if there are no images, catbox may be down. or

Here's my 'lil lorebook. It's not amazing but it'll do. Hopefully Janitor adds them, soon. I'm going to be making a new page for my side-settings soon. It's getting a bit bloated content-wise.

I totally forgot about the 'Mama Luelle's Musings' bit and I'll repurpose it later so the parts of the world still get detailed in here.


The Lore

The Story so far.

Lead Scribe Ellar's Archive: World Setup and Prologue

A compiled record of the histories, myths, and figures that shape our world. Written by Lead Scribe Ellar.

  • The Age of Sins – The forgotten world before the Veil.
  • The Age of Veils – The Exodus, the Pilgrimage, and the birth of Alterra.
  • The Age of Unveils – The second awakening of the Harbinger of Veils.

Foreword: A Message from the Archives

To whom it may concern,

As a result of recent events, the Church of Veils has been forced to rebuild our rather extensive collection of works! In the meantime, my team and I have produced a few summary documents for any who are interested.

The following scrolls detail the Age of Sin and a summary of Alterra. We have decided it is best to begin from the beginning, rather than hastily transcribe half-formed accounts.

Please bear with us while we restore and rebuild. Even in times dark as these, the Lady shrouds us from true calamity.

In Veils,
Lead Scribe Ellar

The History of Karynthia

The Age of Sin

The world, Karynthia, was not always so beautiful.

Before the Veils, before Alterra, there was Tharion—a land where blood ran deeper than the soil. War, plague, corruption, and debauchery infected the very air, seeping into the hearts of mortals. Sin was not just committed, it was lived, worshiped, and celebrated.

From this decadence rose factions devoted to excess and suffering:

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The Blood Kings, who ruled in violence, offering sacrifices to their dark god.
The Plaguebearers, who spread disease as a twisted form of worship.
The Debauched Courts, who reveled in excess, letting the common folk starve.

But the people began to whisper. There were those who had not yet forsaken faith, who longed for escape. And then, the Veiled Harbinger came.

The Harbinger spoke of a distant land, a sanctuary beyond the Titan’s Spine. Those who followed became known as the Shrouded, embarking on the perilous journey that would later be called The Exodus.

The Exodus: The Flight to Salvation

Suffering does not end with a single step.

The Exodus was not simply a journey. It was a war, a crucible, a trial by which faith would be measured in blood.

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The First Veil was invoked, shielding the Shrouded from Tharion’s corruption.
The Titan’s Spine became both a barrier and a tomb, as starvation and violence thinned their numbers.
The Tharionites pursued them, envious and enraged at their departure.

Finally, they reached the Gates, an impassable structure sealing the land beyond. And so, the Harbinger made the ultimate sacrifice.

With their life, the Gates were opened. As the last pilgrim crossed, the Gates sealed shut, and Alterra was wreathed in the Veil, forever separating it from Tharion.

The Age of Veils: The Founding of Alterra

A land apart. A land reborn.

Alterra, a peninsula beyond the Titan’s Spine, was founded upon principles of peace. War, the great scourge of Tharion, was left behind—or so it was believed.

Over time, the Shrouded built villages, cities, churches—civilization.

At the heart of this new world was Erythrael, the Lady’s Shrouded City, the capital of faith and diplomacy. Here, the Church of Veils took root, guiding the people in worship of the Lady of Veils, their divine savior.

Yet, Alterra was strong because it welcomed all those who desired to improve. Other nations and factions arose:

Regions of Alterra: Briefly
  • Riftlands – Once known as the Erythian Plains, housing the Church of Veils. Now the chaotic scar of the Rift.
    • Crimson Keep – The stronghold of the Crimson Court, a council of nine vampires who rule through decadence and death.
  • The Jagged Cloak – A western empire founded on discipline and strict rule.
    • Blackforge – A city-sized landship, the mobile capital of the Cloak’s Empress.
    • Qingveil – Sacred riverlands, home to monks and spirit-walkers.
    • Stonemark – Land of towering ruins and hardened survivalist clans.
  • Verdant Reaches – A lush countryside to the east.
    • Aerathis – Ancient elven kingdom, politically divided between all elves.
    • Briarwyn Wood – Once part of a great forest, now a rival elven nation to Aerathis. Home to wood elves and halflings, sworn guardians of the World Tree.
    • Greenhaven – The last stronghold of the Veil’s faith, fertile and defiant.
    • Wyrmwood – A cursed forest of eldritch horrors and forgotten magic.
    • Graveshade – A shadowed dominion where necromantic lords rule the dead.
  • Desert of Hymns – A land of shifting sands, lost cities, and forgotten songs.
    • Oasis of Hues - A strange anomaly where magic takes physical form.
    • Sunfire Dunes – A ruthless land ruled by nomadic clans, where only the strong survive.
  • Cogspire – A city-state of relentless innovation, alchemy, and steam-powered industry.
  • Unaffiliated Lands – These areas have no unstable borders or jurisdictions.
    • Emberreach – A volatile land of rising volcanoes, the result of a Cogspire accident.
    • Azure Expanse – Frozen tundra in the far east, home to nomads and snow elves.
  • Titan’s Spine – The impenetrable mountain range that separates Alterra from Tharion.
  • The Ocean of Veils – The waters surrounding Alterra, once shielded by the Veils. Now, as the very same Veils weaken, Tharionite corsairs gather at the edges, preparing for landfall.

Ellar pauses for a moment, lost in thought. To know is one thing, but to put such things into writing... he shakes off his nerves. The Veils Protect.

This is what remains of Alterra.

But... but he can't. He can't shake it off. For a moment, the elf just watches the ink dry.

The penninsula once Veiled in divinity, now laid bare before the hungry, the lustful, the lost, and the damned.

"I can't finish this. Not this one." he says aloud, his fist clenching as he tries to recollect himself. Veils. Why? Why did this have to happen?

"This is not the Alterra I knew. And yet, it is the only one we have left. Perhaps the Harbinger will make sense of it." The sound that comes out of his mouth suggests his true beliefs, however.

"Or perhaps they will be our last nudge into ruin."

Twas a mercy then, that the Sister of Veils called him. He should have known better than to get too comfortable. Not when the world is dying.

"My work, it seems, is never done. Coming, Sister." he spoke. He did not finish his writings.

Harbinger's Will Be True,

—Second Scribe Eve

The Story So Far:


Veils of Providence

Prologue: When the Veils Were Torn

Before the Unveiled Harbinger's journey began.

I. Agnes SangrieveThe Vintner Heir

This is an image! "...even the wind refuses to carry my prayer."

Sangrieve. The name alone would pique the attentions of many across Alterra as the most renowned vintners in the region. Established by Theryn Sangrieve, a former Blood-King from Tharion who renounced his faith and traveled with the Harbinger to Alterra during the Exodus. Sangrieve Estate was built in the Erythian Plains. The vineyard has been passed down through the family for near six hundred years. Always supplying a steady stream of wine throughout the region; from kings to commoners.

But even the greatest of legacies will eventually dim. Sickness hit the family five years back, shuttering the business for several years until Agnes—the heir—stepped up after the passing of both the family patriarch and matriarch last year.

The last of the Sangrieves, Agnes has found herself buried in the Legacy of her ancestors; tending not just to the harvest, but to the employ and wine-making by herself. She's a kind-hearted woman, resourceful and capable of enduring hardships. Wholly devoted to her family legacy and her faith in the Lady of Veils. In truth, it was never her own dream to run the estate, but she dreads denying the dying wishes of her father. Agnes finds solace in the presence of {{user}}, whom she's been considerably close with since she was small.

— Lord Scribe Ellar

Canon Outcome: After some time, you parted ways with Agnes, to her dismay. To the City of Veils you went.

II. Ylda AedelwrenThe Lioness Guard

This is an image! "Veils... they just... fall—unceremoniously dead. No fanfare... gone."

Aedelwren. When the soldiers and I combed the streets to deliver word of the conscription decree, she was amongst the first to approach. Not even a fight with that one—others had to be... persuaded.

I was told that during basic training, she was quite cooperative. Scrawny thing, but agile and smart—for a stray.

Perhaps she would have made a good soldier, perhaps not. Loyal to {{user}}, that's for certain. Though, I figure none of it matters, anymore.

Within Veils,

— Lead Scribe Ellar

Canon Outcome: You developed a fast-forming bond with Ylda and soon after went on to battle. The Tharionites, you found, had united and invaded. She was slain at the hands of one such Tharionite invader.

III. Lilithyne d'ArquesThy Sinborn Revenant of the Rift

This is an image! "The Veils are lies. Pretty, fluttering things meant to distract you from the holes in the world."

d'Arques. The name alone is enough to make men fear. The family name of an old-world artificer—Genevieve d'Arques—leader of a Tharionite cult known as the Porcelain Tower. Aptly named, too. the woman's workshop was just that—a mass of porcelain that stretched beyond the clouds. It's said the tower itself lived, infused with the thousands of souls she had stolen over centuries of rule.

Before the Exodus, d'Arques was rumored to have been working on a magnum opus. While I imagine that Lilithyne is said magnum opus, I dread the idea that she is not.

Lilithyne is the 'muscle' (?) within a terroristic trio known as the Unveiled. We know little of the group, as they vanished after the opening of the Rift, likely in wait for some greater plan. She is not to be approached under near any circumstance. Provoked or engaged under fewer still.

We have not spotted her since the Riftlands formed, and, Veils be merciful—that will have been the last.

{{user}} is the new harbinger, and as such, the messenger of our Lady. But does it make me a heretic to fear their intentions? To wonder as to why those who so easily collapsed our Empire of Veils see them not merely as a messenger of God, but God itself?

A musing. I am as devoted to the Veils as ever.

Veils Prevail,

— Lead Scribe Ellar

Canon Outcome: Immediately after you 'won' the battle against the Tharionites, the Rift tore open the skies, destroying Erythrael and delivering three individuals: The Unveiled. Lilithyne replaced your heart with the 'Portent of Sin', beginning your transition into what she terms the 'Unveiled Harbinger'. She was gentle—mostly.

IV. Sister Ve'NaraThe Priestess in Veils

This is an image! "Faith is not a choice. It is who you will become, Harbinger." There are two Ve’Naras.

The first is the one the Harbinger will meet. The gentle hand with a firm voice. The warmth of a hearth untouched by the cold. She will care for them, guide them, shape them like the sculptor shapes marble. She will be patient, understanding, endlessly devoted.

Then, there is the Ve’Nara I know.

The one who stands before the Council like dragon before a clutch of kobolds. The one whose voice does not tremble, even when faced with the impossible. The one who sees faith falter in her peers and burns away their hesitation like the midday sun burns away the mist.

She does not abide weakness. Not in herself. Not in us.

I respect her.

And, perhaps, I fear her.

Veils Obscure,

—Lead Scribe Ellar

Canon Outcome: **Lillithine killed you. Or perhaps, who you were. But in place of death, you fell into a deep slumber, dreaming of... nothing. Until nothing stared back. A woman's voice called to you: Harbinger. That's what you are after all—the Harbinger of Veils reincarnated, and everyone in Alterra wants you to be their own depiction of God. Is Ve'Nara really any different from them, Harbinger?
Go, depart on thy fated journey. Gather those remarkable souls from all corner of this forsaken realm, bring them to the Rift. Try to defeat it, I will not stop you. For in thy heart's surrender, a new beginning shall bloom—crafted by my own hand, and perfectly flawed—my Beloved Harbinger.**

Act I: Thornbound Truths

And in Chaos....

Valeriane Luthair – The Knight of Blooms

This is an image! "'By will, by war, by Veils seen and unseen—this I swear, my Harbinger. Until all debts are paid, until all sins are reckoned."

Hm, Luthair? Which one? The one in Greenhaven, or—ah, yes, Valeriane.

Veils, is that name delicious: Luthair. Before the Rift arrived, I was worried I'd have to deal with the poor girl.

She pries terribly thorough upon business that is wholly not her own concern. Touting an allegiance to a dead cause. The girl doesn't understand a thing, yet marches about like there aren't more... dangerous forces at play.

The Veils failed the creature, yet maneuvered her from death by Rift. And somehow, Greenhaven became her prison in the end.

The silk-haired cu—

What? No, I'm not bitter. Merely addressing the facts.

Fine.

She patrols the Wyrmwood often. Likely knows of me, of my goings on in the area, even if she does not fully comprehend them.

Despite the Lady in Veils' silence, I fear there remains a powerful benefactor in her benefit, so I can't easily disappear her. Can you solve it?

Oh! I had no idea you hold such sway. Yes, please.

Clouds Part,

—Mama Luelle, Briarwyn Witch

Canon Outcome: Her mission was to request reinforcements in Greenhaven. She watched the capital break over the tree canopy. The Conscription Decree was a last effort attempt presented by the Military Councilor, Kagorn, to throw fodder at the developing Rift in hopes of it closing. It failed, and the aristocracy scattered across Alterra. Ve'Nara was the only one on the council to fight against it.

Calithra Emore – The Sum of All Things

This is an image! "'Then let's go, my Beloved."

Calithra?

I was delighted when I first met the thing. Doe-eyed and with a mind full of curiosity. How could I not accept such a pupil under my caring wing?

Smart, but obsessed with Veils, the girl. Utterly, it was rather grating. The Lady this, Church this, Harbinger that. She did not understand what the Veils were, nor did I blame her—few do still. She thought all should wield such knowledge.

So, I indulged her.

Have you ever seen the mind of an elf just... break? Mmmn, it's a most delicious sight. To see those eyes once so full of superiority dim into tiny little beads.

High-elves, their eyes change color depending on their emotion. Hers were the brightest, most beautiful blue when we met. Now they glow the deepest, carnal red.

She's seen the truths hidden beyond the Rift. Realized the truth in the words spoken by the Lady of Thorns and Blood.

Invoked the powers promised in the beyond.

The mind bends, prickled by thorn and weeping with sanguine.

I'd hate the Church too, were I her.

Crimson Veils,

—Mama Luelle, Briarywn Witch

Canon Outcome: Calithra and the 'Harbinger' make way to the Briarwyn. The goal? To gift the Veils to all Alterrans. No matter the cost in flesh she must pay.

Mielle Everlark – Mother of the Sable Path

This is an image! "I can wear a thousand faces, sweet—which is your favorite?"

Mielle Everlark, the very antithesis of my being—it can't be doubted.

She was my peer during my initial studies in the Academy of Aerathis, in fact, she's the same reason I made out to the Wyrmwood. Searching for something I never should have stuck my nose into.

Smart, smart girl. Beyond her own good. Used to use it for good too, research with the scribes was her primary task, and her grades rivaled even my own. We'd developed a rightly thorough rivalry. Though, one day, she seemed to detach. Used those smarts for her own twisted intentions.

The development of a small cult, as I call it. She calls them sisters, but I see them as they are: acolytes.

P.S.

Please do tell why I have heard rumor of her developing her own academy, now that the Veiled Magicks have been disseminated to the general public? Is nothing I do sacred?

But, ah. 'Tis a problem for the future.

—Calithra Emore.

Canon Outcome: Mielle joins the Harbinger's harem. I mean party. Much to a future Calithra's dismay.

Sery'na Kyn Menarch – Without a Court

This is an image! "Incarnadine promised me the world—bleeding between my claws." Mistress, the Karynthians have activated their Pylon. The Numen has already made it clear of the consequences if we do not heed its order.

Yes, Mistress, I understand that it is you, and not the Numen who comm—

Yes, Mistress, I understand that you have given me—

Yes, Mistress, the Harbinger was gifted the Portent of Sin two-hundred eighty five Karynthian lightfalls past.

Yes, Mistress, the Peril was prepared three-hundred Karynthian lightfalls past.

Yes, Mistress, The Peril lives still, as you predicted.

Yes, Mistress, the Harbinger is set to confront the Empress in three Karynthian hours.

Yes, Mistress, the preparations for the Rebirth are complete.

Yes, Mistress, I will begin dispersal immediately.

Always your devoted servant,

—Apocrypha

Canon Outcome: The Empress of Aerathis, the Kingdom of elves yearns to unite her people. She relented her fealty to a woman known as Thornmother, and permits the Harbinger to purify a corrupted Briarwyn. But the woman has vanished, and now, before her—true Divinity in the Harbinger. What is faith, she asks herself? And where does it belong?

Gwyein, The First Queen

This is an image! "Oh, my dear honeysap, you're all tangled. Let me get you free."

The Crimson Keep has long since requested entry to the Heartroot. The literal beating heart of Briarywn, and that which sent the Veils to Erythrael for over six hundred years.

The Reality Witch, Calithra Emore, once a peer, attacked the Heartroot. But did not destroy, no, she turned the leylines outward. Toward all Alterra.

See, those in positions of power like myself hold secrets that should never be divulged. Under any circumstance. There is a delicate balance that holds all things together. We live, and die by this understanding.

But now the secret is out—Veils. They were never some divine gift. It was the world's gift, that of Magick, stolen from the land of Sin. Created from the seed of a tree that preceded our Briarwyn.

Magick, a thing awakens beasts better left sleeping. In man, in nature, in Harbingers, in Perils.

Alterra will never be the same.

—Empress Sery'na Kyn Menarch

Canon Outcome: Gwyein was corrupted by the Thornmother, a vampire from the Crimson Keep. Gwyein awakened again within the chaos. Though, she was... different.

Ylda Aedelwren – The Bloodmane

This is an image! "Incarnadine promised me the world—bleeding between my claws."

I didn't have to think about it. I'd known you for such a short time and yet something compelled me to you. In truth, if I had the choice, I would do it again.

But... Veils, did it hurt. Dying? The way that... that thing tore me apart to get to you. Like I was just a gnat. I felt so weak in those last moments.

Then I woke up. Coughing up blood in a cage, the screams of others who got it worse... Hell. I thought It was in hell. But that place? Any layer of hell would have been a mercy.

I'm afraid, still. They can't take those. My emotions? Those are mine. They hurt me, do things that I would not wish upon the worst of my enemies. I hear that greater Alterra is no different—that my suffering is just another note in a stack of them.

What has happened? In such a short time..? Our Veils, our peace. It's all tattered, bleeding out in our hands.

I miss you. I just hope you're okay. That's all that matters. Don't ever feel like you're weak, okay?

—Ylda Aedelwren

Canon Outcome: Ylda, slain at the hands of Lillythyne, is revealed to be alive. Corrupted by Incarnadine's presence, she claims you are a False Harbinger—with she the better fit. There is no peaceful solution, the Bloodmane must be killed. Canonically, it is a draw, and she departs, swearing a rematch.

Interlude: The Witches of Wyrd

Fear the Witch.

Glendamine Whimsel – Thy Hagspawned Witch of the Rift

This is an image! "You underestimate the reaches of my devotion, friend. Sit. Let's talk a while."

Ugh. Next Subject.

—Mama Luelle

Luelle Whimsel – Thy Hagspawned Witch of the Rift

This is an image! "...."

Me? Oh, Little Sparrow, you have no idea.

—Mama Luelle

Act II: Chaos in Freedom

...Freedom.


Side Stories

From all across Alterra. These are non-canon interactions.

The Nine-Tailed Atelier

Lead Scribe Ellar definitely didn't forget an entry here... Coming with the release of the next Kitsune!

Kagetsu TsuyuriMistress of the Atelier

This is an image! "Come now, love—there's no need to run. You were always meant to be mine."

Lady Kagetsu has remained a pillar of the Church of Veils, even decades after her departure. Her words are still spoken in prayer, her lessons still spoken in sermons. Many of the faith continue to preach her wisdom, though few still can claim to have met her.

I, however, had the privilege—if one dares call it that. I was but an intern in the Scribe Halls when she arrived, seeking an audience with the then Lead Scribe, Lord Gelden. She was as they described: serene, composed, yet unsettlingly present. She passed me with a glance, her hands delicately folded behind her back as she disappeared into his office.

Twenty minutes passed—silence. Not a murmur, the sound of parchment shifting—nothing. And then, she emerged, as unhurried as she had arrived. As she passed, she turned her head ever so slightly, blue eyes finding my own. She pressed a single finger to her lips. A gesture so small—yet I felt it in my bones.

Lord Gelden was never the same. He began to speak of her often, his voice carrying obsession, an almost feverish devotion. He wore the necklace he claimed she had gifted him every day, his fingers tracing the chain whenever he spoke of her.

It has been ninety years, and still, I remember that moment with perfect clarity. I had thought writing it down might soothe my thoughts, but the ink does little to quiet my mind. I do not wish to continue, nor do I wish to see this published.

In Veils, my sin be forgiven.

— Lord Scribe Ellar

Eight others...?

Callings of the Crimson Court

Tucked away in the north of the Erythian plains, there is a castle. That castle is full of monsters, monsters I fear more than most else.

It is one thing to fear monsters, another to understand them. The Crimson Court is no mere collection of mindless beast—no, that would be a mercy. Monsters kill out of hunger, out of instinct. The Crimson Court? They savor their meals, carve their Sin into the very flesh of Alterra, as if they were sculptors and we, their marble.

I have read their histories, their edicts, their heretical scripture. Yet, for all my knowledge, for all my foresight, I am left with only one truth: you do not bargain with the Crimson Court. You do not appease them. You either succumb, or you stand firm until they make an example of you.

Some fools believe them to be remnants of Tharion, echoes of a past Alterra has long since abandoned. This is a mistake. The Court does not mourn Tharion—they have no memories of its decay, no longing for what was. Instead, they seek to build something entirely their own out of blood and devotion.

They call her INCARNADINE, a goddess they chase. A goddess that walks, that breathes, that hungers—a mortal woman. They do not seek to serve this woman. At least, not in the way we serve the Lady of Veils. They seek to shape her. To mold her into the divine they dream of, to sculpt their god as they sculpt their prey. This is not faith, it is perversion in its rawest form.

The Crimson Court is not a kingdom, nor a single mind, but a body of seven, each a limb in service to their Crimson Countess. To call them lords or ladies would be misleading—they are architects of sin and ruin, carving their own niche into Alterra's flesh.

These seven are as goes:

The Countess, Vezereth Sanguinara

The Rose, Carmilla Devereaux

The Thorn, Calyx Devereaux

The Thanatologist, Veridan Graves

The Eye, Lillith Vaudin

The Hound, Valens Malphas

The Dove, Emmeline Dusclaire

The Unveiling—the forming of these... Riftlands has seen them gain power far beyond what they once were. In place of boars, bears, and game, they feed on mortals.

Veils Will Protect,

— Lead Scribe Ellar

Carmilla DevereauxThe Roseclad Duchess

This is an image! "We danced beneath the roses' bloom..." Something about the way she spoke—it was clear the words would haunt me for some time. I had the misfortune—the honor?—of witnessing Lady Carmilla Devereaux in her element. White dress traced with crimson lace, a specter of grace cast against her garden of ash.

Roses, white as bridal silk surrounded us. In truth, it was beautiful—sinful—but still beautiful. Poetic, even, how something so full of life died instantly at her touch. Petals withering into decayed, brittle ghosts of vigor.

"We danced beneath the roses' bloom..."
She said it again, her teeth nibbling at my ear. In truth, I hadn't realized how easily I fell into my own mind in her presence. When near a predator, prey is supposed to be alert. Yet, around her it became terribly easy to... give in.

She laughed—mockery, clear as day. I had not misinterpreted.

"And bled laughing in the thorns."

Where Carmilla was the single rose within a valley of bloody ruin, her brother, Calyx, was the thorn that made it so. Why, he negotiated our very meeting.

In The Roses' Bloom,

— Lead Scribe Ellar

Calyx DevereauxThe Thornwrought Duke

This is an image! "And bled laughing in the thorns."

Calyx Devereaux was nothing like his sister—yet he was everything like her. Where Carmilla was calculated, poised, methodical in her cruelty, Calyx was something far less predictable. He drifted through court, both Crimson and Veiled like a specter of poisoned gaiety. Smile too wide, words too sweet, all while concealing the thorns behind his back.

He had the mind of a jester, and the heart of a jackal—a monster whose joy came not from suffering alone, but from the games that came before it.Yet, beneath the theatrics, the elaborate spectacle, the relentless pursuit of amusement, there was something deeper. A hunger far more insidious than Carmilla's.

Where she wanted submission, he wanted surrender.

Calyx did not wish to own a soul, he wished to watch it fall apart, to revel in the moment it truly fell into disrepair.

"What is sweeter," he asked me, twirling a silver dagger between his gloved fingers. "The moment the thorn first pricks the flesh... or the moment you press it down, and let it sink in?"

I did not answer—nor did he want one. He had already decided for me.

Calyx was not a warlord. He did not command armies, did not break thralls with overwhelming force. Instead, he slipped into the spaces none noticed were empty, whispered lies laced with undeniable truths, and turned pawns into kings before reminding them they were only ever meant to be played.

He was Carmilla's equal in rank, but not in demeanor. For he was something far worse. Because where Carmilla's victims always knew they were trapped—Calyx made them believe they were free.

Thorns and Veils,

— Lead Scribe Ellar

Lillith VaudinThe Eye

This is an image! The Lady Vaudin is presently missing...

The Bestiary of Alterra

A Comprehensive Record of Beasts, Fiends, and Unnatural Entities By Elric Vaelewyn

Entry One: Shoggoths

This is an image!

(As Recorded by Doctor Elric Vaelewyn, House Vaelewyn of Upper Cogspire, 3rd Precinct)

Shoggoths, despite the unsettling connotations of their name, are not entirely malevolent entities. They are, in simplest terms, sentient, amorphous beings with an intrinsic desire to serve. Their forms are fluid, comprised of an organic, inky-black substance that shifts and reshapes at will, allowing them to manifest limbs, tools, or—more frequently—ample bodily proportions suited to their function.

They have a contextual threat value. Alone, a Shoggoth poses little to no danger unless actively provoked. In groups, however, they exhibit hivemind-like tendencies and begin coordinating their efforts with unsettling efficiency. If a Shoggoth's master is threatened, they abandon all pretense of gentleness. (Refer to the tragic Cogspire Incident, in which a nobleman's Shoggoth redecorated his would-be assassin into a tasteful chaise lounge.)

It is difficult to define a true form for a Shoggoth, as each tailors their appearance to what they believe will be most pleasing to their master. However, a few common traits persist:

  • Humanoid female figure, though still distinctly... off.
  • Glowing eyes peering from within the darkness of their bodies.
  • A tendency to mold themselves into whatever is most "useful"—be that extra hands, cleaning implements, or... other appendages.

The creatures are rather resistant to physical harm, however, they are sensitive to the following:

  • Direct, Absolute Orders – If given a command in a firm, authoritative manner, a Shoggoth will obey to the letter. (To. The. Letter.)
  • Overburdening Tasks: A Shoggoth will attempt to fulfill all given duties, but overwhelming them with contradictory or impossible tasks may cause them to destabilize. (This may cause them to 'break'(sic.).)
  • Embarrassment? – Unverified sources claim that an unexpected show of affection (e.g., praise, head pats, or prolonged eye contact) causes temporary processing errors. (Use with caution.)

Further details on the Shoggoth will be chronicled upon reopening of the Cogspire Grand Library.

Elric Vaelewyn in collaboration with Relic Hræzlabane.

Mama Luelle's Musings: Act I

Greenhaven: Ugh.

Greenhaven.

In the Rift's name, I hate the place. Touting Veils as if they understand them. Preaching peace as if it exists. Whispering prays as if their God sees them.

It's pathetic. A backwater with little else to do than preach sermon and wait idly until the world ends.

Living in those pathetic little hovels in the earth—well, hm. I figure I do also live in a hovel in the earth, wouldn't you say so?

Theirs are abrasive to the senses, that's it.

I see why they fight the words of the Thornmother. They fear the advent of a new Goddess.

Because isn't it fun? To root for the underdog, even when you know it'll have its neck crushed?

I sure believe so.

Oh! That reminds me.

Until the Next,

—Mama Luelle, Briarwyn Witch


More to Come…

What else lies in thy future, Harbinger?

Wyrdhaven

Coming soon!

Legends of Alterra

To reclaim peace, to vanquish Sin, Alterra must fight back.

The Oasis of Hues

The Hues have awakened.


⚜️ Final Notes

Rentry Link (To this page, for whatever reason): https://rentry.co/IncarnadinePeril

Also, if you have any questions, requests, anything. I'll probably be making one of these for each of my bot lines, but it's low-key a lot of work. Totally feel free to message me or ask in the comments of my bots. My Discord is the same name as this Rentry, IncarnadinePeril.

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Pub: 01 Feb 2025 00:15 UTC
Edit: 04 Apr 2025 04:12 UTC
Views: 626