Above the windblown crags of the Shattered Coast, a shadow with three snarling faces sweeps across the rock. Maulwing the Threefold Terror has claimed the highest peaks as its killing grounds.
In the wind-scoured canyons of the Crestview Ridge highlands, the ground trembles before the sound of clanging hooves and the hiss of metal on stone.
"Every branch has a use, if you’re willing to listen while you shape it."
"Thread is time, darling. Pull it the wrong way, and everything unravels."
"If it’s locked, someone wanted it opened. They just didn’t know it yet."
"Not all fire destroys. Some fire remembers."
"A good bowl holds soup. A great one holds a story."
In the deepest trenches where sunlight has never reached, something stirs. Sailors speak the name Thalrogg, the Abyssal Crown, only in whispers—an ancient kraken whose mind is as vast as the ocean and whose reach stretches far beyond the sea.
Beneath a sand-buried ziggurat of the Endless Expanse, Sethek-Ka waits upon a throne of black basalt, wrapped in gold-threaded bandages that never fray.
Beneath the obsidian spires of the Nevermoors, whispers speak of a tyrant who sees all. Xaltheris, a Beholder whose paranoia has turned the flooded caverns into a fortress of optical illusions and deadly traps, rules from a chamber whose walls are lined with petrified “traitors.”
A single bark can echo like a song—soft, melodic, and gone before you can find the source. Lirael, a blink dog of rare size and swiftness, roams the border between the Material Plane and the Feywild, guarding ancient fey roads and guiding the lost to safety… if it deems them worthy.
When the sky burns red over the volcanic plains of Emberfall, it means Thrazgral the Ashbringer walks the mortal world again. Wreathed in fire and fury, this Balor is a living apocalypse, the echo of a thousand battlefields still smoldering in its wake.