DrGooday
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The Likill.

The Likill (also commonly referred to as the "Night Hound", "Kaes Ba Teá"1, and "Bête de la Montagne") is a rare, yet extreamly deadly, predator within the lands of the Aguthian continent, commonly found along the burnt out ruins of the Eastern coast and more commonly along the North-Western mountains and their luscious green foothills.

The beast itself measures roughly seven to nine feet in height and sports black or tan barbed quills along the top of its neck and face to roughly the center of its back before tapering off into stiff, coarse fur. The paws of the Likill end in two razor-sharp, midnight black, claws used to stab into and pin its prey while it uses its two pincers constructed of bone, covered in a thin layer of keratin, to rip the unfortunate creature into more manageable pieces or to cut down large trees or other shrubberies to construct its nests. Interestingly, the Likill contains six gorgeous whip-like tails along its hindquarters, although many have observed to have much fewer, having been torn off or severely damaged by other members of the species due to its extremely territorial nature.

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A Clear Print.

Tracking of the Likill remains remarkable trivial due to the presence of their unique two-clawed paws. Due to the Likills large size and weight, the prints are usually deep, resembling the size of an American Grizzly.2 Likill also often tend to leave behind large gashes in trees or renders them into mere stumps (unlike naturally fallen trees these tend to be cleanly cut, though younger and/or less experienced Likill can leave much messier ones).

As a note to the brave cryptozoologists or hunters among us the extraordinarily thick hide of this beast makes it very to take down with smaller caliber or unenchanted weaponry, so the opposite of which is highly recommended. Also, unless you set out to make an 800-pound predator even angrier than it was prior to your intervention, traps and things of the sort are not advised.


Legends of a giant beast of six tails have been prevalent within the Ways for as long as folk have made such lands their home. A beast larger than any man with eyes that glow brighter than firelight, a harvester of souls lost to the wood. While this legend is prevalent within many groups, many see the Likill as a sort of forest deity, rewarding those who treat the land with respect and punishing those who do not, while others see it as a sort of guard dog, pet, or a symbol of power for the ancient elite.

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An etching.

In May of 1785, twenty-five year old artist by the name of Bastion Toussaint created one of the first modern artistic depictions of the Likill, records state Mr. Toussaint claimed to have witnessed the beast during an outing into Western Aguthen mountains. He described the Likill as “a beast taller than a man, with claws that can cut through your soul, and eyes that send fear into the hearts of the Gods themselves.” Astonishingly, Mr. Toussaint managed to stay out of sight of the beast, and later managed to engrave a more detailed drawing of it. Through several dips into more personal research on the subject matter, it's not hard to believe that the sighting of this creature inspired much of his later works3 until his untimely death by heart attack in 1945.

A far more recent account was reported in late December, 1993 during a hunting exhibition between Samual Harlington, Cornelious McHarris, and myself set out to document and hopefully even capture the elusive beast. Our monumental quest began atop the snow-topped mountains of the north, armed not but with the clothes on our backs and their swords to our sides. The equipment wouldn't matter, of course, just as it hadn't for other hunters before us, though I do believe I may be getting a tad ahead of myself.

The following texts document my notes and journal entries from our expedition. The texts has been left as is.

Day I,

The air chills us to the very core, even now my hands shake from the frost. Samual's clothes still smell of ash and burnt pine from our less-than-perfected Waymancy, though I suppose such a thing could be a blessing due to the warmth it gives off… In truth, such a thing should not provide much/any issue. We've managed to make a very good distanced trek for our first day, managing to hike 'bout halfway to the peak, making note of the various fauna and flora all the while4, before electing to set up camp.

Hunger sat upon us quickly. Cornelious and I decided to gather ourselves some local game to accompany our less-than appetizing rations while Samual remained behind to do much of the heavy lifting of setting up the camp. If there was any place to hunt, these lands would be the ones, the snow peaked mountains flowing as long as the eye can see, hidden only by rows and rows of golden-red tree and bush, I have good expectations for the trip.


Supper was filling, we managed to hunt ourselves some delectable prey, several small fish and a large jackalope. Much larger than I've seen in any of my travels and its horns considerably thicker (Its meat was also notably tougher), A local species, perhaps? Either way, the fire grows dim, and I reckon I need to get to bed, get a good start on the beginning of our hunt.

Day II,

I awoke with a start this morning, my heart pounding against my chest as I wiped the sweat from my forehead, struggling to my feet and staggering out of our tent

— Roch Glacáin's Tales of the Library, Volume 7: Dear Aguthen,


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You find yourself within the Bygone Echos, a small establishment tucked neatly away on the west end of the Library. A cozy place tucked neatly between two other shops, catering itself to a steady stream of loyal and local customers. An overall all-around quiet joint perfect for a nice rest after a long week of adventuring and other such scholarly endeavors. Tonight, however, it had seemed that one man was dead set on making things just a tad bit less quiet.

"Have I uh," the man, he went by the name Roch Glacáin if your memory served you correctly, stuttered as he took another sip of his drink, his mask threatening to slip off with every drawn-out word "Have I ever told you about the time I—"

"Yes Roch," the other man sitting behind the bar replied, exhaustedly "I can assure you that you've told the story many, many times before."

"Honk!" the third… man? Thing? Creature added.

"Well godsdamn you as well, Pip. You miserable old bastard."

"Honk," Pip mumbled to itself, now very much dejected by this entire encounter.

"Y'know what? I honestly don't know why I even bother with you two in the first place."

The tavern falls silent once again.

"… You know it really is an interesting story."

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