City: Viscerapolis

Viscerapolis, or literally the City of Gore, lies between the Font of Bone and Font of Blood. Controlled by neither Primordial, it represents both of their aspects. On the one hand, its well-laid-out streets and uniform buildings may remind one of a marble cemetery. On the other, curtains of tanned human flesh hang in the windows, the gutters run with fetid blood, and everyone eats organ meat. One can find all manner of strange doctors and surgeons here as well. There is no solid law or government within the city, but rather competing gangs of clashing ideology. Some want strict order and control while others prefer chaos and free will. Given the lands the city borders, this is not surprising. Here one can find two dive bars for a Warband to play. The Tannery pays homage to the Path of Bone, a stinking pit full of leather-clad goons with a raised, caged stage. For the Path of Blood, one can play at The Red Rum Runner. This rowdy place is full of belligerent drunks and brutish vampires with a sunken stage surrounded by casks of blood and booze.

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Frame Mimic

Rattling from the shadows, a gaggle of rat-gnawed bones march forward eager to slay the living. One of them lags behind, looking a bit more solid than the rest. You know your mace should have broken the leading skeletons to pieces. Yet, it merely cracked bones instead of shattering them. Tentacles lash out from the slower skeleton, adhering to you and pulling you closer to the maw manifesting from its ribcage. This is the frame mimic. The spawn of the ossuary mimic, this monstrosity also feels a kinship to the undead - specifically animated skeletons. It adopts a group of such horrors and its very presence temporarily empowers them. This is why the skeletons keep it around instead of hacking it to pieces as they would any other living thing. On top of that, frame mimics develop a supernatural stubbornness that can only be called boneheaded. So powerful is this force of will, that it mends their wounds as they plough forward against deadly spells. Frame Mimic Medium Monstrosit...

Brocade Mimic

The masked bard in gaudy attire was strumming away when the bar fight started. It kept playing even as chairs broke and mugs flew. Not one strum was missed even when blood was spilled. Then someone grew sick of the racket and stuck a hand ax into the bard's neck...with a wooden thunk. The fancy vest exploded with teeth, tentacles, and eyes. Then there was the color spray... The first brocade mimic lurked in the rafters of a bard college. Instead of eating a future player, it learned alongside them and caught a passion for the arts. Of course, it could have become an instrument but that wasn't quite grand enough. The mimic became a set of fancy clothes and was worn out the front doors. Sometimes it and its spawn become a bard's best friend. sometimes it pilots a dead one around for a bit, and other times it takes over a mannequin to strike out on its own. No matter how, the show must always go on. Brocade Mimic Medium Monstrosity (shapechanger), neutral ...

Yoke Mimic

Something tore apart the bandits you've been tracking, but it's not obvious what chewed and in some cases melted them. Maybe there's a wyrmling in the area? Either way, all that remains alive in the camp is a pair of oxen burdened by their cart. Though, they are quite nonplussed given the violence that must have occurred around them. Surely these simple beasts couldn't be the case of the carnage, could they? As you ponder this, the oxen start plodding away, pulling the cart of goods with them. Trying to stop them was the logical thing to do... their yoke coming undone with twin, yawning mouths not so logical. You know what that means... initiative rolls, please. Relatively benign, for a mimic, the yoke mimic was cultivated by an industrious farmer. They didn't see the point of wasting an animal that came into their care, even a strange monstrosity such as this one. It became a valuable tool not only to get fields plowed, but also kept the animals attached to it d...

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