An Erbellum Cryptid Compendium

In the mist-choked fens beyond the lowlands, grotesque creatures known as Curdlings waddle through the muck, fermenters of flesh with sloshing bellies and chitin-wrapped limbs. But among the reeds, one bitter herb offers hope: wormwood, whose sharp taste repels the rot-born and clears the fog of their swampy domain.

No map marks the places where the Bastionhelms walk. You find their domain when the trees thin, and the ground stiffens into forgotten cobblestone paths, roads that led to keeps long reduced to ash and rubble.