Monstrous Repository
Irraluk - The Abominable Yeti
We followed the screaming wind for hours, and when it stopped… that’s when we heard the other thing. Not a roar. Not a beast. A voice. Hollow, wet, and cold like bone marrow.
Gorvulax - The Otyugh
They worship it. The rats, the beggars, the ones with boils on their souls. They bring it offerings — teeth, tongues, dead dreams. And in return, it whispers to them beneath the city.
Iivex - The Spectator
There’s a room in the ruined asylum where mirrors scream and water bleeds sideways. They say something’s trapped there, watching — and if you meet its gaze, you remember things that never happened.
Thrylvox- The Death Slaad
He was once a man. That much we’re sure of. Then the skin cracked, and the teeth… there were too many. He spoke in backward prayers, and what he said… it’s still in my dreams.
Skivvlex - The Red Slaad
They didn’t just die. They split — like sacks of blood and teeth. I saw it happen to Davren. And the thing that came out of him was laughing.
Xelz'thar - The Grell
The archivists sealed off the lower stacks after the air started humming and books opened themselves. They say something’s still floating down there… something that remembers every mind it’s touched.
Kruel'shekt - The Chuul
If you find the ribcage-shaped stones near the tidepools, turn around. The marsh doesn’t end there — it sinks. And he waits beneath, like a promise forgotten by time.
Zirrxilos - The Flumph
There’s a presence in the caverns that hums when you're not listening. It doesn’t speak, not with words. But the sound in your bones? That’s it trying to warn you.
Velgarith - The Green Slaad
They say there's a talking tree that moves through the bogs at night. It doesn't walk — it waits. If you hear it whisper your name... it's already too late.
Kaathrix - The Blue Slaad
There’s a rhythm in the air... a thrum like breath beneath skin. They say if you stand too long near the Shatterfen Pools, your heartbeat starts to match it — and that’s when he finds you.
Mossmother Cricktooth - The Green Hag
In the dripping heart of the Brackish Brineland’s oldest grove, where the canopy chokes out the sun, there lives a thing of twisted roots and cruel laughter.
Nightfang - The Displacer Beast
Along the moonlit forest trails of the Verdant Weald, hunters speak of a flicker in the corner of the eye—a shimmer where something should be, then the sudden flash of claws.