Fortress Bestiary

The gorge and the fortress have other residents. Catalogued here, with appropriate caution.

A note on method

This bestiary follows the fortress chronicles, which are a garrison record, not a naturalist’s. Entries marked confirmed have been seen by multiple witnesses. Entries marked reported rest on fewer. The Guardian’s own position, in-character: “The gorge was here first. We are the guests. Catalog accordingly.”

Rainwraiths — confirmed

Pale drifting shapes in the gorge at dusk, roughly human-sized, silent. They do not approach the Span; the Span’s lanterns, the garrison swears, keep them to the far wall. Old Tam the goatherd claims they are “just weather that forgot to fall.” The Guardian has never corrected him.

Bolt-eels — confirmed

Long, quick, bright things that live in the Blackmere shallows and the Underhold cisterns. During lightning strikes they rise and follow the bolt down — the garrison calls this “the eels applauding.” They are harmless unless handled, and no one handles them twice.

The Weeping Gargoyles — confirmed

The stone gargoyles of the Tempest Tower weep — actual water beading on stone faces — in the hours before the worst storms. The fortress’s masons insist this is condensation. The garrison insists the masons have never stood a night watch. Both are correct; the gargoyles weep anyway.

Tempest Hounds — reported

Heard, not seen: a baying that runs ahead of the Argument, moving against the wind. The Guardian claims to have seen one, once, from the tower: “a dog-shaped piece of weather, in a hurry.” No one else has seen one. Everyone has heard them.

The Gargoyle Choir — reported

On Verdict nights, the wind through the tower’s gargoyles is said to resolve into something like singing — low, many-throated, almost words. Brother Anselm transcribed three pages of it during his winter at the fortress and then burned them. “Some harmonies,” he wrote in the margin of the chronicle, “are the storm’s business.”

Cistern Moss — confirmed

Harmless, luminous, and the reason the Underhold never needs lanterns. It glows violet in the dark — the same violet as the lightning, which the fortress’s children find significant and the fortress’s adults find convenient.

The Stranger’s Ravens — unclassified

Two ravens arrived with the Stranger in Grey and never left. They sit on the gate arch, they watch the trials, and — the garrison swears — they laugh at failed riddles. The Guardian feeds them. He will not say from where he gets the meat.

Source notes

• All bestiary entries are original fiction developed for this site; see methodology.