ROAN RPG - The Bestiary Part I

    What you are about to read is a careful composition of the unfortunately real creatures that inhabit this world. I, Makari the Brownfeather, will likely be deceased by the time this has reached proper publication. In an age of industrialization - it is fairly easy to forget that we inherited the world from its original natives. Nature did not breed the Equine, rather the Equine had conquered the wild after it had seemingly, almost mysteriously, appeared into existence. Whether the result of evolution or magic, the answer is unneeded. But rather, I ask the question - who is the monster? The golden meadows were once homes of many forests and creatures. The ocean-kin have since fled into the deep, frightened by the large steel steeds that now gallop on the surface above them. 

    In this writing, you will find my own personal studies and observations as a former monster hunter myself, back from when the world needed beings like myself. Shunned, cold and living in a decrepit yurt, I have only one last ambition before I pass away. For I imagine that with all the technology and advancement in the world, it will only encourage monsters to return to their previous homelands. The sins of your advancements and progression will be greatly judged by nature itself, the least I can do is give you the tools to defend yourself when the time comes or when you eventually leave the comforting beds of your civilizations. I encourage you all to venture out of the world being created around you and to embrace the one that is being replaced by it while it still lasts. 

    A Brief Introduction On Monsters

    There are many monsters in existence. Since the Equine have come to colonize the land, they have encountered great resistance. The first pioneers and pilgrims of these lands met shallow graves early on in life. Few dared to venture into the territory of native creatures to retrieve the bodies, so remember that the next time you are feeling brave and wander deep into the wildernesses. In all truth, we are all monsters - for we destroy their homes and bring silver to their flesh. At first, the creatures acted entirely in self defense and to protect their territories from intruders. Being forced away from their motherlands have turned them into furious, ugly creatures. To the darkness of caves, the top of mountains and the depths of the deep seas - they began a reverse process of evolution. So few in number, when they were further hunted - it became more about survival, as some monsters now hunt with a purpose beyond filling their stomachs. Aggression towards them have forced their talons into the necks of Equine for the sake of gain. 

    Contrary to folklore, silver blades and bolts and arrows are only beneficial to fighting monsters made out of evil, dark magic. A silver sword is rare to come by, owned by collectors surely - but few in working condition. The ones found in museums were probably embedded deeply in the guts of monsters before being retrieved by huntsman. Arrows and bolts are usually just annoyances to certain creatures of dark magical substance, such as the Golems - but they make for great distractions. Truly, the best way to combat being ripped to shreds by a corpse eater or burned alive by a fire elemental is to simply avoid them at all costs. But, for those eager for adventure or colonists on a new frontier, they are the first enemy and only true enemy. In recent years, monsters have become utilized as weapons - captured, caught and isolated. Their anger for Equine kind being allowed to boil and then, like a true weapon, they are unleashed in a surprising act of war. 

    Battlefields did not exist centuries ago, back in the times of harmony. Monsters did not create politics or raise armies. Be wary of bloodied beaches, battered plains - littered with corpses. For if the mysterious spirits do not scare you away, surely the corpse eaters will. The weapons that once hunted their kind, use the same kind of ores that create the machinery of today. This scares some creatures away, but invites them in closer in the more remote lands and edges of the frontier. For others, the more predatory kind that hunt equine for game - it only lures them near more than the scent of blood itself. You may say the world as progressing, but as empires and nations turn against each other - the monsters merely believe they are the next target. 

    The Exiled Beasts of the Wilderness

    In the deep woods, predators and prey alike fled from the Equine, who galloped toward them in suits of armour. Loud clanging echoed between the trees, turning even the most peaceful and pacifist animals mad. Without homes, in permanent exile - their malice grows. Some creatures were worshiped and embraced by hunters, taken in as god-like figures. However, the wooden totem poles and shrines that inhabit little known roads and dirt paths serve as warnings rather than guardians in the times of today. 

    The Rog - banished to the highest mountains of the world, they only recently have been drawn into returning to the wildernesses. Attracted by fire, rather than being afraid of it - they have been known to ambush weary and tired travelers, explorers and hunters who set up campsites near small rivers, creeks and streams. Now, the popular name of an alcohol enjoyed by Kelpies, the Rogs were the symbol of hunters and trappers. Often believed to lure small animals and lesser monsters in, their idols resemble large antlers on a bear-like body. You may recognize this image better on a bottle of Rog Liquor, true - but the image is not entirely falsified. 

    Their true appearance is far less intimidating, but all the more beautiful. Easy to spot, yet ever so elusive - a Rog has the features of both a deer and a goat, but with an incredible height and stride. Their golden antlers made them targets of trophy hunters, to nab a golden antler or even a spec off of one was believed to grant good luck and an eternity of heightened senses. Rogs are smart, however - luring their victims and enemies away from campfires and into the mountains or deep behind the thickest of trees. Their antlers, when hit against a stump or rock, produce a beautiful ringing sound. Once a token of good luck on a late night hunt and the inspiration for many songs and even instruments, now the most terrifying thing you can hear by the riverside before slumber. 

    Rogs can be defeated by merely being stabbed or hit with enough arrows, but are seemingly vulnerable to magic above all. The enchanted antlers can indeed be used by alchemists to create a gorgeous coat of golden paint - that can be used to reinforce weapons and armour. However, consumption of such via the mixing into medical ailments by a herbalist, will usually result in a horrible rash and persistent sneezing.

    Forest Wanderers - thought to be a type of elemental by amateur alchemists, falsely at that, these dastardly shapeshifters are the products of many horror stories and cautionary tales told to young colts to scare them from wandering about forests unattended. Often taking the form of beautiful members of the opposite gender, but with thin hooves and the lower body of a deer - they prey exclusively on those who move about the woods on their own, unguided by talismans or lantern light. Folklore states that she is a sworn enemy to the Rog and that the hunter-followers of the Rog were constantly in "spiritual battle" against the temptations of Forest Wanderers. Thus, why it is now a tradition by Equine standards, to always hunt in groups of at least three.

   With the ability to take on the form of any desirable gender and species, they would provoke loners to approach them for romantic fulfillment. But those thin hooves would then crush whoever dared to come near, killing them instantly. Their body would be scattered among the wilderness, to further provide aesthetic atmosphere to their homes, perhaps. Ancient druids would carve a deer's tail into trees to mark sightings and locations where she has appeared to them. Unfortunately for herbalists, she guards the most valuable and precious of herbs from outsiders. But, as mentioned before - they are easily avoidable when moving in large groups and in a large contrast to Rogs - fire is the most terrifying thing to them. Metal talismans forged and melded out of steel and flame will keep her away no matter what. Culturally, you can find these for sale just about anywhere as souvenirs and knick knacks.

    Poohdini  are easily the strangest thing to encounter in this world. They are ridiculously happy tiny little blobs that greatly populate Roan. These blobs very in color depending on the element they closely represent. Æther eaters, they appeared soon after the Ascension and are the living annoyance of spell casters. Poohdini's find and snuggle anypony they come across for their Æther reserves. While they look harmless, it is to be warned they are extremely dangerous due to their volatile habits of duplicating. When they have consumed enough Æther, they split with an explosive burst of their elements. Not all splits are dangerous, as a blue Poohdini splits and drenches those nearby in water. Many pranksters enjoy placing a few of these guys in the most inconvenient of pockets and shelves, near beds are the most common. Truly a rude awakening for those in slumber. One strange aspect of these slimes are their expression, as they are complete and utter happiness which suddenly change to the most awkward faces of confusion and betrayal when struck with a painful blow. Not many know why this is, but it certainly hasn't stopped it from being any less hilarious.

    Tomb Poogie - are hogs that are generally docile and melancholy, the supposed pets of Kukeri. Treading through graveyards and cemeteries throughout our established world. They are hard to rile up, many simply ignore them and as a result, they do no harm. However, disturbing specific tombs or mausoleums will bring these sows into a berserk state, the fur on their backs suddenly hardening and becoming prickly like razor blades - charging toward the trespassers with a burst of incredible speed. They make amusing hats.

    Wolps - utterly harmless, but can be omens of bad luck and oncoming darkness in one's life. A strange hybrid, constructed of a small mammal body, with wings, antlers, tails and fangs. Come in many varieties and are thought to be the result of magic. Origin entirely unknown, perhaps the humorous creations of a drunken sorcerer - what is known, is that they are likely younger than Equine settlers. To see this in the wilderness is especially terrifying, as it is considered by many as an omen of death. I am inclined to believe this is true, but this has not stopped people from stuffing them and selling them as ornaments. Beware, a stuffed Wolp foot is actually tremendous good luck, but a entire one will only bring misfortune in one's life. Considered a hex, stuffed Wolps can be given as gifts to people to curse them with bad luck and eventually death. Taxidermists refuse to touch real ones, but are not above taking other animal parts and making their own hybrids to sell. The few taxidermists who do take these in are supposedly haunted by Poltergeists and bad dreams. 

    Lavellan - is a type of water shrew, that can be found in deep rivers within the wildernesses. When under water and as long as their coats are drenched, they become entirely invisible. Frustrating to tavern owners who have them in their basements, getting into the drinks and being completely invisible to the naked the eye. Down on their luck adventures can often be seen taking Lavellan contracts. In larger cities, extermination companies specialize in them. Ratvarians, how do they approach them? They embrace them, often hiding them in the drinks of their enemies. Once swallowed, they immediately get caught inside the throat of the drinker - but upon investigation, nothing is seen in the throat. 

    Certain breeds are larger than the average rat and are incredibly noxious, with the ability to poison live stock with its smell alone. Ratvarians would capture the "gas-bags", as locals called them, only to unleash them into enemy fields to kill crop and literally "reak" havoc upon the hens or chickens. Many farmlands have totems and statues of a being known as the "Nuckelavee" - believed to be a jealous deity that would destroy harvests with Lavellan if he was not worshiped. As times changed, these totems became scarecrows and the statues were deconstructed to create water wells. I bet Nuckelavee is still pretty angry about that.

    The Yowie - these creatures are still wildly spotted by even the modern folk on casual vacations. With many different reports regarding them, it is safe to say they are native and live in mountainous, wooded areas almost exclusively. Described by some of the first colonists as a large black creature with with large white hands and feet, resembling something similar to a gorilla. Years later, deep wilderness expedtionaries reported a sighting of a monster with a chocolate-brown face, deep glaring eyes that could "rip into one's soul" and a body covered in bristles. The behemoth is supposedly large in size and stands up right, making it an even more intimidating thing to see in the wilderness besides a pack of angry bees. Oh, perhaps I should mention that - the coat of the creature is somehow a hive to many large bees. From a distance, the Yowie has been mistaken as a mutant, oversized beehive. 

    Yowie are the subject of documentaries, books, literature and campfire stories. But, due to lack of physical evidence, very little is known about their species. Tourists, hikers and travelers mistakenly believe covering themselves in honey will scare away any Yowie. However, it is believed that this is the opposite case - as honey attracts the bearish, ape-like creature. Villagers would ignorantly give food offering to supposed Yowie nests, only for them to get lost, as the Yowie inhabit areas known only as "Deep Wood". The depressed and suicidal may enter the "Deep Wood" of their nearest location to pass away on their own terms, to die by at the hands of the Yowie or at least in his vicinity. Often to hide the original intent from their families, masquerading the event as another lost-in-the-woods cautionary tale to come. However, some Yowie are timid and shy, but also kind-hearted. It is not unheard of to go into the "Deep Wood" to die, only to wake up one morning at the edge of the wilderness, well fed and smelling of honey.

    Honey farmers and bee keepers may have artificial hives in the shape of Yowie. Bee hives and bee activity in general, as well as the overwhelming scent of honey - are all indications of a nearby Yowie. 

    It is unknown whether or not the bees bother them.

    The Reptilian and Aquatic

    The greatest disadvantage in the world is to be ill equipped, wandering about when encountering a reptilian or at sea - unprepared to fight a sea monster. Considered the most malicious and evil of monsters, these native creatures hid away in caves and the deep sea. When they emerged, they brought terror and horror along with them.

    The Regulus - this legendary reptile is the king of all serpents and should be treated as such. That being, all tyrant kings deserve to be executed. A snake-like body with many small appendages, sometimes appearing mangled and broken, with the head of a rooster. Often slithering around or lazily crawling about, they leave behind a disgusting trail of venom and can use their tail to toss an acidic substance that can burn through even enchanted, reinforced armour. Rumour states that it even has a deadly stare, capable of killing a pony on the spot. This is not true. However, one myth that was later proven to be a fact, is that their corpses secret a hypnotic ooze that can put those who digest it into a psychedelic trip. Some get so obsessed with this trip, that they have formed what is known as the "Cult of Regulus". I want to say they are the kind of strange lads who dress up like frogs and worship the moon while high on Regulus corpse secretions, but that is only a half truth. They resemble biological terrorists, dipping the ooze in drinks and getting "regged" on the weekends with their friends.

    The Regulus is basically deaf, but it has a wide spectrum of vision. Meaning your height is your best advantage. Dropping a rock on them does fine, as their scales are mostly for show and they have very little armour. But, if spotted - they will spray you with flesh-melting acid and they are not above squirting blood out of their eyes as an added bonus to terrify you. Often accompanied by its strange cult members, who watch it from a far - it is proven they are perhaps more deadly than the Regulus itself. So selfishly indulgent in the corpse's ooze, they will valiantly defend their right to get "regged" at the cost of another's life. Some have grown completely dependent on it, they can be found in swamps, bogs and small lakes with a Regulus skeleton tied to their back - talking about "those lights in the sky". Approach with caution, or better yet - don't even bother at all. These people are more harm to themselves than anything. And be sure to make a scene if you are walking down to the coffee shop one day, only to have some creep pulling a dead Regulus out of their trench coat. "Reg heads" are best left to the authorities.

    Reg areas are easy to find, surrounded by bog-living middle-class ponies and zebras. The skeletal remains on a stick in a small pond are also a sure tail sign of Regulus grounds or simply where they are hoarded by junkies.

    Fire Elemental - found in various locations, these creatures in particular are raw energy of the elements personified in a single avatar. This smokeless fire is in the shape of a bipedal salamander, the cracking and popping of its flames are accompanied with a reptilian hiss. Other sounds to look out for are reptilian rattling, the smell of sulfur in the air and an intense increase in temperature. Fire elementals were once studies by alchemists, who confirmed that they are becoming less and less common in the world, with the rise of technology. Utterly harmless, but are believed to be the cause of spontaneous fire and combustion. Much like fire itself, it is neither good nor evil. They can provide and they can take away. It is hard to provoke a fire elemental, as once they are spooked - they disappear and reappear else where sometime later. Higher fire elementals - that represent flying snakes that dart through the sky and can disappear in the instant, may be malicious to those that try to damage or capture its magical properties.

    Years ago, a sorcerer was hired to try and trap a fire elemental inside a crystal, so it may be studied by alchemists. The entire forest was burnt down, the sorcerer and the alchemists with it. Yet, the trees grew up back somehow, out from the ashes. They twisted and contorted, some looking like lizards and serpents curling around a pole. Salamander and Serpent Fire Elementals can be found curiously looking at their reflections in water, mirror and other shiny objects.

    If encountering a possibly dangerous fire elemental, producing a mirror will distract them - allowing you to drop it and run, while they examine it. Breaking a mirror is bad luck however, some speculate doing such will summon a fire elemental to your position. 

    Cipakna - a malicious sea monster of varying sizes. Part crocodile, part fish and even part toad. Apparently genderless. Every joint on its body is adorned with an additional mouth, the Cipakna has an incredible hunger for both meat and suffering. With a thunderous clap of its tail, it can cause earthquakes and shake rainforests. The paranoid accuse Cipakna of being responsible for city side earthquakes and tsunamis. Among sailors, is a feared demon of the waters - inhabiting even oceans, where they grow to tremendous sizes that can dwarf small ships. It lays eggs on shores, which are taken by poachers and sold as ornaments and goodluck charms. Ironically, despite their fear for them, sailors often name their ships after it or a variant of such. Cips are very vulnerable to spears in the back, piercing the spine is the only way to kill it, as trying to hack at or launch anything else toward it will result in the mouth-joints devouring the weapon. 

    Mummified Cip heads or simply their skulls can be used to create incredibly durable leather and armour. But, one must wait an entire week before mutilating the corpse - until all the Death Worms leave its intestinal track. Explains why the Cip is always hungry, right? A pony hoof is strangely a delicacy to them. Small river sailors, desperate for survival, would cast their own hoof for it to eat - even if it just satisfied them for a moment. Worshiped as a river god by a hooful of very strange individuals, Cip locations are identified by sacrificial bowls near rivers in plane site. Usually a board with a message nearby will announce the bowl is for hoof offerings and nothing else, for "Mother Cipakna" does not take anything less.

    Death Worms - gigantic, tape-worm like serpents that are usually born in the stomach of reptiles. They hide their eggs in dead creatures sloshing about the tides of rivers and waters, creating an enticing smell that resembles a freshly bleeding, live animal. Cipakna, which are already usually infested with them, eat them out of their desperate hunger. These bright red, scaled pseudo-worms spur a black acid from their maw. Somehow, they can even produce electric discharges - making them even deadlier if caught swimming in a lake with one. As disgusting and vile these creatures are, they are delicacy to Zebra - who will pay heartily for their bodies. Apparently, when boiled - their scales peel off and a cruncy treat is left behind. But, a sweet, almost creamy texture is in their centers - making a good substitute for butter. Remember that the next time you get some toast on a night out. Not entirely uncommon for them to spring out of toilets or bathtub drains either. Magic can be harvested from them to produce more efficient, long lasting batteries.

    The ones that are born out of the Cipakna, however - can cause incredible pain to even touch. Which means they better be dead for a full hour before touching their scaled, slimy body. When not swimming about in water, they are known to bury themselves into mud near bodies of water. Some lose track of time and end up becoming fossilized, only to be rehydrated later by heavy rains or flooding. Strangely enough, they have been spotted everywhere from city sewers to even deserts. A famous combat pilot once found one in the paneling to her plane during a routine inspection. It was lucky she did, as their acid spit can burn through most metals with ease.

    The Hammer Spawn - is a large, wide serpent that can jump a meter high out of the water if it wants to. It has the most insufferable bite, as I am one of the few people to ever survive it. Holding on to your flesh, it can break bones and has the venom production to challenge that of even a viper. The bane of small time fishermen and the worst thing to accidentally hull in as a catch on a merchant vessel. These creatures are also very talkative, if they do not bite you first - they will poke their head out of the water and attempt to converse. Sometimes, with the face of a disgruntled stallion or mare, but with a very masculine voice regardless of its face's gender - it will introduce itself formally before openly complaining about its life and environment. Hammer Spawns also enjoy smoking tobacco and are addicted to alcohol, making them easy to bribe if you have any of these things. They are also incredible liars, which is humorous, looking back to how the original colonists would go to them for fortune telling and psychic readings. 

    As always, there is some sliver of truth in it all. Eating a Hammer Spawn shows an increase in being able to witness premonitions. It is a customary meal for soldiers before battle, in hopes of giving them stronger awareness and intuition on the battlefield. Baby Hammer Spawn are harmless, since they do not gain a voice or even a face until adulthood - but they still have a mildly annoying bite that is easy to ignore. Some fishers take their eggs and let them hatch in an aquarium, then they intentionally let the younglings die. From there, they can stick their tails in their mouth and let them out in the sun to bathe, with a light coat of alcohol on them. They will harden and shrink even more so, making fashionable bracelets and frisbees.

    It is best to either bribe or simply ignore Hammer Spawn, then back away so they cannot bite you. The most unwise thing to do is let them tell you how to invest your money or ask that colt or mare out.

    Enchanted Ones - one of the first and only civilizations before the Equine arrived were that of the Enchanted Ones. A strange draconoid that is part pony and part serpent. Folklore states that they live in a paradise deep below the seas, near the ocean floors. In this utopia, they thrive in the wealth garnered from sunken ships and live without pain or death, unless it is brought upon them from those at the surface. Because of this, they live very unfulfilled lives and wish to feel the concepts of romance and even heartbreak. Their envy for surface dweller's hardships have inspired them to take up song. Their magical voices and instruments lure in unsuspecting sailors and travelers to the beach side, where they may make love with the Enchanted One. At night, they Enchanted Ones are able to transform into a pony or zebra form. However, they are incredibly shy toward all except their lovers and partners. They flee at the sight of social events, such as parties, weddings and even funerals. In these forms, they usually wear hats or heavy clothing to disguise what gills and blowholes do still exist. If an Enchanted One remains in this form until dawn, they will eventually turns to suds and disappear.

    Besides their incredible shape shifting abilities, they also have very malicious powers. Creating storms, to punish sailors who ignore them or harm them and even brainwashing their lovers into drowning themselves. Prolonged contact with them is said to cause fits of insanity and eventually death. Zebra priests may be able to help stabilize these conditions, but the Enchanted Ones cause tremendous mental damage that is irreversible. Their lovers are known to become so obsessed with seeing them, that they spend days at sea and even go toward storms, in hope it is one of the Enchanted Ones calling for them. More often than not, Enchanted Ones produce children with surface dwellers while their husbands wait at the bottom of the ocean patiently, wondering what "errands" they had to do before swimming home.

    Consumed by their need to feel things as surface dwellers do, they will kidnap their own children or anyone who just happened to be near by and attempt to bring them down to their underwater world. Most species end up drowning, while Kelpies are sometimes able to wrestle away, but the Enchanted Ones will smother and suffocate their lovers unknowingly. Usually a corpse is brought back to their paradise, resulting in their misery and mourning - only to start the process again within days of the incident. Some believe that by drowning their lovers and children, they steal their souls and allow them to be reborn as Enchanted Ones. This would allow them to be together forever. 

    Enchanted Ones are hard to avoid, the best advice that can be given is to appease them just enough so that they leave you alone. Otherwise, they may stalk you on the journey and if you live by a pier... you are bound to be tormented by their songs at night. But after sometime, they take the heart break in stride and most move on to new victims. Other Enchanted Ones on occasion can become so obsessed, they will dawn their Equine form to try and win you over that way. The best deterrent is being married, surprisingly. While not being faithful to their own mates back in the underwater Utopia, Enchanted Ones refuse to meddle in the affairs of lovers and couples. Probably because of their jealous love for their surface-partners.

    Creek Men - are the incredibly jealous husbands of the Enchanted Ones. It is said, that it is their lack of intelligence that has pushed their significant others toward the surface world to prey on the unfortunate. Inhabiting freshwaters, these surely more brutal variants of the same species are more likely to rip and rend with their webbed-fingers adorned with talons. Their underwater utopia is more or less a place for them to drag their victims to put up as trophies. Those who dare swim near the deep will find such warning signs, the mocking bodies of the dead - often fashioned in humorous situations. Not uncommon to find a skeleton picnic deep underwater, for Creek Men hate the surface dwellers, while their unfaithful wives adore it. They mock it in any way they can, one of the few creatures who act entirely out of pure hatred and malice. Those who have tried to hunt them have boasted their scars. Swipes from Creek Men talons can devastate even the toughest armor.

    It is likely to find them in the same hunting grounds as their wives, since they tend to jealously stalk their mates and hunt those they have an affair with, if they are already not being drowned in the depths of the deep waters. However, as their name suggests, they usually float about the creeks and rivers leading toward the larger bodies of water. Hoping to snatch any prey that may be following the water toward the meeting place with the Enchanted One. A mimicry song can be sang by them, almost identical to the beautiful vocals of an Enchanted One. However, they indulge in a feeling of peace and serenity. Many bards who have claimed to be inspired by the tunes of Enchanted Ones, have actually mistakenly been taken in by the much more persistent and emotional songs of the Creek Men. I prefer to think of them as requiems or eulogies. Solace to the scenery of an otherwise beautiful performance.

    They sometimes can appear to be a dead corpse, floating along the river. Decaying and small feathers falling away from a skeletal form. In reality, this is a clever disguise of the Creek Men. But do not feel a fool, if you find yourself with its claws in your neck soon after poking the supposed body with a stick. It has fooled many and killed even more. Creek Men are more easily confronted with a spear and are especially weak to large rocks dropped on their head.

    Mire Kings - have been the cultural boogyman of many settlements for decades, regardless of location. Every one of you have grown up with the cautionary tale of the young lad who wandered into the mouth of an overgrown Mire King, believing it to be a humid cave. Truly, this is a being from the darkest of nightmares guaranteed to dampen beds. A beastly monster known for its gaping maw and the natural magical lure that hangs from its forehead. An ambush creature, sitting still and waiting quietly for their prey to approach. Its hide being much like that of a chameleon, taking in the colors of the environment to hide itself from both prey and predators. Their lures are a strong part of many alchemy and magical potions, making them a primary target for monster hunters for hire. Customers pay incredible well for some of its teeth as well, which resemble more like ivory tusks in their larger forms. From the dankest of caves, to swamps and on occasion - a mindless wanderer of the forest among trees that blot out the sun, Mire Kings are especially deadly. Notably, they are worshiped by none. Even those of the ancient religions consider this a demon above all, a symbolic representation of greed, sloth and being easily irritable. Note, if you call a Kelpie a "lazy Mire King", prepare yourself for a full on hoof-to-hoof fight.

    From moderate sizes, to ones the size of caves that have gobbled entire parties up - their wrangler-lure on the forehead can create incredibly vivid illusion spells. Smaller variants may cause psychedelic trips, but they are far from a spiritual appearance. One's greatest desires are conjured before them, ensuring that it will become theirs when they come near. Can easily be avoided with the appropriate enchanted items or an individual in the party who has been given a blessing of good will and honesty, any time during that day - reinstating their wholeness for truth. An individual who is pure of heart and tells no lies, may also be completely immune to the Mire King's effects. 

    Mire Kings are an apex predator, but unless you are already in its mouth, it can be rather vulnerable. A truly skilled warrior may severe its lure and free its victims, while a skilled marksman could pierce it with a bolt or arrow. Mire Kings are known for briefly controlling "guards" or "scarecrows" rather - temporarily brainwashed individuals stuck in an illusion - to ward off other predators while the Mire King digests and makes more room for his reserve meal. Victims of the Mire King's illusions, sometimes referred to as "puppets" - can also be used as tools to lure loved ones out into the open. Just beware, if your brother is lost in the swamps and he is standing at the entrance of cave, you might want to reconsider following him into it.

    "Big Sid" is also known as "He Who Does Not Exist". Supposedly a sea story and nothing more, shared by sailors as an excuse as to why some shipments or late or why they had to drink all the alcohol on board the ship to cope with their disastrous journey. Many believe that Big Sid is just a literary metaphor for a large storm at sea or the hardships of seamanship in general. Imagined as a sea serpent, sometimes as an incredibly humongous squid or octopus - but only one true source worth noting suggests it to be a brother of a long extinct Hafgua or Lyngbakr. Many centuries ago, the seas were home to the largest of creatures to ever exist. Now their skeletons wash up on shores or are used as visual markers for the incredibly large leagues beneath the sea they once appeared. Big Sid is a scientific and magical anomaly. A pony by the name of Captain Pequod remarked the first time he encountered the horrid creature. It was in a small fishing village, wedged between the isles of many lands. He had stopped with his crew for a drink and night of sleep in a real bed, without the floor beneath them moving. The fishermen were astonished when seeing them, believing them to be the ghosts of past sailors at first.

    Somehow, Captain Pequod and his ship the "Lament Voyager" escaped the tentacles of the hateful Big Sid. Years prior, the fishing village unearthed the remains of Big Sid by accident. His body was preserved remarkablely well and was used as a tourist attraction for months on end. Until one day, after a falling out with the local witch, a powerful sorceress resurrected Big Sid and his monolithic tentacles crashed half the village before he crawled into the water. Since then, he got his revenge on the local sailors and travelers, wiping out entire fleets. The large, tentacles monster with a pointed head and bird-like mouth, was green and slimy from vegetation that began to grow onto its corpse during deep submergence. This behemoth cephalopod appears to also be an undead creature to a degree, going through early stages of decomposition all over again. But this may be the tall tales of locals or artistic exaggerations from Captain Pequod's remaining crew. Either way, he was inspired to go out and hunt the beast - recruiting 9 deck hands experienced in harpooning, 5 of which being Gryphon whalers.

    The Lament Voyager sailed off the next day and was caught in a thunderous typhoon storm. The ship was rocked back and forth for three days, before finally it became overcrowded with crabs and rotting fish. The crew fell ill and some attempted a mutiny, which brought Captain Pequod to the end of insanity, forcing his crew off the ship to act as bait - cutting open their bellies and hanging them from the neck from the port-side. Despite the horror, the crew were impressed that it did in fact seem to bring forth the legendary Big Sid. The Lament Voyager lured Big Sid into a tight passage between two islands where it was briefly stuck on the sand. Bombarded with canon fire, harpoons, spears and numerous other blades and utensils - Big Sid manage to bite the aft off of the ship before retreating into the ocean. This left Pequod and his crew stranded on the island, destined to be starved and tormented day and night by Big Sid, who frequently slapped the islands with his tentacles, until death.

    The 5 whalers, being Gryphons, flew to safety and returned to the village with their story. Months later, a deranged Pequod returned for revenge - missing a rear hoof and claiming to be the only survivor of the original crew. The Lament Voyager now sunk to the bottom of the deadly waters by, he managed to stay adrift on a part of its deck for a week before he was swallowed whole by Big Sid. He remained inside its stomach for an entire day, before he intentionally aggravated it by jabbing its insides with a boat oar. Pequod said he was vomited out near the village and from there, with only three limbs, he managed to swim to safety before being taken in by Enchanted Ones who nursed him back to health. The five whalers were essentially bullied into contract with him, soon - they boarded the newly commissioned "Lament Revenge" and set out on a final voyage. 2 whalers returned, with the tale that Big Sid bit Pequod in half - after they attempted to capture him with a magically reinforced net. Other eye witness accounts suggest Pequod, in a fit of drunken rage and insanity - threw himself into the water in an attempt to hop on top of Big Sid, who lurked beneath. And from there, he became trapped in his tentacles and was crushed, moments before he drowned. The remainder of the crew were mischievously deceived by the same Enchanted Ones that saved Pequod months earlier. 

    It is said, the ghost ships of the two Laments mark the location of an ever approaching Big Sid. Beware sailors, do not fall to drink or Enchanted Ones in order to cope with the nightmares you experienced on the high seas.