Endless Knight
- Intent: To create a Sithspawn Species for the purposes of facilitating an adventure with a brutal “boss” to be faced down at the end of the tale. It may also offer interesting RP opportunities for the community in the future as well.
- Image Credit:
Gray & White Codex Dividers: Edited by
Darth Metus
, and
Scherezade deWinter
Aesthetic Divider: Created By
Naedira Darcrath
via WACOM Tablet & Photoshop CC
1.) Top Gif [No Exact Source From Game Footage]: Middle Earth Shadow of War [Game] / Middle-Earth: Shadow of War Wiki / Bastien Grivet + Jessica Rossier Art Station
2.) Bottom Image: Lord of Destruction by Grosnez - Deviant Art - Canon: N/A
- Permissions: Permission from
Darth Prazutis
to include him in the submission. - Links: Maelibus, Smoke Demon, Nightmare Demon, Fire Breather/Leviathan, Sithspawn, Demons, Chaos/Netherworld,Taanab [Naedira Death], Darth Prazutis, Naedira Darcrath
- Name: Noćna Mora [Pronounced: Knock-Na-More-Uh] also known as “Nokna”
- Project Title: Devourer
- Designation: Sentient (Just, barely.)
- Origins: Sithspawn - Created on Bastion [Exiled to Chaos/Netherworld]
- Average Lifespan: Estimated - Approximately 1000 GSY
- Estimated Population: Semi-Unique
- Description: The Noćna Mora are monstrous behemoths that project an aura of intense power flavored by an oppressive sense of intolerable fear. They hold a vaguely humanoid shape that has been twisted to suit the corrupted whims of a powerful Sith Lord. Glowing eyes, a massive maw full of menacing teeth and barely constrained flames that press through fissures in dark, iron-hard skin, lead to the notion of a creature out of nightmares. They tower over most civilized beings and have dense bone structures that cause each footfall to shake the ground. A heavy prehensile tail, sharp claws, wicked horns, and a vindictive disposition show that they have only one drive, one purpose behind their existence. To terrify, devour, and destroy their targets. They are strong, savage, and at first blush seem too terrifying to exist. They are eldritch horrors–Demonic nightmares.
- Breathes: Type I, II, and III
- Average Height of Adults: 7m to 10m
- Average Length of Adults: N/A
- Skin Color: Varying Shades of Black/Onyx with occasional tints of grey/green/or blue. Some even have calcified scales that have darkened even further over time.
- Hair Color: N/A
- Distinctions: The Noćna Mora are inhuman in every sense of the word. Some even develop flightless arcing wings of flame but all maintain a height and width that dwarf most everything else around them. They grow larger and larger as they consume more and more, however, they are never satiated. There is always a pitiless hunger in the pit of their gullet. As they get older they gain physical and psychic strength but conversely become slower and less agile as their size increases. They have next to no similarities to near-human beings, save for the fact that they both happen to be bipedal. Due to their flawed creation process, Nokna are not at all identical. Each one shows differences in the shape their horns take, the exact size of their claws, as well as the pattern of ridges down their back and tail. Specific genders cannot be observed. Reproduction is an asexual process that is believed to be some sort of fission in which they actually split into two new organisms after passing a certain age marker. The remains of the original Noćna Mora turn to ash and the new beings it produced may or may not survive. Occasionally, the offspring burn away in the process. They remain about half the size of an adult Devourer until an adequate food source is introduced.
- Races: N/A
- Force Sensitivity: All
- Patchwork Beastie:These beings hold traits from a Maelibus, Smoke/Nightmare Demon, and a Fire Breather.
- Maelibus Traits: The Devourers gain their initial shape and physical characteristics from these isolationist carnivores. They have similar sharp claws, teeth, durable skin, and horns. They have also adapted their ability to hypnotize, confuse, and lure prey in with oscillating growls and roars from specialized vocal cords.
- Smoke/Nightmare Demon Traits: The ability to mentally manipulate and instill abject horror in their prey are drawn from these beings. They can telepathically lift the worst fears from the minds of their victims and cause the afflicted individual or spirit to suffer and eventually unravel through paranoia and a variety of hallucinations that can temporarily take solid form. The Nokta form a mind-link with the target psyche and as the being eventually breaks beneath the pressure the colossal monsters begin to drain their essence for a form of sustenance. They will attempt to devour memories and corrupt the remains until there is little more than a husk of the victim left behind. The leftover shell, in the very rare case that it doesn’t get fully eaten, can be claimed by the Noćna Mora through the mind-link and will become something of a macabre pet. The Nokta, with the application of Sith Poison, will use the puppet as a tool and an agent of destruction to ensnare future meals.
- Fire Breather/Leviathan Traits: This leviathan allows the creatures a telekinetic affinity for flame, the production of liquid fire, an increasingly toughened hide, and the ability to drain life energy.
- Madness and Mayhem: The Noćna Mora can excrete Sith Poison from beneath razor-sharp claws. The biological toxin was unintentionally incorporated into their genetic makeup during creation. They will feed it to shells of a victim they have already hollowed out to make them more volatile and mostly insane. It has no effect on a Netherworld Spirit and Devourers are immune to the effects. Corporeal beings, especially those of the Light Side of the Force, should take care.
- Summonable: Although the Sithspawn have become creatures of the Netherworld through exile by their creator they can be summoned back to the real world by a particularly skilled practitioner of Sith Sorcery. They can also be bound to an individual or spirit in which they will first terrorize the mind of the victim. They will then devour their feelings, memories, life energy, and occasionally flesh until the individual or spirit is entirely consumed.
- Creepy Beastie: Due to the spliced genetic makeup of several demons they have an innate aura that can entirely overwhelm those it nears with a sense of abject horror. Their presence, when summoned into the real world, is nerve-wracking and entirely consuming. It can be hard for some to even try to think through the waves of projected fear, let alone, the fact that they have faces not even a mother could love.
- Bare-Knuckle Brawler: These creatures are quite strong all on their own, but, they prefer to torture and devour versus beating things to a bloody pulp. That doesn’t mean they won’t if they have no other choice. Their hide is not as durable as a Fire Breather but is easily on par when it comes to anti-personnel weapons like a Kimogila. They do also have significant resistance to lightsaber strikes, much like an Akk Dog.
- The Force: They utilize a form of telepathy with a psychic mind-link, pyrokinesis, fear summoning, and the absorption of life energy.
- Sum of Its Parts: While the Noćna Mora retain many strengths from its progenitors, its creation is a double-edged sword. It retains their weaknesses as well as others that have appeared from degenerating genetic modification.
- Unlike Maelibus, the Noćna Mora are not at all biologically immortal. They can die from old age just as easily as they can die of violent means.
- Just like the Nightmare Demons, their telepathy is particular and can be blocked by the application of lead. The effects of the fear induction and hallucinations are dependent upon the mental strength of the target.
- Due to the volatile combination of the Smoke Demon, the Fire Breather Leviathan, and the Maelibus they cannot speak orally aside from growls and roars. Instead, if they wish to communicate, it must be through telepathy/psychic connection.
- The Fire Breather Leviathan makes the Devourers unstable on a biological level. Eventually, the heat within becomes too much and they begin to burn away. Beneath their epidermis runs a liquid flame that shows brightly through lava-like cracks. Beneath a hard chest-plate, there are natural sacks that generate a mixture of chemicals to facilitate this process. If the sacks are pierced or ruptured it will cause the creature to meltdown prematurely. This early death almost certainly ensures that no offspring will be able to rise from the remains.
- Bite the Hand: Although powerful, they were made to obey and can be controlled by a practitioner that is skilled and extremely experienced in Sith Alchemy/Magic. Even a full-fledged Sith Lord may have trouble containing the beast so newcomers to Force Alchemy should not attempt this. If a less-adept summoner attempts to draw a Nokta fourth they could actually find themselves on the wrong end of the deal. The Devourers will target the summoner and do what their instincts require. Terrorize, then, consume.
- Force Light: These beasts are heavily steeped in the Darkside of the Force. It has twisted and molded them throughout every step of their lives. It made them what they are, but it also confers on them a weakness to the Lightside. This includes any Light Sided objects, but they are particularly vulnerable to Force Light.
- Force-Imbued Badness: Force-Imbued weaponry that has been designed to damage or destroy dark-sided constructs can occasionally do more harm than a run of the mill lightsaber. The mind-link that they form with their victims can also potentially be interrupted when struck with these augmented armaments.
- Animals, In the End: As they consume the Devourers become twisted, feral, and toward the end of their lifespan eventually lose the ability for rational thought. Tactical planning will go out the window and they can no longer heed orders or directives. They are more akin to an animal or a standard rampaging demon once this occurs. They become focused on one objective and develop extreme tunnel vision. They become slaves to their basic instincts that revolve around satiating the never-ending hunger that consumes them. The more they eat the more they crave.
- Bigger Isn’t Better: As they get older and mature they will also become slower and less agile. They have difficulty maneuvering cramped spaces and can easily find themselves in a bind if they can't turn, stand, or rotate properly to defend themselves.
- Shiver Me Timbers: The Noćna Mora have a weakness when it comes to the cold. In less severe circumstances it can cause them to slow down and become almost sluggish. If the temperature drops too far and the cold becomes extreme it can cause their skin to harden and become brittle. It will weaken the integrity of the creatures' hide and make it easier to damage them.
- Diet: Other/Carnivore - The Noćna Mora generally don’t rely on physical food for sustenance, though, they are not above taking a bite out of their prey if the opportunity presents. It doesn’t provide nutrition in a traditional sense, but the life energy and knowledge gained from consuming flesh will aid in that endeavor. They feed upon fear, memories, and energy of other sentient beings and spirits.
- Communication: They cannot speak verbally aside from oscillating growls and roars. They can communicate mentally through a psychic connection/telepathy.
- Technology level: N/A
- Religion/Beliefs: The Noćna Mora have no true religion but they do hold a certain reverence for the Sith that created them. Instead, they see themselves as the guardians and rulers of their bleak existence. They don’t realize that what they consider a kingdom is truly a prison in disguise. They follow their ideals with the expressed purpose of corralling and punishing the entities that cross their paths.
- General behavior: Only a few of these beasts exist at one time. Both biological and environmental factors contribute to a constant form of population control. They do not play well with others. Not even their own kind. The Devourers are apex predators that tend to cover vast amounts of territory as they mercilessly feed on the unwary. They do not distinguish between right, wrong, or anything in between. Food is food, though, the Nokta will gravitate toward stronger prey far more readily than weaker sources. It has nothing to do with the potential for a challenge. The fight has nothing to do with entertainment and brings no joy, though, there is a certain elegance in the way the beasts peel the layers of the mind away. Draining the essence or life energy of any being is a tedious process. Often, the more the target resists, the more they fight, the more they lose of themselves. A stronger victim simply means that the Nokta will be able to feed longer. This can be important as individuals don’t often venture into their space unless sentenced or by taking a wrong turn.
This land, this prison, was considered to be the Darkest of the Dark. The Netherworld was never known to contain objects of warmth or comfort but there was something exceedingly unsettling about this realm.
Darth Prazutis
of the Sith Empire mapped the unknowable black to the best of his ability, which was substantial, but quickly realized that nothing would ever survive long in this section of the beyond. It was a hostile place. There was nothing that lived. Nothing green—Nothing that drew breath. Only jagged rocks and debilitating storms that could strip flesh from bone. Amidst his many projects, he closed the way, and let the path collect dust. There was nothing of value and no way through. Nothing, he could use. This excursion was a failure.
Instead, he focused his considerable skills in a new direction.
Nights passed. Weeks passed. Months. Years. The path was forgotten and the vague peek behind the veil soon faded from memory. Life went on. Innovation was required. Stone altars were always covered in unmentionable ichor while mottled chanting rose from the depths of a hidden laboratory beneath the busy skylanes of Bastion. He summoned. He spliced. He took creatures, demons, and beasts of all manner from their natural habitats in an attempt to create unstoppable Sithspawn for the glory of the Empire. The Mountain, the Lord of Death, was a true monster that brought the pretenders to the brink. He raised them from oblivion and then brought them to a new low. He took what made them special and unique—And discarded the rest.
One evening he sent for Sith Metallurgists to create something in secret. On pain of a fate worse than death, he would have their speed and discretion. Shadows lingered while a massive form began to take shape beneath a mammoth containment field. When the metal-workers returned with his requisition he placed a helmet, a crown, on the head of his King of Beasts. He filled the dangerously heavy form with fire. With a simulation of life. It responded in kind, obeying, while it rose. It was new to this world but before anything could truly be documented the field that held it in stasis began to flicker. Without warning a sense of fear, unlike anything the area had ever known, began to permeate the lab.
It spread to the buildings above and even the most skilled of Sith began to succumb to the effects. Some felt as if they were drowning, while others felt like they were losing their minds. They grew weaker. It grew stronger.
A whisper moved through the affected. The Beast—The Noćna Mora walked free for one hour.
Only, one.
There were redundancies in place to keep experiments from getting out of hand. The creature seemed to shrug off most of them without care. Instead, it devoured. It pulled on the memories of anyone in the vicinity with the intent of draining them of that which made them what they were. It sought their essence, their being, and could only ever seek more. It would never be enough.
Never.
The Sith Lord that created it grudgingly brought the snarling Noćna Mora to heel. It was strong. He was stronger, ever, and infinitely. If he struggled to reign the colossal ghoul in, none would ever know. Instead, he classified it as a failure on official records. He couldn’t let it roam free, but, perhaps it still had some use. Waste not, want not. He banished the Noćna Mora to the section of the Netherworld that he had slated to be fruitless. A failed realm for a failed beast. It was a prison, as good as any, and served as an ample place for enemies to disappear.
Darth Prazutis
came to see these failures in a new light. They would never be the obedient war machines that he had initially intended, but they made excellent executioners. It amused him that once he cast his enemy into the black they were never heard from again. It solved all of his issues, mostly, because no one who mattered would ever hear them scream.
Heavy footfalls cracked the stone ground as if it were made of slate. A storm raged in the distance, providing light, the only light, while it ravaged the already barren land. The weather was deadly. The faint deep blue color that could be observed when lightning struck came from a hazy, blow-torched atmosphere, that contained clouds laced with glass. Howling winds sent storming glass in whirling, sickening spirals, but the behemoth that watched it didn’t seem to notice. The hulking form rose from the dirt and exhaled. Orange light flared. Filling the darkness with fire, clashing, against the distant blue.
It waited. Hungry. Always, so hungry.
Netherworld Spirits kept it alive but it was often a game of fighting for scraps with its brethren. It was patient. Food would come. It always did. The lumbering monster picked up dust and broken hunks of black rock while it moved. The storms were bearable, but it blinded. Something in the distance pulled it forward. A little light. Small and out of place. The Noćna Mora howled into the gloom to warn that this one belonged to him. The resounding growls grudgingly accepted it. None wanted to fight each other. No, they wanted to eat.
This one had no flesh. The Devourer could see, instantly, that it was a spirit. The light it emitted was all but swallowed by the dark. It breathed, deep, and siphoned away some of the energy that wafted from the non-corporeal human. It seemed startled. It tasted defiant. Good. It would fight.
A dark, rumbling sound would vibrate through the psyche of the spirit. It glanced up in surprise. Such soft, weak features. Were it made of solid meat the Nokta imagined that it would have broken within its grasp. Flimsy skin with bones that would snap like twigs. It watched while the expression of the phantom rolled through different things. It felt displaced. Lost. It was in pain. The colossal beast inhaled again. This time the specter seemed to notice. Pain, became fear. The Noćna Mora was pleased. A memory passed between them and the flame-filled Sithspawn took a moment to savor it, before it dissolved, and became part of him.
|||||||
This small ghost, this woman, was being crushed against the hull of a ship. It watched while she gasped and tried to breathe but the aggressor gave no quarter. She clawed at his hands. Spat in the face of the enemy. The beast knew all that she knew in a fleeting moment of clarity. It knew, that she knew, she would never leave this battle alive. Still. She fought. She was beaten, stabbed, burned, and finally allowed to cross-over.
||||||
It was not without a price. <<Naedira...>>, the Devourer called, finally, claiming her name in the ether. This little would-be warrior had passed, but the Mountain, it’s maker, was not yet finished with her. The Sith Lord that raised the Noćna Mora from the mud, from the squirming, writhing depths of nothingness wished for the ghostly female to know suffering. True, suffering.
<<Death was too quick. Too mortal. Too painless.>>
The same rumbling sound poured through a mind-link that was slowly solidifying between the beast and ghost. The feeding had already begun. It flayed her mind, pulled at her fears, left her weeping among the ashes and shining bits of glass. The same sound...Again, and again. The spirit did not know what it was. She did not know why it brought such terror. Her own death plagued her, over, and over.
She relived the agony without reprieve.
It was only when it came closer that she understood. The sound. The grating, dismal noise, that kept rubbing against her mental faculties like sandpaper every time she tried to run and failed.
It was laughing.
Darth Prazutis
of the Sith Empire mapped the unknowable black to the best of his ability, which was substantial, but quickly realized that nothing would ever survive long in this section of the beyond. It was a hostile place. There was nothing that lived. Nothing green—Nothing that drew breath. Only jagged rocks and debilitating storms that could strip flesh from bone. Amidst his many projects, he closed the way, and let the path collect dust. There was nothing of value and no way through. Nothing, he could use. This excursion was a failure.Instead, he focused his considerable skills in a new direction.
Nights passed. Weeks passed. Months. Years. The path was forgotten and the vague peek behind the veil soon faded from memory. Life went on. Innovation was required. Stone altars were always covered in unmentionable ichor while mottled chanting rose from the depths of a hidden laboratory beneath the busy skylanes of Bastion. He summoned. He spliced. He took creatures, demons, and beasts of all manner from their natural habitats in an attempt to create unstoppable Sithspawn for the glory of the Empire. The Mountain, the Lord of Death, was a true monster that brought the pretenders to the brink. He raised them from oblivion and then brought them to a new low. He took what made them special and unique—And discarded the rest.
One evening he sent for Sith Metallurgists to create something in secret. On pain of a fate worse than death, he would have their speed and discretion. Shadows lingered while a massive form began to take shape beneath a mammoth containment field. When the metal-workers returned with his requisition he placed a helmet, a crown, on the head of his King of Beasts. He filled the dangerously heavy form with fire. With a simulation of life. It responded in kind, obeying, while it rose. It was new to this world but before anything could truly be documented the field that held it in stasis began to flicker. Without warning a sense of fear, unlike anything the area had ever known, began to permeate the lab.
It spread to the buildings above and even the most skilled of Sith began to succumb to the effects. Some felt as if they were drowning, while others felt like they were losing their minds. They grew weaker. It grew stronger.
A whisper moved through the affected. The Beast—The Noćna Mora walked free for one hour.
Only, one.
There were redundancies in place to keep experiments from getting out of hand. The creature seemed to shrug off most of them without care. Instead, it devoured. It pulled on the memories of anyone in the vicinity with the intent of draining them of that which made them what they were. It sought their essence, their being, and could only ever seek more. It would never be enough.
Never.
The Sith Lord that created it grudgingly brought the snarling Noćna Mora to heel. It was strong. He was stronger, ever, and infinitely. If he struggled to reign the colossal ghoul in, none would ever know. Instead, he classified it as a failure on official records. He couldn’t let it roam free, but, perhaps it still had some use. Waste not, want not. He banished the Noćna Mora to the section of the Netherworld that he had slated to be fruitless. A failed realm for a failed beast. It was a prison, as good as any, and served as an ample place for enemies to disappear.
Darth Prazutis
came to see these failures in a new light. They would never be the obedient war machines that he had initially intended, but they made excellent executioners. It amused him that once he cast his enemy into the black they were never heard from again. It solved all of his issues, mostly, because no one who mattered would ever hear them scream.
Heavy footfalls cracked the stone ground as if it were made of slate. A storm raged in the distance, providing light, the only light, while it ravaged the already barren land. The weather was deadly. The faint deep blue color that could be observed when lightning struck came from a hazy, blow-torched atmosphere, that contained clouds laced with glass. Howling winds sent storming glass in whirling, sickening spirals, but the behemoth that watched it didn’t seem to notice. The hulking form rose from the dirt and exhaled. Orange light flared. Filling the darkness with fire, clashing, against the distant blue.
It waited. Hungry. Always, so hungry.
Netherworld Spirits kept it alive but it was often a game of fighting for scraps with its brethren. It was patient. Food would come. It always did. The lumbering monster picked up dust and broken hunks of black rock while it moved. The storms were bearable, but it blinded. Something in the distance pulled it forward. A little light. Small and out of place. The Noćna Mora howled into the gloom to warn that this one belonged to him. The resounding growls grudgingly accepted it. None wanted to fight each other. No, they wanted to eat.
This one had no flesh. The Devourer could see, instantly, that it was a spirit. The light it emitted was all but swallowed by the dark. It breathed, deep, and siphoned away some of the energy that wafted from the non-corporeal human. It seemed startled. It tasted defiant. Good. It would fight.
A dark, rumbling sound would vibrate through the psyche of the spirit. It glanced up in surprise. Such soft, weak features. Were it made of solid meat the Nokta imagined that it would have broken within its grasp. Flimsy skin with bones that would snap like twigs. It watched while the expression of the phantom rolled through different things. It felt displaced. Lost. It was in pain. The colossal beast inhaled again. This time the specter seemed to notice. Pain, became fear. The Noćna Mora was pleased. A memory passed between them and the flame-filled Sithspawn took a moment to savor it, before it dissolved, and became part of him.
|||||||
This small ghost, this woman, was being crushed against the hull of a ship. It watched while she gasped and tried to breathe but the aggressor gave no quarter. She clawed at his hands. Spat in the face of the enemy. The beast knew all that she knew in a fleeting moment of clarity. It knew, that she knew, she would never leave this battle alive. Still. She fought. She was beaten, stabbed, burned, and finally allowed to cross-over.
||||||
It was not without a price. <<Naedira...>>, the Devourer called, finally, claiming her name in the ether. This little would-be warrior had passed, but the Mountain, it’s maker, was not yet finished with her. The Sith Lord that raised the Noćna Mora from the mud, from the squirming, writhing depths of nothingness wished for the ghostly female to know suffering. True, suffering.
<<Death was too quick. Too mortal. Too painless.>>
The same rumbling sound poured through a mind-link that was slowly solidifying between the beast and ghost. The feeding had already begun. It flayed her mind, pulled at her fears, left her weeping among the ashes and shining bits of glass. The same sound...Again, and again. The spirit did not know what it was. She did not know why it brought such terror. Her own death plagued her, over, and over.
She relived the agony without reprieve.
It was only when it came closer that she understood. The sound. The grating, dismal noise, that kept rubbing against her mental faculties like sandpaper every time she tried to run and failed.
It was laughing.
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