The Sundered Throne

Khain's Journal: Rakshasa

When they stormed the castle, the men where slaughtered in droves. Eldaren had told me about their fiendish animosity, the way they sliced through armor like butter, the way their magic shattered men. I had the pleasantry of experiencing it first hand. When Kelras tried to take us out, he sent twenty of them. I’ve stared death in the face, faced an eldritch monstrosity that threatened to annihilate everything in existence, but I have never faced such fearsome adversity. They tore my armor to shreds, bombarded me with their sickening evocations. I saw the shadows blotch my vision, felt my life slip away. We ended that fight showered in blood, glucocorticoids surging throughout our bodies. We had lost many, and we had barely made it out of the fight alive…

They’re… so unlike anything I’ve fought before. Their skin is more durable than steel, and they have the same resilience against magic. Speaking of such, their arcane prowess put most mages in Aundair to shame. I understand some of their kind are native to Eberron, but Kelras brought another breed entirely. Still, despite being different from the legends my father would tell me, the information about them holds, roughly, the same:

They have a high resilience towards magic, but holy aligned weapons are known to be able to bypass their defenses.

Their spell load outs are equivalent to veterans from the war, but rather than choosing spells such as fireball, they prefer lightning bolt. I wonder if this is because they like to toy with their prey?

I don’t believe them to be incredibly intelligent, but they do have an innate ability to read minds, which is never conducive towards an easy fight.

They have the ability to shape-shift, making them incredibly adaptive in nature.

Finally, somewhere upon another plane, there is an entire society of these fiends… I can’t imagine any off them are too happy with us.



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