A collection of creatures by Abram Vistorio, Ranger of the West

The Cackling Knight

A looming figure wearing dark armor that bears the scars and dents of many battles, he remains nearly silent, save for his bone-chilling laugh. He is said to issue a challenge with a pointing of his blade, and relentlessly pursue his target. He never runs, yet he always seems to be right on the heels of those who have caught his gaze, his cackling laughter becomes a constant reminder that he continues his pursuit.

One legend states that the knight was once sworn to the personal guard of Emperor Astor Eldstone, and after the Bastard Reynard usurped the crown, the knight was relieved of his duty. He disappeared into the wilderness, and many thought he had gone off to live out his days in solitude. However, years later a creature wearing his armor began showing up and testing the courage and prowess of knights and defenders across the Realm. Despite several accounts of being bested or slain in combat, the Cackling Knight continued to reappear.

Another legend claims he is a servant of Vardur, or that he is an embodiment of the aspects of the Lord of War. He strides forth out of the night, looking for those who are of great courage and willing to fight to their last breath. He bestows a blessing upon those he finds worthy, only to disappear into the night once more…

Dretchyn

From a distance they appear as children until you grow close and notice a terrible light in their eyes, a light that is said to hold the weak-willed transfixed until far too late. Tales of them speak of the creatures lingering at the edges of settlements or in darkened alleys, waiting for potential victims to come near.

It is said that such horrors arise when a pregnant woman is slain, and the child within refuses to follow their mother into the afterlife. Instead, the child becomes a haunting figure that lurks about, killing those who are unfortunate enough to encounter it. Their victims were often found without eyes or tongue, and the unfortunate ones are allowed to live through the encounter.

Such creatures only find peace when those that stole their chance of life have been brought to justice.

The Forlorn Beggar

In the high days of the Empire, many of the large cities were rife with beggars and those who would sleep in alleys and beneath parked wagons. While they would often be forcibly escorted to less affluent sections of the city, seeing some linger about outside the gates of a manor was not uncommon.

Many stories of such individuals being treated poorly trickled through the taverns, with more than a few merchants and nobles drawing the scorn of the common folk. Another related story spoke of the Forlorn Beggar, an individual who would appear wrapped in filthy rags and a cloak, often displaying signs of a terrible wasting illness. 

The Beggar is said to target those who had previously mistreated the destitute and downtrodden. He would ask them for a single copper coin, and tell them that he could not recall the last time he had eaten. Depending upon their response would determine what occurred next.

Those who parted with a coin would find a gift waiting for them the next morning, sometimes upon their pillow. However, those who shunned him or enacted violence would awaken in the middle of the night to find the cloaked figure standing at the foot of their bed…

The Lonely Doll

Those who have survived a meeting with such creatures describe them as having a vague semblance of some sort of doll or marionette with their strings cut. Their movements are jerky and slow, their voices like a child learning to speak.

I’m told by survivors that as long as you keep the doll within your sight, she moves slowly, like a painful orchestra of a puppet without strings. However, woe be to those who turn their back to her, as she will spring upon her victims in an instant.

I have found tales of such creatures circulating from centuries ago, with one of the earliest tales speaking of an old puppet maker who was unable to pay taxes to a local lord. In one version of the tale, the tax collector and the craftsman get into a fight and the craftsman ends up dead, and in another story, the craftsman drinks himself to death. In both tales, the puppet maker leaves behind several wooden marionettes who watch him perish, and in their loneliness, they become horrid creatures. How much of that is true, I cannot determine.

The Hollow Tribe

An old Skraata named Gorlok told me a story that circulates among the Ughol.

A small tribe of Ughol dwelled within a small valley between two mountains. For many years the hunting there was good, with goat, deer, and bison being plentiful. However, one year the winter was especially long and terrible, and the paths out of the valley were blocked with snow. The creatures that would migrate into the valley would normally show up in late Blooming, however, the snows remained, and the tribe began to run out of food.

Chillmorn came and went, and the snow still blocked the passes, nothing grew in the cold ground, and the tribe began to grow hungry.

Finally, in late Firstsow a small caravan entered the valley, bringing with them various goods. The tribe invited them into the camp, and the driver of the caravan offered up what few sacks of grain he had to share in the night’s repast. However, as the travelers sat around the nightly fire, they were attacked and added to the cooking pots. 

When the tribe’s spirit mother saw what they had done, and how they had used a guise of hospitality to commit such a treacherous act, she cursed them all and flung herself into the fire.

The tribe was cursed to never again feel a full belly, to never again feel the warmth of the sun, to never again feel the compassion of others, and they could never rest. Ever since, the Hollow Tribe wanders the Frontier, hiding in the dark, unable to satiate the gnawing hunger, unable to rest, and some say unable to die…

Huranthi, the Forgeblight

Born of fire and darkness, these mischievous creatures find their way into the warm embrace of a forge, where they linger, mostly unseen, and are a curse upon blacksmiths.

The Huranthi enjoy eating iron and are often blamed for blades being brittle, or for projects suddenly developing holes that may curiously resemble bite marks. As their skin resembles coals and they are constantly wreathed in flame, they are difficult to detect within a forge.

One method to prevent a forge from becoming home to such troublesome pests is to attain Marath’s blessing. They fear his hammer and his wrath and will flee to the depths of the earth rather than face his gaze.

Kalakhra, the Deer that Walks on Two Legs

While the forests of the Frontier are dangerous at night on their own accord, there are creatures that would lure the unsuspecting to their doom. One such creature is the Kalakhra, which is able to mimic the voice of children, and some even claim it can make the sound of a wailing infant. 

From the tales I have heard, it resembles a deer standing on two legs, and when it chooses to walk on four, it is nearly unmistakable from a normal buck, save for the creature’s antlers are a tangled mass. It uses its powers of mimicry to lure the unsuspecting into hazardous areas before goring them.

The creature feeds on flesh and is said to be insatiable. The Jhani’ada have a tale of such a creature slowly picking off members of a tribe one by one, stalking their camps and making sounds similar to those that were lost in previous nights, leaving behind only a lone survivor.

Tolavai, the Face Thieves

“Hang bells upon your door, so that the tolavai do not creep in and steal your face.” Before the Curse, these creatures often plagued the far-flung settlements of the Empire, emerging from whatever dark place they dwelled in, creeping into villages and towns in the night, and stealing the visage of their slumbering victims. Out here on the Frontier, tales of them are more common.

Bells seem to have two effects with the tolavai, the first is that they are tempted by the sound, and will often stop and ring them, completely forgetting their original intention. The second is that the bells provide a warning to the inhabitants of a house that such a creature lurks upon their doorstep.

Those who have seen such creatures before they commit their foul deeds describe their faces as “twisted mash of scars” or “like kneaded bread dough”. However, after stealing the faces of their victims, the creatures seem to cavort around during the early hours, in some odd mockery of people living their lives. Victims who survive the gruesome assault often find food half-eaten strewn about their kitchen, their work tools scattered about, and on rare occasions mention in passing that someone noticed them dancing in the streets before sunrise.

Vreshka, the Dream Hag

She lingers at the edge of sleep, this ancient hag dressed in tattered cloth, smelling like an unfamiliar spice, her three hands bearing gnarled claws. She awaits in the places between, patiently watching for people to drift away to the realms of dreams and nightmares. Once they begin their journey to the halls of reverie, she snatches them up, catching them in her iron embrace like a withered spider, while they are paralyzed and unable to resist.

While the dreamers are held in her horrid embrace, she whispers terrible things into the ears of her prey. As she speaks such terrible things, she writes omens into their flesh with her long, jagged talons. Once she has finished with her cryptic depiction of things to come, she kisses the leaking wounds, and slowly fades away.

When her victims awaken, they find strange glyphs, symbols, and half-words scratched into their skin. In the cold northlands, the dreamers will often rush to their elders, in hopes that their nightmarish ordeal is capable of being interpreted and the elders can glean some wisdom from their anguish. In other places of the realm, the recipients of her prophetic blessings attempt to conceal her visit, believing that she only brings terrible omens and is a sign of bargains with dark forces.

A wise old Skraata advised me that the way his people always kept the Vreshka at bay was to sweep their houses just before sunset and hang sweet-smelling herbs above their beds. The sweeping is said to symbolize letting go of the troubles accumulated over the day and the herbs lull the dreamer into a pleasant slumber.