Shadowspawn

Fetchlings are descended from generations of humans trapped on the Plane of Shadow. Infused with the essence of that plane, they are more and less than human, and often serve as middlemen in planar trade and politics. Other than their yellow eyes, their flesh has no color—it is either stark white, midnight black, or a shade of gray. On the Material Plane, they conceal themselves with heavy clothing or dim light so they can work without prejudice. The name “fetchling” is a human word; their own name for their race is kayal, meaning “shadow people.” A fetchling stands 6 feet tall, but is generally lithe and wiry of frame, weighing only 150 pounds. Fetchlings live as long as half-elves.

Gory sentinels with a lust for flesh and the myriad bodily fluids contained within, augurs number among the most common—as well as most despicable—kytons on the Plane of Shadow. Having given up their humanoid bodies in favor of the more stealthy and wretched guise of a singular large eye armored in bloodied metal plates, augurs act as spies and sycophants for more powerful kytons. Their miniscule size, sturdy exterior, and unnerving gazes make them ideally equipped for dangerous reconnaissance missions to the Material Plane, where the augurs are able to scout out potential raiding locations or spot vulnerable, lone travelers before their more powerful kyton brethren cross the planes to attack. While their usefulness in tasks of stealth and guile makes augurs deadly companions, their insatiable lust for blood often proves their ultimate downfall. Augurs, like most kytons, find themselves in a heightened state of arousal when witness to the destruction of flesh, but the extent to which these muscular orbs find pleasure in blood is far more treacherous than their more disciplined peers. Many augurs cannot help but indulge themselves when exposed to gore—rolling within and dipping their blades into freshly spilled pools—an unfortunate trait which has led many careless augurs to their capture or doom. An augur’s gruesome appearance is not always self-inflicted. They are sometimes constructed by other kytons who seek to impose an everlasting punishment upon a particularly unwilling mortal sacrifice; the defiant individual’s body is cast aside for scraps as its mind and soul are transferred into the monocular shell, producing an augur when the ritual is complete. Augurs are the least pragmatic type of all kytons, and thus the least respected among their peers. The condemnation of an individual’s spirit to the cage-like body of a kyton augur is the precedent for a truly agonizing and lonely existence. A lawful evil spellcaster can gain an augur as a familiar at 7th level by taking the Improved Familiar feat. A typical augur kyton is 1 foot in diameter and weighs 30 pounds.

Natives of the Plane of Shadow, d’ziriaks are a mysterious race of human-sized insectoids. From their partially buried hive cities rise spires and steeples adorned with alchemical fire and illusory flame, dim beacons of sanctuary in the foreboding twilight. The d’ziriaks remain staunchly neutral in most affairs, and are typically happy to converse with travelers via their eerie telepathy (their own language of buzzes and chitters is an obscure one known by few outside their race), but their unknown, obscure goals lead most others to regard this race with caution. The average d’ziriak is 7 feet tall and has four arms, two legs, a termite-like abdomen, and a mandibled visage somewhere between that of insect and human. Two of its arms are large and possess sharp claws, while the other two are relatively small and used for fine manipulations, not combat. Strangely for a race native to the realm of shadows, the d’ziriaks have a colorful collection of runic shapes, almost like glowing tattoos, upon their chitinous flesh. These runes help to denote what role in d’ziriak society each of these beings serves. D’ziriaks rarely travel off the Plane of Shadow except on orders of their rulers, and prefer to live their lives out in their hive cities. They remain open to trade and diplomacy with any brave enough to travel the Plane of Shadow, and are valued by many both on and off their plane for their artisans’ ability to weave light into tangible art and create weapons of great quality and beauty.

Gloomwings are strange, moth-like natives of the Plane of Shadow. Despite their appearance, they are not vermin and possess a crude but serviceable intelligence. While gloomwings can be conjured via spells like lesser planar ally or lesser planar binding to serve as guardians or even mounts, occasionally a gloomwing will slip through a tear in the fabric of the planes and make the journey to the Material Plane on its own. A gloomwing loose on the Material Plane is active for 2 to 3 hours at dawn and again for 2 to 3 hours at dusk, preferring to spend the remaining hours of the day hiding in abandoned buildings, caves, or deep canyons or foliage where the shadows are thickest. During its periods of activity, it flies through the sky on the hunt for creatures to attack and implant its eggs in— the gloomwing does not need to eat, leaving this urge to propagate its species as its primary drive. For all the dangers a gloomwing presents, it is the creature’s young that pose the gravest threat. These creatures are known as tenebrous worms, and despite being the larval form of the adult gloomwing, are much more dangerous creatures. The fact that a gloomwing can lay several eggs a day if presented with enough living hosts makes them dangerous not for what they can inf lict themselves, but for what they can spawn.

The mysterious people known as the shaes are natives of the Shadow Plane. In their own language, their name means “unbound” or “unfettered.” According to shae history, they were once humanoids who through tireless study and self-perfection managed to transcend the bonds of a definite form. Though they still bear roughly humanoid shapes, shaes’ outlines are perpetually wispy and impossible for any non-shaes to focus directly on. Though shaes may engage in all the same pursuits and professions as other humanoids, their overwhelming racial pride often leads them to see all other humanoids— especially humans—as lesser beings. Ironically, this casual disdain sometimes leads individual shaes to gather harems of worshipful human consorts, and it is from these unions that fetchlings often issue. Humans involved in such relationships often hope to learn the secret of the shaes’ power over shadows, and claim that only in sacred union with the creatures can one glimpse their true features. Shaes are roughly 6 feet tall and weigh 100 pounds. They often wear masks and form-fitting clothing when around other creatures in order to give the lesser beings something to focus on (such garments do not impede their blur ability).

Ostiariuses mind the gate between the world of mortals and the delights of the Plane of Shadow. Their role is twofold: admitting their brethren onto the Material Plane and—more insidiously— convincing mortals to willingly journey with them to their shadowed homeland. They are the emissaries of their race, encouraging susceptible mortals to abandon their tired philosophies and embrace the possibilities of a realm of inscrutable darkness. Most proudly stand over 6 feet tall, though their weights range from exceedingly light to grossly heavy.

Tireless hunters, stealthy trackers, and deadly predators, shadow mastiffs stalk the dark corners of the Outer Planes, preying upon all beings that stray from the light. These beasts have little in common with actual canines aside from their general forms (although with the notable addition of a long, spiked tail), their bodies being the evolution of countless centuries hunting the most merciless wildernesses of the Outer Planes and the Shadow Plane. On the Material Plane, they prefer to travel in shadow, moving soundlessly and unseen to find prey, hunting in vicious sport just as often as in hunger. Shadow mastiffs stand over 4 feet tall, with most weighing nearly 300 pounds. In combat, these stealthy beasts prefer to fight in shadows; they shy from areas of bright light unless faced with no other choice and use their bay to force their enemies to flee from well-lit areas. Shadow mastiffs prefer to hunt in groups, using pack tactics to lure prey into traps and to draw it away from sources of light. They do not make lairs, and are usually not found with any sort of treasure, unless it is on the body of a recently slain victim. Shadow mastiffs are popular guardians among spellcasters capable of conjuring them via lesser planar ally or lesser planar binding. Undead spellcasters and evil outsiders are immune to shadow mastiffs’ fearful bay; others who are not immune might intentionally expose themselves to the creatures’ bay at some point during the daylight hours when the resulting panic won’t directly impact other tasks. As a general rule, it’s safe to assume that any site using shadow mastiffs as guardians has already been affected by the bay, and that its inhabitants are thus immune to the ability’s effects for the remaining 24 hours of that day. Larger shadow mastiffs exist—creatures the size of horses or even bigger. These creatures have different shapes, looking less like dogs and more like larger creatures such as lions, dinosaurs, or even dragons. Such creatures have additional racial Hit Dice, and could even have extra abilities such as flight or breath weapons.

Often classified among the ranks of the infernal and called chain devils by the uninitiated, the sadomasochistic kytons are not true devils. Although some are known to live in Hell, kytons exist outside of the hierarchies established by Asmodeus and his archdevils and can often be found on other planes, particularly on the Plane of Shadow. Many suggest that kytons were natives of Hell who existed there before the advent of devilkind, while others hypothesize they were later brought to the plane by some sadistic power. Regardless of their origins, kytons roam the planes in their lust to cause and receive suffering, seeking pain through violent abductions and sadistic debauches. The kyton presented here is a typical member of this fiendish race of outsiders, but is by no means the only type of its kind. Just as there are numerous different species of demon and devil, rumor holds that different kinds of kytons dwell in their jangling cities in Hell and on the Plane of Shadow. These kytons are invariably more powerful than the one presented here, often having spell-like abilities or hideous and unsettling special attacks along the themes of torture and pain. Rumor holds that the most powerful kytons are completely inhuman, and that these monsters are the true progenators of the kyton race—the kyton presented here but the result of unholy dalliances with their unfortunate victims.

An owb is a sinister visitor from the Shadow Plane, a creature resembling a humanoid torso draped in darkness. Alien in nature, this mysterious shade never speaks audible words, but it constantly uses its telepathy to project mumbles of curses and threats into the minds of those it encounters. The race’s closest relationship is with the dark folk, who worship owbs as proxies to gods of the shadows. Most dark folk believe the first of their kind were created by owbs—or more powerful owb-like beings. An owb despises any light other than the dim flicker created by its burning cold ability, and shrinks from its presence. It often seeks to destroy those who bring light near it, relentlessly attacking the perpetrators until its enemies flee or die. An owb usually keeps its presence hidden from mortals. Lurking nearby, the shadowy creature listens in on nearby thoughts, always searching for a collection of fears and worries it can capitalize on for its own machinations. It may serve as an intermediary between doppelgangers on the surface world and dark folk in subterranean lands. An owb associated with a tribe of dark folk may scrutinize newborns and tune the children’s connection to the Shadow Plane so they eventually grow into a different type of dark folk than the type they were born (allowing a dark creeper to become a dark stalker, and so on). An owb loves manipulation and runs conspiratorial plots involving denizens of the Shadow Plane and those of the Material Plane. An owb or cabal of owbs may control entire clans of dark folk, and use them as spies and pawns in some inscrutable plan. Though most of an owb’s form measures only 3-1/2 feet tall, it typically floats so its head is level with that of a Medium humanoid. Deceptively light, an owb weighs only 20 pounds.

The ancestors of the svartalfars were exiled from their primordial home for grave crimes that no fey will speak of. Fleeing to the Shadow Plane, they formed assassin clans, and now they hire their services to any who pay them. Their payment must be in secrets, bits of occult science, and obscure information to add to their huge, dark libraries in underground warrens hidden away on the Shadow Plane. Svartalfars are extremely interested in knowledge about the realm of the fey. Many fear the svartalfars are searching for a way to finally take their revenge upon those who expelled them. These cold, calculating killers are not swayed by whimsy or deeper passions. They pride themselves on their pitilessness and inability to be bribed or dissuaded from ending a target’s life once they’ve been contracted to do so. Once an assassination is paid for, it’s the duty of all the svartalfars of a clan or cabal to make sure it gets done. If a clan or cabal fails, another one will finish the job. Svartalfars seem to feel no love or real friendship. All of their actions are committed for practical reasons—political gain, procreation, or relieving boredom. Focused and utterly unyielding, they are considered by many to be the perfect killers, and their tenacity and mastery over magic and shadows are a death sentence for anyone who has been marked as their quarry.

The caterpillar-like tenebrous worm is a voracious predator that hungers for mortal flesh. The tenebrous worm is the larval stage of the gloomwing—but in a strange reversal, these younger creatures are more dangerous than the adults they grow into. A native of the Plane of Shadow, a tenebrous worm hatches from the body of an unfortunate creature that has been implanted with an egg by a gloomwing. The tenebrous worm is fully grown upon hatching, and immediately begins to scour its environs for flesh to consume. Although the tenebrous worm tends to be relatively pale-colored, its internal organs seethe and roil with shadowy energies and dark fluids. As the creature feeds, these shadowy innards begin to grow out of its body, forming strange bristle-like filaments of semisolid shadowstuff not only capable of piercing the flesh of those who would attack the worm, but also possessing a deadly paralytic poison. Additional shadowy fluids constantly seep from the worm’s mandibles—when it bites prey, these fluids melt flesh into shadows that the creature can then consume. When a tenebrous worm feeds on enough of this shadowy flesh, the creature seeks out a secluded, shady area (typically just within a cave entrance or in a ruined building) and spins a shadowy cocoon around itself. A tenebrous worm’s cocoon exudes the effects of a darkness spell (CL 8th), muting the surrounding light. After a period of several days, the cocoon tears open and a fully grown gloomwing emerges, ready to seek a host for its eggs.

Every kyton considers itself some manner of artiste, working and reworking its avant-garde visions in various mediums—f lesh, minds, darkness, and others both natural and fragile. But for every masterpiece, there are countless failures. Sacristans number among the most useful failures of the kyton race. Born from scraps of imperfect flesh, bent chain, and scarred minds, sacristans are bound together by kyton sculptor-surgeons. They lack the burden of free will, and their minds are etched with the ability to serve, making them utterly obedient to other kytons. While much more than automatons, sacristans are a potent slave caste, one manufactured to take ecstatic pleasure from serving their brethren. Their other blessing is a miniature, permanent portal to the Shadow Plane sealed within their mouths. Kept restrained, this portal endlessly howls the music of the kytons’ realms of shadowed torture and veiled delights. When threatened, sacristans burst open their mouths and allow the song of their collective race to seduce their foes in a way these brutes never could. Sacristans vary in their appearance, but always look like tortured and maimed humanoids, often with redundant or absent features. They typically stand between 6 and 8 feet tall and weigh from 80 to 160 pounds.

Interlocutors are the self-proclaimed surgeon-sculptors among kytons, viewing their practice as more art than medical process. Each victim is a new chance to study the art of pain and sensation through horror-stricken eyes. Their ability to heal the damage they inf lict, even to the extent of restoring life to a subject that has only just expired, is perhaps more feared than their eagerness to cut flesh. To an interlocutor’s victim, death is a mercy that is rarely offered. Nowhere is the interlocutor’s mastery of flesh more apparent than in their bodies, for their apotheosis from mortal into kyton involves the shedding of useless parts down to a tangle of nerves, veins, and various organs. These are then incorporated into bodies made of semiliving metal fashioned from raw shadowstuff harvested in strange reaches of the Plane of Shadow, giving the kyton a terrifying body. Periodically, an arm or other “leftover” limb is retained by the kyton, but only in the same way someone might retain ownership of a treasured piece of jewelry as a keepsake or memento. Some interlocutors retain nothing of their old bodies of flesh save the brain, nerves, and portions of their circulatory system. Interlocutors are 9 feet tall and weigh 800 pounds.

Though their kind originated on the Shadow Plane, shadow giants often relocate to the Material Plane, typically at the behest of a powerful cleric or other representative of a deity from the Shadow Plane. In such conditions, shadow giants often serve as companies of elite shock troops and are kept secret, operating only when they are expected to leave no survivors to tell the tale.  Most shadow giants are especially taciturn and keep to themselves when not serving a higher cause. They keep their own counsel and practice their own sinister religion, with bloody rituals of autosacrifice, mutilation, and much worse presided over by their priests on top of short step pyramids constructed of dark basalt blocks. On the Shadow Plane, families of shadow giants have been known to join together to form greater tribes, especially when times of war are at hand or when they are facing some other threat. The sight of such an army arrayed upon the field of battle is usually enough to make any enemy sue for peace with desperate offers of gold and prisoners for sacrifice.  The typical shadow giant stands 15 feet tall and weighs 2,400 pounds. Most shadow giants have dusky gray skin and pale gray hair.

Cruel and sadistic, umbral dragons prefer the taste of undead flesh or ghostly ectoplasm, yet never turn down opportunities to consume living flesh.

Eremites are among the eldest and most mutilated of kytons, having inf licted such massive damage to themselves that they feel little pain and no fear. The typical eremite is completely covered in blood-caked bandages, tattered cords of black leather, and thousands of jagged shards of razor-sharp metal. These fragments are all that holds the creature’s mutilated flesh together, yet they do so with a strength far greater than that granted by mortal flesh and bone. Rather than concentrating solely on physical or even spiritual alterations, eremites seek to blur the very lines around being, physicality, and individuality. They desire only the most powerful beings to augment themselves with, traveling across vast swaths of the Material Plane in search of the most promising additions to their bodily collection and harvesting only the finest parts—the ripest spleen, the most alluring veins, the most succulent eyes. When an eremite encounters a creature that possess a so-called “perfect part,” the powerful kyton seeks to capture that creature alive so that it can study how that perfect part functions as part of the creature’s physiology before it finally decides to surgically remove it and attach it to its own body—often in a way not quite in keeping with the part’s original use. A gifted bard’s tongue might, for example, be nailed to a kyton’s palm or sewn into its heart, while the eyes of a beautiful queen might be stitched into the kyton’s torso. To the eremite, these hideous changes and choices somehow enhance the perfection of the harvested part, while to others they merely enhance the horror that the creature represents. While eremites do hold an appreciation for inspection of their targets as well as introspection regarding their own powers and identity, their primary occupation is the understanding of pain and suffering, which they pursue by inflicting the most heinous cruelties upon their victims. An eremite seeks to deliver as much agony as possible to its victims after capturing them, allowing them to undergo extreme amounts of trauma before letting them perish. An eremite often rends its own flesh in the same manner as it does its victim’s, so as to experience the pain alongside it. While pursuing a chosen victim, an eremite utilizes its supernatural abilities to distract and distress a given target before it captures and drags it back to the Plane of Shadow via plane shift. Bargaining with an eremite is not usually an option, though if a particularly powerful victim can offer an eremite advice or aid, or otherwise assist in harvesting an even more interesting catch, an eremite can sometimes be convinced to let the helpful victim escape. It’s worth remembering, though, that kytons as a whole have little patience for the petty pursuits of honor and pride, seeing such feelings as traits that ultimately spell the end for baser creatures. The only thing that matters to an eremite is the testing of its boundaries as well as the boundaries of existence itself. Just because an eremite might be convinced to let someone go in trade for an opportunity for a greater catch doesn’t mean that once that other target is secured the eremite will cease its attempts to capture and harvest its original target. One who manages to distract and subsequently escape an eremite is well-advised to spend the rest of his life on the run. A typical eremite stands approximately 7 feet tall and weighs about 200 pounds. While their general form is something of a humanoid shape, exact appearances can vary wildly between eremites as they harvest and graft particularly unusual pieces of flesh to their bodies from increasingly exotic victims.

EREMITE OVERLORDS
Eremites who surpass the limits of individuality and achieve dominion over a certain realm of the Plane of Shadow are referred to as eremite overlords. An overlord has focused on a specific type of mutilation, and has taken that heinous surgical procedure to the outer limits of pain and pleasure. Those who worship and venerate the overlords often seek to emulate their patron’s chosen mutilation, often fatally so. Overlords keep in correspondence with one another and sometimes collaborate in a Covenant of Overlords, and while they do not view each other as enemies, they are by no means allies, and often vie for the favor of the demagogues. Each overlord is a unique Large (or larger) eremite with several additional Hit Dice. In addition, each has a unique power linked to its chosen form of self-mutilation, as well as 4–6 additional spell-like abilities along that mutilation’s theme. For example, an overlord that has perfected the act of skinning itself and wrapping its flesh in thorny black vines might have an ability to send those thorny vines out at great length to grapple and constrict distant foes, and might gain black tentacles, entangle, wall of thorns, and 1–3 similar spell-like abilities.