Fogeaters

Fogeaters are heavily mutated ex-humans that reside in areas consumed by the Fog. Despite formerly being human, they exhibit no consistent language, society, or other usual characteristics of human groups. Instead, they gibber in various tongues seemingly related to many languages, including Aversarian; fight and coordinate as a single being during their violent ambushes, sometimes accompanied by a leader or shaman; and do not consume food or drink. Seemingly contradictory to this, they have a multitude of different tribes, distinguished by differences in their mutations, fighting strategies, and clothing. These tribes can be further categorized into supercategories, of which four have been revealed: the Ironhewn, the Boneeaters, the Wightspoken and the Beastmasters.

TRIBAL CUSTOMS OF THE FOREIGN AND QUEER TRIBES OF THE FOGEATERS AS TOLD WITH THE ASSISTANCE OF THE HONORABLE BONEBREAKERS, WRITTEN IN THE NAME OF WAYSAINT ARTESMIR OF THE VRASWEYLACS, DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY AND GLORY OF THE CHAMPION AND SER RANOS A BRIEF TREATISE

WRITTEN FROM THE PERSONAL OBSERVATIONS AND STUDIES OF KNOWLEDGE-WALKER JAKOS OF VIDELIER, SPONSORED BY THE HONORABLE MAGISTRATES OF HIGH KING BENOUET OF THE DEN VA SEIGNON FAMILY, LONG MAY HE REIGN

The tribes of the Fogeaters may be divided in many ways, if at all. The tribes may number in the low dozens or they may number greater than there are lost sons of celibate kings in every single court and beggar's alley in the wondrous homelands. They may also number but one, for our ideas of what constitutes an 'individual' among these much rumored eastern savages remains unclear. They may have no culture beyond that held within the individual or may have a spiraling and intricate system of belief like those of old Oejeynica that remains far too complex for those of us from so-named 'civilized' realms to attempt to imagine. They may, in fact, be human, or they may be not human.

In short, there are so many possible deviations and divisions in the topic that it is simply useless attempting to classify within those terms except as a theoretical endeavor among trusted colleagues over perhaps too much Bittersip as my dear fellows at the Archives of Waysaint Aoth can attest. For those such as I with an interest in the matters of such queer beings as the Fogeaters and a Path to walk that demands this curiosity be met with truth, then we must reframe our imagination of a culture or a tribe to imagine what may be a new system of 'life' entirely.

We can first thus imagine the traditional and popular image of the Fogeaters, not as a group of specific tribes or established realms, but more those few singular traits those few among the Continent who care to remember the endless rumors and fables can bother to agree on. Fogeaters are humanoid creatures who are believed to have originated from the Fog (Maldamar den va Bastonport has made great arguments for his belief that they originated from the possibly non-existent 'Rift' that many Magi in Chevalie have spoken of), or perhaps to have been twisted into mutants from its creation as suggested by many of my Imperial contemporaries (it is this theory that I myself support, though I am not of the mind to dedicate this particular treatise to such an ongoing source of debate among great minds, at least not yet). Their limbs are oft lanky and distended or take peculiar shapes due to their exposure to arcana and mutation. They normally bare strange and esoteric tattoos across their body from a variety of possible inflections, or even through ritual scarring, branding, stitching, or piercing. They seemingly act not as a greater whole but as the different arms of a singular being.

But beyond that so various are the traits that I will simply remark on their variety in short, for while understanding of them is perhaps necessary to even begin to imagine what constitutes a Fogeater 'tribe', to get lost in the minutia of their complexity would doubtless lead an entire tome of its own to be printed with the assistance of the scribe-guild of the Rightmost Honorable Scribarie and Literanary of the Path of Knowledge of the Great and Upfyne Waysaint Captain Gregor den va Sappaud, whom were so kind to transcribe this hopefully first and not last masterwork of my hand.

To learn even what basic questions to ask and what general behaviors of the Fogeaters are not simple fantasy, I undertook a great journey across Aeras and did all within my power to transcribe all human knowledge of the beasts to paper, for in no other way will I ever truly honor the Path of Knowledge were we not to know of this deep mystery. To that end, several companions of the Way of Knowledge and several others from the Way of Crows (thank you dearly, friends Pierne, Augathos and Vadim) assisted me in gathering a band of shrewd scholars and honorable mercenaries to assist in the endeavor and the transcription of my findings.

To this end, I traveled with the noble barbarians of the eastern tribes in the great journey from the fallen keep at Sehsoxapol down to the burning gates of Oraispol, and listened both to their stratagem for fighting the Fogeaters and the scant few tales from soldiers and tribespeople who have survived battle with them. I sadly did not speak to the legendary Witch-Breaker, for a colleague you are all no doubt familiar with the frivolity of deigned it upon himself to do everything with his power to ensure he was the only Pathtreading scholar with access to the great king of the east. The less I say of such a figure the better, for no doubt all reading already feel much exasperation to even be reminded of his works.

I listened to the tales of refugees from the north, most having barely survived their journey with their lives. I met good and hardy Aversarian settlers who told me of the inhuman screaming in cities of thousands suddenly consumed by the Fog, and yet others who tell me how the Fogeaters are nothing but tribals akin to the Sjalvolki. I spoke with northern refugees and escaped slaves, freed no doubt thanks to the Waysaints of the Path of Justice fighting for all against such acts, who I found refreshingly far more civilized than many of the Aversarians despite being from a variety of clans and 'barbaric' climes.

I wrote my observations of the fall of the Empire at Oraispol, which I will spare you the details of despite the awe-inspiring sight of the siege and victory of the Sjalvolki and their fellow clans, for doubtless you have heard of the dozens of other testimonials from other present Chevaliens. I will simply say that while the Sjalvolki are vicious warriors, they make fine celebration, and I have yet to be so drowned in drink as when I stumbled into a band of intoxicated warriors from the strange Sjalvolki tribe named 'Goan' whom desired one other to join their debauchery.

After finishing my writings of the events and taking the opportunity to rest for the month and recover both from the drunkard's ache as well as a block in my inspiration no doubt caused by latent Aversarian magics, I gathered my retinue and ventured back north. Upon reaching the northernmost steads of Kalathipsomi I toured dozens of border forts, some located in the rapidly expanding fortifications and fortresses in the Grey Gates, and then ventured southeast to meet hardened Malcoisiac miltiamen hailing from the former legions, enlisted as watchmen under their new Sjalvolki masters and still wearing their legion regalia with Sjalvolki arms hastily painted where Aversarian suns and blood drops once sat proudly.

It was frequent for me to find said militiamen muttering about what should have been while manning the faltering border forts in their formerly great northern valley, and while I must remark with praise for their foul vigil, I must admit that I felt some small measure of enjoyment when remembering the great theft of the Chevalien south that the Aversarians embarked on long ago.

While touring further east into the lands of Amaghea, I even had the honor of being briefly waylaid and imprisoned by a large band of Legion deserters styling themselves kings who had escaped from Katraddia not but a decade ago before I was rescued by a paltry and ragged band of harsh northern tribals, one of whom declared himself as 'Bear-Eater' and informed me that he liked to 'eat big bears' (the only three words of Imperial Common he spoke). Bear-Eater would become a trusted companion and great confidant for the remainder of my journey, and without him the further writings below would not have been possible. With these many soldiers I met on the edge of the Fog came a variety of chances to witness their battles with the Fogeaters and to interrogate the hostages they took in their more gainful expeditions.

Not only did I witness these battles from the parapets of old Katraddi forts and from behind the magical barriers of soldier-Magi, I also myself journeyed into the hellish domain of the Fog three times, which a great veteran of an adventuring company in the region (The Eosian Layblades, as they named themselves) primarily tasking itself with venturing into the mist so told me was a great number for one not of true heroism, and that many 'stronger and braver' than I would consider themselves lucky to survive but one journey.

To perform these expeditions, I traveled first with a band of veteran northerner barbarians (along with, of course, kind Bear-Eater) which was led by a shadowy figure contracted from Peti Gisredde named Corzred, who led much of the wide-spanning criminal works for many trade guilds there and served as a local councilman, who told me that he very regularly traveled into the Fog to capture old artifacts for selling in the homelands. The second-most time was on accident, when I was touring the perimeter of the fortress of Eoristaos with its local commander when a Fogeater attack was preceded by a horrifying shaman in their ranks rushing the Fog forward and across my party with a great ritual that reminded me of that one I witnessed at the legendary Elysian Pass.

The final time was the most horrifying of all, for it was also the first time I was directly attacked by the Fogeaters to whom I had become so fascinated, and so close was I that I could observe their terrifying visage with such little distance that many of our party were scarred just from the sight. My companions were a noble band, who took a considerable and appreciated sum off of their contract in return for adding their company's name and information to the title and contents of this story, of the Bonebreakers of Waysaint Laçon's Crownsmen and their honorable leader Wayfather Captain Jacqais den va Lathnernay 'the Whitestrake', who also had the unique honor of being knighted by three separate High Kings, one of which was even legitimate, a first in our fair history to my current knowledge. Alongside him and his honorable sirs were a band to which did not offer me a name, comprised surprisingly of a coalition of deserters of both the Legions and the tribal horde, who had united together to make coin in both recovering old artifacts from the spectral mist or in escorting academicians and other interested parties like myself therein.

While we all traveled into the Fog with the assistance of a northern Magi to ensure the mist was kept at bay, and the Fogeaters numbered less than half my own band and fought against brave men who have spent decades doing naught but battle, we nevertheless emerged victorious with less than half of our number still standing. I was told this was considered a positive ending, for while Fogeater attacks are very rare, they are exceedingly deadly and it is uncommon for any to survive their strike. I will not put pen to paper exactly the horrible things I witnessed, for composing them to word for a future generation to endure would be villainous of me, but I will say they were smart enough to kill first our Magi, and all things I write below thence are true of every account, but may be colored by the deep dread I still feel even remembering the battlefield.

The fact that these beasts are upon the most hellish and devilish of Aeras, each one or perhaps whatever leads them deserving a place in dogma alongside the evil Katanaxanax or the Grey Magi King, is never to be debated or taken from me. From all of my knowledge, that is the only thing I can tell you as truth. I admit that once I was fascinated by the Fogeaters, and allowed myself to fall into childish imaginations of establishing true contact, of learning their secret language and being the first to broker peace with their realms, and of teaching them the ways of the Path. I consider the scholar who thought such things a foolish child, for now I can confirm that they are indeed a threat to the well-being not just of Aversaria but to the entire world, fairest Chevalie included.

And thus, I write to you now fully subdued by the wondrous substance the Gisreddean merchant informed me was 'Sarradonian Laugh-Leaf', also known as 'chort' in many circles. I shall write a moderate few examples of their general accepted traits, or at least most common trends.

First, I shall speak of the captive Fogeaters, to perhaps establish the first ideas of what these beasts of men may contain within their 'minds'.

Some Fogeater's who are captured and separated from their fellows will seem to grow melancholy and refuse any interaction. They will starve if left alone, and will emit no noise even when being struck upon the head with no reaction to any other injury or pain. Others fall into great rages, and will furiously fight against any bondage and attack any near creature. I on one account witnessed a Fogeater captive fight for so long and hard through so many binds that she destroyed her own arms, and when amputated of all limbs she would furiously attempt to bite the closest individual. Others still will fight to their suicide, doing all within their power to end their own lives no matter how painful or disturbing.

Some who are captured are silent and some speak. They are both equally disturbing. The silent ones stare sullenly with those pale white eyes, alike to the ones seen upon a decaying body, and never once blink or give any form of indication that they can even produce noise. Others will recite full conversations with only themselves in a litany of voices, some even of other genders or clearly of mismatching tone and accent, and speaking of things the easterner would have no means of knowing. On one such dreaded occasion, I realized the Fogeater was reciting the oath of the Anti-Magic Orders before their reformation after the Red River War. I am ashamed to admit I fled the room and refused to return to that particular specimen thereafter.

Others still communicate with figures in the room only visible to themselves, sometimes saying names or strange phrases only familiar to those living souls around them (I myself had one of these horrible creatures... speak my own daughter's name to me, and then begin to cry. By now, thankfully, I had steeled myself enough to remain within the room). Often they will slip into languages they have no right knowing, such as the case of one Fogeater, adorned in tattoos under his tribal ones that showed he had once been a member of one of the Katraddian Legions, spoke suddenly and fluently in a hushed language that only after several days of investigating we discovered to be High Court Sophocoist, an esoteric priestly language that largely fell out of popular use shortly after the end of the fabled Kingdom of Sarradon.

Finally, on one occasion, one simply turned to a companion and spoke in a language I did not recognize. Its words were each harsh and sharp like that of a knife, such as the Aversarian languages, while also being a beautiful and flowing song of words, each one laying upon me like a weight as I simply marveled in its uniqueness. For reasons unbeknownst to me, the language inspired great dread into me as it continued to be spoken, but no investigation found any language with such words. One colleague suggested that some of the words possibly matched an ancient dead language inscribed in the ancient catacombs under the Crucible, while another remarked that several of the phrases and grammatical flourishes were reminiscent of the scattered excerpts of old Aversaria's language that trace back to before the formation of its Empire.

When in battle, they are most often startlingly silent. Rarely they will initiate their attack with a vicious and inhuman roar, but this appears to only be done for the effect upon the enemy's bravery and not out of any individual pride or worry. When not silent in battle, they often ritually intone and chant as one, as if they were in a quiet and whispering ethereal choir, barely heard over their screaming victims.

It is unknown how they reproduce. Some reports claim to have seen human captives seemingly being put through horrifying rituals that allegedly began to elongate their limbs like such of their captors. Others attest to non-Fogeaters being dragged off for mating against their will. Others still will say the Fogeaters still join within their own tribes to mate and produce offspring, or even that they are the result of angered spirits in the Fog finding refuge within the freshly dead. Perhaps some, none, or all of these are true. I have only in my life witnessed evidence of tribal Fogeaters of the traditional imagination (recorded below as the SKULLEATERS) and others of their tribe seemingly converted from native populations, such as one Fogeater that still carried the brands of slavery from a sad life beneath the Aversarians of the north.

Their hair tends to be left long with no apparent care for grooming, men and women both sporting long and tangled knots of hair on their heads, and the men often sporting unkempt beards. They tend to be lightly haired below their head, perhaps from shaving as possibly evidenced by numerous small nicks and scars on each body (though possibly instead from ritual work or natural damage) which would serve to lay bare the great streaks and winding paths of blueish tattoos they place upon themselves to honor their unknown gods. Others still stitch themselves instead or over tattoos, brand themselves, scar themselves, or even pierce their bodies or burn with hot fire onto themselves long strips of metal or trophies. Their hair is often described as 'corpse hair', and tends to be extremely stringy and eternally damp from the dew of the Fog.

They possess few normal bodily functions, but seem to need rest, defecation, and satiation far less than any man. One captive spent five months without food before being killed after she attacked one of the gaolers, another still somehow survived over two months with no access to water. In battle they will take great wounds and seemingly fight without care of it. Some seem to react to pain with anger, but most seem to care nothing. When one of their own is cut off from the greater warband, they will desperately attempt to free them, flinging themselves upon their enemies to try and ensure their compatriots are not dragged away. In opposition, they drag away many living captives from every battle, nearly all of them in fact. Evidence found shows that they tend to eat many of their captives, perhaps hinting at some ancient heritage with the Kardweni barbarians, but very rarely they seemingly induct one into their number, randomly release a survivor into the wild, or use them for foul witchcraft.

And speaking of magic, they possess witches and shamans of difficult to qualify skill and ability. They do not perform their dark arts like Continental Magi, and while they often distinguish themselves somewhat in dress and carry around gnarled staffs of wood, rock, and bone, they wield magic almost as if they were merely pretending to do so while a far more skilled Magi casts for them in the shadows. From the clumsiness of their movements, their lack of preparation, and seeming lack of grace with drawing ritual signs or performing movements, one would expect them to scarcely be able to cast without the destruction of little more than themselves. Despite this, however, they struck with spells so mighty to perhaps have better be casted by some Lich or Aversarian monarch. One veteran Aversarian Magi I spoke to, a member of one of aforementioned Malcoisiac borderforts serving under the garrison for two years in return for the Sjalvolki sparing his hands, said the Fogeater Magi were so powerful to even eclipse those of his former compatriots he remembered having served in their apocalyptic Civil War.

Some seem to lead their tribes, others seem to have no leadership. Sometimes a Fogeater will be seen wearing unique dress or superior armor, stand taller and stronger than others, or speak in a tone twice as loud as each of the ones around them. While I have been blessed to never see it in person, some tales tell of Fogeater leaders speaking on behalf of their kin. Their will is apparently inscrutable, and their accent and phrasage very often so confusing, esoteric, or ancient as to be impossible to navigate. They have never once spared their enemies or accepted negotiation, at their best and their most understandable often quoting sad poetry verses thought lost for millenia in guttural and broken words in a variety of languages, or declaring some equally mysterious and confusing threat or warning to their opponents before engaging in battle.

They tend to stand a half-head or so taller than their average human compatriot, for account of their long and gnarled, spindly and twisted limbs. While generally they stand straight, some have been found with limbs and bones so bent and twisted amongst one another as to make it nearly impossible for the creature to move, despite the fact they could run and battle equally with their compatriots. Their limbs often seem to not quite fit in with the others and are never of the same lengths, and those who must watch them move often report being disturbed simply by the gangly and unnatural movement of their limbs, or the way they twist them around much like an insect, with no proper human motion but instead a disgusting distortion that regularly snaps the bones of the uncaring beast as it grinds itself to its desired position.

Perhaps most famously, it is even unsure if there is such thing as an individual Fogeater. Fogeater ambushers tend to work so well with one another that they appear less as parts of a greater whole and more as the arms and legs of some horrifying beast. When ambushed they are seemingly alerted and respond to all threats as one, even when it is impossible for them to have heard or seen the attack. Some signs of individual thought are sometimes seen perhaps in their tattoos, their odd phrases, or the differing style of dress among tribe members. Despite this, most point at an intelligence roughly below the average humanoid beast of a tribal nature found elsewhere on Aeras, but nowhere close to that of a human. Aye, if we also consider their strange speak separately, much like I do not consider a rambling old man on the street to be simple or genius from merely his ability to mumble, the individual Fogeater seems wholly incapable of existing on their own. If they are directed from some unseen force, nobody knows what it is. Perhaps it is the Fog itself.

They are, however, tribal beasts. No matter how confusing or intricate or inhuman, they still seem to show some differing variation of belief, dress, tactic, and more. Some reports have come of tribes of much different 'cultures' as will soon be described working with one another and then parting silently during or after an ambush. Others have witnessed the tribes falling into battle with one another, or even single tribal units collapsing into sudden bouts of murder and insanity amongst themselves. This is almost never seen, however, for the moment they detect the presence of an outsider they will most frequently drop all pretense of infighting and seemingly rejoin as a single mind until the end of battle, when they return to their own murderous affairs.

And on and on we could go, but while each Fogeater generally appears to exhibit many of these shared traits, along with a multitude of others, they fall into several categories united by strange common trends among them. I have done my best to record all those I have found in both my research and my personal investigations. These tribes to be described shall thus be named (from amongst the most common or interesting names spoken by those veterans interviewed) the Ironhewn, the Boneeaters, the Wightspoken and the Beastmasters. These names were given by the Sjalvolki, who initially had many words for 'Fogeater' before the tribes as a whole first met together to discuss how best to battle them, and named the many variants they had fought as different and mysterious tribes. There may be more of them yet to be discovered, or my division may be entirely incorrect, but to my best and current knowledge those I just described are indeed possibly a classification for a greater Fogeater 'culture', albeit 'cultures' missing many of the most necessary and fundamental trappings of one.

And thus, with my long and doubtlessly overwrought preface finished, please allow me to put to paper those tribes I have hence discovered and been made known of or encountered myself. I shall start with the most commonly imagined and sighted of the tribes, the Boneeaters, who were also the ones to attack my caravan, and then describe the Ironhewn who made up the second largest group amongst those captured at the border forts. I also spotted some few captives from those I named the Beastmongers, and did not see a single Wightspoken, whom I was informed by all I met had never once been captured and for reasons I will describe later may never be. As such, I give my word that all of this is true to my knowledge, but none will ever likely know how true these divisions really are, for the mind of a Fogeater is naught but madness and cruelty.

And so first, as I said...

Belief
The Fogeaters worship the fog. More specifically, they seem to worship an entity known as the Mistmother. This entity delivers knowledge about the world to the Fogeaters in the forms of whispers, including a garbled retelling of the Godherja. These whispers also allude to an entity known as the Mistfather. These whispers could suggest that the dead Mistfather is Aersanon, and that the Mistmother is Aelvalr.

Tribes
The four known tribes of the Fogeaters are the Ironhewn, the Boneeaters, the Wightspoken and the Beastmasters. The Ironhewn are usually mutated to be much larger and stronger than the average man. They wear iron armor, which slowly fuses with and merges into their body. The Boneeaters are notable for worshipping bones, and they are unusually dedicated to retrieving their dead or captured. They wear bone armor, which slowly fuses into them. They also move in large numbers. The Wightspoken are powerful magi who seem to have degraded not only from humanity, but from reality. They are ghostlike and ethereal, but still have some functions of mortality remaining. The Beastmasters are the most intelligent of the Fogeaters, and lead pet fogbeasts into battle, hence the name. Their supposed intelligence comes from their tendency to be more vocal than the other Fogeaters, as well as mourning for their dead beasts in some circumstances. They normally mutate into more animalistic forms. It is known that at least some of the Fogeaters are descended from a tribe known as the Talareg, but it is unknown which groups and to what extent.