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The tales speak of a horrid village deep within the haunted wood, where blasphemous arts and dark magic flow in abundance. Some say it is a nest of witches, brewing noxious concoctions, chanting forbidden words and performing vulgar acts. Others claim a cult has set themselves up within that overgrown hovel, praying to evil gods and beckoning malformed things from Beyond. No matter who lives within this hidden village of horror, the tales have them bowing before the same entity. A horrid beast, warped by an ancient curse, shaped into something profane and sickening. To many, it is an abomination, yet these heretics look to it as a king. What vile acts do they commit in its name? What do they gain from feeding it blood and souls? What ambitions lie within its blackened heart, as its horrifying howls ring out during the full moon? No one can say, for few dare venture there, lest they are gobbled up by this terrifying monstrosity. Many monster slayer have plunged into the darkened wood to claim their trophy, or to stop the strange disappearances and horrible noises that come out at night. None of them have ever returned, no doubt devoured by this bestial abomination, or sacrificed by its maddened cult. To the people outside of these horrid place, the entity and its rabid followers will forever be a mystery, but hopefully one that will never rear its head in their little town...
But if they did really want answers, they could just, ya know, ask nicely. And no, storming into the forest with blades drawn and blood lust in your heart doesn't count as "nice." Yeah, it is a scary looking place, but that is kind of the point. Meant to keep people away! But if you did delve into the dark wood with no weapons hidden in your cloak and no malice in your bones, you may actually be welcome to the odd little village within its heart. If they see that you are no foe, than perhaps you may actually meet their bestial leader: King Chimera. If you actually put in the effort to be polite and open, you would find he is a pretty decent guy! Yes, he does eat blood, but that's kind of his thing. You'll see.
It should be known that King Chimera wasn't always a monster, or beast or whatever you call him. He used to be a human, though he doesn't talk too much about his past life. From the short and simple way he explains it, it sounds like he came from a royal and prestigious family, one that was obsessed with reputation, image and legacy. From the way he tells it, it was pretty miserable, all stuffy nonsense, manners and making sure you sit just right and pick up the right fork or someone else may see and spread besmirching gossip. It was a life of following everything to the letter and doing precisely as tradition tells it, sacrificing your own self for the sake of the family's image. The only time he could cut loose while he was a human was at parties, where he took advantage of the cheery open atmosphere to be the second most drunk person there (which was important, because the number one most drunk person was the one who absorbed all the gossip and closed doors slander). Life was....not great, but he didn't know any different, and that wasn't about to change anytime soon due to his position in the family. King Chimera was said to be next in line to inherit the family's fortune, power and reputation, to sit upon noble councils and weigh in on royal affairs. He wasn't thrilled about it, but perhaps this new found power would allow him to loosen up a bit, and find more freedom up on top. 
However, other members of his family were not keen on having him be the sole inheritor. Other siblings stuck behind in line wanted the fortune and power, and other relatives did not think he was fit to carry the title. In his human days, King Chimera held certain ideas and opinions that some folk didn't want tied to their family, ones that would no doubt soil their prestigious title and possibly associate them with filthy commoners. So it was decided in secret to get rid of him, before everything was dished out and he got hold of the family's future. Murder was an option, but one that would be too messy. Having him die before his inheritance would be suspicious, and other families would forever whisper and spread rumors about it. Instead, they looked to his partying ways and came up with another idea. 
One night, while their family held a raucous ball, a stranger came knocking on their door. The human who would be King Chimera was the one who answered, or at least did their best attempts to due to the copious amounts of liquor already consumed. An old woman stood outside in the cold, and asked for food and shelter. Tales dress up the following interaction into something horrid and violent, of a drunken noble hurling a poor old woman off their doorstep and showering them in mockery and hate. According to King Chimera, it was more "I was pretty tipsy and got a little mouthy with her. Was a bit rude, to be honest." Regardless, the old woman who had been snubbed by this rich noble born into decadence revealed herself to be a powerful witch. For denying one in need when showered in such riches, she struck him with a terrible curse, transforming him into a terrible beast. With his body twisting, swelling and rupturing with wretched growths, he fell into a mad panic and fled into the night. The tales speak of this noble vanishing into the wilderness, eventually mutating into a massive bloodthirsty beast, cursed forever by their avarice. It is a cautionary tale, and one the rest of the family secretly enjoys, with their newfound wealth and positions. Odd that they tend to leave out the numerous drinks they pushed on him that night, and their insistence that he be the one to answer the door...
Indeed, King Chimera became this way through an old witch's curse, forced to forever be some inhuman hybrid of monstrous beasts. He found his body a patchwork of various creatures, cobbled into something grotesque. His mind felt animal instinct growing stronger in his brain, a feral side desperate to be let loose. In his days following that fateful night, he wrestled with these bestial emotions and changing body, fighting to understand what he was becoming. But eventually, he won. And eventually, he found that this was all pretty awesome. 
While others may be haunted by their new inhuman form and lost life, King Chimera was thrilled by it. The shackles of his family name and tradition had finally been shed, and for the first time in his life he was free. He could go anywhere, do anything. He ran through the woods like an excited dog, scaled trees, rolled in the dirt, chased prey and feasted upon freshly caught food in the messiest ways he could find. This new life was a primal one, but he found much joy in it. For quite a few months, he lived in this simple way. In time, though, he would stumble upon an abandoned village deep in a gnarled forest, and find a couple of runaways desperately trying to hide and survive. Their plight reminded him of his old life, and how others were trapped like he once was. Some folk are born into lives they do not want, and escape seems impossible. King Chimera vowed that he would be the one to help them break free, and find a better life of their choosing. 
King Chimera would build up this overgrown village and help hunt down the materials needed to make it work. He would then seek out those who wanted an escape, and whisk them way to this hidden settlement. People stuck in miserable lives would "vanish" one night, and the family would be baffled of where they went. Little did they know that a great beast had crept to their homes and carried off this starved soul. They would find a new life in this lost village, and eventually others would learn of its open doors and accepting ways and seek it out. Indeed, witches and other despised groups made their way to the village, and all came together to create this secret community. And at the head of it all was King Chimera, serving as their leader and protector. 
To this day, King Chimera keeps watch over his people, ensuring they are safe and happy. Due to his position and visage, the inhabitants of the village have taken to worshiping him like a god, bringing offerings and seeking him for wisdom. Though to outsiders, this appears very much like a cult, it is honestly way more laid back and King Chimera rarely uses his position to make demands or take from his followers. In fact, he is a rather charming, relaxed, and with a love for hedonism. Due to his stifled human life, King Chimera has shaped his new path to involve as much pleasures and indulgences as possible. Drinking, smoking, drugs, partying and anything to feel good. When he isn't out hunting or helping people, he can be found lounging in a wooden throne made of gnarled branches, guzzling down blood wine or smoking various substances from his pipe. His neck of the woods is always down for a good time, and festivities are plenty. It should be noted, though, that sometimes he goes a little too hard. Eating too many mushrooms or the latest pipe full of odd herbs causing strange effects. The result is a wild animal running around the woods with reckless abandon, clawing trees, howling at the moon, and rabidly devouring the occasional livestock. Most of the time, no one gets hurt and he wakes up the next morning with a killer hangover. However, these nights of drugged out lunacy do create some scary stories for the locals, talking about the rabid monstrosity that haunts the nights. 
In appearance, King Chimera is a bunch of animal parts fused into a single being. He has traits from mammals, reptiles, birds, amphibians, fish and even insects. He has the ability to alter these parts of him, picking certain traits or powering up certain appendages for a desired effect, but doing so requires fuel. And true to the legends, King Chimera's fuel is blood. The nature of his curse and his power requires him to consume blood in order to tap into his own flesh. Like mana being burned in a spell, the blood he drinks is used to fuel his shapeshifting and body enhancements, the cost growing with the complexity of the change. He can swap out limbs for that of different animals, or beef them up to boost his movement or strength. With enough blood, he can also gain powers from other beasts, like breathing dragon flame or unleashing bursts of electricity. Due to blood being the catalyst for this, his elements tend to be crimson in color. Another ability is creating bone spurs and blades, once again fueled by blood. It should be mentioned that while King Chimera has succeeded in changing his body into a variety of things and abilities, he cannot create human body parts. His curse forever prevents him from even coming close to being human (but that's just fine with him). Also, he cannot fly, but that is less the curse's fault and more so he can't figure out how to do it. No matter how much blood he guzzles down, he can never get his wings to grow to a functional size. It really frustrates him.
Due to his need for blood for power, King Chimera's diet consist largely of the crimson fluid. Despite the legends, though, he doesn't bleed people dry or suck it from his followers. Instead, his people collect it from livestock and game, or buy blood meal from nearby dryad settlements. These are then mixed into liquor, baked into cakes and puddings, and generally made into a wide variety of dishes. Blood pudding, blood sausage, blood cakes, blodpattar and such. King Chimera is sure to keep a few "blood cubes" hidden in his fur for when he needs a quick fix or boost. Sometimes his followers will give a small offering of their own blood, as human blood is more potent for him, but they never give more than they can handle. He never demands his followers to bleed themselves, and is honored whenever they give their blood to him. The only other time he partakes is when he eats monster slayers or witch hunters who threaten his home, as he does not hesitate to kill those who would harm people simply trying to live their own lives. The taste is certainly invigorating, but he must be careful in his consumption, as there is still the locked away parts of his curse that yearn to be free. Times when he snaps to instinct when startled, times when his hunger for the hunt tugs at his mind. He is indeed still cursed, but he does his best to tamp down what would rob him of control. Just don't scare him from behind, as his serpent tail is faster at reacting than he is, and he won't be able to reign it in before it sinks its fangs into someone.
The Knights of the Wrong Table wind up encountering King Chimera when they hear tales of people going missing and terrifying abductions in the night. Homes torn open and victims dragged screaming into the darkness. Legends of a horrifying winged chimera that descends upon towns and carries its prey off, never to be seen again. And from these disappearances, slayers and knights have charged into the haunted forest to slay the beast responsible, and don't return alive. The Knights of the Wrong Table show up on the scene to see if the tales are true, and to find out who is behind these disappearances...
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"King Chimera"
Hey look, new Wrong Table character! A real party beast!
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evolutionsvoid · 1 day
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a new character!! her name is Tak’hara and she’s a smokey demon kinda thing hella
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very cool but also kind of a dick move
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Tree roots following the pattern of concrete footpaths
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evolutionsvoid · 3 days
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The Arimakki are a resilient and adaptable nightmare. No matter what weapons or efforts are thrown against them, they always seem to find a way to bounce back. Some of the finest warriors out there have fallen to their feverish hordes, and even the power of the cleansers and their searing yellowflame struggles to keep their numbers in check. They are a threat that is not to be taken lightly, as every part of their hives and lifecycle is deadly. Even their eggs can be a horror, ones left behind and unhatched. In places where Arimakki hives have been cleared out, there is always the chance that something was missed, something survived. Shards of the Vile Red Tree still buried, White Worms slithering away into the underbrush, or perhaps clutches of eggs left hidden in the wild. Without the heat of the Vile Red Tree, they have no hopes in hatching, but what if they were to find another source? Those who graze upon these reclaimed fields may accidentally stumble upon tiny eggs clinging to the weeds. Herbivores may eat tainted grass, or perhaps a carnivore may think these clusters a free meal. And within their guts, the eggs find warmth...
Beware the feverish beasts, and what grows within their infected flesh. The Arimakki are parasites, and some of them do not only infest the flesh of gods...
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"Feverish Beast"
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evolutionsvoid · 5 days
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sea slugs. I stacked them sorry
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I think it is safe to say that swamps, to most people, are one of the "spookiest" ecosystems out there. You very rarely hear any happy tales set in one, and any legends attached to them tend to be dark and grim. It's a place that outsiders never want to visit, and if you tried inviting them to a swamp, they would instantly assume the worst. Don't you know what lives in those things?! Ghosts, eerie lights, shapeless mud creatures, foul witches, alluring voices spoken from slimy throats, the clawing rotting arms of the drowned! The stories and monstrosities are endless! Which I find kind of funny for a few reasons. One is that swamps are like any other biome, but gets a bad reputation because it is slightly soggier and the vegetation doesn't look as pretty. The other reason I find this all amusing is because swamps do hold dangers and beasts, yet the scary stories don't bother with them! You have real living breathing creatures that could star in many a cautionary tale, but instead we shove them aside to make up our own monsters! It's almost insulting! The wompogo work hard to be stealthy haunting predators of the cypress swamps, only to be ignored in favor of imaginary spirits and seductive leech women! If you want some real scary encounters in the swamps, then talk to folk who live in them. They will tell you of places in the muck and weeds where few dare travel. Is it because of strange disappearances? Odd lights and whispering voices? No, it is because of the hulking mud-covered beasts who are capable of biting a canoe in half. 
Is this dangerous brute I speak of some kind of swamp dragon, or magic-born monstrosity weaved from mud, reeds and corpses? No, it's a mammal, but one that is big and very irritable. The creature I am talking about is the hippalus, a relative of the hippopotamus who lives exclusively in swamps and marshes. They like it wet and muddy, where they are surrounding by soggy vegetation and soft earth. Though they share their love of water with their hippo cousins, one can clearly see that there are some physical differences between the two. One that really stands out is a long flattened tail, often announcing its presence with a loud slap against the water and muck. Then there is the massive hump on their back, which is pure muscle meant to help power its large head. The hippalus has the same impressive maw as other hippos, but its teeth jut out in different ways. Its lower incisors emerge straight out of the jaw, while a curved set of tusks are brandished like deadly blades. There is a pair of hardened growths upon their snout, which some like to call "horns" (even though they are very much not). Their head also has a bowed part on the upper jaw, almost like a horse saddle. Take all this, and then consider their sheer size! A height of over seven feet at the hump, and a length of eighteen to twenty! There is no denying who the powerhouse of the swamp is!
The hippalus are absolute behemoths, and their power is openly flaunted. While other creatures of the swamp may swim or slither through the water and muck, the hippalus plows through anything in its path. When it comes to identifying their tracks, you aren't looking for footprints, but rather deep ruts carving straight through the whole ecosystem. Their sheer size and weight is part of the reason, because you can't exactly walk on top of mud when you weigh over four thousand pounds. So they sink in deep and simply tear their way through the swampy gunk in front of them. Their strangely shaped head and powerful muscles is what comes into play here! Their whole skull is like an organic shovel and plow, designed for cutting through the mud and flinging it away with a whip of their neck. Their lower teeth help dig through and move earth, while their scooped skull is able to collect a whole load of mud and reeds and send it all flying! The muscular flat tail behind them also aids in propelling them forward, undulating as their powerful legs push them forwards. It should be mentioned that while it looks like hippalus swim through the swamps, they can't actually swim. They don't float, they sink. What you see is instead them walking or "galloping" underwater, only sticking their snouts out to breathe from time to time. What helps with the illusion of them floating or swimming is the fact that they are so big, that they tend to stick out of the water without any real effort. They just stand there in the swampy gunk, and it looks like they are floating with ease. 
All of these powerful adaptations, however, are not just for traveling! As any local would know, hippalus are famed for their construction work (and a lot of destruction work as well). This species is a solitary one, not living in herds or "bloats" like their cousins. A single hippalus will claim a large chunk of territory and make sure no one ever forgets it. Their powerful jaws and scooping heads tear up mud and vegetation, dropping dead trees and ripping sunken stumps from the murky bottom. Tangles of torn weeds and branches are left near the edges of their territory and given a musky coating of urine and feces to let people know who lives here. In the heart of their realm is their home, a lair built from mud, vegetation and woody parts, like the world's biggest beaver lodge. This construction is possible with the help of their strong jaws and head to carry materials, while their flattened tail pats it all into place. The lodges of these beasts are half sunken, and less like a roomy mud cave and more like a sopping wet burrow for them to park their massive bodies. Part of the support for these dwellings is their own bodies, wedging themselves inside and holding it all upon their backs. These lairs are important for when they have young, as it is where their babies hide during their vulnerable stages. If their mother has to leave them behind to forage or defend her territory, they will remain hidden in this den. When they venture outside to learn the ropes, she will be close by to make sure no predators get any funny ideas. Young hippalus can indeed be on the menu for the likes of wompogo or swamp basilisks, but a full grown adult is avoided by all. I don't think you need me to explain why. Lets just say that a healthy adult hippalus is a creature that does what it wants wherever it wants, and woe be to any who try to say different. 
As for diet, hippalus are herbivores, dining upon the various water-logged plants found in the swamp. Like many plant eaters, they won't say no to a free meal if they find a random carcass. While others may nibble upon bones or pick at scraps, a hippalus will take the body in a single bite, crushing it to a bloody, ruined pulp. When it comes to plants, their horned nose is good for digging up ones buried in the muck, and their teeth scrap away at bark and hardened exteriors. When they aren't eating or building, they are resting, as such a huge body uses a lot of energy to work. Best to spend some hours lazing about and grazing upon the weeds.
I mentioned before that locals steer clear of areas where hippalus are active, and hopefully now you see why! It should be said that this species has a temper and are quite territorial. One can be seen sleeping in the muck without a worry in the world, but a split second later they are barreling towards you with jaws agape. Another thing to be said is that they are faster than they look! Yes, they are hulking and huge while stuck in deep mud, but when they want to move THEY MOVE. You would think a mudslide is headed your way, with their massive weight charging through the muck and sending gunk flying everywhere. With this speed and their sheer power, hippalus tend to be avoided at all costs. Locals don't even try hunting them, because it is way too dangerous. What weapons they carry when entering hippalus territory is meant to slow the beasts down, not kill them. Their thick muscles make it difficult to do any real damage, thus resulting in most attacks being annoying rather than dangerous to them. In areas where civilization and hippalus territory overlap, you will find specimens with various weapons poking out of their hide. These are reminders of run ins they had with people, and trophies from failed hunts. "But wait, Chlora" you may ask. "I thought you said people don't hunt them?" That is correct, I said locals don't hunt them, as it is simply not worth it. So if the natives of the region don't do it, then there can only be one other answer of who! You all know it, so say it with me: Rich Idiots With Dumb Hobbies! 
Yes indeed, the wealthy nobility love showing off by killing large dangerous beasts and sticking them in their parlors. With their sheer size and power, any person with too much money and a poor definition of confidence gets the idea that they would make a fetching trophy. They take a whole hunting party out to try and down one of these behemoths, so that their head may be hung above the fireplace. Needless to say, plenty of people get killed trying to do this, and sadly the rich idiot isn't always the one. Turns out when you are the first to flee at the sight of danger and you use your guides like meat shields, you tend to survive. Then they go home and craft fanciful stories about their bravery and perilous escape, while the poor folk they hired for chump change to carry their bags are left dead in the mud. I swear, can't these people find better hobbies? Why do you have to kill things for showmanship and bragging points? Bird watching lets you see the wildlife without any harm, and it is just as rewarding! And if you have to just kill something for a trophy, why not bug collecting? There are plenty of those and it isn't nearly as dangerous! But then again, I am sure dumb nobles would find a way to make that hobby absolutely destructive. Only choose to pin endangered species or something. I don't think there is a winning option here. Like so much of their ill gotten gains, they thrive on misery! Aaaaaand this part is getting cut! I already know it, so don't bother writing it, Eucella!
Chlora Myron
Dryad Natural Historian    
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"Hippalus"
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3rd Law | Mage
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Your Tumblr username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
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source
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To many, the plague of the Arimakki is madness, a terrible blight that is infesting an already wounded world. As the war wages on, and communities lay in ruin, these horrible parasites torment the many people trapped within these devastated lands. Every day, folks pray that a miracle come a wash away this sickness, for the world to be rid of at least one terror. But it seems that not all despise the Arimakki and their Vile Red Tree. Some who look upon these godly parasites and see some kind of potential or profit to be gained from them. Many are short sighted dreams that rely on foolish greed and dumb luck to pull off, and most who seek the Arimakki for gain perish beneath their writhing hordes. Yet, these are not the worst to be found, these are not the only folk who would seek out the feverish parasites. There are those who would look upon the Arimakki and not see fear and disease, instead finding some bizarre admiration for these terrible babbling things. It must speak to the madness that has gripped this world, where folks would turn to the Arimakki for guidance...
As vile and impossible it would seem, there are the rare folk who do align themselves with the Arimakki. These are people who are beyond broken, beyond help, trying to find some hand hold in a world gone mad. Ask any sane person, and they would find no reasons to ever look up to the feverish parasites, yet there are some who see something hopeful within the babbling creatures. They point to a world locked in endless war, where violence and death reign supreme. They would show you a fractured Church, where faith rots and compassion has perished. Everywhere you would look, you would find people suffering and starving, towns in ruin and families torn apart. But yet the Arimakki thrive. Amongst all the torment eating away at the land, the Arimakki show no signs of fear, hunger or want. As the flames of war devour hearts and homes, the parasites dance, laugh and babble in oblivious tongues. They do not turn on their own kind, they know not of betrayal or deceit. Humanity would accuse them of being simple, primal, yet what has our great intellect brought? In a crazed world, the insane parasite appears to be the only one who is sane, and some would seek that out. They would go to the Arimakki in hopes of finding that oblivious bliss that would blind them to the suffering of this tortured existence. 
It was believed to be impossible to achieve, as how can one possibly join forces with a mindless plague? The Arimakki speak no language, they have shown no desire to communicate. They have no plans, no laws, no goals, just the desire to grow, eat and spread. No tongue would reach their ears, no offerings would sway them. It comes to no surprise that most who seek out the Arimakki would die amongst the feverish heat. But with enough time and desperate souls, a bloody path was paved and a horrible answer was found. To receive the blessing of the Arimakki, one must become like them. To do this, an excruciating ceremony must be performed. Most would call it madness, but the crazed pilgrims who seek this path have another word for it: Koroni Netsu. This is the baptism that changes a person, that warps their mind so that they may become like an Arimakki. It calls for all things Arimakki, to submerse your body thoroughly in their world, and pray that your flesh is strong enough to make the journey. According to the disgusting tales, to perform Koroni Netsu, one must consume the flesh of the White Worm, and pierce their body with splinters of the Vile Red Tree. The final step is to baptize yourself in a shower of Feverish Sweat, and let the boiling juices take hold. What follows is a sickness that no medicine can cure, an unholy fever that burns without end or relief. The form is consumed in a vile heat, your body working with the Arimakki ingredients to create an internal flame hot enough to burn away all things human. If the fever is one's body fighting a sickness, the Koroni Netsu targets the disease that is humanity. All is seared and boiled by the sickness, and often the pilgrim dies in its thrall. Most mortal flesh is incapable of handling such heat and internal devastation, but there are some who do make the journey alive. However, with what comes out the other side, some folk would argue that there is no "surviving" this...
Those who undertake Koroni Netsu and emerge alive will be cleansed of their humanity and be filled instead with the blessing of the Arimakki. Their own flesh will radiate the sickly heat, and within their cavities will squirm the pallid White Worms. Of their previous mind, there will be no trace. There are no thoughts remaining, no sane words to be understood. Their tongues babble the same nonsense as the Arimakki, and their actions mirror the parasites' insanity. This conversion goes beyond simple heat and hallucination, as the Arimakki themselves will bring no harm to this new inductee. Those who undergo this process can walk amongst the parasites without a worry, as they now radiate the aura of fever and belonging. They have become another member of the colony, and they will be welcome within its boiling depths. To fit in with their fellow parasites, they shall scrounge from the dead and wear discarded husks. They shall cloak themselves with feverish flesh and lifeless worm, finding comfort in their weight and layers. And like all Arimakki, there is a role for them in the colony, and it is the one task their lost mind cares about. These pilgrims will become priests, and preach the word of the Arimakki to all. With staffs fashioned from the Vile Red Tree, and cloaks of White Worm, they go to the masses to spread the message and sickness. But to the people of the world, they are a blight and a madness. Their words are incomprehensible, their lectures crazed raving. The only conversion they hope to bring is spreading the White Worm and Vile Red Tree themselves as they wander. Those who try to silence their mindless tongues will find them potent foes, as they call upon the Feverish Sweat that now flows within. Clouds of boiling steam are released from their bodies and staffs, their sickly heat roasting any who get too close. Blades and claws born from Arimakki corpses can sear through armor and flesh, all while their maddened lectures continue on. To everyone else, the conversion into an Arimakki priest is pure lunacy, seen as mental suicide. But to the people who dare take on such a pilgrimage, they often find that there is no other path for them. 
Humanity loves to preach its superiority and speak of the wonders that come from their minds. Yet look upon the world and see what this superior intellect has brought. Petty war, ruined lands and mass graves unending. If these are the monuments of an enlightened mind, than the greatest blessing one can receive is the key to undo these cursed shackles of "intellect."     
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"Arimakki Priest"
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evolutionsvoid · 12 days
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While there are countless searing parasites who can serve as the face of the Arimakki, to all, there is only one symbol, one heart, that truly defines them. It is a thing that is even more mysterious than the odd bugs themselves, something that many still struggle to understand. Even its name fails to properly describe what it truly is, but there are no other words to use for it: The Vile Red Tree. Yet, it is no tree, it isn't even a plant. There is no bark, no leaves, yet it grows like an insidious weed. It has no need for sunlight, or water, as it lives underground, growing in the heart of every Arimakki colony. It is no animal or plant, yet it lives. Its hardened brittle form slithers and splinters as it spreads throughout the underground, eating its way through ancient flesh and soil. From its stony red flesh emanates a sweltering heat, a feverish temperature that only an Arimakki can love. It is a searing atmosphere it exudes, far greater than any single parasite can muster. It is this burning presence that makes each Arimakki colony an oven, the heat so intense that no other living creature can survive long without protection. And as it grows, the heat follows, baking the earth and clearing the way for its horrible children. 
This bizarre burning organisms does not grow alone, as with it are the White Worms and other strange creatures. To most, the White Worm is an unassuming thing, a pale featureless squirming thing, found infesting every Arimakki. But where the Vile Red Tree grows, the White Worm is close at hand, writhing through the earth and dancing amongst its subterranean branches. What the connection is between the two is unknown, as folk aren't even sure how they play into the Arimakki themselves. The best guess is that the Vile Red Tree and the White Worms are crucial to the reproduction and spread of the Arimakki. Why else would they be found within the heart of every colony? Why else would these pale worms be filling every cavity of the parasites? It seems both are needed for these horrible bugs to survive. The Vile Red Tree is believed to create the horrible heat that is needed for Arimakki eggs to hatch, while the White Worm burrows through the world around them and prepares the flesh for infestation. It seems the Vile Red Tree can only grow through substrate that has been thoroughly infested by the White Worm, and perhaps the internal worms are how the Arimakki digest their food. But in the end, these are only guesses, as every part of the Arimakki hive is nearly impossible to study, let alone survive. 
Due to the critical role the Vile Red Tree plays into the spreading of the Arimakki, many are correct to assume that its destruction is necessary to dispel this threat. Smaller hives who have had their trees destroy turn sickly and weak, and the bugs are seen desperately trying to reseed their dying tree. Yet, eradicating the Vile Red Tree is no easy task. Blows against it shatter it and scatter its pieces, raining blistering sharp shards across the land. Wherever a fragment lands, a tree will be soon to follow, as they regenerate and spread like a disease. Those who get its barbs into their flesh are nearly driven mad from the experience, as it is a searing needle that digs deeper and deeper into the flesh, spreading fever, burning and crazed itching. Those who still have it within them experience horrible hallucinations and are tormented by twisted impossible nightmares. If a doctor is not able to extract the sliver from their flesh, most are driven to such insanity that they will gnaw their way to it and tear it out with bloody teeth.
To make matters more confusing is that the White Worm is not the only thing that writhes amongst the buried branches of the Vile Red Tree. A whole slew of terrible worms spend their entire lives around it, playing some role or purpose that no one can understand. They come in a variety of shapes and sizes, yet their jobs are a mystery. The blanket name of "Arimakki Wamu" is given to them, and it seems that they need the Vile Red Tree as much as it needs them. With how the variety of Arimakki seems to be endless, one can only figure that these are another staple of these colonial organisms, a handful of the many that make the Arimakki whole.
The Vile Red Tree and the White Worm remain a mystery and a terror, haunting the land and many dreams. Maddened tongues speak of its growing through the earth and beneath our feet. Crazed visions see the earth cracking open into writhing worm-filled wounds. The shivering sleepers look up in their dreams and see a boiling sky and a horrid tree of red devouring the heavens.  
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"The Vile Red Tree"
And I forgot to add the White Worms! Confound it!
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evolutionsvoid · 13 days
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evolutionsvoid · 16 days
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The Waniguchi is a rather visually striking species of amphibian that is found far east, dwelling within the many rivers and ponds. While some may assume it a kind of lizard at first glance, these creatures are actually large salamanders, bearing wide round heads and damp scaleless skin. What may cause this confusion are the numerous hardened bumps that dot their hide, perhaps giving the impression of scales. Some of these hardened circles grow to bigger sizes, providing a sort of crude armor for the salamander. Also running along its body are notable crests, believed to aid the males in winning over mates. While they are quite flashy, most people are drawn more to the head of the Waniguchi, which is said to have quite the signature shape and markings to it. The locals have likened it to a special bell that they have, due to its rounded flat appearance. Thus this species gained their name from that very bell!  
When it comes to their daily lives, Waniguchi pretty much spend their time either sleeping or waiting. They lurk on the bottom of water bodies, typically hiding in burrows, under rocks or tucked into crevices. They feed upon fish, crustaceans, worms and bugs, or any small aquatic critter that swims too close. Their mouths open wide to suck in prey, and then a multitude of tiny sharp teeth to grab hold! Anything they catch, they swallow whole, and then they either go back to waiting for more food, or simply fall asleep to digest the day's catch. Not a complicated lifestyle, but there is certainly beauty in simplicity! And I am sure there are some folk that are envious of an easy life of just eating and sleeping!
While the Waniguchi is by no means an utterly bizarre or crazy creature, what is interesting to note is its place in local culture. I mentioned before that the people have named it after a bell of theirs, but that isn't where things ended. These calm, simple amphibians are seen as protective spirits or guardians, which appears to be a common theme with salamanders in this region. They are also said to be wise, and their mere presence can bring about blessings. Thus, Waniguchi have been taken in as pets and shrine animals, given a place to live within sacred pools and ponds. If you find yourself at any shrine that has an ornamental water body near it, you can be sure a Waniguchi lives within it! The caretakers of these places feed them and ensure their ponds are in perfect condition, as it is vital to keep the salamanders happy! It should be noted that it is decades of breeding these salamanders that has led to the domesticated breeds having such beautiful head patterns. I can't imagine the amount of work it took to get them to have such a similar look to the bells themselves! That being said, the wild ones do not have nearly as intricate of a design to them, being much more muddled, mottled and dull. Regardless, they are treated with the same level of respect, and it is illegal to harass them or harm them in any way. I should point out that this includes throwing coins and random crap into their ponds! There are special fountains and boxes to put coins and donations, you clods! If you chuck that stuff into their pools, there is a chance they may swallow them, get sick or even die! So read the signs, respect the rules and keep your garbage out of their homes! Do know that if I catch you breaking that rule, than I too will partake in reckless stupid behavior and toss you into the pool too!    
Chlora Myron
Dryad Natural Historian
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"Waniguchi"
Not much to really say with this one, as I was not able to learn much about the Waniguchi yokai, but it was kind of funny that descriptions often called the bell shape "crocodilian" meanwhile the giant salamander is just sitting right there with the roundish flat head. 
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evolutionsvoid · 18 days
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a noble sacrifice
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