#monstermonth2019

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No.7 - Miniature

Posterra has many settlements, but most of them are in various state of disarray, destitution and ramshackle happy-go-lucky gung-ho approach to city planning. Some do better than others, like the famous Wharf Town, a true smidgen of peace and order, when others are merely a bunch of eclectic structures where various folk leave together in state of perpetual promise of violence. But there is one city forgotten by nearly everyone, the record of its existence a paragraph in lost books and data spools - Phagia, the Molecular Utopia, the Perfect City of the tiniest of beings. They live in near complete isolationism clad in an immortal armour of a virus, custom-crafted in bygone era to sustain itself and the city bound inside for eterenity, providing sustenance and energy to the high-tech habitat of the Molecular Tribe. To this day they exist somewhere in Posterra, floating on the wind or perhaps in the droplet of a forgotten sewer, extracting all they need from a bacterial prey...

[valhahazred]

Monster Month Day 3 - Amalgam

The beast known as the Reaper of Ralsin IV is actually the mutualistic pairing of two separate species, the Gobmaw and the Black Snapper. The Snapper's raptoral forelimbs can snatch prey into the Gobmaw's mouth so fast it causes a sonic boom!

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No.19 - Cosmic

One of the Great Entities of the Dreadwake is the Fool, a whimsical, uncaring jokester that sees the grandest of all jokes and don't want to spoil the punchline for anyone else. It is the force of pure, erratic chaos, of delirium and lack of reason and sense. It is explosion of creation in its most pointless and unguided way. As so, its Manifestations in the real space tend to be varied as views in the caleidoscope, sharing only one common thread - jovial humor. The Fool's Avatar would be a gibbering, chittering entity of dancer grace, laugh that tingle the souls of living and a great desire to prank and do all sorts of dangerous mischief. One of the universal thread for the mortals to spot the Fool's own herald is the mere fact that they are never finished - the smoke of madness and threads of the void follows their flickering forms, rekniting them, reshaping them, giving them a phantasmal and uncertain appearance which they often use to create weapons and tools to suit their needs.

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No. 1 - Fungal

The inhabitants of the spores choked planet of Ogghma were a bit of an enigma. Their culture left unstudied, their chemical language unknown and their extremely aggressive conduct to any attempt of contact - unsavory. They live seemingly in harmony with the vast and titanic sprawls of mushrooms colonies, protecting them fiercely l and with near religious zeal. We advise to leave their toxic realm alone and burn it later to the bedrock, when War World Ares arrives...

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No.23 - Living Weapons

When the Dreadwake ravaged the land some ten thousand years ago it didn't bring with it just wanton destructions. New cults emerged, new tribes formed. And with them, new, lunatic cultures and societies based on various aspects of madness and chaos incarnate. None though would deny the effectiveness of their arsenal - from the impossible wizardry of the Nullvoid through the living war machines, are deny laws of the material realm in some way, making them uncanny and esoteric in nature and therefore, hard to counter or protect against. And then, you have the dreadful living weaponry, swords, shields, clubs, hammers and such forged in the Dreadwake fog, imbued and mashed with mockeries of life, tittering, gibberish imps and flesh constructs that posses the blades and armors with mischief and humor, granting it various properties that goes against any conventional warfare...

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No. 8 - Harmless

Snibble! A friend to the forest, a druid familiar, a cheerful spirit. How they come to be is a truth lost in annals of history. But they are still here, in the deepest thickets, ancient arboretums, serving the monumental trees. They eat termites and other insects that threaten trees with great gusto, the sound if their munching like cracking of walnut shells. Swift and light they spin upwards on stronger winds to return to their nests given to them by the patron tree. Supposedly seeing one bring great fortune, but there are plenty such superstitions around Posterra tribes and folks... 

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No.25 - Almost Human

Despite the apperances, the Doppelgangers are not creations of the maddening fog of the Nullvoid. They existed long before the reality shattered, most likely made during the first Magic Wars as perfect assassins. What are they truly, though? They have no real body, no singular self. A single Doppel is merely a sheet of thin, durable and flexible arcane flesh which can mold itself into any shape it desires, change pigmentation and texture on a whim as well as grow bone and muscle simulacra, merely a hard light constructs too create a truly realistic figure as well as develop temporary organs to imitate living beings. They are truly miraculous and complex and yet, the tooth of time gnawed on them too, as those few who survived to our times are... Unstable. They chitter and unfold, seemingly unable or unwilling to hold a disguised form, wandering aimlessly in ghastly bodies of thin, parchment like flesh that moves with the billows and quiver under the touch.

[hubertspala]

MONSTERMONTH No.18 - Ethereal

One of the credo of the Church of Infinite Suffering is that pain never ends. As in life, so in death, the agony continues and brings new jubilation to the believer, a torture of the very soul, bare and pure as it should be. And so, the chosen few of the One True God gain the unique blessing on the whim of their great patron to not pass into his gardens of idyllic, excruciating pain, but to remain as a bare soul in the mortal realm - a ghost for all intent and purposes, holy in the eyes of the wailing suplicants. With the essence of unfiltered suffering it can feel it all to the very core and share it to those, who satisfy their god with pious display of self-mutilation, flaggelation and unique forms of pain. It is said that the ghastly lantern of this spirits shines the brightest when the screams of the tortured is heard, as the sound of bodily harm fuels it and keeps it alight in the darkness of dull sensations that suffuse the mundane, mortal life... Glory be!