An Ancient Spirefiend Descends on a Panicked Winter City

Gorthak the Spirefiend

In the frost bitten spires of Amia’s northern cities, where ancient cathedrals pierce the winter sky, Gorthak the Spirefiend stirs from his centuries long slumber. 
A hulking abomination of living stone, jagged horn, and primordial rage, he was once bound by forgotten pacts. Tonight the seals have broken, and the beast has returned to claim what was promised and to remind the living why they once feared the things that watch from above.

The Grasp from the Spire

From his perch atop the snow dusted cathedral roof, Gorthak surveyed the glowing veins of the city below. Lanterns and hearth-fires twinkled like a river of stars across the rooftops and winding streets. Then his massive, clawed hand shot downward with terrifying speed.

He seized a lone figure in dark robes, a bald man who had lingered too long in the open. The Spirefiend lifted him effortlessly into the freezing night air, bringing the struggling captive close to his snarling, horn crowned face. 
Hot, rancid breath clouded around the man as Gorthak’s glowing eyes narrowed, studying his prize with ancient, pitiless hunger.

Below, the city shattered into panic.

Bells began to toll in wild alarm. Crowds surged through the snowy market squares, cloaks and lanterns flying as people shoved and stumbled in blind terror. 
Some fell on the icy cobblestones and were trampled in the rush. Market stalls toppled. Screams echoed between the timbered houses as the shadow of the beast stretched across the streets like a living eclipse.

Gorthak’s low, grinding roar rolled over the rooftops, shaking loose tiles and sending flocks of ravens exploding into the night. He held the man aloft a moment longer, as if savoring the fear rippling through the city beneath him.

Then, with deliberate cruelty, the Spirefiend began to descend.

In Amia, some monsters rise from the deep places of the world.

Others simply wait on the highest spires until the night grows cold enough to strike.