HOG's Bestiary

The Arimasp with one-eyed glare,  
Pursues the gold in griffin's lair.  
Through mountains steep and deserts wide,  
His greed's the guide he cannot hide.  

With every roar, the heavens quake,
A beast of flame, no sword can break.
It sweeps the land in scorching flight,
A terror born of ancient night.

The Balaur coils with fangs of flame,  
A serpent born of myth and name.  
With wings and scales, it haunts the skies,  
A terror where the daylight dies.

The Blajin walks where rivers wind,  
With humble hands, his task aligned.  
He sets the shells in waters clear,  
To send the souls of springtime near.

A young Blajin, with quiet gaze,  
Seeks solace in the river’s maze.  
Yet every shell he casts adrift,  
Brings peace to none, his heart a rift.

But deep beneath his brutal rage,
Lies something trapped within a cage
A curse, a wound that cannot heal,
That feeds the hunger he must feel.

The Dalka weaves through forest deep,
A spirit born where shadows creep.
With eyes like dusk and fingers cold,
She lures the lost with whispers bold.

Yet in his gaze, the fires sleep,
A deadly power, vast and deep.
Though peace is found beneath the sky,
He stirs, a threat to those who fly.

The Giants stride through hills and stone,
With steps that make the mountains groan.
Their ancient strength shakes earth and sky,
Yet time itself has passed them by.

​The Saints' Guardian, firm and bright,  
Stands watchful in the fading light.  
With wings of gold and eyes of flame,  
He guards the souls who speak their name.  

The Hultan roams through forests black,
A shadow on the moonlit track.
With fur as dark as midnight's breath,
He brings the quiet scent of death.

Their feet, like shadows, kiss the ground,
A spell in every twirl they’ve found.
And those who chase their siren’s glance,
Are lost, forever bound to dance.

​Their songs are born from depths unknown,
Where moonlight’s breath has gently grown.
To hear them is to lose your way,
Enchanted in their soft decay.

Noaptea Neagră drapes the land,  
A velvet glove, a phantom hand.  
It drinks the stars, devours the moon,  
And leaves the earth in silent ruin.

In whispers soft, he bends the boughs,
To guide the lost or break their vows.
For in his realm, the wild is law,
And nature’s will is all he saw.

The Pricolici with eyes aglow,  
A beast from shadows, fierce and slow.  
By day a man, by night a curse,  
In darkness prowls, for blood it thirsts.

Her web, a maze of silvered lies,
Catches the careless in her ties.
With fangs like dusk, she waits in still,
A hunger quiet, yet filled with will.

The Older Brother walks the land,
A shadow vast, with claws for hands.
His eyes like embers, sharp and cold,
In silent woods, his tale is told.

She sings to those who wander near,
Her voice both sweet and laced with fear.
And once they meet her gaze of green,
They're lost to depths no light has seen.

Through forest paths and winding streams,
He chases souls and broken dreams.
With eyes that pierce through time and sin,
He knows the darkness held within

Their laughter rings like winds of June,
Beneath the spell of sun and moon.
For when they move, the earth takes flight,
And whispers secrets to the night.

Its claws like iron, sharp and wide,
No fear it shows, no need to hide.
A creature born of heat and sand,
It holds the power of the land.

Yet though their power shapes the skies,
A deeper truth behind them lies—
The Solomonars, calm and still,
Are keepers of a greater will.

She prowls the woods with deadly grace,
A hunger etched upon her face.
In shadows deep, her claws extend,
Where life and death begin to blend.

In shadows deep, the strigoi creeps,  
A hunger bound by endless sleeps.  
It drinks the life, yet finds no peace,  
Forever cursed, it will not cease.  

Her voice is like the river's hum,
A call to which the lost will come.
But tread with care in her domain,
For none who cross her leave the same.

Their fury’s felt in sudden gales,
In shattered leaves and broken sails.
Yet in their wrath, a dance unfolds,
A primal grace the storm unfolds.

The Vârcolac, with shadowed grin,
Creeps where the moonlight's pale and thin.
A beast of night, with hunger keen,
He prowls between what’s heard and seen.

The Giant Vârcolac ascends the sky,
With jaws that stretch where heavens lie.
He devours the moon, the sun in turn,
As constellations cease to burn.

His touch will stir the deepest flame,
A love that none can ever tame.
So lock the doors, the windows too,
For once he calls, there's naught to do.

The Zgriptor soars on wings of gold,
A creature fierce, both strong and old.
With talons sharp and eyes that gleam,
He rules the mountains, fierce and keen.

With sword in hand and heart of flame,
He fights for glory, hunts for fame.
But in his strength lies endless greed,
For power's touch and mortal's need.

His voice, a thunder, shakes the ground,
The world bends low where he is found.
He seeks no gold, but realms and stars—
A sovereign bound by ancient scars.