Miran's Magnificient Monster Manual

[Togetak]

Magimals Catalogue

IV. Stinnox

The Stinnox is, perhaps, one of the most widely known Magimals in Esshar- and, perhaps, the world at large. This reputation is, unfortunately, one of infamy and legend more than understanding- and, frankly, it is difficult to disagree with the reputation of such dangerous creatures. 

Man-sized insectoids with deep ties to earth magic, and an incredibly hostile demeanour, the Stinnox is more than formidable on its own. The main reasons it is discussed in such hushed tones, however, involve the two more hidden dangers- their magically potent venom, and their vast numbers. 

These two dangers, however, are also what has damned the species in Esshar into near extinction.

Once native to the southern deserts of Esshar, skittering across the cave systems honeycombing that particularly inhospitable piece of land, gathering prey from the surface and communally feeding- in recent decades their numbers have plummeted to such dire straits that I have chosen not to reveal where I observed the specimens that allowed me to write this section, such is the danger that they may disappear completely.

For a brief geopolitical tangent, during the years of 1660-1663 AC there was a massive shortage of metallic ore within the city of Osorona. During this period, intrepid merchants and companies- starved of all traditional options- were forced to extend their reach further and further into the wilderness to find new ore veins and keep the supply chain going.

 While in some ways this was a boon for the naturalist arts- uncovering previously unknown species, and excavating new homes for those otherwise confined to dwindled habitats- the Stinnox of Esshar were an unfortunate casualty.

 Their alchemical value, on top of the vast amounts of ore within their desert tunnels, meant that a significant number of Magi were sent deep into their territory, hitting them with a twofold attack. At one end, their kind was slaughtered en mass for both alchemical use, and to simply access the resources of their home. On the other, more permanent intrusions into their territory began as their excavated homes became dedicated mining operations, pushing them deeper and deeper into the earth.

  While truly no one hand carries their blood more than another, I would be remiss to speak of their current state without mentioning the ‘Venator’ guild, a band of exotic hunters active during the mid 1660s who were, perhaps, responsible for the single largest act of Stinnox slaughter in recorded history.

  On a mining expedition, the guild managed to break their way directly into an entire nesting chamber of the creatures, exposing not only an entire nest to the man-made mining expedition and driving further conflict, but also directly killing a number of creatures. Worse still, the information I have gathered indicates that their actions directly led to the death of one of the few remaining Queen Stinnox of the desert.

 

Queen Stinnox  

At a glance, the Queen Stinnox simply appears to be a larger, more imposing, and lightly golden hued iteration of the standard Stinnox. While this is an oversimplification of the matter, it is close enough to the truth.

 

Unlike the Grubworm- a species I generally consider to be the antithesis of the Stinnox in most ways- a Stinnox Queen is the most powerful member of the nest, and their final line of defence. An undeniable master of the earthen element, likely in excess of many magi who self profess to be the same, her golden hue is actually a very rudimentary form of metal magic- perhaps the only example of such I have seen in nature. Her exterior carapace is an interlocking mesh of the Stinnox’s natural chitin and numerous heavy earth metals, held rigid and in place by the natural magical talents of the Queen, rather than by any biological mechanism.  

 

Surprisingly, this system also acts as a ‘grip’ perfectly tailored for the libs of Stinnox young, allowing the live-born infants to be ferried around by the most powerful individual in the nest- which is, presumably, the safest place for such fragile youth to be.

 

Dwelling deep into the nest, within the brooding chambers, the Queen is undeniably the warlord of the nest. She directs her underlings, defending their most vulnerable positions, and is given the reverence such a persona demands.

 

Perhaps most fascinating- and, rather fitting given the ‘warlord’ descriptor- is the Stinnox Queen’s involvement in the lifecycle of the Stinnox as a species.

 

While most would assume the Queen to be the breeder of the nest, responsible for the production of eggs, this is actually relegated solely to the lesser Stinnox, who beget themselves in the cycle of reproduction that is entirely a parthenogenetic affair. 

 

While the Queen does not personally mate with each and every individual amongst the lessers of her hive (at least, not through any mechanism I have yet uncovered) they cannot reproduce without her presence- perhaps due to a pheremonal system of fertility, instinctual understanding a Queenless nest is without structure or overriding will, or indeed perhaps there is simply some magical element to their birthing process that cannot begin without the involvement of the Queen. 

 

Whatever the manner in which she regulates the nest’s population, she is without a doubt the core of it. 

The keen minded readers amongst you may already be asking ‘Then what begets the Queen, if her lessers only beget one another?’ and I am afraid this is a question I do not yet fully understand the answer to.   

The Queen, like her lessers, does appear to possess the anatomy required for reproduction, but I have yet to see any such event occur. I theorize that, due to the incredibly low number of Stinnox within the Nest I managed to observe, the Queen has no incentive to birth others of her kind. 

  

Such powerful and demanding creatures likely could not exist in the same nest, so I would imagine as the population of one nest grows too large, or the Queen in control grows too old, she will birth a line of successors- young that will either claim the nest from their mother, or enact a shameful exodus to establish her own nest with whatever following she can assemble.

 

Whether the Queen I observed, far from her species’ ancestral home, was the result of one such exodus- or, far more grimly, simply reigns over the shattered remains of her nest, driven out into the few bastions left for her kind- I cannot truly know.   

Still, I can only deeply hope that such a magnificent creature is given time and space to truly return to their splendure- not so their kind can become a scourge amongst the civilized portions of the world, those that would do them harm for the machinations of coin and crown, but perhaps so we may learn from our mistakes and truly create a harmonious appreciation of these wonderful beasts.

[Togetak]

Daemon Catalogue

V. Frospup

 

 

A common sight in the mountainous peaks of Theria, Frospup are- at first glance- a rather strange fit for their environment. Small Daemon that simultaneously bear the aquatically inclined body shape of a whale, with a pair of ice antlers akin to those of an elk- capping it all off with a crystalline core sitting exposed at the end of their tail, in place of a fluke.

 

Stranger still is how they move. They drag themselves across the Therian biota with a deceptively stubby, and yet undeniably powerful pair of front flippers- using them to propel their slick bodies across the snow like bobsleds for quick bursts of speed.

 

Their behavior, too, is odd for their kind. While often childlike- frolicking and playful in the snow, roughhousing and sliding around with their kin, they tend to be rather aggressive when encroached upon by Theria’s inhabitants- violently flinging themselves at any onlookers, until they return back down from the peaks. While at first glance this behavior seems rather erratic, that they can turn entirely with only a moment’s notice, it’s actually far simpler to understand than one would imagine.

 

While Frospups are almost constantly seen upon the mountain tops, they do not truly abide there. Frequently they can be observed diving into, or out of, the numerous holes in the ice at the peaks, into the freezing water below. While the frequency that they do so can be misleading, creating the illusion individuals are simply diving in and out, reality is far more interesting: The main colonies and nesting spots of this species actually lay somewhere within the mountain itself, presumably in some subterranean cave accessible only via these aquifers supplying the water to the peaks- or, perhaps at the bottom of the water body itself, if oxygen is no issue?

 

Regardless of where their nests lay, it’s clear their expeditions to the surface, while stimulating, serve some purpose in their lifecycle. I was rather perplexed at what, however, until I came to realize Theria’s similarity to Osrona’s Imperial Quarry: the notable presence of Blue Mercury.

 

While Frospups filling their mouths with snow is not an uncommon sight upon the Therian peaks, often presumed to be another play activity, I believe instead it is a form of ‘filter feeding’ as they consume trace amounts of Blue Mercury leeching off the stone and into the porous snow.

 

I have, personally, witnessed exposed veins of Blue Mercury be gnawed on by fortuitous Frospups that managed to find their way into the caves of Theria’s peak- either by luck, or by scent- which only reinforces my belief that this is the true reason for their amphibious expeditions.

 

It explains, too, why the creatures are so violently aggressive. Those upon the peaks of theria are likely dusted with the mineral they crave, or often miners who’ve directly collected not insignificant amounts- and that’s not to mention the frequency that Blue Mercury is used in runesmithing and enchanting operations, a common procedure for the sellswords that live within the city. It’s no wonder they leap at us- we’re effectively wearing what they consider a delicacy.

  

Froseal- a natural mutation?

  

 

In previous chapters I have described Daemons which, when exposed to nexi of significant magical energy (in all cases so far, of deep occultic corruption), were capable of “mutating” into a much more powerful- and often far more pained- form. With the discovery of the Froseal, and its… less distressing origins, I believe I had spoken too soon in those earlier chapters, and had judged the entire process with too broad a brush- and, perhaps, other such creatures like it exist in the world, hidden from our eyes.

 

While not particularly common upon the Therian peak, the Froseal is still a near-universal sight.  Unlike many of the other Daemon mutations, these creatures are far more ‘natural’ in both appearance, and capabilities to live outside of wellsprings of energy. Larger, with bodies more akin to legends of Sea-Dragons than whales, Froseals still stand no taller than half a man. 

  

There is always one such creature amongst the Frospups on the peak, and rarely ever more, acting as some sort of.. Guardian, or mentor-like figure, it’s subdued and stoic nature putting it in sharp contrast with the childlike play of its smaller kin.

 

While the Froseal is observably more powerful than the smaller creatures it protects, launching powerful water magic at those who would threaten them, it is far removed from the raw power expressed by its more occultic inclined kin- scarcely stronger than your average water magi, if that.

 

Unlike all other mutated Daemon spoken of thus far, the Froseal is also capable of locomotion. While it is not incapable of sliding in much the same manner as the Frospup before it, the preferred method of movement is undulation, extending their front flippers forward and then pushing with their less developed hind set- while the movement is strange to behold, it is noticeably faster than expected of such a lumbering movement, even faster than that of their smaller kin.

 

A noticeable departure from the Froseal’s activities, however, is the return whatever aquatic territory lays underneath the ice. A Froseal will emerge from the water only once, as the Frospup it once was first begins the rapid growth that signifies its mutation. After this it is too large, and too obsessed with its new duty, to ever return.

 

While such a fate is saddening, there is a nobility to it- to sacrifice one's own wellbeing for the betterment of others. While i’m unsure if creatures such as this have the intelligence to understand what they become, beyond basic instinct, I don’t believe this truly matters. Regardless of whether they understand it, I believe we could all learn from honouring their selflessness.

[Togetak]

Interlude: Spirit Creatures

 

While spirits, as entities of mana and soul, are not necessarily ‘creatures’ or ‘monsters’ under the metrics I have used to categorize all other entities catalogued so far- there are a number of more niche manifestations of such beings, which I do count amongst the Daemons and Magimals of Esshar.

 

These creatures are not born of one another, definitive species that breed true, but rather spirits manifesting in our world through bodies we can broadly categorize. As such, I offer the pre-emptive apology that I can only speak for the entities i’ve witnessed- and in some cases, created- rather than offer universal truth as I have with beasts of flesh and blood.

 

Wisps

 

 

Ubiquitous creatures within the spirit world, Wisps are the souls of mundane animals and otherwise magically impotent non-human entities that roam the spirit world as human souls tend to. There, I have read, they take a variety of forms, most content to live out post-life as they did in the living world, some even taking spectral forms of their living bodies.

 

When they manifest within Esshar- generally unkowingly wandering from the ethereal wilds of the spirit world, in places where the barrier most porous- most simply see them as flickering orbs of mana, or floating spectral fire. 

 

Those blessed with Spectral Sight, such as Druids, or those who have hotwired their mana circuits to obtain such an ability, such as witches, are capable of seeing them as they were in life- ghostly forms of the creature’s true self surrounding their flaming core in a similar manner to a Daemon.

 

As in the spirit world, the behavior of a Whisp is generally reliant on what the creature was in life. Domestic or urban creatures tend towards being affectionate or playful creatures- flickering around urban areas in ethereal play- while those more suited to the wilds tend to be more reserved, and wander around pieces of the natural world that most resemble their old habitats.

 

Regardless of original species, however, all Wisps are inclined to stick close to people, creatures or locations of great magical power. Whether that be an individual Wisp hovering around a specific Magi, a number of them making their homes within magically potent groves, or congregating within the nests of particularly powerful Magimals- it is the power that draws them.

 

As with all sentient creatures, obviously, such attraction can form to genuine bonds- be it of companionship with living creatures, or of territorialism with locations- however the radiant mana from these bonds are what sustains the Wisps upon the material plane. Without such a connection, a Wisp will slowly fade, either slipping back into the spirit world when weak enough to phase through the barrier, or simply dissipating into nothingness altogether. 

Such eventualities are generally unlikely, however, unless a Wisp is intentionally starved- given the wide abundance of such places, creatures, and Magi within Esshar.

Wisps, and bodies of flesh?

 

In the course of my travels as a Druid I have uncovered a… rather strange method of engaging with Wisps.

 

My first act following being gifted the responsibility of the title by the spirits was to assist a Daemon with a specific defect within its core, a normally inconsequential flaw that was exacerbated to significant damage when it consumed enough magical energy to ‘evolve’ into a larger form. 

 

As a desperate measure to ease the creature’s suffering, I channeled the mana out of the Daemon core through my body and into the earth. The process stabilized the Daemon for a time, at the cost of merging part of the crystalline core into my body, but it quickly became apparent the psychological and physical toll of such a thing was too much for the creature. In an attempt to do the reverse- to channel my mana into the flickering Daemon as it’s core failed- it seemed to decide to merge the entire core with the shards previously attached to my mana circuit, and entirely merge with my body.

 

Such a change rooted the creature’s soul to the physical plane through my own flesh and blood- maintained by my own mana, through the core becoming part of me- and allowing it to manifest itself as a sort of Wisp-esque creature, becoming quite the wonderful travelling companion.

 

Such a process- while obviously uniquely situational- does raise a rather vital question of whether such a thing could be further refined. Utilizing a living Daemon’s core to power some kind of artificial body, and root the soul to the physical plane without the need for a Magi’s assistance? Utilizing a dead Daemon’s empty core as a way for other spirits to root themselves to reality, through the same method? Perhaps even allowing human spirits to re-enter the world, through the flesh of others?

  

Such things could be dangerous, if used a form of roundabout necromancy (although… such legends of that magic- perhaps it was merely dark practitioners of the methods I have theorized here?) and yet also vitally important for conservation, and perhaps for understanding the world around us? To form an emotional bond with a living creature is a wonderful feeling and educational experience that too undergo, to make that bond maniest in such a visceral way- imagine what more we could learn? 

 

Mandrakes

 

 

Much like the above, Mandrakes are lesser spirits rooted into the physical plane through an inhabited body. Unlike Wisps, however, the spirits of the forest are in a more precarious position- they are not the souls of living creatures, but rather one part of a natural dyad.

 

Each tree, each river, each element of the natural world exists in tandem with their spirit world counterpart. Such spirits are not the soul of the tree, the river, but instead simply the spiritual reflection of the physical natural world- the death of a tree kills the spirit, just as the death of the spirit kills the tree.

 

Mandrakes as such are the will of the spirits, of nature itself, made manifest by a Druid- or other similarly aligned practitioner of natural magic.

 

Maintained by the mana of the Magi that calls upon them for aid, the bodies the spirits inhabit do not truly represent them as the bodies of Wisps do- instead, they are simply vessels representative of the Magi's power. 

  

My own Mandrakes, for example, are.. tubular creatures, fruit-like, and reinforced with crystalline flowers and twigs sprouting from their stems, reflecting my crystaline magic intermingling with the natural powers I weild. Similar variance exists in historic sources of the creatures, although such historians generally tended towards attributing these differences to interpretation, as they did not understand the true underlying mechanics of these creatures.

  

Being temporary vessels for a myriad of spirits, the temperament of Mandrakes are similarly dependent on their spiritual pilots. Calling upon them in Osrona, a place of spirits emaciated by decades of overfarming, where nature is confined solely to well manicured gardens, the Mandrakes I called upon were skittish, curious, and generally unassuming. Theria on the other hand- a harsh mountainous land of ice and snow- summoned similarly hardened spirits to my aid, creatures accepting little nonsense and leaping to violence the moment I allowed it, rather than requiring me to specifically ask it of them.

 

Mandrakes in the wild?

 

I have read strange, unconfirmed reports that Mandrakes have been seen to manifest in the world without the aid of Magi. While such thing does not sound outlandish- a location seeped in sufficiently powerful nature-aligned magic could theoretically maintain Mandrake bodies in a semi-permanent way- such a thing perplexes me, as a Druid and a person.

 

To enter a physical body for an extended period of time would require simply abdicating the spiritual responsibilities of a nature spirit for that amount of time- a necessary part of maintaining their physical counterpart, and thus their own life. Perhaps in time of great need, a warhost of the forest could assume mandrake form under those circumstances to fend off those who would bring them ruin, such coordination between individual lesser spirits without outside influence sounds incredibly unlikely.

[Togetak]

The Northern Moonfall Ruins: An ecological study.

 

 

A more niche location than the Osrona Imperial Quarry, these dilapidated ruins to the north of moonfall are, however, a similar ecological treasure trove- albeit for almost opposite reasons.

 

Some form of ancient fort or otherwise human holding, it is a delightfully odd addition to the landscape. What is clearly Osronan architecture- and yet so far away from the main settlements of the nation- is aged far beyond anything that makes sense for the area. Why would the ancient Osronanas build such a structure so far out into the wilderness, at a time when their grip on their new home was so tenuous? Not to stake a claim on the land- the accessible portions of the area make it clear that this is something of a domestic nature, rather than a military outpost. 

 

Whatever mysteries surround such an aged structure do not extend solely to what it once was- as the ecology it now supports is equally as fascinating, equally as unique.

 

Rosasyn- The heart of the ruins

 

 

Under normal circumstances I would scarcely consider this Daemon worth cataloging in a section such as this, as it is a single entity i’ve encountered rather than a species. Still, this unique creature is, as far as I have come to be aware of, vital to understand the way this ecosystem functions.

 

An immensely powerful Daemon, on par with the mutated forms I have encountered in the past, this creature is not born of the occult, not shares the normal signs of mutation that would accompany such creatures- it appears to simply exist as it is, perhaps even having been born with such raw power.

 

More fascinatingly, and unique amongst its kin, this Daemon exhibits mastery over multiple forms of magic. While every other Daemon i’ve encountered manifests only a single elemental magic- earth, fire, water, wind, ect and their derivative forms- the Rosasyn summons upon the powers of Wind and Earth at the same time, summoning the powers of nature while whipping the air into magically-aligned gales. Such is the root of the creature’s power, a dual mastery pulling from immense reserves of power

 

Fae-like and faster than i’ve seen most magi move, the vaguely humanoid creature is also far more aggressive than most Daemon i’ve come across, tending towards violence against any that enter the ruins and wander close to the place it nests- this is particularly dangerous, given the power it wields.

 

Such is the magic influence of the creature that it sustains the floral infestation of the ruins. The raw nature magic it imbunes its own nest with extending outwards and bringing life to the trees and varied platlife that infest the crumbling structure, with the life seeping from the earth as one wanders further into the structure and away from the Daemon.

 

This brings many questions to mind- how could a single Daemon live so long as to account for the state of the structure? Is it simply reshaping the flora to its own liking, having moved in within the last human lifetime? Did the creature truly arrive centuries ago, and has merely been growing in power ever since? 

 

Furthermore surely, given the aggression of the creature and that humans have been known to regularly squat in the ruins, it should have been slain long ago- is it simply powerful enough to reform itself after its physical form is dissipated? Or is it smart enough to reserve its wrath for one it somehow understands does not intend to do it harm?

 

Such mysteries are the core of the ruins and the creatures that dwell within it, and as much as I have done my best to shed light upon them, I believe it would take far more than I to get to the bottom of them.

 

Flapling- The link to the outside world

  

 

While my research has indicated this species of Daemon is rather common elsewhere in the world, forming flocks that inhabit the mountainous regions of their homelands and nesting in the caves- this is not the case within Esshar. This species is, to my knowledge, solely found within this one structure upon this continent of ours.

  

Unlike most of their ground-dwelling kin, Flaplings are a species of Daemon with little ability to scavenge for magically potent substances such as Blue Mercury, and lack the killing power to hunt other Magimals to sustain themselves.

 

Elsewhere in the world this is little problem- Agartha, for example, is a place seeped in enough magic that merely consuming nuts and seeds allows them to stockpile the magical energies necessary for both reproduction and continued growth- however in Esshar such potent founts of raw magic are rare, and there are scarce few locations where the kind of wind magic necessary to ambiently sustain them is present.

 

The question may arise within you now, dear reader, as to how this single population survives in such a niche location. The answer sits in the section above- the Rosasyn.

 

So potent are the wind magics of this Daemon that their own presence is enough to feed the Flaplings. Their population is rightfully low, relying on such a precarious source, but sustainable still- I bore witness to a number of young chicks in my journey through the ruins, each fed on the supple updrafts from the powerful Daemon’s nest below.

 

This is not a relationship of parasitism, however. There is a mutualism at play, a price the Flaplings owe to their savior.

 

Almost as clockwork, each evening the entire flock leaves their roost in the ruin’s rafters and spreads out across the surrounding forest. While I had suspicions at first that this may be some form of… strange scouting exercise, the bird Daemon acting as eyes and ears to an uncomfortably powerful benefactor, such ideas were quickly put to rest once I witnessed their ritual upon return to the shattered keep: defecation.

 

Daemon are, at their core (in a literal sense) more magic than flesh. They feast upon it, are sustained by it, and their bodies are little more than it coalesced into the facsimile of flesh and fur. As such, Daemon very rarely engage in such mundane digestion processes, generally only releasing the mundane elements of whatever magical object they’ve consumed- be it stone from blue mercury, or the non-mana infused bodyparts from a consumed Magimal- with no real ‘digestion’ as we would understand it.

 

Similar to the mundane birds they appear similar to, these Flaplings act as seed carriers, propagators for the myriad plants of the forest. Not in service of the natural order, eating fruit to release the seeds and benefit the tree, but instead to provide more diversity to the Rosasyn’s den.

 

The remnants of their nightly feasts are imbued with the Daemon’s magic as they hit the loamy floor, and quickly grown becoming full parts of the ecosystem.

 

Such a process answers a question I had not even thought to ask of the ruins- how the myriad of fungus, crops, medicinal herbs and mundane shrubbery all managed to find their way into the same environment, despite living in vastly different conditions when truly in the wild.

 

There is some unease I feel about the arrangement, however. As none of the creatures within the ruins consume the plants- at least, nothing beyond insects and the occasional mundane animal- what purpose does this carefully maintained den serve? Is the Daemon at the heart of this simply concerned with the aesthetics? Such higher minded concepts give me pause when considering the oddly specific arrangement the Daemon have come to. I am given the uncomfortable inkling that the Rosasyn may be a far more intelligent creature than I had come to believe it was.

 

Arcane Golems- Ancient caretakers?

 

 

Another entity that I would not otherwise group together with living things, the arcane golems that still patrol the ruined halls are yet more fascinating cogs in the machine.

 

As they are more feats of engineering and runecrafting than living creatures, i’m unfortunately forced to admit that my understanding of these lumbering automatons is shamefully limited, beyond what I can directly observe.

 

Still- the idea of such machines are not particularly novel in this era of Magnolian technology, and indeed even far off Valmasia has been said to have similar entities for hundreds of years, but their presence in such an ancient structure- in Esshar of all places- is more mysterious.

 

Generally such mana-powered entities do not last particularly long without either a Magi or similar power source to recharge them, or a direct line to a well of the arcane to draw from. Given their run down state, some even completely rusted over, the first option is unlikely, although given the Daemon presence- i’m rather led to believe these automatons are drawing power as the Flaplings are.

  

Perhaps less transactionally than the bird Daemon, but the runescribed labourers do still enact their vital housekeeping duties, despite their masters being long dead.

  

While some are useless- wandering around kitchens awaiting orders, or lazily attempting to sweep dirt from a ruin with an indoor forest- a large number of those dedicated to maintaining vital structures within the building still operate, repairing support beams and ensuring the crumbled husk does not deteriorate further. I would wager that the reason this ancient building has survived so long is to the sole credit of these mechanical maids.

 

While effectively inanimate objects, their humanoid shape does give a level of… personhood? One that makes me glad that, despite the reason for their construction being long obsolete, that they’ve found new life doing what they were built for. While their new house guests may be far more beastial than those they were built to please, it is difficult not to strike a grin at the gumption they show in trying to make them feel at home.