Ssythrax the Great Sandworm
A desert leviathan rearing up out of the sand, its maw a ring of grinding plates, grit pouring from every segment.
Letters, briefs and reports can be shown with their own typography. Automatic keeps that only while none of your settings above ask otherwise.
Everything the game knows, written down: commands and systems, the places in the world, and what there is to do in them.
A desert leviathan rearing up out of the sand, its maw a ring of grinding plates, grit pouring from every segment.
A kraken risen into the shallows, tentacles thick as masts, one vast lidless eye above a hooked beak.
A jotun of the eternal winter, hoar-frost matted through his beard, glacier ice grown over one shoulder like armour.
A thunderbird of impossible size with wings spread wide, lightning caught and flickering behind its eyes.
The First Beast: a mountain of scarred muscle and old wrath, the broken ends of the seal-chains still sunk deep into its shoulders.
The eldest of dragons: a mountain of red scale with fire moving visibly beneath it, horns worn blunt by age.
A war-titan of black iron plate over a caged and flickering storm, sorcerous script worn almost smooth across its chest.