Amon

“It was on the road to Rondon that I met them. Two old, grizzled men. One had a great sword swaying on his back in time with his bowl legged steps. The other carried an unstrung bow, twice my height that he used as a walking stick to steady his stride.”

“Oh yes, much older than your father. Much, much older. If their stories were true, they once served the great Alfar attendant, Fukuza. He lived hundreds of years ago.”

“How? Oh they say those who live within the Fair Isles and the Golden Shore live strange days. Who knows what wyrds the Alfar weave for those that serve them faithfully?”

“So yes, they were very old, and their bodies showed it. Scarred and gnarled like an old oak they were.”

“It was a crossroads when I met them. During the twilight hour when Dar Lugal is below the horizon, but Masu Sar still graces us with light. That beautiful time when the world is a hushed purple in their glow. A time of magic the scholars say at the colleges.”

“We made a camp together and spoke of times past. Times long past. Of their former lord and his great works. Legends I am sure you know, but from men who had been there.”

“Names? Kas’or and Owa’ina they called themselves.”

“Yes, I thought that would shock you. But... It was them. In the flesh and choosing to share the night with this old wanderer.”

“As I said, we talked of many tales of the days of old. The Hundred Companions. The great rivalry with GGG. The Fire Breather of Tarumiko. All the tales any child who has lived in or near the Fair Isles knows by heart.”

“That, however, was not the interesting story… Or at least not the story you came hunting me down for, is it? No, you want to know about It, don’t you?”

“Yes, I see that lean hungry look in you. You thirst for knowledge. Forbidden. Hidden. Secret knowledge, yes?”

“I thought as much. Well I am a poor fountain for you to drink from my friend. I only know what they told me, and what they told me was more warning than story.”

“They say that their lord fought this thing near the end of his days. It is a tale not often told they said, and they would not tell me the whole truth.”

“What they did say was that Fukuza, near the end of his days, caught wind of trouble near the mountain village of Ys’subu. With thirteen companions he road forth to face this menace.”

“Twelve of his companions followed him into the cave from which something foul tormented the village with death and destruction. The thirteenth. The youngest. They remained outside with the horses, saving their life.”

“For three days that child waited, occasionally hearing the ring of battle. The screams of the dying. A sibilant voice whispering taunting words.”

“On the fourth day, Fukuza exited the cave alone, bloodied and poisoned, his famed blade broken and blackened. He would not speak of what befell them in the cave. No amount of pleading could bring him to speak. He only ordered that the villagers aid him and his only surviving relative to seal up the cave for all time.”

“Not long after that… Well you know his end as well as I…”

“I do not know if that cave still sits closed and if what sits within still lives. My companions warned me against seeking it out. Though they did say something peculiar before they disappeared in the early morning fog.”

“Of poisoned stone we have heard the whispers. No words did it speak, but from its victims, now its slaves, will madness slip into your dreams. Sleep not too near the river that winds like a serpent, for it will tempt you to make your way to the village of Ys’subu and the fate of our lord.”

“Yes, and odd warning. One I know you will ignore.”

Amon of House Ghoregh is considered an old power, as they never seem to have ever been forcibly banished from the Nine Realms since first arriving during the second age, Heiuper. Some scholars even believe that Amon has never left the place they call home, deep in a mountain cave near Ys’subu.

When used as an opponent for adventurers, he is ideally used as a relentless force that is hunting the party as they delve too deeply. Something that picks off friends and allies one-by-one until there is only one poor fool gripping a guttering torch hoping it doesn’t go out.