Creatures of Esperia

Gongorinan Qlippoth

Gongorinan Qlippoth

The gongorinans are the spawn of a nascent qlippoth lord, although one could be forgiven for thinking them of them less as offspring and more as parasites. A gongorinan’s basic shape resembles that of an immense, stocky crab, save that they lack all of the features crabs have adapted for an aquatic life—gongorinans are terrestrial creatures. A typical gongorinan possesses no fewer than a dozen stalked eyes, and is capable of extending these eyes from the upper edges of its body just above its mouth to a length of nearly 3 feet, giving it extraordinary vision in all directions. A gongorinan’s mouth is a complex tangle of sliding plates and toothy ridges that rasp and shriek against each other as it speaks and chews, but despite their frightening shapes, these mouthparts are ill-suited for making physical attacks; the gongorinan relies upon its arms for that. Each gongorinan has four of these, and each arm is a different, highly specialized appendage. The humanoid arm is used for fine manipulation or the wielding of weaponry, while the mantislike claw is used to shred flesh and create deep, bleeding wounds. The needle-covered tentacle is used to sting and inject a painful poison to stagger foes, while the pincer is used to snatch and hold victims close for oviposition.

A typical gongorinan stands about 6 feet tall and weighs 800 pounds. When at rest, a gongorinan retracts its limbs into its rock-encrusted body, allowing it to appear remarkably like nothing more than a large, misshapen boulder. Larger specimens known as elder gongorinans exist (and often possess additional and even more dangerous arms), but these are quite rare on the Esperia.

All gongorinans carry within their bodies a brood of horrific egg masses, yet these eggs are not used for the propagation of their kind (that process is governed by a more traditional and yet more nightmarish method best left unspoken). Instead, these eggs carry within their stony shells a raw quintessence of the Abyss, infused with the ichor-seed of the gongorinans’ lord. Whereas most creatures are driven to breed and multiply, the gongorinans are instead driven to seek out humanoid hosts for their eggs. The implantation happens via the gongorinan’s mouth and a hideous ovipositor that’s not quite tongue and not quite toothed prolapsing throat, but something worse. Fortunately for most who might encounter a gongorinan, the process of oviposition leaves the horrid creature open to attack and cannot be performed quickly, yet to the lone adventurer caught and overwhelmed by a gongorinan, this is small comfort indeed.

Once an egg has been implanted, it takes many days to grow, and the gongorinan prefers to carry the unfortunate host off to restrain it in a hidden location. Victims are often cocooned in webs or left stranded in high cavern ledges far above the ground so that the egg can gestate. As it grows, the egg feeds on the victim’s mind, absorbing the victim’s intellect until it has reduced the host to a drooling wreck. At this point, the egg doesn’t hatch so much as it merely merges with the host, effecting a horrific and permanent transformation into a monstrous form. The gongorinan can influence this ultimate form as it lays its egg. It typically chooses powerful creatures that are already found in the region, for these “young” are loyal to their parent and serve as loyal guardians or playthings. Victims retain no true portion of their previous personality, but those who have been rescued from this horrific fate via powerful magic do retain memories of their time as a transformed monstrosity. Many never quite recover from these ordeals, and often develop a peculiar form of madness in which they regard their monstrous life as having been their true life, and their true life as the curse. The most despondent of these victims eventually seek the promise of peace through suicide rather than endure the dreams of their life as a monster—dreams that carry within them a most horrible longing.

Gongorinans are an industrious and intelligent breed of qlippoth, and where they find themselves, they invariably form hive-like complexes to live in. These gongorinan “cities” are labyrinthine affairs with plenty of chambers for their transformed children to live in. In the Abyss, gongorinan hives can grow truly immense, with populations in the thousands, but even Esperia is no stranger to gongorinan hive cities.

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Astraoloth, Yugoloth

Astraoloth, Yugoloth

Believed to be creations of the Four Horsemen, astraoloths live out their existence in search of souls to harvest. These deadly creatures are ravening planar predators, openly hunting throughout the void for souls on which to feed. These voracious creatures are the personifications of death resulting from negative energy or level drain. Their vile touch drains life force from their enemies, and even perishing near them sates their thirst for life and souls.

Diving out of the silver haze, this translucent, faintly phosphorescent humanoid appears to be some fusion of a gaunt, eyeless giant, eel, and a monstrous jellyfish. With exaggeratedly long limbs and nearly a dozen ghostly tentacles that extend from its back, shoulders, and upper arms, the creature grasps about at everything near it, tentacles twitching like the sensory organs of a deep-sea predator.

Astraoloths appear as ghostly, faintly phosphorescent, rail-thin humanoids with exaggeratedly long limbs. The fiends also have a seemingly random number of translucent tentacles trailing from their backs, shoulders, and upper arms, which wave and weave through the air.

Their bizarre forms possess heads that are skeletal, elongated, and vaguely piscine, reptilian, or canine, always bearing hungry rictus grins. Wicked, curved claws sprout from their hands and feet, and their tails move in rhythm with their tentacles, typically hanging toward the ground and almost doubling their length.

As the perpetually ravenous servitors of Abaddon’s yugoloths, the astraoloths’ touch is corruptive and damaging to the spiritual material of souls. Their touch and especially their bite can cause horrific damage, akin to that of a wraith, to anything they attack. Most feared, however, is their ability to utterly consume the souls of those killed in their proximity, feeding off of their essence or dragging it back to their fiendish overlords

Appearing blind at first glance, astraoloths have no visible eyes—what might have once been eye sockets are covered over by translucent hide. However, while any other creature might be considered crippled by such a deficiency, Abaddon’s soul-harvesters are unhampered by their condition. The fiends more than make up for lack of sight, sensing their environment through the constant movement of their tentacles—like the “vision” of many creatures who live in pitch darkness—and a supernatural awareness of souls.

Perhaps most disturbing, astraoloths exist in a uniquely translucent, semi-incorporeal state. This property also allows them to somehow transition between planes with ease, and they often use the ability to flee pursuit, especially after glutting themselves on stolen souls.

Astraoloths never speak and rarely use their telepathy to communicate with anything other than daemons.

Astraoloths are the artificial creations of more powerful daemons—the yugoloths, their greatest servitors, and a select number of non-aligned daemonic nobles. Though the gruesome and blasphemous details are restricted to the most powerful daemons, the process by which astraoloths form begins with the forced amalgamation and rendering down of dozens of mortal souls into a screaming, conscious slurry of quivering soul-stuff. Over days and weeks, the soul-mass experiences unimaginable tortures, until at the apex of its maddening experience its masters fuse it with the spirit of another daemon (always a sacrifice rather than a willing act, usually as a punishment). Once combined with this essence, ritual magic and their creators’ raw force of will then transmute the damned into their final twisted and blindly obedient form.

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Piscoloth Yugoloth

Piscoloth Yugoloth

Yugoloths which were also often called daemons were neutral evil fiends native to the Blood Rift. They were neutral in the affairs of the other fiendish races, interfering only when they saw a situation that might be profitable or a potential for the advancement of their own schemes. The yugoloths were manipulative, secretive, and mercenary by nature, often acting as soldiers for deities in their own private wars, or even at times aiding both sides of the Blood War.

Piscoloth  are intelligent yugoloths that often acted as sergeants in mercenary companies, yugoloths greatly resembled chuuls, with lobster-like bodies, a fish tail, birdlike talons, and tentacles that carried a paralytic poison.

The piscoloths are the sergeants of overseers of the Yugoloth armies. They are cruel and dictatorial and superbly dedicated to torturing and vindicating anything below them. One might think that these cruel oppressors are stupid, yet strangely enough, they are quite intelligent and cunning. These strange creatures look to be a grotesque amalgamation of various species of animals. Their bodies are red and chitinous, like a lobster’s, and a long fish-like tail sprouts from their backs. Their two legs end in wickedly sharp bird-like talons and their two arms resemble the claws of a crab. Sickly looking tentacles hang from their faces, each one dripping a foul looking fluid. They stand hunched over most of the time and as such are only around 6 feet in height. If they were ever to stand to their full height, they would be around 8 feet tall. Piscoloths weigh around 450 pounds.

 

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Vermlek Demon

Vermlek Demon

Vermleks form from the souls of those who habitually violated the dead in life, such as grave robbers, necromancers, and necrophiles. Demonic armies often use them as disposable troops in war, with vermleks inhabiting the bodies of slain humanoid enemies to infiltrate and destroy any surviving humanoids from within their own society. When inhabiting bodies, vermleks tend to mutter and mumble rather than speaking clearly, as they know that a keen eye that peers into the body’s mouth can swiftly discern the horrible truth within.

Despite the fact that they are often used as battleground troops, vermleks have little taste for war and, left alone, prefer to live in hiding among humanoids on Esperia. There, disguised as laborers like gravediggers or dung sweepers, they can revel in their ghoulish, taboo lusts.

Outside of a host body, a vermlek appears as a worm with four long tails, each of which ends in a tangle of filaments.

In this form, the demon is 7 feet long and weighs 90 pounds.

Vermleks are found in rural or urban areas but in true form located in the Abyss. 

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Quadrones Modron

Quadrones Modron

Modrons were a race of immortals known for their zealous adherence to the principles of law and order above all else. Just as fiends were considered the embodiment of evil and celestials the embodiment of good, so were modrons the embodiment of the universal principle of order located on the plane of Mechanus.

Quadrones were the second most advanced type of base modron. Quadrones were cube-shaped and winged. They were capable of performing four simultaneous tasks at a time. Like all modrons, quadrones had an absolute sense of hierarchy and order, and could not be persuaded to disobey their instructions or betray their purpose in any way. It was possible, however, for a defective quadrone to go rogue and start acting in its own interests or no longer in accordance with its instructions, sometimes even becoming violent. Such rogues were relentlessly hunted by other modrons, although, unlike their properly operating fellows, they could be reasoned with. Quadrones were capable of wielding weapons and were exceptionally proficient with bows, with which they capable of performing four attacks at a time. If destroyed, a quadrone disintegrated completely into dust and a tridrone was instantly upgraded into a quadrone to fill its position.

Quadrones could communicate with other quadrones and with tridrones and pentadrones. They were incapable of communicating directly with lesser modrons and could not comprehend any of the hierarch modrons, such as decatons. In modron society, quadrones were responsible for supervising other groups of modrons, as well as performing services as multifunctional laborers. They were always created as the result of tridrones being upgraded to take the place of destroyed or further upgraded units.

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Oculus Demon

Oculus Demon

Oculus Demons are located in the Abyss unless summoned or gated onto the Esperia. This medium sized demon is red or purple in color and have a large collection of eyes all over its body. The eyes can shoot out powerful bolts and it is near impossible to flank and surprise the fiend.

Oculus feed on blood and souls and of course larvae. In the Abyss they become powerful shock troopers and lead bands of demons in the Blood War. They are normally loyal to Obox-ob or Demogorgon. When located on Esperia they prefer warm climates and try to try away from cold and forests.

Many believe that Oculus came to be when a gibbering mouther and a fiendish beholder mixed. There is a known fact that Oculus can relate to beholders and hold well with their company.

 

 

 

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Eyeball Beholderkin

Eyeball Beholderkin

Eyeballs are the lowest of all beholderkind, with dim intellect and personality. It is said that in some stable portions of the Far Realm, beholderkin spawn from the chaotic essence producing all manner of monsters. The bubbles of flesh which drift off and land within the prime material become these creatures, beings of chaos and a ever-present madness.

Eyeballs are little more than that, a floating eyeball with a lip of rough mottled skin as an eyelid. Small dots cover its skin, eyespots that in a greater beholderkin would be the source for eyestalks. The eyeball however has non, largely round and devoid of even things such as a mouth or any place to hold a brain or other organs. In spite of its impossible biology, it seems to perform well enough, slowly sipping ambient magical energy from the air to power it.

Eyeballs have little personality, but in the wild they are as mad as their higher kin. They seem to have a hate for non-round objects, blasting them until they have been eroded into an ideal shape or destroyed. Ironically their love of things round means they are capable of tolerating the presence of other beholderkin, and are sometimes used by true beholders as minions and scouts.

Eyeballs do not speak, and are lighter than air. They do not need to eat or breath, but they must still sleep.

Eyeballs can be bound as familiars, in which case it has the alignment of its owner, and a significantly improved self-control not to blast everything into a round shape (though it might still try).

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Thulgant Qlippoth

Thulgant Qlippoth

Before the Abyss was taught how to process and transform larvae into demons—indeed, before larvae even existed or the idea of mortal life had been conceived—it was rife with foul life. These creatures exist still, yet in drastically reduced numbers and often only in the deepest pits of the plane. Known as the qlippoth (the singular and plural are identical), these fiends may well be the oldest form of life in the Great Beyond—certainly, they were already in existence before the proteans discovered them. Some believe that the qlippoth come from an unknowable realm on what might be described as the “outside shell” of the Outer Sphere, but if the qlippoth are to be taken as indicative of what order of existence rules in such a realm, it is a good thing indeed that this outer realm is so impossibly distant.

The qlippoth do not possess in their forms anything approximating the human shape except by cosmic fluke or sinister mockery. In their twitching, squirming visages, the mad might make comparisons to life’s most primeval shapes—spiders and cephalopods, insects and worms, and even baser forms of life. What this might imply about these lower forms of life has disturbed philosophers for ages, and is not a train of thought that many enjoy lingering upon.

Since the rise of mortal sin, the rule of the Abyss has passed from the qlippoth to the much more fecund demons. When the Abyss first “learned” how to transform mortal souls into demons, the resulting explosion of demonic life culminated in a violent and destructive war with the then-rulers of the Abyss—the qlippoth. For unguessed millennia this war raged across the countless layers of the Abyss. The qlippoth had the advantage of knowing their ancient realm and, as a general rule, were individually more powerful than most demons, but the demons had numbers on their side. And as the demons continued to win battle after battle, new powers among their kind rose—balors, balor lords, nascent demon lords, and eventually demon lords themselves. Over time, the qlippoth were hunted nearly to extinction on the upper layers of the Abyss, and were forced to retreat deep into that realm’s darkest and most remote realms, to places even the demons feared to tread.

Here, the qlippoth have festered and lurked for ages. None can say how many qlippoth survived that ancient war, for none can know how deep the Abyss goes. The qlippoth dwell in these darkest pits, periodically emerging to do battle against their hated demonic foes, yet their wrath is not limited to the demonic host. The qlippoth know that daemons played a role in “teaching” the Abyss how to birth demonic life, and their war with the denizens of Abaddon is one fueled more by a driving need to punish than any need for survival. Yet as the eons have worn on, the qlippoth have come to realize that the true enemy is not a fiendish race—it is mortal life itself. For as long as mortal life continues to sin and die, the Abyss can continue to birth demons into its pits and rifts. The destruction of sin, by changing the way mortals live, would halt demonic growth, yet the qlippoth have no concept of how this goal might be achieved—to the qlippoth, only the murder of all mortality can suffice.

As a result, all qlippoth possess within their minds a burning hatred of mortal life, particularly humanoids, whom they know to be the primary seeds of sin. When a qlippoth is conjured to the Material Plane, it seeks any way to escape control in order to maul and destroy humans—they have a particular hatred of children and pregnant women, and if given a choice between harming someone already dying or close to death and someone with a full life ahead of them, they always choose to attack the latter, save for the rare case where the death of an elder or a dying loved one might result in a chain reaction of death among the young.

The dreaded thulgant is among the most dangerous of the qlippoth, for it supports an array of deadly and painful physical attacks with a wide range of potent magical powers. Born from the cannibalistic orgies of augnagar qlippoth, each thulgant exists for one purpose only—the eradication of all demons from the Abyss. This monster has ten spidery legs, a head writhing with dripping tentacles above a clutch of red eyes, and three whipping stingers.

Yet thulgants do not spend all of their lives hunting and destroying demons. They rule horrific hives deep in the Abyss populated by all manner of hideous minions, many of which are bound into servitude via binding spells. These qlippoth are fond of decorating their lairs with petrified or enstasised victims of great power—the more powerful the victims, the greater the prestige held by the thulgant.

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Nyogoth Qlippoth

Nyogoth Qlippoth

Before the Abyss was taught how to process and transform larvae into demons—indeed, before larvae even existed or the idea of mortal life had been conceived—it was rife with foul life. These creatures exist still, yet in drastically reduced numbers and often only in the deepest pits of the plane. Known as the qlippoth (the singular and plural are identical), these fiends may well be the oldest form of life in the Great Beyond—certainly, they were already in existence before the proteans discovered them. Some believe that the qlippoth come from an unknowable realm on what might be described as the “outside shell” of the Outer Sphere, but if the qlippoth are to be taken as indicative of what order of existence rules in such a realm, it is a good thing indeed that this outer realm is so impossibly distant.

The qlippoth do not possess in their forms anything approximating the human shape except by cosmic fluke or sinister mockery. In their twitching, squirming visages, the mad might make comparisons to life’s most primeval shapes—spiders and cephalopods, insects and worms, and even baser forms of life. What this might imply about these lower forms of life has disturbed philosophers for ages, and is not a train of thought that many enjoy lingering upon.

Since the rise of mortal sin, the rule of the Abyss has passed from the qlippoth to the much more fecund demons. When the Abyss first “learned” how to transform mortal souls into demons, the resulting explosion of demonic life culminated in a violent and destructive war with the then-rulers of the Abyss—the qlippoth. For unguessed millennia this war raged across the countless layers of the Abyss. The qlippoth had the advantage of knowing their ancient realm and, as a general rule, were individually more powerful than most demons, but the demons had numbers on their side. And as the demons continued to win battle after battle, new powers among their kind rose—balors, balor lords, nascent demon lords, and eventually demon lords themselves. Over time, the qlippoth were hunted nearly to extinction on the upper layers of the Abyss, and were forced to retreat deep into that realm’s darkest and most remote realms, to places even the demons feared to tread.

Here, the qlippoth have festered and lurked for ages. None can say how many qlippoth survived that ancient war, for none can know how deep the Abyss goes. The qlippoth dwell in these darkest pits, periodically emerging to do battle against their hated demonic foes, yet their wrath is not limited to the demonic host. The qlippoth know that daemons played a role in “teaching” the Abyss how to birth demonic life, and their war with the denizens of Abaddon is one fueled more by a driving need to punish than any need for survival. Yet as the eons have worn on, the qlippoth have come to realize that the true enemy is not a fiendish race—it is mortal life itself. For as long as mortal life continues to sin and die, the Abyss can continue to birth demons into its pits and rifts. The destruction of sin, by changing the way mortals live, would halt demonic growth, yet the qlippoth have no concept of how this goal might be achieved—to the qlippoth, only the murder of all mortality can suffice.

As a result, all qlippoth possess within their minds a burning hatred of mortal life, particularly humanoids, whom they know to be the primary seeds of sin. When a qlippoth is conjured to the Material Plane, it seeks any way to escape control in order to maul and destroy humans—they have a particular hatred of children and pregnant women, and if given a choice between harming someone already dying or close to death and someone with a full life ahead of them, they always choose to attack the latter, save for the rare case where the death of an elder or a dying loved one might result in a chain reaction of death among the young.

The nyogoth’s role on the Abyss is that of a scavenger. Essentially mobile clumps of buoyant intestines, these writhing creatures squirt through the air in convulsive movements like an octopus gliding through water, and are constantly on the search for anything smaller than one of their many mouths (either the relatively small ones that pinch and gasp at the tips of their intestinal limbs or the larger gaping one at their cores). They can subsist on the waste and filth left behind by other denizens of the Abyss, but particularly enjoy feeding on still-living creatures.

Despite their seemingly lowly role in Abyssal ecosystems, the nyogoths are far from stupid beasts. Most are nearly as intelligent as the average human, and are capable of solving relatively complex problems when it comes to securing the next meal. As outsiders, nyogoths do not need to eat to survive, yet this does not exempt them from hunger—a nyogoth that goes for longer than 12 hours without a meal becomes increasingly violent and erratic. Such a “starving” nyogoth typically fights to the death when the prospect of food is available, and may even resort to self-cannibalism, drinking its own spurting digestive juices from its wounds in a nauseating display.

A typical nyogoth is 5 feet in diameter and weighs 260 pounds, although they are known to grow much larger.

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Chernobue Qlippoth

Chernobue Qlippoth

Before the Abyss was taught how to process and transform larvae into demons—indeed, before larvae even existed or the idea of mortal life had been conceived—it was rife with foul life. These creatures exist still, yet in drastically reduced numbers and often only in the deepest pits of the plane. Known as the qlippoth (the singular and plural are identical), these fiends may well be the oldest form of life in the Great Beyond—certainly, they were already in existence before the proteans discovered them. Some believe that the qlippoth come from an unknowable realm on what might be described as the “outside shell” of the Outer Sphere, but if the qlippoth are to be taken as indicative of what order of existence rules in such a realm, it is a good thing indeed that this outer realm is so impossibly distant.

The qlippoth do not possess in their forms anything approximating the human shape except by cosmic fluke or sinister mockery. In their twitching, squirming visages, the mad might make comparisons to life’s most primeval shapes—spiders and cephalopods, insects and worms, and even baser forms of life. What this might imply about these lower forms of life has disturbed philosophers for ages, and is not a train of thought that many enjoy lingering upon.

Since the rise of mortal sin, the rule of the Abyss has passed from the qlippoth to the much more fecund demons. When the Abyss first “learned” how to transform mortal souls into demons, the resulting explosion of demonic life culminated in a violent and destructive war with the then-rulers of the Abyss—the qlippoth. For unguessed millennia this war raged across the countless layers of the Abyss. The qlippoth had the advantage of knowing their ancient realm and, as a general rule, were individually more powerful than most demons, but the demons had numbers on their side. And as the demons continued to win battle after battle, new powers among their kind rose—balors, balor lords, nascent demon lords, and eventually demon lords themselves. Over time, the qlippoth were hunted nearly to extinction on the upper layers of the Abyss, and were forced to retreat deep into that realm’s darkest and most remote realms, to places even the demons feared to tread.

Here, the qlippoth have festered and lurked for ages. None can say how many qlippoth survived that ancient war, for none can know how deep the Abyss goes. The qlippoth dwell in these darkest pits, periodically emerging to do battle against their hated demonic foes, yet their wrath is not limited to the demonic host. The qlippoth know that daemons played a role in “teaching” the Abyss how to birth demonic life, and their war with the denizens of Abaddon is one fueled more by a driving need to punish than any need for survival. Yet as the eons have worn on, the qlippoth have come to realize that the true enemy is not a fiendish race—it is mortal life itself. For as long as mortal life continues to sin and die, the Abyss can continue to birth demons into its pits and rifts. The destruction of sin, by changing the way mortals live, would halt demonic growth, yet the qlippoth have no concept of how this goal might be achieved—to the qlippoth, only the murder of all mortality can suffice.

As a result, all qlippoth possess within their minds a burning hatred of mortal life, particularly humanoids, whom they know to be the primary seeds of sin. When a qlippoth is conjured to the Material Plane, it seeks any way to escape control in order to maul and destroy humans—they have a particular hatred of children and pregnant women, and if given a choice between harming someone already dying or close to death and someone with a full life ahead of them, they always choose to attack the latter, save for the rare case where the death of an elder or a dying loved one might result in a chain reaction of death among the young.

The chernobue is a living manifestation of the vile fecundity of the Abyss—a monstrous, alien pregnancy made flesh. By infecting creatures with the Abyssal taint they carry, they spread pain and misfortune wherever they flop and writhe—and with their plane shiftability, they are ready to spread their filth throughout the multiverse. A chernobue is 13 feet long and weighs 500 pounds, writhing mass of tentacles and stalked mouths has one huge hideous eye and a fanged maw for a belly.

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