MONSTERS
The lands lay accursed, roaves and bands of monsters wander the Trenchscape, searching for their next victims. Not only must one be wary of fellow man, but of the things that skulk about during the long night. What were once bases and pillboxes inhabited by soldiers of ancient armies, now have become the dwellings of these abhorent abominations.
Angel
Angel Sovereign
The Angels
Roaming the lands of the Holy Dominion, Angels serve as guardians to the holy capital of Vaocano City, the City of the Seraph. Little is known about them, much of their information being reserved for only the highest of the priestly class. From encounters people have had with them - they are said to tower above people, measuring somewhere over 13 feet tall. Their voices are eerie, speaking with multiple at once, with it sounding vaguely feminine. They attack with wild and brutal strikes, using heavy spears to impale their enemies or ripping them to shreds with their sharp talons.
Roaming the lands of the Holy Dominion, Angels serve as guardians to the holy capital of Vaocano City, the City of the Seraph. Little is known about them, much of their information being reserved for only the highest of the priestly class. From encounters people have had with them - they are said to tower above people, measuring somewhere over 13 feet tall. Their voices are eerie, speaking with multiple at once, with it sounding vaguely feminine. They attack with wild and brutal strikes, using heavy spears to impale their enemies or ripping them to shreds with their sharp talons.
The Dragonkin
Terrible and wretched beasts from the ancient ages, originating from a great desert to the far north. It is said the the Dragons and their kin ruled over mankind for many generations, before being driven out by a Great Lord. The Dragons, the Drakes, the Wyverns, and all manner of scaled horrors, scurried from the desert lands with hopes of finding a place far away. Some made their way to the continent, and became tied to it. Similar to the Elderkin, they too have been morphed from their original forms, but now rejoice in their new flesh.
Terrible and wretched beasts from the ancient ages, originating from a great desert to the far north. It is said the the Dragons and their kin ruled over mankind for many generations, before being driven out by a Great Lord. The Dragons, the Drakes, the Wyverns, and all manner of scaled horrors, scurried from the desert lands with hopes of finding a place far away. Some made their way to the continent, and became tied to it. Similar to the Elderkin, they too have been morphed from their original forms, but now rejoice in their new flesh.
Drake
Drake (Bloodsoaked)
Mire Nymph
Holofernes
Clink-Clink
Ogun
Goreroot Sprite
The Elderkin
Before that of the Idro and Khuzang’aro, before that of the Barbed-Beard and the Djenling, and even before the coming of the demon and dragon - they were the first beings, emerging onto the continent from an strange direction, and thusly were tied and bound to it. They have no unifying appearance, their very physicality changing as with the continent. Many have called them by all manner of names: fairies, nymphs, gnomes, and sprites; but, they are truly known as the Elderkin.
Before that of the Idro and Khuzang’aro, before that of the Barbed-Beard and the Djenling, and even before the coming of the demon and dragon - they were the first beings, emerging onto the continent from an strange direction, and thusly were tied and bound to it. They have no unifying appearance, their very physicality changing as with the continent. Many have called them by all manner of names: fairies, nymphs, gnomes, and sprites; but, they are truly known as the Elderkin.
The Years of Agony have truly changed the face of the continent, its once verdant fields reduced to mud and horror - so too have the appearance of the Elderkin been changed. Their once beautiful visages, warped to match that of the world. Many have grown spiteful of the new inhabitants, save for the Barbed-Beard, for they alone are the only ones who fight on behalf of the Elderkin. Despite this, many Elderkin still adhere to their old traditions of “welcoming” and “given service”.
Ruling over the Elderkin are the Mire Nymphs - old goddesses of the land whose once beautiful forms have been altered severely. Possessing metal bodies where once there was soft skin. Even in a state of wretchedness, the Mire Nymph still acts compassionately to those who care for the restoration of the world.
The Holofernes, great two-headed giants, known as the peaceful tyrant, rule over small outland communities - ensuring harmony amongst the community through their great clubs. One head is crowned with olive branches, the diplomatic judicator - the other head crowned with laurel wreathes, the swift and terrible inquisitor.
The gnomes of Sucra-Loca, the Clink-Clinks are humble, little craftsmen, no higher than a foot. Keeping to their sacred tradition of cleaning the homes of inhabitants and leaving gifts, they are generally seen as little signs of good luck. Nowadays, the gifts they commonly leave include, bullets and canned food, or polish weapons as a small service.
Ruling over the Elderkin are the Mire Nymphs - old goddesses of the land whose once beautiful forms have been altered severely. Possessing metal bodies where once there was soft skin. Even in a state of wretchedness, the Mire Nymph still acts compassionately to those who care for the restoration of the world.
The Holofernes, great two-headed giants, known as the peaceful tyrant, rule over small outland communities - ensuring harmony amongst the community through their great clubs. One head is crowned with olive branches, the diplomatic judicator - the other head crowned with laurel wreathes, the swift and terrible inquisitor.
The gnomes of Sucra-Loca, the Clink-Clinks are humble, little craftsmen, no higher than a foot. Keeping to their sacred tradition of cleaning the homes of inhabitants and leaving gifts, they are generally seen as little signs of good luck. Nowadays, the gifts they commonly leave include, bullets and canned food, or polish weapons as a small service.
The Gorn
There was once a time when only three main powers fought one another: the Dominion of the Seraphim, the Warlords of the Trenchscape, and the Djenling Antitheist. The fighting had pressed on most cruelly, devolving into barbarity and near hopelessness. When most thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. A portion of the Spear Mountains was “moved over”, unveiling a great and inhospitable desert of red sands, known as the S’Baaki. Emerging from the deserts and mountains came bands of the Gorn: the Desert Ogres.
True Gorn measure around 10 to 11 feet tall, their bodies packed with heavy musculature. They rellish in bloodshed and war, following the Faith of the Red Wheel - a philosophy of war being cyclical and unending, and therefore natural. As such, war should not only be an active part of life, but actively enjoyed. They are known to torture victims while spouting sayings of their philosophy, either leaving them in bloody pulps or devouring them - leaving massive hills of feces which they also worship. The Gorn are also the only living thing to have actively killed Angels with ease.
Gigagorn are of the same species, and to greater extant, no different from any other Gorn - save for their height. They measure 15 feet tall, but their gigantism has left them with a smaller muscle mass. They are usually unable to speak - only being able to scream and roar. This has led them to be ostracized by other Gorn. They are found in the far off lands and hidden places. Despite their relation to the Gorn, they are actually less prone to violence.
Babagors were once thought to be a Gornic infant, but after much research, it was discovered they are actually Gorns with dwarfism - despite this, the name has become linked with the creature. Babagor are insane little beings only standing 3 feet tall. They are irratic, having no true consciousness, only being kept around by Gorn as either fodder or snacks. Babagors are so foolish, it has been proven that if a circle was drawn around them, they would not be able to escape. Some Babagors are born with a strange ability; if those Babagor are killed, they burst with a noxious firey blast, scalding all bistanders around them.
There was once a time when only three main powers fought one another: the Dominion of the Seraphim, the Warlords of the Trenchscape, and the Djenling Antitheist. The fighting had pressed on most cruelly, devolving into barbarity and near hopelessness. When most thought it couldn’t get worse, it did. A portion of the Spear Mountains was “moved over”, unveiling a great and inhospitable desert of red sands, known as the S’Baaki. Emerging from the deserts and mountains came bands of the Gorn: the Desert Ogres.
True Gorn measure around 10 to 11 feet tall, their bodies packed with heavy musculature. They rellish in bloodshed and war, following the Faith of the Red Wheel - a philosophy of war being cyclical and unending, and therefore natural. As such, war should not only be an active part of life, but actively enjoyed. They are known to torture victims while spouting sayings of their philosophy, either leaving them in bloody pulps or devouring them - leaving massive hills of feces which they also worship. The Gorn are also the only living thing to have actively killed Angels with ease.
Gigagorn are of the same species, and to greater extant, no different from any other Gorn - save for their height. They measure 15 feet tall, but their gigantism has left them with a smaller muscle mass. They are usually unable to speak - only being able to scream and roar. This has led them to be ostracized by other Gorn. They are found in the far off lands and hidden places. Despite their relation to the Gorn, they are actually less prone to violence.
Babagors were once thought to be a Gornic infant, but after much research, it was discovered they are actually Gorns with dwarfism - despite this, the name has become linked with the creature. Babagor are insane little beings only standing 3 feet tall. They are irratic, having no true consciousness, only being kept around by Gorn as either fodder or snacks. Babagors are so foolish, it has been proven that if a circle was drawn around them, they would not be able to escape. Some Babagors are born with a strange ability; if those Babagor are killed, they burst with a noxious firey blast, scalding all bistanders around them.
Gorn Handgonner
Gigagorn Clubber
Gigagorn Cannoneer
Babagor
The Bellows Maid
Streaks of foul chemical gasses line the sky in great grid-like patterns, their wretched effects raining down from above. The Bellows Maid, the witches of the Trenchscape, ride upon massive pairs of bellows, pumping a miasma of chlorine, phosgene, and mustard gas from these devices. Sailing across the skies at blistering speeds, divisions of aircrafts have been made for the exclusive purpose of hunting them down. Because of them, when not choked with the black smog of factories or warfare, the sky perpetually has a sickly green hue to it and gas storms hurl through across the lands. Their bird-like appearance may have been inflicted an after effect of some ancient pact, allowing them the powers of flight.
Streaks of foul chemical gasses line the sky in great grid-like patterns, their wretched effects raining down from above. The Bellows Maid, the witches of the Trenchscape, ride upon massive pairs of bellows, pumping a miasma of chlorine, phosgene, and mustard gas from these devices. Sailing across the skies at blistering speeds, divisions of aircrafts have been made for the exclusive purpose of hunting them down. Because of them, when not choked with the black smog of factories or warfare, the sky perpetually has a sickly green hue to it and gas storms hurl through across the lands. Their bird-like appearance may have been inflicted an after effect of some ancient pact, allowing them the powers of flight.
The Butcher
Tales have been spread amongst camps to beware the smell of succulent meats and spices when traveling through the trenches - for tracking such a scent may lead to the lair of the Butcher. Massive, fat, and horrifying, the Butcher travels far and wide to satiate a never-ending hunger. Carrying a wider array of knives along with great flame thrower, they use these tools to filet and broil any victims they come across. They jovial eagerness to eat has been described to be the most horrifying aspect about them. When traversing the maze-like trenches, it is wise for one to carry about a bundle of spices, for the only way to escape the hunger of a Butcher is to trade such spices for safe passage. If not opposed to the heretical act of cannibalism, some have described Butcher as being some of the greatest chefs and cooks to grace the lands - them using any and all available materials to make a true feast fit for kings.
Tales have been spread amongst camps to beware the smell of succulent meats and spices when traveling through the trenches - for tracking such a scent may lead to the lair of the Butcher. Massive, fat, and horrifying, the Butcher travels far and wide to satiate a never-ending hunger. Carrying a wider array of knives along with great flame thrower, they use these tools to filet and broil any victims they come across. They jovial eagerness to eat has been described to be the most horrifying aspect about them. When traversing the maze-like trenches, it is wise for one to carry about a bundle of spices, for the only way to escape the hunger of a Butcher is to trade such spices for safe passage. If not opposed to the heretical act of cannibalism, some have described Butcher as being some of the greatest chefs and cooks to grace the lands - them using any and all available materials to make a true feast fit for kings.
The Revenant
Unwise is it whistle in the dead of night, for something might whistle back. Low whistles and the scraping of a heavy iron blade against the ground, the telltale sounds of a Revenant. The act of killing is a commonplace amongst the Trenchscape, at this point, it would be harder to find someone who has not partook in the act. But, for someone to truly revel in bloodguiltiness, following the Path of the Red Wheel, only one way will open up for them.
Dying with this unquienched bloodthirst is what leads to the creation of Revenants. It is within old sunken bunkers and places of death that one may be found, but it isn’t uncommon for one of these being to emerge from their crypts, finding new hunting grounds within the outskirts of villages or towns. They are known to hang trohpies of those they slay across themselves as little trinkets, whether it be fingers, scalps, or other appendages.
Unwise is it whistle in the dead of night, for something might whistle back. Low whistles and the scraping of a heavy iron blade against the ground, the telltale sounds of a Revenant. The act of killing is a commonplace amongst the Trenchscape, at this point, it would be harder to find someone who has not partook in the act. But, for someone to truly revel in bloodguiltiness, following the Path of the Red Wheel, only one way will open up for them.
Dying with this unquienched bloodthirst is what leads to the creation of Revenants. It is within old sunken bunkers and places of death that one may be found, but it isn’t uncommon for one of these being to emerge from their crypts, finding new hunting grounds within the outskirts of villages or towns. They are known to hang trohpies of those they slay across themselves as little trinkets, whether it be fingers, scalps, or other appendages.
The Silverskin
Collectors of trinkets, purveyors of valueables; all attained through blackhearted means. The Silverskin, a cutpurse and kleptomaniac, steals any valuables it comes across, whether it belongs to someone or not does not matter to it. Like magpie, it is drawn to the allure of these objects, drawing upon its greed for all that shines. Finding a Silverskin den is challenge in of itself - tucked away in the farthest reaches, their dens are set up with all manner of traps and snares, for they value their horde to the greatest degrees. While gangly, the pack a surprising amount of strength in their bodies, allowing them swat any trespasser away with ease.
If one manages to defeat a Silverskin, they will be left with the Silverskin’s vast horde of treasure. Every shiny coin, every artifact, every treasure, there for the taking. One might feel the calling - the need to protect such valuables, the feeling to guard such treasures from thieves and blagguards who’d try taking what was rightfully earned.
Collectors of trinkets, purveyors of valueables; all attained through blackhearted means. The Silverskin, a cutpurse and kleptomaniac, steals any valuables it comes across, whether it belongs to someone or not does not matter to it. Like magpie, it is drawn to the allure of these objects, drawing upon its greed for all that shines. Finding a Silverskin den is challenge in of itself - tucked away in the farthest reaches, their dens are set up with all manner of traps and snares, for they value their horde to the greatest degrees. While gangly, the pack a surprising amount of strength in their bodies, allowing them swat any trespasser away with ease.
If one manages to defeat a Silverskin, they will be left with the Silverskin’s vast horde of treasure. Every shiny coin, every artifact, every treasure, there for the taking. One might feel the calling - the need to protect such valuables, the feeling to guard such treasures from thieves and blagguards who’d try taking what was rightfully earned.
The Warlock
The arts of magic, already seen as heresy, can degrade even the strongest wills - tranforming those who dabble in the black arts into strange forms. The dark interest of magicry leading practitioners to performing dark arts - turning them into Warlocks. Captivated by the goal of truly mastering and harnessing magic to the highest degree, Warlocks have the abilty to enthrall and enslave whoever they wish in order to serve as catalyst for magicry. Both experimentation and harvesting are used upon these thralls, so long as it furthers a Warlock’s goal to power. In enslaving others, they themselves are enslaved to finding the answers to unaswerable question - what is the truth of magic?
The arts of magic, already seen as heresy, can degrade even the strongest wills - tranforming those who dabble in the black arts into strange forms. The dark interest of magicry leading practitioners to performing dark arts - turning them into Warlocks. Captivated by the goal of truly mastering and harnessing magic to the highest degree, Warlocks have the abilty to enthrall and enslave whoever they wish in order to serve as catalyst for magicry. Both experimentation and harvesting are used upon these thralls, so long as it furthers a Warlock’s goal to power. In enslaving others, they themselves are enslaved to finding the answers to unaswerable question - what is the truth of magic?
The War Widow
When traversing the muddy remnants of the Trenchscape, it would do one well to be weary of the sound of wedding bells. Clad in a mourning dress, black as night, and adorned with the old wilting remains of wedding flowers; War Widows ceaselessly stalk the war torn ruins of old battlegrounds - driven forward by intense wrath, revenge, and sadness.
Back when the war first began, it was forbidden for women to enter the armed forces, so it was their husbands who were sent to the frontlines. In the chaos and bloodshed, many men would lose their lives - torn to shreds by artillery and wire alike. Unable to seek final consolation of their husbands whereabouts or deaths, the newly made widows would arm themselves and find their ways to the frontlines - despite the restrictions in place. Their ceaseless rage would lead the War Widows to slaughter the enemy forces with sheer brutality, but this would not stop their bloodlust.
In time, they would turn against their own side - blaming the generals and officers who sent their husbands to die to war in the first place. The amount of damage they would cause and the amount of lives they would take dwindled the number of soldiers heavily. Laws were passed, allowing women to join the armed forces, and more so, couples were kept in the same unit to boost morale; but more importantly, if one of the couple were to die, it was thought that at least their proximity and the knowledge of how they passed would help them move on faster. While the number of War Widows has dropped, there still roams many, on the constant search for their husband.
When traversing the muddy remnants of the Trenchscape, it would do one well to be weary of the sound of wedding bells. Clad in a mourning dress, black as night, and adorned with the old wilting remains of wedding flowers; War Widows ceaselessly stalk the war torn ruins of old battlegrounds - driven forward by intense wrath, revenge, and sadness.
Back when the war first began, it was forbidden for women to enter the armed forces, so it was their husbands who were sent to the frontlines. In the chaos and bloodshed, many men would lose their lives - torn to shreds by artillery and wire alike. Unable to seek final consolation of their husbands whereabouts or deaths, the newly made widows would arm themselves and find their ways to the frontlines - despite the restrictions in place. Their ceaseless rage would lead the War Widows to slaughter the enemy forces with sheer brutality, but this would not stop their bloodlust.
In time, they would turn against their own side - blaming the generals and officers who sent their husbands to die to war in the first place. The amount of damage they would cause and the amount of lives they would take dwindled the number of soldiers heavily. Laws were passed, allowing women to join the armed forces, and more so, couples were kept in the same unit to boost morale; but more importantly, if one of the couple were to die, it was thought that at least their proximity and the knowledge of how they passed would help them move on faster. While the number of War Widows has dropped, there still roams many, on the constant search for their husband.
The Galvanized Saint
While heavily guarded by ancient orders, even the most stalwart of sentinals can succumb to unobservance - leading to ancient relics being stolen away. Necromancers prize the corpses of saints - regardless of whether of holy origin, be it Angelirium or Pagan; for even in death do holy men and women possess power - their holy corpses bearing the marks of the miracles they had performed in life. Augmented with spellcraft and machinery, the Galvanized Saints become relic hunters, either stealing objects or the bodies of other saints to further fuel the plans of Anakruthos.
While heavily guarded by ancient orders, even the most stalwart of sentinals can succumb to unobservance - leading to ancient relics being stolen away. Necromancers prize the corpses of saints - regardless of whether of holy origin, be it Angelirium or Pagan; for even in death do holy men and women possess power - their holy corpses bearing the marks of the miracles they had performed in life. Augmented with spellcraft and machinery, the Galvanized Saints become relic hunters, either stealing objects or the bodies of other saints to further fuel the plans of Anakruthos.
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