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- 1 Adrigor
- 2 Aiomina
- 3 Amalion
- 4 Anadbagara
- 5 Anapyxi
- 6 Anhelios
- 7 Anthir Sonai
- 8 Aramedisae
- 9 Ashar'Lhan
- 10 Atlas
- 11 Avadonis
- 12 Benezet
- 13 The Broken-Winged Crane
- 14 Clariandra
- 15 Daendels
- 16 Dikos Mou
- 17 Echthros
- 18 Ekrasios
- 19 Erembour
- 20 Esclarmonde
- 21 Euthychia
- 22 Fastred
- 23 Fendoril
- 24 Geneth
- 25 Gergesenes
- 26 Gnimersalt
- 27 Hamza-Hathmet
- 28 He Who Exists For His Fate,
- 29 Helisquinde
- 30 Hepyrtace
- 31 Ipithymia
- 32 Jacint
- 33 Jarlastran
- 34 Ketu-Mula
- 35 Langlaua
- 36 Lethe
- 37 Ligier
- 38 Madelrada
- 39 Mageddon
- 40 Marsilion
- 41 Munaxes
- 42 Mursilis
- 43 Orabilis
- 44 Persine
- 45 The Punisher Of Sin
- 46 Quendalon
- 47 The Ravager Of Dreams
- 48 Remondin
- 49 Sagarduia
- 50 Sazakya
- 51 The Seven Seas of Kimbery
- 52 Sil Urxan
- 53 Suntarankal
- 54 Temozarael
- 55 The Tide That Knows No Life
- 56 Tulchinary
- 57 Ululaya
- 58 Ur
- 59 Ur-Nammu
- 60 Verthan
- 61 Wulgwyst
- 62 Xerysis
- 63 Xipantek,
- 64 Ypsos
- 65 Zenluastricoroolisun
- 66 Zinnridi
- 67 unknown
Dotting the Fields of Rot and Sorrow are great cavernous tunnels leading deep beneath Valxregen. However, those that enter as ever lost as the tunnels sprout teeth and close on them. They have just been added to the feast of Adrigor. Adrigor is the child Sil Urxan wishes he could be. When Adrigor's great mouths open wide, all the fauna within Valxregen dive within to be added to He Who Hungers great gullet. From there, new life is excreted out through Valxregen's soil and Adrigor frees his brother. In Creation, Adrigor appears as beasts of great size and cavernous mouth. More than once he has been spotted shattering ships as a siaka of brass at the behest of an angry sorcerer.
An eternal wanderer, for whom all of the world is best forgotten.
Title: Fifth Soul, the Manse of Echoes Ascending
Author: White Wolf
A spirit of infinite, accidental fecundity, in whose passage the world is changed.
The Red Star blazes in the night sky of Malfeas, a tiny dim light compared to Ligier, yet the brightest star in the hellish sky of the Yozi's prison-kingdom. The eighth soul of Kimbery, the red light guides the demon ships across the Primordialís lethal waves. Like most Third Circle Demons Anhelios can exist in Creation and Malfeas at the same time. In Creation Anhelios may take either the form of a blazing red star in the sky (unmistakably different than the Maiden of Battles) or a giant composed only of red light. If he is soummoned by a Sorcerer then they must specify at the moment of their binding what form he is to take and he cannot assume another for the duration of his service. To name neither form frees him from all obligations while in Creation and will almost certainly result in the Sorcerer being carried off to Malfeas to serve Anhelios as a plaything. In giant form Anhelios is a combat prodigy that can crush armies, slay a sorcerer's foes (often with a single mighty blow), or siege even First Age fortifications single handedly. In the form of a red star Anheliosís gaze covers all of Creation. When in the form of a star Anhelios cannot be seen by ordinary mortals, but to others he is visible day or night.
Amid a great lake there stands a temple made from red marble. Bitter water plays around the steps of the sanctuary and sometimes Adjoran settles beside the Altar to behold the youth who sleeps upon it. From this lake all streams of Wesmakan have their origin. Three hundred man sized crabs holding pearls the size of eggs climb the sixteen steps from the water to the altar to deposit their impeccable gifts at the feet of their master. They hunt lesser demons who come too close to the water and drag them down below the languid waves and dismember them with their obsidian claws. They descend to the crystalline clams that live at the bottom of the lake and insert the lumps of flesh into their opaque skin. As the flesh of beings that were born is a blasphemy in the eyes of Wesmakan and a reminder of his failure the clams coat the heretic flesh with thousand layers made from the waters of Wesmakan. This is how the pearls are created and their color is that of milk mixed with a drop of virgin blood.
Over time huge heaps of pearls build up at the temple and the spider demons that inhibit the temple make beads out of them that adorn the walls with their patterns. When the Ebon Dragon flies, Weskaman becomes disturbed and the waves begin to rise. When the light of the green sun is hidden behind the shadows, the waters of Weskaman rise up from their basin to meet their brother and to plan their escape. All that remains is the temple amidst the gaping wound in Malfeas' flesh.
And in this twilight, Anthir Sonai awakes from his slumber. A younth made from mother of pearl with eyes of blood red pearls. Every one of his four hands posesses four fingers with four joints with nails made from meerschaum. His hair is spun silver and his flowing robes are adorned with glass shells. His face showing sorrow and grief when he raises his flute to his icy lips. The flute was made from Wesmakans rib and was given Anthir as a spiteful present from Cyntherea who is responsible for its creation. When the first mournful tunes reverberate through the temple, the pearls begin to glow in a soft light and to move in complex patterns that match Anthirs melody. Soon the whole city booms under the sound of the pearls hitting the floor of the temple in an ever increasing rhythm. And suddenly all pearls hit the ground at once and faster than a though they scatter in all directions and disappear in the sky.
A dozen seconds of total silence later, pearls rain down all over Malfeas and a creature struck by them is no more. Those pearls that aren't caught by daring demons begin their dance again, approaching eath other with wide leaps and deafening thunder. High above the city they meet and all that remains after a low and threatening thunderstroke is a fine red powder that settles upon the buildings somewhere on the uppermost layer of the city. Regardless what stood there before, now there is another deep wound in the flesh of Malfeas, the red temple in the middle. When the Ebon Dragon and Wesmakan conclude their meeting, the Father of Creations waters rain down into the new basin and the rivers begin to flow anew. Anthir Sonai himself relishes this period of darkness and takes his time when he wanders the city from his old to his new temple. Sometimes he meets Erembour in the dark alleys and when his flute joins her horn it is a sad day for the denizens of the demon city indeed.
Anthir is the fetich of Wesmakan and the personification of the wound his imprisonment and the betrayal of his wife dealt to him. He embodies the shedded blood and the wasted seed that is the core of Wesmakans being. Nevertheless there are the seeds of life inherent in Anthir, who await being put to use. The blood of the primordials can give birth to gods...
He who summons Anthir can command him to coat his enemies with the red dust so they cease to be and to play his song to make a whole kingdom barren und sterile. Far more important than these destructive abilites are his other skills. Those sorcerers seeking to create behemoths or new races benefit from his blood and his counsel. Those who swallow a special prepared pearl can overcome the limits of their bodies and create themselves a new temple of flesh to inhabit, unblemished and glorious. His vast knowledge of life and procreation can benefit the summoner in countless other related tasks. It is almost forgotten by men, but Anthir is an expert in the arts of love, tending a bit to the wild an rough side. And children sired by him are marvellous to behold in their many forms. The only things that are constant are their blood pearl eyes.
The ninth soul of the Ebon Dragon, Aramedisae is the shadowed corridor that leads to a boundless eternity, the paths that only the lost and the blind can navigate, and the edge of labyrinthine darkness within every mortal's soul. Her darkened doorways touch upon Creation in a thousand places and nowhere, for those that walk within her halls travel within a shadow of themselves, never emerging unscathed, perhaps never emerging at all - but she holds a path to every place lost to other ways, and it is for this reason those who seek the forgotten brave Aramedisae.
Ashar'Lhan was once known as Elib Dhaan, Maker of Rivers. But when Adrian became Adorjan, Elib Dhaan was transfigured, and became Ashar'Lhan, which in Old Realm means "Teacher of Pleasure." Ashar'Lhan is a giant, standing as tall as a mountain, and as strong. He wields a mighty maul of stone and fiery steel, which does not break down or rend asunder castle walls; rather, to be pummelled by his maul is to be rendered ecstatic with pleasure, as the wind of Adorjan tears at your soul, filling you will forbidden insight. The secrets of pleasure are Ashar'Lhan's to control, and many are the mad cultists who seek his touch.
Before the gods rebelled, there was a mathematical certainty to all things, and to all things a mathematical certainty. When but young things, Atlas taught the Five Maidens the gift of telling apart the constellations, and divining wisdom from them; in this, all mortal astrology comes from Atlas, Bearer of the Burden of the Earth. Though sized as a human, Atlas is the strongest force on earth, Heaven, or Hell, for is the mathematical certainty that the world will not end, that Time must bulldoze its way to tomorrow. Now locked away from the mathematical world he once helped forge, Atlas has grown cold and distant, and none may make him weep or laugh. No weight is too great for him to lift, no stone too great for him to hurl. When in Creation, Atlas can give great strength, and take it away as well. For this reason, many conjured him in the dying days of the Solar Deliberative.
A consuming shadow-beast, Avadonis brings death with his steps, and is a careless force for unmaking in the world.
Title: Seventeenth Soul, the Gardener of Identities
Author: White Wolf
The Broken-Winged Crane
The Broken-Winged Crane projects warped versions of itself, the First-Circle progeny of its seven Chapters, into the world from its prison Beyond, deep in the centre of Oramus' Cage of His Wings. They can only be discovered by one willing to take the step into darkness, to forego the paths of virtue and goodness to ascend the double spiral of madness and power. The Broken-Winged Crane has a dark palace in the centre of Szoreny, where a part of it holds court surrounded by its seven councillors. Those who are brought to Malfeas by its power are brought here to debase themselves at the font of forbidden knowledge. Here, it appears as a white crane with a single broken wing, with which it paints bloody calligraphy on the palace floor.
This illustrious magnate, one of many who rule in the demon realm, sits enthroned in palaces and mansions throughout the endless layers of Malfeas, surrounded by wealth and grandeur beyond mortal imaginings. Her skin is black as jet; her eyes, brass orbs, blaze with golden light. Garments woven from her brazen hair gleam upon her perfect body. Clariandra holds dominion over any lesser being who accepts any favor from her or her household, no matter how small; thus-indebted mortals and First or Second Circle demons are bound to her service, and must fulfill even the vilest and most self-destructive commands. Though she has the power to bring order to the demon city, such a project would hold but little interest for her; instead, she occupies herself with her own obscure pursuits, leaving the reins of power in the hands of the lesser demons.
Title: Fetich Soul, the Unfettered Heart
Author: White Wolf
The essence of all things buried and lost in earth, master of the ability of the earth to conceal and reveal the things within it.
The third soul of the Ebon Dragon appears, disarmingly, as a man clad in black robes. This raiment goes beyond the pitch that even the greatest dyers in the world can manage, and in it one can see nothing but perhaps half-remembered snippets of their own nightmares. Should his smoked spectacles be removed, though, one will see pits of darkness where he should have eyes. Echthros is something of the abyss, and for this he consumes as he will, and as those who summon him would, and wipes that which he takes from the minds of all. He is rare among his bretheren for having ony six souls: perhaps Nothing casts no reflection, or perhaps the introspections that soul showed him were displeasing, and he ate her much as he has consumed so much before.
In the bowels of the Demon City, there walks a man draped in banners of white silk, which fly behind him as far as the eye can see. At his feet rises a bronze cloud, into which the banners vanish. Whatever creature touches the draperies of Ekrasios turns to glittering dust and joins the cloud that follows him. He is lost forever in contemplation; he knows all the memories of the creatures he transfigures. A fragment of his pale robe, wielded by one with knowledge and power, turns flesh to precious metals dependent on the wielder's nature. It can be a potent weapon.
Title: That Which Calls to the Shadows
Author: White Wolf
Somewhere within the swamp of Uthlanga, there is a yard filled with crystalline bones, the bones of choices. Esclarmonde takes these choices from those who summon his presence, in exchange for the inscrutable services that only he and his lesser souls can offer.
Title: The Bull Slain on Stagnation's Altar
Author: White Wolf
At the bottom of a sea that dissolves any flesh to touch the waves, so far down that even the stabbing green light of the mad sun never illuminates it, is a small palace, built of basalt, salt and brass. Relative to the extravagances so commonly seen, it is an often overlooked place, and those who visit it alone remain alone, no matter how many others are there. Only those conspirators who whisper in the dark by purpose instead of chance will find one another in the walls of Fastred, and it is there that conspiracies are hatched: servants against masters, loves against hates, seas against flames. Fastred's very nature is betrayal, and he knows the truth behind every rebellion and revolution, and holds those truths inside himself, releasing one only if two treacheries are returned in its place. It was within Fastred that the Great Treason was first spoken by the Willful Children, and that the Great Maker first demonstrated Exaltation to the same. He could have warned the Primordials, but none would pay his price, and so they were unawares when the Exalted struck them the hard blows. He also sometimes walks as a courtier, dressed in fine blue silk, with a mask of bronze heated to deadly temperatures. A thin trail of smoke and the smell of burning flesh follows in his wake, and around him come the silences of conspiracies and the raised voices of treason.
Title: The Heart Of Ice And Shadow
Author: White Wolf
Within every human is the capacity to die within, and Fendoril can then make that human's heart into ice. Fendoril loves to do so; he offers the cold comfort of mercilessness. The Heart of Ice and Spiders is without remorse.
The eye that is Geneth burns forever within the second sphere of She Who Lives In Her Name. As it burns, it turns in an endless wheeling dance, gazing out across Malfeas' countless layers. Where flames can be found in the path of its gaze, a blazing eye looks out of the fire; where demons in the path of its gaze hold a searing passion in their hearts, whether it be hate or fear or love, Geneth looks out from behind their eyes. When Geneth turns its gaze upon an individual, it learns everything about them in an instant; when Geneth turns its gaze upon a city or a kingdom, it can burn out the eyes of every living being there, blinding them forever.
Barefoot as a mendicant, wearing the crown of an Emperor, Gergesenes treads the paths of Malfeas as a cyclopean figure forged of white-hot iron. He travels in perpetual pilgrimage to those places in the Demon Realm that have been hallowed by the Yozis. In four of his seven hands he holds relics once borne by the Yozis themselves. When all seven hands are laden thus, his apotheosis will be complete; even Sacheverell, He Who Knows the Shape of Things to Come, cannot fathom what power or understanding he shall gain thereby. Where Gergesenes prays in Creation, a shrine to the Demon Princes arises from the smoldering earth; when he enters an earthly temple, it is consecrated to the Yozis, and lesser demons slip through the cracks in their prison to worship at its altar.
Title: 11th Soul, The Mouthless Eater of All
Author: White Wolf
Between the roots of Laerad coils Hamza-Hathmet, whose back is as broad as a lake, whose scales are great hills, whose mouth is a rocky crag! The great serpent guards the roots of the Universal Tree, slowly shifting his coils. Beneath and between his scales are gaps riddled with caves; these delve deep into his porphyry flesh. Digging in the caves of the Shining Mountains can reveal the great demon's veins that run with peacock-blue blood. This blood clots into masses of copper and emeralds. But do so with care! Adorjan rests inside Hamza-Hathmet when the sand of Cecelyne chafes her breezes, and he drives her to cool the itching pains inside his body.
It is almost impossible to emerge from the demon-mountains in the same place as one began. Though their pace seems languid, a moment within is like ten moments without, and cometimes collapses and avid diggers change the pattern of tunnels. When he wishes, Hamza-Hathmet may appear as a tall, white-skinned man; sand falls from his hands and from his mouth when he speaks. He cannot abide the sound of a virgin singing, or the taste of a maiden's monthly bleeding.
He Who Exists For His Fate,
Of the creatures who sleep in Malfeas, most merely dream of the violent cacophony of color, emotion and sensation that is Talavos. These are not real dreams, for they do not come from within the mind, but from the outside influence of the Vengeful Dream, those few sleepers who are deemed worthy of true dreams are visited by He Who Exists For His Fate, who appears to sleepers as a great black hole that eclipses Talavosí kaleidoscope of colour, drawing the light into himself. He Who Exists For His Fate draws out the long forgotten memories of his subjects, and creates from them the dreams of those who came before the gods. He Who Exists is wild and unpredictable in temperament, much like his greater soul. He is also one of the precious few beings in Malfeas who seeks to awaken Sacheverell, by covertly poisoning his dreams, that they might cause a great fit sufficient to awaken He Who Knows the Shape of Things to Come.
Even the brightness of the Green Metal Sun is as a candle-flame before the blaze of Helisquinde. She drifts through the streets of the Demon City like a hurricane of white brilliance; those caught in her glare burn away, leaving only their shadows behind. Whatsoever endures her radiance casts a second shadow forever after. One so marked attracts the creatures of the night, and if it has a soul, an inexorable darkness sprouts and burgeons therein. On such occasions as Helisquinde desires a mortal shape, she shrouds her radiance behind a veil of cold mist, so that she is merely as bright as a winterís day. In this semblance, her exquisite beauty inspires an unnatural, poisonous envy. She is both passionate and calculating, compassionate and cruel; when she tests the strong with her beauty and her fire, she dreams of their success but relishes their failure.
Title: 13th Soul, the Street of Golden Lanterns
Author: White Wolf
Title: the Prince Upon the Tower
Author: White Wolf
Jarlastran, like his brother Temozarael, takes the shape of a building, a great six-legged cathedral that roams Malfeas, sending forth Jarlastran's minions to do his will. Jarlastran makes a habit of collecting the slain bodies of demons, assuming something hasn't eaten them first. He stores them in his vast mausoleum-stomach, where the necrotic Essence produced by their decay is leeched to power the war machines that Jarlastran has stitched to his body. Jarlastran is a gloomy sort, inasmuch as anything is known about him. He wanders Malfeas without cause or purpose, and can often be seen weeping rivers of sewage from his cathedral form. He is antisocial in the extreme, and even his own children are mostly in the dark. Before the war, and the death of the One Crowned With Seven Rings In Quietude, Jarlastran was a neverending carnival that could appear anywhere and anywhen. His imprisonment has flipped him like a coin, revealing the ugly, dirty, and sad life of the carnival when the shows end, and he now wanders Malfeas in an orgiastic frenzy of depression and hatred. When summoned, nothing gives him so much pleasure as to destroy and burn the Creation that rose against him, which he does with skill and initiative. Jarlastran hates sunlight, whether the green of Ligier or the yellow of the Unconquered Sun, above all else and cloaks himself in a black fog wherever he goes, spewed from the smokestacks at the tops of his seven towers.
The demon Ketu-Mula appears in many places in many forms, all of them forged of black Malfean iron spattered with brilliant jewels. Each of his shapes is a thing that binds: a ring, a collar, a badge or a crown. Whosoever dons the thing that is Ketu-Mula gains great power, but in doing so is shackled to a path ordained by the Yozis. When summoned, he instead wears his mortal shape: a middle-aged man, wiry and lean, with iron-dark hair and eyes like sharpened steel. Shafts of light flash from the folds of his cloak, for his heart is a well of squirming stars. His calligraphy is breathtaking in its elegance, and if he should write an edict in his own hand and affix it with his seal, those who open and read it are compelled to obedience. Ketu-Mula is a shrewd and honest counselor, but he resents being summoned; when he returns to Malfeas, as a parting gift, he always presents a cruel and painful truth to his summoner.
Langlaua pours out of the desert as a hot, dry wind, and the air quivers in her wake. She has also been known to appear as a swarm of golden dragonflies, a towering female shape formed of black sand borne upon a whirlwind, or a white-haired woman with eyes carved of amber. Her kiss grants the blessing of long life, while those she embraces wither into immortal husks of leather and bone. She may preserve anything beyond its normal span, even such fleeting traits as power, fame and desire. When the Yozis punish a demon with incarceration, it is Langlaua that lays her touch upon the prisoner to ensure the permanence of its captivity.
Coiled about the heart of the Ebon Dragon the 932 currents of the river of forgetfulness flow in silence. Its waters forever calling to the souls of the dead, pulling them into its depths so that its icy waters may cleanse them of their memories, freeing them of their fetters and impurity so that they may once again join the wheel of reincarnation. When summoned into creation, the river Lethe takes the guise of a tall willowy woman, her eyes sewn shut, and her flesh like that of a mortal who has drowned. When enfleshed, the merest sound of her voice will strip soul from body, and memory from soul, readying those who listen to her silent speach to join again with the worlds cycle.
Title: Eigth Soul, That Which Wears Down the Mountains
Author: White Wolf
Of all Ghroth's souls, none were as feared as Mageddon, destroyer of cities, the Fire In the Sky. For Mageddon is the breath of Ghroth, and is his herald, favored above all others in the Harbinger's eyes, save Ur. A mighty stone as vast as a city, Mageddon has no set form or feature, being merely a great stone of starmetal and Malfean iron. Before the reign of the gods, when Ghroth grew wrathful at a city of men or Dragon Kings, he would breathe forth his breath, and Mageddon would issue out, hurtling towards the mortal realm. Mageddon would crush all those he landed upon, crushing them beneath his vast iron bulk. After his work is done, Mageddon sinks into the ground, and is reborn inside his master's cavernous mouth. Now bound away from the mortals he loved to destroy, Mageddon has grown wrathful, and seeks endlessly to liberate himself from bondage. His cult is vast, as many would seek out the Fire In the Sky.
In every shadowed hall and darkened cellar of the Demon City, Marsilion waits. He exists to know and to share the solitude of the shadows, and his patience is boundless. The demons of Malfeas bring light with them whenever they tread the dark places lest they fall victim to his power. Marsilion has no body of his own; he manifests by possessing a mortal host, which hardens into a slowly moving statue of black stone, and he will do the same to any summoner who fails to provide a suitable vessel. In his presence, dead flesh turns to stone and shed blood becomes a fine black dust that sifts away on the wind. His touch petrifies flesh and bone, turning victims into living statues, immobile but aware, forever trapped in a prison of obsidian or basalt. He may offer a summoner knowledge of anything that occurs in darkness.
Title: Fourth Soul, the Ravine of Whispers
Author: White Wolf
Title: 20th Soul, the Skittering Jungle
Author: White Wolf
Title: the End of All Wisdom
Author: White Wolf
Floating in the waters of Kimbery is Persine, who is sometimes a great turtle, sometimes an isle of twisted amber, sometimes a ship of golden coral. Persine is the caretaker of all that is precious, and knows the location of every rare and beautiful thing. Riding Persine's back, one can reach the shores of any worldly ocean, provided that the rider pays Persine's price: a masterpiece never to be recreated, cast into deepest waters.
The Punisher Of Sin
The Ravager Of Dreams
This puissant entity advises the rulers of the Demon City, whispering to them her endless knowledge of possible futures. She most often takes the form of a child with sweet, guileless eyes, scarlet-lacquered nails and a forked tongue; she has other shapes, but her nails and tongue mark her in every form. Sorcerers call upon Remondin to learn of perils that may yet come to pass, for she knows the stars of Creation as well as those of Malfeas, and her keen strategic mind may unravel even the most complex and subtle of dilemmas. Yet her subtlety makes her counsel perilous, for her malice may lead those who rely on her wisdom into far greater troubles. She may also call forth the shades of othersí possible future selves, either to converse or to do battle on her behalf, and meeting such shades can be disquieting indeed.
Title: Seventh Soul, the River of Crystal Fire
Author: White Wolf
Title: The Storm Of Wrathful Winds, 17th Soul Of The Silent Wind
Author: White Wolf
The ethereal demon known as Sazakya appears to unwary demons as a fierce typhoon made from abstract storm clouds with strange, many faced shapes in them. Lightning cracks inside it, and sometimes Csyvel can be seen flying his ivory dragon, herding thunders that echo in her mother¥s tongue. In her wake, all things that belong to the earth are destroyed, and buildings are torn to pieces. She remembers only the meaning of The Ominous Chant Of Destruction, and her passing makes the earth barren and bleached, for some ancient events made her forgot the Truthful Dance Of Renovation. Sazakya is the Storm Of Wrathful Winds, driven mad by the song of the Lightning Locusts and one of the fiercest and most destructive souls of The Silent Wind. Since she came into existance, has deeply hated The Earth Season of Creation. If she even remembers how this war began is unknown.
At the edge of The Fields Of Rot And Sorrow, you may always find Sil Urxan. How you will find him is another matter. Often times, you will only see a cluster of corpses being beset by crows, their eyes plucked from their inevitably broken skulls. Each of these is Sil Urxan, for he is that which is reaped from fields sown with blood. Other times, you will find a young soldier, bow slung over his back, slicing meat from the bones of the dead, feasting on it just as the crows do. His teeth are rounded points, his eyes coagulating blood. His feet are talons, a gift from his brother Adrigor after his own were devoured and processed into crows. The arrows in his quiver are fletched with the feathers of crows and know where their prey's heart truly lies, always seeking the swiftest death possible. Sil Urxan is not discourteous though, he will always offer for you to eat with him should you find him. From the flesh of the dead, one can find the truth of the conflict, where the war began, who financed it, and what priceless treasure or limitless power was its goal. In return, those that know from whence the conflict came will find their penetrating words of truth about its origins raising up an even greater war than came before. And it is their name that shall be known to another when next Sil Urxan feeds.
Title: 15th Soul, the Crucible of Brass and Iron
Author: White Wolf
Deep in the wilds of Cecelyne, there rises a great pillar of stone in the featureless desert, one of few breaks in the infinite sands. On this craggy mesa's sandstone sides, the color of dried blood, there is a door, of black Malfean iron. Any who would enter this door must do so with rage in their hearts. Any who wish to do Temozarael harm more than they wish to live need not even touch the gates, for they will open themselves for such dark purity. Within, in a great blasphemous mechanism of clockwork and hydraulics, boilers and cauldrons of infernal Essence, sits Temozarael, on a throne of cold iron, carved with a never-ending litany of hatred and rage. Great tubes and capillaries lead from the machine, which is Temozarael, to the throne, which is Temozarael, and the man on the throne, who is Temozarael. His face, if it can be called that, is still blasted and scarred into twisted grotesquerie by the fury of the Unconquered Sun's chosen. He could heal these wounds in an instant, but he lets them remain as a testament. To what, nobody is quite sure but him. His hands are not even hands, and the horrors that they caress upon living flesh cannot be detailed by anyone, for there are not words to describe them. Pus and blood fall from his iron-booted feet, and his robe contains the ceaseless fires of his hatred, stoked by his infernal furnaces. One can call Temozarael forth to turn his destructive gaze upon the world, and sear it with the infernal Essence-fires ignited by his rage at his unjust exile. Nothing can stand against this fury, not even the gods themselves. The only problem is getting him to stop. His great monstrous distillaries can also synthesize poisons so potent that only the greatest of the Exalts and gods can withstand them.
The Tide That Knows No Life
Author: White Wolf
Running through the great expanse of The Fields of Rot and Sorrow are three rivers that become one, each one filled with the blood of heroes long since dead. This is the lifeblood of Valxregen and its most treasured prize. As it roiled in suffering within Malfeas, Valxregen wept forth the unending rivers of blood that are now known as Tulchinary. Once, Tulchinary was a river of mead and laughter that was drank from by those that ate in the great feasting hall at the center of Valxregen. Now, the blood that is Tulchinary seeks to ensnare those that touch it and pull them beneath its rust-red waves. Tulchinary cannot stand the touch of virgin blood or the taste of an infant and will part rather than allow these things to sully itself.
Title: Third Soul, the Blood-Red Moon
Author: White Wolf
Foremost amongst the souls of Ghroth is Ur, the Many-Taloned Hunter. For in days gone by, Ur was the hunter of the demon host, ranging about the ebon sky seeking out worthy foes to pursue. With mighty heaves, Ur would hurl down great stones of starmetal on those he deigned to hunt, crushing them. Thus was starmetal once known as urstone. Many were the gods that fell to Ur's hunts, and thus was he hated more than most. When he was imprisoned, Ur fractured, and is no longer one entity. So forecfully did he throw himself against the closing ribs of Malfeas that he was shattered into a dozen pieces, each fragment aware of and in communion with the others. Now, Ur is the Many-Taloned Hunter, as he is shattered and no longer one. He sits in a great cathedral buried under the skin of Ghroth, raging against what Fate has done to him.
Horror is a crushing weight upon the heart, a darkness choking the soul. Ur-Nammu is that weight, that darkness. He manifests as a howling cyclone in which nebulous half-human shapes stagger with a ghastly, shuffling gait. A suffocating black wind blows outward from his towering form, feeding the weakness in all things; cracks spread, wounds grow gangrenous, the old wither, and the weak-minded gibber and die of absolute terror. Those who enter the whirlwind are utterly broken in some manner. Some are deformed in body, others broken of mind; still others seem whole, but their souls are twisted toward wickedness and depravity. Ur-Nammuís mortal shape is a well-groomed man with thorns growing from his fingernails, his lips and the corners of his spiteful eyes. It is in this form that he is truly dangerous; with honeyed voice and engrossing tales, he weaves webs of madness that can drown entire cities in suicide and bloodshed. He also knows all the secret fears of anyone who speaks or sings in his presence. He eagerly serves any master who turns him loose upon the mortals of Creation, but he inevitably turns on his summoner; such is his nature.
Verthan takes shape as a mighty stallion, black as the stones of the Underworld and with mane and tail of shining gold. Upon his back a summoner may ride to any place that exists in or out of Creation(1), and though the journey seem hours or days to the desperately clinging rider, only an instant will have passed. A lock of hair from Verthan's mane can be made into a talisman of great potency, but even summoned and bound, he will not allow one to be cut. Those who steal one by stealth or guile he will attempt to trample or hurl from his back; and anyone who falls is never seen again, for the Void claims them.
(1) The likely consequences of riding a Third Circle demon into Yu-Shan are left as an exercise for the would-be summoner.
At the center of Valxregen, there is a great feasting hall where the conquering heroes would drink and be merry. Even now, as the mad sun of Malfeas beats down upon it, the cacophony still rages. However, within, there is no brotherhood among the feasters. Each day, as the feast begins, a smiling face sprouts between two warriors and whispers in their ears. These whispers turn into chartreuse worms that squirm into the brain of their victims until they fly into a fit of rage at the slanders the mysterious face speaks. In turn, either champion strikes the other, and a brawl has begun. It is a fight that never ceases as Wulgwyst pushes new faces from its feasting hall self to torment the celebrants anew, a smile never leaving its face. When summoned to Creation, Wulgwyst takes the form of a small slave boy, often clad only in rags with a permanent smile upon his lips and unseeing white eyes. None that hear his words can bear to strike him, even as he shatters their possessions, insults their parentage, and blasphemes their gods. Those driven mad by Wulgwyst eventually lose all sense and become mass-murderers, seeking an outlet for their impotent rage.
Legends speak of a chill, scouring wind that scatters armies and breaks nations as it passes. This wind is Xerysis, the evoker of self-preserving fear in mortals, the fear that drives soldiers from their ranks, men from their friends, and nations from their allies. In ages past, entire armies were routed by Xerysis, who struck fear deep into the private hearts of each soldier. When it chooses, the cold wind coalesces into the form of a hairless, alabaster-skinned man, wearing a sharp-angled toga spun from mirrored glass. Any who look into the reflection in Xerysis' toga see only themselves, and not the reflections of any allies nearby.
The quintessential boogeyman, Xipantek is a living shadow that walked the dark corners of Creation before the Primordials were imprisoned. Any being standing in shadow is potential prey to Xipantek, who sucks the victim into the shadow and there feasts on their flesh. Once he has finished his meal, the Shadow Feeder expells the bloody remains from another shadow and returns to his prowling. In Malfeas, the favorite prey of Xipantek is blood apes and other low-ranking, unintelligent demons. He hungers for the sweet flesh of mortals and takes every chance to journey to Creation.
The power of the earth intruding into the world, the Mountain is the destructive facet of Chorifa.
Title: The Flickering Star
A mysterious demon that came into being near the time of the Ursupation.
Ever moving, ever shifting, the demon Zinnridi takes many forms, though it inevitably returns to its formless state as a flowing quicksilver mass. Nothing can bar its passage, nor in fact can any passage be barred in its presence. Where the Unfettered goes, neither lock nor door nor bars can restrain movement; even the tiniest aperture twists wide to admit those who seek entrance or egress. Its touch breaks all bonds, including the intangible fetters of oaths, loyalty, love and hate.
Author: White Wolf