Huge, hardbone bug that lives within and travels through the veins of old bells across Pharloom.

You can find a complete list of all journal entries, in their in-game order and with map links, in our All Journal Entries guide.

This one has allied themself with me, either as thanks for their saving or respect for one judged as equal. Whichever the reason, their fellowship is welcome.

Long dormant centipede, awoken and enraged by Pharloom’s crumbling collapse.

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A monster in the classic form of tales from youth. Its slaying was done as much by my fierce travelling companion as by myself.

Mad matriarch of the Slab rarely seen outside her warren. From her all jailers are born and bred.

You can find a complete list of all journal entries, in their in-game order and with map links, in our All Journal Entries guide.

With this one vanquished, I hope to have sped the end for that jail and its distasteful order.

Dual princes of old Verdania, beloved by their subjects for their grace and for the ballet of death they delivered upon outsiders.

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For one to love another so similar to themselves, is that selfless or vain?

Automatons of impeccable construction, welcoming entrants to their chamber with a display of deadly dance.

You can find a complete list of all journal entries, in their in-game order and with map links, in our All Journal Entries guide.

Two cogwork bugs, and yet the soul seemed singular? A sad, yet masterful imitation of life, imbued inside shells of iron.

Lord and justice of Pharloom’s craws. Delivers death to condemned bugs with his steel plated beak.

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Did he recognise my part played in this land’s void-strung state? If so, perhaps his judgement was not unfair. To these bugs I have brought much destruction.

Hardened warrior lord of a bygone age, able to command the coral crust to his bidding.

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For his stern stewardship his legions seemed utterly loyal. For less combative bugs his would have been a hard rule.

Once exulted chef, exiled from the Citadel for repeated culinary crimes.

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Returned to their home caves, this chef continued to devise delicacies too repulsive for any bug still sane.

Totem and god, built and worshipped by the Burning Bugs.

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The remains of an aged bug were housed at the pyre’s heart. The structure suggested they wished for immolation. If so, I have seen their wish granted.

Ancient Weaver condemned for a transgression lost to time.

You can find a complete list of all journal entries, in their in-game order and with map links, in our All Journal Entries guide.

This one’s husk held a masterful talent, to weave Silk into blazing runes. Throughout my life, I have seen runes woven for many tasks. Was she the first to hone such skills?

Elder overseers of the Deep Docks, responsible for the oversight and punishment of lesser workers.

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Lost in the madness of the Haunting, they still commanded the endless excavation of their caves.

Towering iron automaton, driven by rotor and cog.

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A terrifying achievement of Pharloom, to build a construct so large and yet so nimble.

Vigorous old knight and their noble companion, working together to see their lands cut free from haunted madness.

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They too seek the spectre at the Haunting’s heart, though I fear that foe would pose a challenge beyond their mortal limits.

Monarch of Pharloom, and the primal source of Silk.

You can find a complete list of all journal entries, in their in-game order and with map links, in our All Journal Entries guide.

Heart of the Haunting, long lulled to slumber and desperate to wake. The higher being’s threads stretched throughout Pharloom, snaring its bugs and driving them to madness and discord.

Elder Conchfly crowned with a huge coral horn. Once partnered with a mate, they will rarely be seen alone.

You can find a complete list of all journal entries, in their in-game order and with map links, in our All Journal Entries guide.

To pair with another is a base instinct, and one that brings some bugs great joy. I once sought similar union, but of my own mates none could match my lifespan.

Chief and chaplain of the Stilkin, forever raging against the Citadel that chokes their caves and sees them suffer.

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This one’s strength was much enhanced by stolen soul. They are not the first who tried to horde it, or to mould it towards such violent ends.

Huge, yet stealthy Skarr. An expert trapper and master of the undergrowth.

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His tracks and traps… It should have been obvious from the start, this old hunter sought to draw me in. But what reason drove him to test himself so brutally? That answer I suspect I shall never know.

Manic fencer who delights in battle.

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A bug born entirely of thread. Much Silk would have been needed to see her sustained. A fragile form of life, but life nonetheless.

Final arbiter of the Blasted Steps, tasked to ensure only the sinless ever step beyond the Grand Gate.

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The huge Judge likely stood through countless generations, never defeated, never wavering in their charge.

Old knight consumed by black thread.

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A tragic fate for a once honourable bug. Those void soaked threads… Their physical might is nothing compared to the corruption they wreak upon a soul.

Silk-spun child possessed by the void.

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To quell the mother’s rage, and see this kingdom saved, I will claim her back. This one… the dark shall not take.

Winged mite-beast, bred large to catch workers who once tried to flee their tasks.

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With its wranglers long dead, the Moorwing stalked the towers of Greymoor, feasting on passing pilgrims and tenders alike.

Adult Mossmir with a fully developed stinger and hardened hide.

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Motherhood is an instinct that can push creatures beyond what seems their natural limits. It turns even weaker beasts like these into formidable foes.

Ancient heart of Shellwood, connected to all its living things.

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Her presence would once have maintained the wood’s fragile order, allowing the safe passage of bugs across its branches.

Fabled first Cloverstag of Verdania’s wilds. Commands the grass and leaves to aid its attack.

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Myth made real in memory. The creature seemed completely at one with the flora around it. Did it ever truly exist as I have seen it?

Mournful creature tasked alone to expel the Citadel’s choking refuse. Their talent with a longpin is unmatched.

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Though grey with age, their frayed form suggested a being strung from Silk, one who welcomed a decisive end in combat over a slow decline.

Blade maiden of a once renown warrior sect, survived long beyond the rest of her order.

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I like her. For her willingness to teach and her spirit still strong, despite a long age spent solitary… she has my respect.

Husk of an alchemist’s assistant granted false life by Plasmium.

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He carelessly seeded these caves with that cursed substance… His final fate seems fair reward for those efforts, yet I feel some sympathy. It is an alluring power.

A solo encounter with the Great Conchfly that escaped in the double Great Conchfly boss battle.

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Angered, adult Beastfly with a weighty body and a thickened hardshell mask.

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Civilisation encroaches from this kingdom’s crown, but the lowlands are still ruled by great beasts. Its roar stirs something deep within me, some primal instinct.

Cogwork knight of Pharloom, once protector of its pilgrims, and master of the scissor blade.

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The talent and intelligence of this construct goes far beyond others I have witnessed. They seem less built as a tool to serve than an attempt at life itself.

Warrior cartographer of a tribe from Pharloom’s edge. Her skills in battle could challenge the kingdom’s best.

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She has lived a mere fraction of my lifetime and yet her rings prove a ferocious match. As gifted a warrior as I have ever encountered, and one I am fortunate to call a friend.

Eternal defender of Shellwood Shrine. His pin and cymbal show many marks of their use.

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He offered fair warning and challenge, a duel in the purest sense. I admire his honour, and his skill.

Imposing old insect nesting in the heights of Shellwood. Her command of twig and branch ensured no pilgrim ever survived within her territory.

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This one lived long and fed much. The wood will be much safer for their slaying.

Huge ant hunter tasked to protect the stores and passages of its tribe.

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Theirs is the perfect shell for their duty, a wall of a warrior and an adept fighter. If I hope to claim their treasures, I must bring my best.

Song queen of the Skarr and their most talented warrior.

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This graceful ruler once possessed skill to rival my own. At her youthful peak, her voice united all Skarr in her service.

Rare, enormous Skull Scuttler. The Marrow’s largest predator, and the most feared for its ferocious temperament.

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Though surely fierce, the skull it bears looks taken from an even larger beast. If not for the bones as proof, I would scarcely believe bugs could grow to such scale.

Mass of old masks swollen and animated by writhing void.

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A creature born of a bug’s desperate hope for strength. Few possess the skill to call the void, and of those that can, none possess the means to tame it.

Tormented will of countless husks made manifest in a pit of Silk dregs.

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The souls of so many bugs, obsessed with Silk, consumed by it. Their pain shall forever remain in that pit. Even I do not possess strength enough to cleanse it.

Depressed thespian, consumed by the melancholy of a collapsing world.

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This one chose to embrace the doom to come. I shall not share such easy surrender.

Haughty thespian convinced that only dazzling performance can raise Pharloom from the throes of death.

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His desire to see Pharloom saved may have been well intentioned, but he seemed quite happy for others to die upon the stage in pursuit of his goal.

Coiled nest of charged worms. Assaults intruders with bolts of crackling electricity.

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Barely a bug, and possessing only basic thought, yet instinct alone proved enough to turn it deadly.

Old warrior guarding the border of their domain, stiffened by time and awoken by song.

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They held long at their vigil, far beyond the age of their brethren, yet still when roused they swung their blade with remarkable ease.

Crazed fanatic able to guide Pharloom’s haunted Silk by music played upon it.

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Her body seemed a Weaver’s, but her mask had been forcibly removed, and her own Silk was bound useless by heavy pins lodged through her spine.