill his fancy, or we get the University possibly put under the axe - figuratively and literally. Fortunately though, he didn't specifically request which of us go out there, so we could at least spare Master Vola and Head Explorer Corvinoth the trouble.

So the task was left to me, Elanor Tagren, Assistant Explorer. I've been looking for a promotion ever since I graduated from my apprenticeship, and the Head Explorer thought it would be a good assignment for me. You see, part of the College of Antiquities' duties is to determine whether or not rumors and tales are true or not. In a world like ours, fact and fiction are generally not too far apart. So I gather my team and we head out to the forests of Phrennoack, where the sighting was claimed to have been made. It wasn't a difficult journey there - head down the Western road, through Fort Deeanday and into the northern part of the forest. Stop by a village for a supply check, and head down towards Alboniset Lake, where the supposed clearing was near.

>cont'd

>>17082821
It took us a couple days scouring the area, but we couldn't find a trace of this "clearing" that Prince Asper was speaking of. We couldn't even detect possible magical fields that could alter reality. After that time, we decided to head out. Or at least, we planned to. The moment we broke our concentration on the task, ready to head out, it hit us. We all found ourselves in this... bizzare world, to say the very least. The air almost choked us, the group of us startled by the horseless carriages the Prince spoke of. People dressed in the most garish fashions worked their way around us as these shiny, reflective castles loomed above us, piercing the Heavens Above. Have we been transported to another world, like the Prince was? So we decided to take a little field trip while we were here.

Our artist Quent was busy sketching the machines, the people, and the buildings while our translator Laren tried to communicate with the townsfolk to no avail. Meanwhile I was trying to find a shop of some sort to hopefully procure evidence of our visit to bring back to Antiquities for further study. But before we could get too far into that task, a dark figure loomed over the already dizzying landscape. He reached out with his inky hand and slowly swept it across the sky. The castles, the people, the carriages, all gone in an instant. In their stead were huts in a very village-like arrangement, but still alien in construction and aesthetic. Some of the carriages survived the chance, buzzing around on the streets like nothing happened. Black ropes appeared, spread taut upon trees without foliage, also attached to the huts. Perhaps if one were to remain untethered in this rendition of the world, he or she would just float away...

>>17082828
Before I could think too much about that, something compelled me to look back at the shadowy figure. Was this some sort of creator god from another time and place? I know that there is word that the Head Explorer was investigating the presence of a creator god in the Depths Below, but have I actually come in contact with one, so close to home rather than a remote place like the Depths? This I am unsure of. As I gazed into the figure's abyssal head, a single eye opened and suddenly the world around us was cut into ribbons and we blacked out.

We awoke in a clearing, not too far off from the village we stopped by before getting here. Suffice it to say, we packed up and got out of here faster than the Wights dealt with the Benalorans. The Head Explorer will likely be rather intrigued by our findings, that much I am sure.

>END

>>17082987

>>17082996

>>17083001

>>17082987

"Elbornet City", artist unknown, oil on canvas.

Painting depicts the most famous of the lost cities of the Shialar. Elbornet bordered the Phrennoack Forest and was a center of scholarly learning before it was razed to the ground in the Three-Way War, its Living Library lost to the four winds. Now a smoldering crater in the Vashial Wastes, only paintings like this remind us of the lost splendor.

>>17082996

"Passage to Benalor", artist unknown (believed to be Efrem Bequet), oil on canvas.

The majestic view that opens when a travelling party leaves the Drakonid Peaks behind for the splendor of Benalor has always captured the mind of artists and naturalists. This painting hails from the period when the Ebony Tower of the College of Shapers still stood on the edge of Canis Falls.

>>17083001

"Hadal Egg Chamber", Mirzo Basesti, oil on canvas.

The Hadalfolk, a secretive race of semi-sentients that settle around the North Sea, have only ever admitted Basesti, a painter and eccentric known more for his infamous soirees than his art, to view their nests and egg-laying chambers.

>>17083050
Loving the fluff. And finally, something about Benalor other than the ruins!

>>17083005
"Interior of the Vashialian Necropolis," Quent Trisbal, oil on canvas

Though accounts are lacking of the immense complex that is the former Vashialian capital, Trisbal managed to piece together the scant records as well as various anecdotal knowledge to depict the Necropolis as the eerie place it is. Comprised of complex, confusing architecture, the Necropolis has been said to be lit in an eerie, perpetually azure glow, regardless of the time of day. Trisbal's depiction of the Necropolis evokes the vivid, myriad magics still flowing despite their creators' demise so long ago. It was this work which earned Trisbal his place in the Imperial University as its artist, dispatched with expeditionary groups and summoned upon when something needs visualizing.

>>17083133
"Crenskaw Creek," artist unknown, oil on canvas

This serene and shallow creek leads from Alboniset Lake, through the Phrennoack Forest, into Twaunae Village. Though there are stories of ghosts and spirits traveling the portion of the creek within the forest at night, there is no doubt the beauty of the waters during the daytime.

>>17083088
Painting depicts an expedition exploring ancient ruins found in the Wastes of Weylos. The function of these ruins is unknown. Perhaps ceremonial, perhaps functional. Theories vary regarding this site, some considering it sacrificial grounds, where the sick and the maimed were sacrificed to appease the bloodlust of ancient kings. Others believe that these are the tombs of those kings that are discussed. Perhaps the site served both functions.
>>17083159
This image was produced by the Second Chancellor of the Imperial University during his final days, trapped deep in the dementia that old age brings. It is unknown how it was crafted. There is no ink or paint on the surface of the parchment; one could argue that in fact, the image is the parchment.

This fantastical city is yet to be located. Some question whether it exists at all.

>>17083262
"Vistas of Northeclyff," Quent Trisbal, oil on canvas

As the frequency of the Empire's battles with the Lord of the Tempest along the northern coast have begun to greatly diminish, the University commissioned sculptor Sharlonne Prekarion to construct a monument to the Emperors who fought the Lord at Northeclyff. The monument is now a major tourist attraction, especially a hit among the Animari diplomats and merchants residing in the capital.

Trisbal was commissioned to paint the view of Northeclyff on the fiftieth anniversary of the monument's unveiling. His sense of size, scale, and poignancy is evident here, especially in showing the current Emperor offering his blessing to the Monument of the Tempest-Breakers.

>>17083329
>>17083329
Known as the Flight of the New Endeavor, this painting is a warning to all who dare to explore the Eastern Seas. The New Endeavor was the first vessel to be built on the distant Eastern Coast by the For'Channar Empire. It is one of the largest vessels ever created, capable of housing almost five hundred able sailors. The very best navymen of the Empire were brought to the coast of the Eastern Sea to explore new horizons and perhaps open up trading with the land of Animar.

Its fate is unknown. Five years after its maiden voyage, it was seen again, floating hundreds of feet above the ocean, a ragged skeleton of what it once was, completely unmanned - as far as observers can tell. This painting was created by a particularly artistic patrolman as he spotted the vessel by the coastline. This image launched the young lad into a successful career as an artist for the court of the Emperor himself.

Despite the fate of the New Endeavor, the Eastern Seas still draws the curiosity of many who seek to explore it. Many go into the Eastern mists and some even return, with strange tales of distant lands and violent waters. But after that first voyage into that dangerous ocean by the New Endeavor, no one has ever set off to explore it in such great numbers.

>>17083391
"The Foundation of the World," Efrem Bequet, oil on canvas

A close friend of Lead Explorer Corvinoth, Bequet was commissioned to paint a scene from one of his expeditions into the Depths Below rather than the usual choice of Quent Trisbal. Deep beneath the world's surface lies a fantastical place that defies all logic and common knowledge, according to the Lead Explorer. Creatures kill for the thrill of the hunt rather than for nutritional sustenance. Non-biological objects have sentience exceeding that of anything on the surface. The laws of physics are optional in some areas and are downright forbidden in others.

At the very bottom of the Depths (at least in which people can venture without being utterly killed - or worse) is what the Lead Explorer called the "Foundation of the World," a place in which the "Cornerstone of Creation," an unassuming yet omniscient being exists. One would think that such depths would be dark beyond imagination, but the luminescence of various spirits illuminate the craggy caverns, the golden light of the Cornerstone above all.

Due to the sheer rumors behind the painting, the details of its creation are classified except for the highest echelons of the University, as well as the Imperial Family and its Retainers.

>>17083729
"Benalor - Ground Zero," unknown, oil on canvas

The jagged spires of where the technologically advanced capital of Benalor once stood is an awe-inspiring sight, reminding us of the dangers which can come from the Heavens Above. Everyone knows the story of the empire's demise, but the imagery of the ruins is what really drives the tragic tale home. In a single instant, calamity was wrought upon a people with an insatiable, irresistible curiosity.

>>17083723
The Dendric Colossus is a massive, yet surprisingly light and agile tree-like being which traipses along the canopies of the world's forests. It grazes upon the topmost foliage of said canopies, absorbing the gases from the leaves into enormous sacs atop its form, allowing it to become lighter than air to maintain the needed altitude to keep afloat.

Once in a while though, the colossus has to release some of the gas in order not to float too high and to be overtaken by the high-level winds to a more barren place where it cannot survive. When it releases the gases, those nearby describe it as a literal burst of fresh air. However, people have to flee indoors as the release also includes seeds which aren't digested by the colossus during its feeding, which sometimes yields new flora for the area around it.

And a friendly afternoon bump.

Bumping a great thread

>>17086346
Feel free to work on some fluff. I may be otherwise occupied tonight.

Last bump for a while. Time to cook dinner, and then errands galore. Hope the thread will be up later tonight!

Save the thread, some one!

>>17086982
This painting, known as Mother 'mongst the Masses depicts the hustle and bustle of one of the most important buildings in Tabula Gloria. No matter how beautiful or decorative it may appear, the Imperial House of Servitude does not play a ceremonial role but rather a functional one. It is a truly colossal structure and host to the vast majority of administration and Imperial logistics.

Every official Imperial shipment, trade agreement, acquisition of goods or military movement is recorded and stored away in the House of Servitude. A common boast is for everything a man buys or sells in his life, there is a sheet of parchment stored away in the dusty depths of that building. Almost a third of Tabula Gloria's citizens are employed by the House of Servitude and either work within it or in one of its many branches, holding up the bureaucracy of their nation.

>>17086383
Fort Minnamack. Home to the Knights of the Goldenstar and the first line of defense against the Drakonid Highlands. Set deep in a craggy, rocky valley with small mountains at every side, some folks declare that invaders would have better luck trying to besiege Tabula Gloria itself than take over this ancient fortress.

Of course, this image reveals barely half the city. Much of it lies beneath the earth, full of glittering bronze vaults full of scholars tinkering with ancient mechanical artifacts of the Benalor and one of the most wealthy tin mines across the continent. Some even say that Fort Minnamack was originally an Benalor outpost that the Empire has long since built over, a fact supported by the fact that at the darkest depths of the fortress, lies a colossal tunnel, as straight as an arrow's shaft that goes on for countless miles, leading straight into the heart of the Eastern Mountains.

>>17084270
The Gate. It is a simple name for a structure found at the very edges of the Drakonid Highlands, bordering the mountains of the Benalor. Worshipped as a religious idol by the savages of the highlands, For'Channar scholars have come to a simple conclusion. This contraption, colossal beyond all description, is a gateway to another place, used by the Benalor of old to move from one location to another. It has long since rusted and become useless and is likely missing many of its components - the Imperial University has simply decided it is not worth the effort to excavate the artifact.

Although, the theory behind its use only provides more questions, each one more forboding than the last. Wouldn't another gateway be required, in order for this one to be functional? Where does this gateway lie? Why have we not found one, on any part of this continent? Many scholars have decided based on this line of questioning that the Benalor still exist, that their empire continues to this day, at another distant location. What they do in this distant place is unknown, but many fear that if they somehow return through the Gate, they shall bring with their retribution beyond imagining.

>>17088219
"Forest Village at Dusk," unknown, acrylic on canvas

The village of Caladuon is one of the numerous settlements deep in the Phrennoack Forest. Halfway between Fort Deeanday and Alboniset Lake, Caladuon has long since served as a waypoint and trade center for people traveling between the lands of For'Channar and the Vashial Wastes. The old trees were hollowed out over generations in order to create spaces for its people. This painting in particular depicts a rainy night in the village, a common occurrence there.

>>17088335
Though Weylos was known as a martial power in its heyday, there were sure to be those who could tap into the occasional mana stream flowing from Vashial towards Benalor. Though magic was outlawed in Weylos territory, those who managed to manipulate mana without killing themselves were highly regarded among the other empires. However, there was a fine line between respect and resent. You see, Weylosian magic was inherently tied to the user's very subconscious, producing an array of psions and reality-shapers among them.

So powerful were some of these minds that their creations would last ages after the users died. This is an example of what was called a Realshape, a fantastical apparition inexplicable by any course of study, physical, magical, or even spiritual. The Seashard, as the local tribes along the Weylosian coast of the Eastern Sea call it, is pictured here. Legend has it that an anonymous realshaper brought himself to action when Benalor tried a surprise attack through the sea onto the Weylosian coast. Though the Seashard managed to decimate the Benaloran advance, the fact that he openly created and commanded the realshape was grounds enough for his execution in the very magic-phobic community.

His resolve was so strong that it drives the Seashard even today, centuries after Weylos' fall.

>>17088403
"Drakonhelm," oil on canvas, Efrem Bequet

Another of Bequet's many images from the eastern mountainous region, this painting depicts the famous Imperial purge of the Drakonid's ancestral capital of Drakonhelm which ended the Second Drakonid Incursion with a swift and fell blow. This battle, led by then-Chancellor of the Imperial University Prifa Carbane, was at the height of her bloody tenure there. By this time, she ordered the death of every drakonid, male, female, and hatchling, to show a final example to the rebels that they could, and would, be broken. The battle went on much better than even the determined Carbane predicted, routing the scant survivors further eastward to their strongholds near the Benalor ruins.

But the campaign would end as a grim testament to the idea of the drakonids sacrificing many of their own to take out the strongest link. Upon the immediate celebration and holding up the severed head of the fallen drakonid elder, a rap of thunder echoed through the spires and the back of Carbane's head exploded in a crimson mess. There was a drakonid on stand-by the entire battle with his hands on an ancient Benaloran firearm, waiting for the perfect time to take down the leader of the bunch. He only had one shot, and he made it count.

Prifa was brought home to a hero's burial, but a sound victory in their capture of Drakonhelm. As for the drakonids, they celebrated in their own right. The masses who laid their lives down to the Empire's slaughter could rest in peace knowing that their aggressor went down with them.

Almost-midnight bump.

Bedtime bump y'all. Sleep well!

bump cause this thread shall never die also pic related

>>17091805
Good morning and... what pic? Did 4chan eat it again?

And another bump back to page 0 for the afternoon crowd. Last bump I'm gonna give this thread though.

>>17094579
It might come as a surprise to some that ancient Vashial was once a lush, verdant land, especially given the ashen wasteland it is today. Bordered by the Phrennoack Forest to the east, the Shiallan mountains (and the West Ocean just beyond) to the west, the North Sea to the north and the Sea of Tears to the south, it was in the fertile rain shadow of the formerly volcanic mountain range.

I recently had the opportunity to visit the excavation of the city known as Anshial, built at the site of a great waterfall not far from the Shiallan Mountains. Though dried up today, and though the city is in ruins, the sublime beauty of the architecture is astonishing. Vashian architects were ahead of their time, blending the secrets of the arcane with keen engineering to transport and make use of stone in construction that remains even millenia after the nation's cataclysmic fall.

Here is Ephrem Bequet's rendition of the city based on assumptions made during the excavation.

>>17088882
Falmarch. The name alone recalls echoes from a bygone age, when the Three Primeval Nations did war amongst themselves.

Falmarch was once one of the greatest fortresses in Weylos. Unfortunately, as Weylos was a flat country, and a more direct route to Benalor from Vashial than passing through the perilous Phrennoack, Vashian and Benalorian troops frequently marched through or did battle on Weylosian territory. Falmarch was created to dissuade such activity, and served its purpose well for about a decade, before a Vashian force assaulted a band of Benalorians camped nearby. The arcane backlash, combined with years of contamination from Vashian movements in the area, left Falmarch disrupted in time, effectively erasing it from existence.

Now and then, as travelers pass through forgotten Weylos, they may briefly catch a glimpse of a strange fortress, washed out and frozen in time, its phantom guardsmen still standing vigil over its walls. Some claim to have seen outsiders enter, never to be seen again when Falmarch again is lost to the mists.

>>17094624
From the diary of Quent Trisbal, Artist to the Imperial University

I have been seeing less and less commissions come my way, despite my status in the University. Meanwhile, one of my contemporaries has been using his friendship with the Head Explorer of the College of Antiquities, a certain P. Reig Corvinoth, for his personal benefit. He's been snagging more of the commissions when expeditions are made into the old empries and beyond, and quite frankly, I'm confused. While I've been relegated to teaching duties and guest appearances at the local art salons, that hack Bequet's been the one to go out with the crews, doing what I've worked all my life for.

Hell, if it weren't for me getting him into the University in the first place, he'd still be giving tours at the House of Servitude to unruly schoolchildren. And this is the thanks I get...

I will have a talk with Master Vola about this at once.

>>17088335
Imagine my surprise when, while working at a dig in the south of Weylos, I encountered a most peculiar formation. It seemed almost like a spider-like creature composed of panes of water, if such a thing were possible.

I had one of the artists do a mockup for Bequet to work from, but the buffoon cannot capture organic forms at all. The man does excellent landscapes and architectural pieces, but.. Look at this! It's like a child's smearing!

I must see whatever happened to Trisbal. Although nowhere near as prominent as Bequet, at least his skills range from architecture to landscapes AND fauna as well!

>>17094788
I had finally caught up with Master Vola. Apparently, the University's had him on a very rigorous schedule, going down to the southern border of Weylos. I had once heard that the southern Wastes go down to the end of the continent, so I can imagine the arduous trek the Master had.

In any case, I was approached with a new commission at last! Apparently, some poor apprentice had problems depicting a spider! Hah! Granted, the way the Master described it, I partially can't blame the poor thing. Panes of water animated like a spider? That is certainly difficult. Though it's supposedly only a sketch for that damned Bequet to finish, I agreed to do it as long as I also get credit for it. I know that a grudge is a terrible thing to have, but for someone to undermine my position and my name as such? It will take a while to shrug it from my shoulders.

>>17094863
Watchguard Keep sits just off the northern For'channar coast, in the strategic Valdenar Cove. This is a fairly recent construction, but its old Weylosian design is typical of the architect Thalona Davos, said to be descended from that same people. It boasts a garrison of four hundred men and two hundred support staff, including a brigade of Imperial battlemages, and is capable of withstanding a siege for three years. The efficient Weylosian design renders it extremely durable against attacks, whether by men or monster.

>>17095076
I am proud to say that my team's latest expedition to Benalor was an exciting success. Upon this excursion, we traveled to the colossal relic simply called "the Gate." It was difficult getting close to it, given the heavy Drakonid presence there, but we managed to sneak around long enough to find a way inside. There are many rumors about the true nature of the relic, but it may not be the portal into an alternate world in which the Benalor lies in wait for return to this realm, that many of my contemporaries believe it is. Inside was a grim reminder of the Benaloran losses upon its demise. Given the various sizes of skeletons and the wide variety of artifacts, I would like to believe that this served as a shelter in the old empire's final days. Further consultation with Head Explorer Corvinoth and Master Vola is in order to confirm my theories.

We somehow managed to retrieve three suits of, by our best guesses, is Aethergear armors. It is no surprise that a regiment of the hybrid machine-magic battalion was assigned to the refugees here for protection from whatever else was going to come their way. Sadly though, they all perished in what is very likely a prolonged, painful death of starvation, dehydration, and disease.

May the Emperor and the Founder guide these poor souls to their final rest.

>>17083736
"Into the Maw of the Abyss," Efrem Bequet, oil on canvas

This painting depicts the common children's tale about what happens when they are unruly and disrespectful towards their elders. The tale goes that upon adulthood, a person is judged by the Founder for his or her moral fiber. If he or she is not up to snuff, the Ghosts of the Emperors are sent out to drag the poor thing into caverns of the deepest, the most impenetrable darkness of the Depths Beyond.

It is important to note however that the Depths Beyond mentioned in the story is more of a metaphor for a difficult life ahead for a bad child going into adulthood, rather than the actual Depths Beyond, recently discovered and explored by the College of Antiquities.

>>17095181
This image depicts the ruins of an old Benalor outpost along the coast of the Eastern Sea, straddling the delta of the Rustwater, a long winding river that leads down from the mountains. This old ruin is valued for one reason alone; somehow, it's still functional.

Cogs still turn within the old structure, lights still flicker and blink and machinery still hums. Every thirty-three seconds, a thud eminates from below, causing the water to ripple and churn for but a moment, before everything resumes. None of the native wildlife seem remotely upset by the vibration, having adapted to it over the course of centuries. Investigations of the towers reveals deep shafts within, leading far beneath the earth, too narrow for men or even children to climb down then.

Instead, these tunnels produce Limmians. Each tower is maintained by exactly a thousand of the little construct. If one of these Limmians ceases to function for whatever reason, its comrades proceed to dismantle it and drop their remains down the shaft. Within a handful of hours, the Limmian is usually replaced, a brand new shining specimen climbing from the bowels of the tower, to protect the structure from the interference of natural corrosion, the local fauna or flora and of course, us.

>>17096095
After a much deserved rest after the expedition to the Gate, I had Master Vola approve a new foray into the Phrennoack Forest to continue investigations into the strange phenomenon which transported both Prince Asper and, subsequently, my own team to what seemed to be another world. Now that we have documentation of the experience, we came into it better prepared. After the usual stop at Caladuon Village, we set south from there, towards Alboniset Lake. This time, we didn't bother looking too hard, training our minds to merely have the wish to be spirited away, as suggested by our previous encounter (>>17082821, >>17082828, >>17082834).

That approach worked much better than anticipated. Before we knew it, the skies changed from their usual blue to a more ethereal range of hues. Another moon appeared, and the woods seemed larger and MUCH thicker than before. Far in the mountainous distance was a castle, classic of early For'Channarian design, being slowly overrun by the voracious flora. Slowly, we made our way there, myself in the lead, battlemages at my flank, and my support crew in the rear.

This time we enlisted not only my trusty companions Quent and Laren, but also another artist, the esteemed Efrem Bequet. Apparently Quent and Efrem are at odds for whatever reason, but are at least still working vigorously to record every detail they can...

>Entry ends there

>>17066065
HOLY FUCK!
Op's pic is Lockjaw from Masters of the Universe. His wrench says "Triclops".

>>17066780


The act of living is a trial in and of itself with the only true reward being to die peacefully in one's bed of no other means save time and weariness.

And yet even as we live and, more importantly, even as we dream there are things that stalk always in want to sat their hunger. As such, I shall tell you of the Dream Rippers.

It is taught unto us that sleep is merely a form of death from which we wake with the rising of the sun and that the haunts of dreams are the spirits who've cleverly found a way into our world if only in the worlds that exist in our mind. Many of these spirits are mindless but some are clever and realize where and what they are and use it to great advantage learning of your fears and mimicking them as they stalk you in the dreamlands till they corner and slay you.

The worst part about it is that you don't actcually die when devoured. Your body lives, to wake with the rising of the sun a dream mage who delves into your mind will find nothing, a vast empty void that can never be filled again.

The Deity of Dinner.

Fluff it.

>>17096692
Hail Harken'Yan, god of Laughter, Peace, and Dinner. Ascended from his mortal bonds by the power of the ancients, his teachings call for revelry and lending aid to those who need it. The faithful are sent to his domain, where they find what all true warriors strive for. Those who act against his plans are sent to a plane of eternal torment, forced to scrub the surfaces of an eternally grimy keep.

Thread reached image limit. New thread here: >>17098851

>>17098859
Dammit. Wrong name for the post. Carry on.