Worldscar · Bestiary
The harvest soured into sickness. The Plague Field festers under a low sky, its scarecrows crowned and its furrows boiling with rot.
8 creatures catalogued
It thrives where the harvest died.
A beetle swollen fat on blighted grain and worse, the carrion-scarab swarms the rotting furrows in glittering, clicking droves. Crush a few and more boil up; only fire clears the field for good.
Slow death with a shell.
It leaves a trail of sickness across the dead fields, in no hurry at all, certain the rot will do its work. Patience will not save it from a torch — beneath the slime, it burns like everything else here.
It dyes its cap in the old way.
A vicious little fey gone sour with the land, the redcap keeps its hood wet and red by the only means it knows. Quick and gleeful and cruel — and, like all things grown from this dry blight, terrified of flame.
It announces itself long before you see it.
A reek rolls ahead of the stench-beetle like a herald, and the spit that follows curdles flesh. Dodge the fouling spray, then end it with fire before the smell becomes a wound.
It spits the field's own sickness back at you.
Grown long and patient among the dead rows, the venom-cobra drinks the blight and returns it from a raised hood. Its own poison cannot touch it — but cold dulls the strike and stills the spitting.
The marsh-king of the drowned fields.
Where the plague-field floods, the fen-drake rules the brown water, scaled in slime and old menace. Poison is mother's milk to it; only the clean shock of frost slows those heavy coils.
The harvest's grief, heaped into a giant.
Every rotted stalk and drowned beast of the Plague Field seems gathered into this lurching mountain of mulch and bone. Blades vanish into its sodden bulk without effect — only a hex spoken into the rot makes the colossus come apart.
It was set to guard the field. Now it rules it.
Straw and sackcloth and a crown of crows, the Scarecrow King stalks the dead acres on stilted legs, lord of a kingdom of rot. Steel only scatters its stuffing — but the arcane and the shadow unbind the dark that holds it upright.