These behemoths tread through the cold pools of bog water like manifestations of the defiled swamp, all muscle and slime and hatred.
It is said by those insightful in the ways of the world that the wilderness is alive, just as people or beasts are alive. An area exists in a balance—a balance of the flora and fauna that dwell within its boundaries. But the balance is not eternal. It can be lost, especially when humans come to the area.
A warrior’s body bleeds when he is wounded, and so too does a region react when injured by human presence. The Frost Swamp, violated by the foul magics of invading Hyperborean sorcerers, has spawned horrors as a reaction to its wounds. Chief among these are the monsters known to Cimmerian hunters as Flesh Eaters, which in recent months have risen from the icy wasteland of the swamps, each possessed of only the basest animalistic cunning, and hungering for the flesh of men.
These behemoths tread through the cold pools of bog water like manifestations of the defiled swamp, all muscle and slime and hatred, with their stone-hard skin festooned by twigs from swamp trees and reeking of the region’s tainted water. To stand against one of these hulks is to stand against the Frost Swamp’s fury incarnate.