All Hallow's Eve 2025

The tale of the Battle at Lat Salok, and of Aavshüd—the mighty Beast of Wriysh Lake—has spread in earnest to every corner of the continents. From Blindhelm, perched in solitude beyond the frigid mountain divide of Aeslend’s farthest north, to the snowbound slopes of the White Steppes in the southernmost wilds of Ehiasall; from the lush, fragrant gardens of Mastay in the west to Kestrana’s burning dunes and the Catatonian Isles strewn upon the eastern sea, the account circulates in every dialect and written form, moving from hearth to marketplace, from the sanctity of temples to the common chatter of taverns.

And in its telling, and its retelling, and in those trifle embellishments which rumormongers do so ardently adore—as if, indeed, so tremendous a tale required any ornament whatsoever—a seed of fever has taken root in the minds of the curious and the restless. For if such an ancient, impossible beast as Aavshüd may yet be found—living, breathing, and, to the eyes of any bold enough to behold him, undeniable in his reality—they must then wonder… What other stories, dismissed as foolish folly, fable and fancy, might likewise hold a kernel of truth? Thus do wanderers, chroniclers, vagabonds and the simply audacious set forth, deep into the heart of wilds unknown, rife with dangers and magical unrest in pursuit of like legends.

Mariners mutter of the Leviathan of Blackwater Trench, a beast of fathomless depth and ravenous maw that roams the Vloulst Sea. In the soot-dark teeth of Shilen Uul, the lost dare not name Galyn Nokhoi, the Ember Hound, whelp of a molten womb whose breath flows as a torrent of fiery devastation. On the lonely steppes of Ehiasall squats Gravemoss, a boulder that creeps in silence, shifting, they say, when no eyes watch. And above all reigns Padeshah, the sky-king, whose vast, leathery wings blot out the sun, and whose talons pluck steeds screaming from the earth.

Yet truth walks ever hand-in-hand with her umbratile twin: deception. To discern one from the other is no mean task. The question, then, is this—to what lengths will some aspire in the service of falsehood, and for what end?  Conversely, how far will others dare to press into the unknown for the faintest glimmer of a living legend?

Depict your rider investigating—or turning away from—these rumors. Does your rider give heed to these whispers? Do they allow curiosity to carry them into a hunt for creatures of which they can scarcely be certain exists? Or do they, rather, content themselves with the safer certainties of the known world, lingering instead over tales of others’ encounters? Perhaps they spin their own tales, fabricating accounts of creatures entirely of their own imagination, to entertain, impress, or mislead. Or do they dismiss such fantasies entirely?

NOTE: Creators are encouraged to invent their own legends, and may draw inspiration from real-world cryptids and urban legends, however they should not replicate them exactly in form or name. For example, Moren Ezen has no legend of “Bigfoot,” but tales may tell of a shaggy, elusive forest-dweller known locally as… Greg?

Written by Kurrumin