In a time before man and shivurna, a desolate time in which the land was free to sculpt and form to the liking of its inhabitants, creatures of a greater calling watched over the continent. Twas the Age of Dragons, and many alike flourished since dawn’s first day…
“I do not wish to embark on this quest for any kind of narcissistic reasons as many of the men leaving their loved ones already have, but I do wish to embark on this quest to end the suffering of these families. Many will not return, but I know I must; I know Enghor needs me.” – Gomerick
“A lust for land is never satisfied, and possession of all the land in the world will never quell the appetite people hold for order. If there is one truth in this world, one verity that will stand when all others fall, it is that forbearance is key.”
A portion of “Nightwalkers” by Holger of Enghor. ‘Tis one of the many works in Oberon’s vast library. I recall a day long ago when I read this piece for the first time. All I can say is that it truly stuck with me throughout my travels. I shall never forget the day in which I first encountered a feranox.
…At that moment, a new world revealed itself to us. We exited the Weitwood Forest in near pitch darkness; there was nothing but the light of Caelus to lead the way. I could hardly believe it; there I stood, little ol’ Holger from Enghor, at the base of the Eastern Mountains with Rüdiger and Anton on either side of me, and Otto pullin’ up the rear. After days of exploration eastward, we had finally reached our destination. These mountains stood remarkably taller than those back in Enghor, with much more jagged cliffs and steep drop-offs above. Unbeknownst to us what lie ahead, we journeyed on.
It was not so long after our departure from the forest that I heard the noises that still haunt my dreams to this day. Shrill squeals and hisses rang out around us. The sounds closed in, faster and faster, and all I remember before the onslaught was what Rüdiger yelled. It was the one word that changed my life forever, “Nightwalkers!”
They jumped down from the trees, bolted from foliage, and crawled out of caves in the cliff-side. They were next to impossible to differentiate from the darkness of the night, but I drew my old man’s sword and managed to behead the first one to reach my position. Otto had his bow drawn, and the zipping sound of arrows flew by, followed by thuds as the arrows took out a few nightwalkers closing in from the front. Anton and Rüdiger peeled off of their positions beside me, Anton with his two swords and Rüdiger with his axe.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Rüdiger was gradually engulfed by the foul beasts. He swung and hacked at their soulless bodies, but their jet black claws tore apart his armor and ripped into his flesh. My closest friend was being mutilated beside me, but there was nothing I could do, for I found myself bogged down as I held off what must have been at least four nightwalkers. I was forced to fend for myself whilst listening to his screams of utter agony. I grew enraged, but was left helpless as even more nightwalkers flooded onto the scene with the scent of fresh blood in the air.
I saw Otto dashing forward, trying desperately to load an arrow whilst running at top speed, but it was too late for him as well, for the possessed creatures easily caught up to him and brought him to the ground. I refocused my attention and cut down yet another beast, spilling his tar-like blood onto the foreign ground. When I looked back, bloodied limbs were being tossed around, and the carcass of my cousin Otto was quickly devoured. I have no words to describe how I felt at the sight.
Anton and I reared toward each other and stood back to back. He was drenched in a mixture of sweat and nightwalker blood, as was I. Our only hope was for the sun to peak over the top of the mountains, but with upwards of fifteen beasts closing in on us, all hope seemed to be lost. I told Anton, I said, “Looks like the end, pal. It has been an honor to be your friend.”
That’s when he spun me around to face the forest. He showed me the shadows of the mountains slowly retreating from the trees. He simply stated, “If we can hold them off for but a moment longer, we can get outta here.”
“Right.” I remember saying. I turned back around as a group of savages turned in my direction after finishing off Otto’s remains. His blood stained the faces and bodies of the horrid beasts, and it was then that I knew I wasn’t going down. As long as Anton had my rear, and I his, we could get out alive. I would not let my companions die in vain.
From behind, I heard what could only be described as a warrior’s yell from Anton, and I joined in harmony while charging forward. My blade quickly found its way into the belly of a damned nightwalker and, as I pulled out my blood soaked sword, I swung it upward to meet the face of another charging toward me. As it fell, I cut down the next two with ease and had a brief moment to check on Anton. I could see him blocking claws and slicing torsos with his dual-welt swords. The steady thuds of iron on bone, accompanied by our enemies’ cries of death, were satisfying sounds. My satisfaction was short-lived, though, for I was forced to turn back around and welcome another three nightwalkers. I kicked the first on its back, spun to slice the torso of the second, decapitated the third, and impaled the first as it sprung back up at me all in a single, fluent motion. My years of training were paying dividends.
As the beasts’ black blood rained down upon me, I turned to help my friend and was met with a worrisome sight. As I turned, a nightwalker jumped from the back of a fellow beast getting impaled below, and tackled Anton to the ground. Anton was unable to withdraw his right-hand sword from the nightwalker he had gutted and, as he fell, attempted to swing across his body with his left-hand blade. It was too late. I sprinted over as fast as I could, but the nightwalker ripped his face in two and plunged its free claws into his neck. The involuntary, bodily sounds alone were more than I could bear, and what came next continues to plague my thoughts from time to time, even more so now as I recall it. The nightwalker reached its thin, leathery arm down Anton’s neck from the gash in his face, felt around for a moment, and slowly pulled out his heart through what was left of his mouth. I closed my eyes in horror as the heart continued to beat furiously in the claws of the beast.
From my world of darkness, I could hear the sounds of fangs sinking into the fleshy ball. I knew my time on Friedünn would soon come to an end as well. I fell to my knees on the unforgiving ground and dropped my sword in despair, and, not a moment later, the nearly one dozen remaining nightwalkers turned their foul heads in my direction as my sword rang out. They charged toward me, but, at this point, I welcomed their onslaught. I could bear the thought of my friends no longer. As they closed in, I clenched my eyes shut and gritted my teeth.
I could hear them coming, but as quickly as the sounds had neared, they stopped, and I felt a warm sensation creep up my spine. Was this death? No. I opened my eyes to see the nightwalkers retreating. The sun had come at last, but, in my eyes, it was a moment too soon. It did not save me; it tormented me, for its rays illuminated what remained of my fallen comrades and left me as the sole witness to their gruesome demise. I buried my face in my palms and wept as hard as a newborn weeps upon birth. The thoughts that then flooded my mind frighten me. They were not necessarily appalling at the time, but, thinking back, I recall thoughts of suicide. I remember looking intently upon my blackened sword lying silently by my side. The light of the sun reflected off of any metal that had not been doused in blood, and I considered, for a long moment, ending my suffering right then and there. Alas, the outcome is obvious, for you would not be reading my story now if I had gone through with it. Even still, I remained trapped at the base of the mountains alone, helpless, weak, and afraid. Those next few hours were by far my longest. As the sun rose high in the sky, the stench of death became too great to bear, and I knew I must move on. I did what I could to honor my fallen companions, but it wasn’t much. After what seemed like an eternity, I reentered the Weitwood Forest by myself and began the daunting journey back to Enghor as such…
I will always be in awe at how one could be so in tune with the happenings of this world. This open letter was composed well before our journeys together, and goes to show how, for many years, Oberon was the sole point of light in a world encompassed by darkness…
To whom it may concern,
Though I find it unlikely for many to examine this work, I feel I possess a duty to exemplify my thoughts through ink. My name is Oberon, and I have a sworn duty to serve King Wilhelm to the best of my ability as both his advisor and sorcerer. I have accumulated what is a library of sorts, and I often study the works of others to gain wisdom from past events. I also spend much of my time composing manuscripts of my own to share with future scholars.
Before I begin, I believe it would be sensible to give you a modest look into my mindset as a sorcerer. Sorcery is a tricky thing. It follows the laws that bind us to this world, namely that for every action, an equally sufficient reaction must take place. One cannot simply enchant an item without repercussion. To offset our abilities, every enchantment drains a sorcerer of a portion of his life-force, so to speak. Granted, the typical sorcerer will live for hundreds of years before his death, so do not envision me as a frail old man just yet, for I have at least one more journey left in these “magic” bones. For ages, it has been that one man and one shivurna are the sole two with these special properties at any given time. When their successor to be finds them, it is the sorcerer’s duty to use their abilities to better Friedünn one final time, if they can, ultimately resulting in death. One might go so far as to say that sorcery is a dying art. Upon the sorcerer’s death, his successor will be filled with more abilities than he will know what to do with. Point being, there is little time to explain all of this to whomever comes along to replace me, so I do what I can to teach through writing. Along with this, I find it important to keep a record of events going on, and I include my input.
All of this being said, I write this letter for fear that we are delving into complicated and troubling times, times for which I see no clear end. Wilhelm continues to expand the boundaries of the Kingdom of Enghor at such a fantastic rate that I worry for the day we intrude upon forces we cannot handle; external as well as internal. We are fortunate to occupy a portion of Friedünn which is not inhabited by vulgar beasts as is the east, yet we continue to expand in that direction. This I do not understand. There are always unknowns in this world, but that does not mean it is best to seek them. Furthermore, there is one glaring fact that I find impossible to ignore. If things continue the way they have throughout Wilhelm’s rule in regards to expansion, the kingdom’s resources will run thin, theft will plague the kingdom, and anarchy will be all but certain to ensue. A lust for land is never satisfied, and possession of all the land in the world will never quell the appetite people hold for order. If there is one truth in this world, one verity that will stand when all others fall, it is that forbearance is key. I have been quick to share this view with the king, but his confidence is as overbearing as his views of the world are shortsighted. Alas, it is foolish to think of what could be rather than what is, so I shall continue with my thoughts by putting forth another essential issue I find in these times.
It is not my intention to defame the king with this letter; I simply wish to keep an account of these atypical days for future generations. There is one event I would like to discuss, a celestial event delineating a dying belief. In olden times, this view was widely accepted as truth, but as our culture becomes increasingly alienated from ties to the past, yet continues to propel itself blindly into the future, the more the links we once held to traditional beliefs fade. The particular event I speak of is the volcanic activity on the moon, the very moon to which Caelus was banished by Enghor long ago. It has been believed for years that this active planetesimal predicted occurrences on Friedünn. There are many variations to the story, but the most widely believed is that the more volcanically active Caelus is, the worse off things will be for the descendants of Enghor in the near future. It signifies Caelus eagerly awaiting bloodshed. Although many have turned their heads from this belief, as a man of “magic” myself, I have found it to be true.
I write because, as I do so, Caelus spits fire more vigorously than I have seen in the centuries I have spent inhabiting Friedünn. I fear that the line between our world and the underworld may be fading. I also find myself in a powerless position. I know something bad is to happen, yet I cannot act for I do not know what it is. It may involve the expansion of Enghor, and I speculate that perhaps a collective assault of feranox may occur as a way for them to honor their old master. Alas, I simply do not know. As I conclude, for those who read this, be prepared not solely physically, but mentally, as well. A new day is coming, and it shall be nothing like the last.
Once more, the following is a work composed by my good friend, Oberon. This piece is more descriptive than most, so I have always been skeptical about the accuracy of the details. My friend was not typically one to exaggerate or embellish, but alas, I would certainly not put it past him. Regardless, this account gets across the story of Caelus quite well. It also explains why we call our home the Kingdom of Enghor…
In a time before great civilizations, Caelus, a sage of fire and once ruler of the underworld, reigned supreme over all of Friedünn. Breaching the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead, Caelus erupted from the sea atop his phoenix, Avideus, in a monumental explosion that formed the chain of islands north of the mainland, which is characterized by the volcano from out of which the two came forth. Reeking of death’s putrid odor, and standing larger than life, Caelus was a dark figure. His leathery skin was black, and his red veins coursed with the forgotten dignity of those whom had passed. An aura of fire surrounded him, and his yellow eyes burned with a lust for supreme power. He fed off of the suffering of the dead left in the underworld, of which there was no short supply. The phoenix he rode paralleled a dragon in size and was an entity composed of underworldly fire when enlarged. Streaks of black perfectly accompanied these flames to form a terribly majestic creature. In its normal state, the phoenix would shrink down to the size of a hawk, yet remain black with burning yellow eyes like its master. The two were one in the same; one being, yet separate. They possessed the ability to see, hear, and feel what the other saw, heard, and felt. When Caelus was strong, Avideus would be strong; when Caelus was weak, Avideus would be weak. Apart, they were powerful; united, they were nearly unstoppable.
From the volcano, Caelus flew atop Avideus to the mainland to claim the land and lives that he believed to be his. Liberating the feranox and gargoyles from the underworld he once ruled was the initial priority to achieve this, so he traversed deep into the heart of the Eastern Mountain Range to create a permanent bridge between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Upon completion, Friedünn was plunged into darkness as hundreds of feranox and gargoyles spewed from beneath. Along with the command of his army of underworldly beasts to do his bidding, Caelus used his unmatched power to call upon fire and molten rock to make short work of the human and shivurna tribes that stood in defiance. It seemed as though there were no creatures capable of thwarting the new ruler of Friedünn. The third eye of the shivurna was powerless against Caelus and his minions, and there was no gathering of man large enough to make a significant impact. In an instant, Caelus could scorch the landscape, and would do so, if any opposed his rule. A supernatural being, he used this ability to rule the land for thousands of years.
In the time before Caelus’ appearance, pockets of man and shivurna riddled the continent and roamed freely; now, all were oppressed by Caelus and his army. A light came, though, when a slave who worked closest to Caelus discovered what could be a fundamental weakness in his master. A man who went by the name of Enghor noticed that, throughout his travels with Caelus, the supreme being grew weaker the longer he was away from his origins in the volcano. Unbeknownst to Enghor, this was due to the fact that the lava within the volcano to the north was filled with tormented souls that Caelus used to replenish his strength. Nonetheless, Enghor devised a plan to overthrow the fiery beast, and let word spread; Caelus and Avideus were no longer the only entities traversing the world like wildfire. The plan was to stage a string of miniature revolts against Caelus’ faithful army to keep Caelus away from his volcanic home until he grew weak enough to defeat. Enghor would “catch word” of these uprisings and suggest to Caelus that he put them down by demonstrating his true power so that those whom opposed him would never again take up arms for fear of a blistering demise. It was a relatively crude plan, but it incited enough hope to carry out.
The uprisings took place all across Friedünn. Enghor would simply tell Caelus where he heard or speculated that problems were arising, Caelus would fly there atop Avideus as his closest servants followed on horseback, and the protestors would instigate a battle. The result was always the same: those who were revolting would put up an honorable bout against the army, but then be scorched the moment Caelus arrived, and Caelus would move on. Those killed in the early stages of the plan sacrificed themselves for what was to come. During these travels, a much larger force of man and shivurna amassed near the volcano Caelus would return to after his extended journey with Enghor and his other close servants. The force streamed in and took refuge in the rocky terrain that led to the base of the volcano. A significant force of feranox and gargoyles inhabited the singed island, but they all remained on the volcano, unaware of the counterforce forming beneath.
When Caelus’ party finally returned to the island volcano one foggy day, Caelus himself was by far the weakest Enghor had ever seen him. Avideus had taken his smaller form, as he, too, was drastically weakened. Upon landing, Caelus immediately began his lengthy walk to the volcano with Avideus perched on his shoulder, too fatigued to fly. This is when the battle for freedom began.
Thousands of soldiers ambushed Caelus from all directions. He immediately snapped out of his daze, and Avideus soared high into the sky, enlarging himself into the fiery phoenix the resistance had learned to fear. Screeching above, Avideus swooped down and created a wall of fire between the assailants and Caelus before shrinking down and returning to Caelus’ shoulder. Enghor was nearest the wall and, as the flames licked his determined face, caught the gaze of the tyrant whom merely began laughing. Caelus then picked up his right foot and shook the entire island as he stomped it down. Hundreds of feranox came charging down the side of the volcano in response, and hundreds of gargoyles blackened the sky. To this, Enghor unsheathed his sword, raised it high, and, with a mighty yell, leapt through the wall of fire with an army of his own following closely on his heels. Caelus grinned a sinister grin and shot balls of fire at the resistance while working his way backward toward the base of the volcano. Shortly thereafter, the two armies clashed, and a battle for the ages began.
Gargoyles swooped down in wave after unrelenting wave, and feranox maimed each and every soldier they could, but this did not stop the determined forces of Friedünn, and the battle for freedom persisted as dusk fell upon it. By now, the ground was painted red and black from the blood of the two enemies. Realizing the battle was in a deadlock, Caelus knelt down and bowed his head. Once again, the island began to tremble, and the forces of man and shivurna looked on in horror as Caelus raised his head, inciting the volcano to growl and thick smoke to billow from its wide mouth. He raised his black arms with his red veins brightening, and flaming rocks spat out of the volcano. Hundreds of soldiers retreated to the shore as white hot stones rained down upon them and feranox and gargoyles pursued to pick off inattentive prey. Enghor stood at the front line, astounded, moving only to slice any fowl creatures that made the fatal mistake of attacking him.
As hundreds ran for their lives away from the volcano through the dismembered bodies of their fallen comrades, hundreds more remained beside Enghor. Now, Caelus slowly rose to his feet, and magma began spewing down. Enghor stepped forward and immediately caught Caelus’ attention as he had before. He sprinted at Caelus with his sword drawn, and Caelus fully raised his arms. In a mighty explosion, fire from the deepest depths of the underworld came rushing out of the volcano. The blast leveled everybody except for Enghor, whom merely stumbled; he regained his balance and continued toward Caelus head on. Caelus reached his arms back to call upon the molten rock that was nearing them and swept his arms to the front of Enghor in an effort to bring lava beneath his feet, but Enghor dived and, with all his might, plunged his sword into the neck of Caelus. Avideus flew from Caelus’ shoulder and disappeared into the night sky as Caelus was tackled to the ground with Enghor atop him. Magma rushed around them, and now the men and shivurna whom had stood beside Enghor retreated, as did Caelus’ army.
Caelus lie motionless on the ground, and Enghor’s sword grew hot. Enghor removed the sword from the neck of his adversary and tossed the searing metal to the side. As it clanked against the ground, the body of the fiery entity began to glow bright. It glowed with the radiance of a thousand suns and melted into what was a shimmering, metallic substance that proceeded to crawl up Enghor’s arms and legs. He slowly stood, and the fluid continued upward until it encased him entirely. It then seeped into the skin of the victor whose eyes glowed bright yellow. He extended an arm and the lava flowing all around him stopped, as did Caelus’ retreating army. He clenched his open hand into a fist and all of the still magma hardened into rock; gargoyles fell from the sky, and feranox crumbled to the ground. He turned to the volcano, raised his arms, and calmed it in an instant. He then methodically walked all the way to the lip of the volcano and stared down into the bubbling liquid. A single, young shivurna who had rushed along behind him caught up and watched as Enghor waded knee deep into the lava. The volcano trembled once more, and Enghor continued in until he was waist deep. It was at this point that he paused and gradually sunk beneath the surface, leaving the lone shivurna to stand in astonishment.
Everything was still as the moon floated calmly overhead, lighting the scene. The shivurna walked to the edge where Enghor had entered and noticed bubbles emerging from the spot Enghor had gone under. In that instant, the volcano was filled with an intense, yellow light, and a beam shot straight up into the sky. The shivurna fell back and covered his face, and the soldiers along the shore were forced to shield their eyes from the immense brightness. The beam illuminated the carnage left in the wake of battle and ripped through the clouds before dispersing as quickly as it had appeared. When the shivurna in the volcano opened his eyes after the spectacle, he noticed that the pool of lava had been replaced by a bed of black rock with Enghor lying in the middle. He rushed over to him and picked up his head. Enghor opened his eyes, which had returned to normal, and pointed to the sky. Straight above them was a now fiery moon, and Enghor, before slipping into unconsciousness, muttered, “Caelus shall never again inhabit Friedünn.”
The shivurna carried Enghor out of the volcano and down to the shore, where the man who had banished Caelus to the moon was closely monitored and gradually nursed back to health. The excitement that would have otherwise filled those left from the assembly of man and shivurna was hampered for a majority of the night until, that is, Enghor woke. The moment he did, they all rejoiced in triumph. At long last, they were free. The following morning, the coalition began the return journey to the mainland to retake their homes from the fragments of Caelus’ army that remained. They easily slaughtered what was left of the beasts from the underworld, and the monsters that managed to survive retreated to the Eastern Mountain Range.
In the years that followed, the City of Enghor—which would later grow into the Kingdom of Enghor—was established with Enghor as its first leader. The lone shivurna who had witnessed Enghor’s transformation and carried him out of the volcano established a city of his own, Raj Miasto, on the far side of the Eastern Mountain Range. A large portion of mankind united in Enghor, with the exception of several tribes, while all of the shivurna united in Raj Miasto. The shivurna discovered that with the expulsion of Caelus came the ability to influence feranox with their third eye, just as they had always been able to do with lesser creatures. It was a skill that developed as time went on.
Generation after generation passed with no communication between the two cultures. There was no bad blood, only the fact that a great distance, as well as the Eastern Mountains and Weitwood Forest, stood between them. Each society simply thrived on their own.
To this day, there has still been no legitimate contact between man and shivurna. In fact, such a long period of time has gone by that many people doubt the validity of such an epic tale. Many of those whom have spent the entirety of their lives within the walls of Enghor even consider shivurna to be fictional creatures. I find myself ashamed to live in such ignorant times, and vow to one day rewrite the conclusion of this history through experiences of my own.
This history is credited to a number of works created by many who lived during and after Caelus’ tyranny, Enghor himself, and, in particular, the lone shivurna in the volcano.
I believe it would be most appropriate to share with you one of Oberon’s works depicting the creatures inhabiting Friedünn that are not man. Tis titled “Creatures of the East”. The three beings described play a major role in our quest, and, as you will see, Oberon composed this long before we were acquainted…
The descriptions of the beings to come are based upon personal recollection and a combination of details given throughout the works of others. Among those I wish to describe are shivurna, feranox, and gargoyles. Although there are many more creatures currently inhabiting the land beyond our borders in Enghor, such as dragons, cyclops, and cruorsitis, the three to be described have intimately intertwined themselves in the fabric of Friedünn’s illustrious history. I find it appropriate to begin with the most sophisticated of the three I wish to describe in this account: shivurna.
Shivurna are lean creatures of fair complexion. They are significantly taller than the average man, yet their long limbs and skinny bodies are often frail. Their hands and feet are similar to those of humans, but appear to be more stretched out. Often wearing simple tunics, these creatures are predominantly gentle, and seem to slowly glide around as they maneuver in their quiet sandals. They generally have long, thin hair atop their heads. Elder shivurna males tend to grow lengthy, grey beards as a sign of age and wisdom. This age is normally quite old, for the life span of a shivurna is much longer than that of the average human.
What makes these beings exceptional is their third eye. Located in the middle of the forehead on their elongated faces, this white eye does not “see” in the traditional sense. Its primary function is to impose thoughts into the minds of other creatures for the purposes of communication and manipulation. It is how they communicate with all. Over their lifespan, a shivurna will typically become skilled enough at implementing thoughts into others as to be able to influence lesser beings into obeying their commands. Some even possess the ability to control large groups of creatures. The better one’s skill of influence, the higher social rank one can obtain. Despite being able to control other creatures, however, they are not able to control other shivurna or humans, as only a weak mind can be swayed by this third eye.
The majority of the time, since the fall of Caelus, as discussed in my other work, A Brief History of Caelus and Enghor, the use of this influential eye comes into practice on creatures found abundantly in the Eastern Mountain Range known as feranox. Once hailing from the underworld, feranox are thought to have originated from what was left of shivurna’s souls after they were tormented for an eternity by Caelus in the underworld, for they resemble shivurna physically, but, in reality, are nothing of the like. Their bare, hairless skin is as dark as the night and, accordingly, night is the time in which they leave their mountain dwellings to hunt in the Weitwood Forest. Fully erect, feranox stand at a similar height to humans, yet they naturally hunch over like the savages they are. Like shivurna, they have long, skinny limbs. The difference, though, is that these limbs are packed with lean muscle ever ready to be utilized. In full movement, these quick and agile beasts sprint and pounce upon their prey. Their hands and feet are elongated, but function more like claws than anything else, and each individual toe and finger is a blade with the purpose of cutting down victims.
Feranox, too, have a third eye amidst their forehead, though theirs is a beady, black eye with the sole function of seeing heat. This ability to see the natural body heat of other living things is another reason they often hunt at night, and it is also why they are simply known by some as “nightwalkers.” The downside to this eye is that it is extremely sensitive, thus adding another explanation as to why feranox dwell in mountain caverns until night falls upon the land and their unsuspecting prey.
Finally, I would like to discuss another creature released from the underworld by Caelus: gargoyles. Once thought to be the gatekeepers to the underworld, these despicable beasts remain isolated in small numbers within the depths of the Eastern Mountains. Thought to be mans’ version of feranox, the once servants of Caelus have bodies crossed between that of a man and a bat. Their curled up, black bodies bulge with human-like muscles, and their toes and fingers are replaced by razor-sharp claws. In the upper, mid-back, two massive wings sprout out to give these tortured, unrecognizable souls the ability of flight.
The faces of gargoyles fully epitomize that of a demon, consisting of two jagged horns atop their heads, long, pointy ears jutting out from the sides, and four inconceivably sharp fangs among their numerous serrated teeth, two amidst the top row, and two amidst the bottom. On Friedünn, they feed on the souls of the living, turning men bitten into incoherent corpses often preyed upon by feranox.
The importance of understanding these creatures, along with their relation to man, is paramount to understanding the history of Friedünn, and why the continent lives on as it currently does. Though none of the three have interfered with the likes of man for quite some time, aside from the occasional feranox assault on travelers, I suspect that, as Enghor grows, our fates may once again become entwined, be it for better or for worse.
To whom it may concern,
My name is Gomerick, and I am a former smith whose domicile resided in an upper district of the mountainous City of Enghor many moons ago. For years, I slaved over flames hotter and brighter than many could imagine in a hundred lifetimes. However, all of that changed on the day I met the sorcerer who would grow to be my closest friend, Oberon. Very many men and shivurna owe their thanks to this great sorcerer, myself included. He was, and will always be, the wisest man I have had the pleasure of meeting. If there was one lesson he taught me, it was that all great men, even those of whom should have a kingdom named in their honor, have one thing in common: they are simply men. Nevertheless, it was Oberon who convinced me to embark on a quest for the crown, a quest to improve the lives of all in the Kingdom of Enghor. I shall spare you the details for now, but the tale of this journey has since been recorded for future generations. I am here to present to you the opportunity to learn for yourself how the continent of Friedünn has reached its current condition, if you so choose.
Gomerick of Enghor