While dungeoneering in Daemonheim you can find parts of the Stalker Notes which tell about stalker race which includes five of the currently known Dungeoneering bosses.
Of all the creatures our master has brought through from other realms, the stalkers are by far the greatest triumph. Their very form is weapon in itself, floating grotesqueries that are essentially giant eyeballs, or clusters of eyeballs with vicious maws in places none would expect. They also command great control over magic; even the rank and file stalkers and the smaller seekers have great resistance to the magicks of our world. The dark, twisted energies that are so rife in their home plane, coupled with the inherent magical nature of the beasts themselves, have allowed several unique and powerful stalkers to develop from chaotic evolution. One such unique example calls itself 'Plane-freezer Lakhrahnaz' in our tongue. I regret asking it to state its name in its own tongue, as the resultant combination of both audible and inaudible sound from its many lipless mouths gave me a huge headache and caused blood to cascade from my nose, which Lakhrahnaz then froze. This one has great power over temperature, and I believe the best place for it is to near the surface, where the environment is cold, barren, and most importantly - far away from me.
The stalkers build nests formed of a combination of debris and biological matter that they produce and spit from their gaping maws. They mainly use their nests for resting and growing, but also to spawn in them. The creatures reproduce asexually, from what I have witnessed; a single eye with a snake-like optic nerve slid out of one of the creature's eye sockets, burrowing into the nest and out of sight, presumably to grow. I have such knowledge of stalker nests because a particularly powerful one calling itself 'Night-gazer Khighorahk' has set one up in what used to be my private chamber. I came back to find my enchanted torches extinguished, and an unnatural darkness. When I lit one of the torches, the creature shrieked and recoiled, lashing at me with its tentacles. I extinguished my light source, and the creature regained composure. It seems this creature is at home in darkness, and uses the cloak of shadows to its advantage. I have decided it is in my best interests to requisition new private quarters and leave the beast to its doings; we will soon be moving further down to rejoin the Master anyway, and this creature will act as a powerful guardian against any daring to follow us.
The stalkers are intelligent creatures, and are capable of startlingly intellectual conversation in our tongue. The varying magicks that the different types of stalker use also shows that they are each capable of independent thought. The creatures also seem to react to others far away from them, indicating some kind of shared consciousness. The stalkers are a strange and powerful race, and I am glad they chose to ally with us, instead of rallying against us. Such powerful, intelligent creatures could have caused our Master serious hindrance. The stalker I saw today was, as usual, different from the rest by some degree. For a start, this creature cannot, or does not, fly. It drags its mass along the ground when it is forced to move; however it tends to suspend itself from whatever is available using long tentacles. The creature has positioned itself above the ladder shaft that leads from this floor of the dungeon to the next; a perfect position to guard the only point of access to the next floor from interlopers. This stalker calls itself 'Shadow Forger Ihlakhizan' and wields both light and darkness to attack its foes. I witnessed it disposing of a slave who tried to flee the dungeons. While the slave was fighting it, Ihlakhizan let out a brilliant flash of light, disorienting the fool. In a panic, he fled and took refuge in the shadows, which engulfed and devoured him, leaving no trace that he was ever there. This creature is by far the most unnerving and grotesque of the stalkers I have witnessed thus far. I will be glad when we abandon this floor tomorrow, and move on to the next one.
My studies into the stalkers have given me a reputation among the other mages, as if my findings are less worthwhile than their empty parlor tricks. They cannot see the magnificence of the stalker, the repugnant wonder that fills you whenever you stare into their eyes. Just yesterday, I stumbled upon another reason to admire them. While I sat and sketched in a stalker nesting pool, a bovimastyx wandered in. Before I could shepherd it back out, a large single-eyed stalker rose from the pools and began circling it, its single pupil flashing with some form of luminescence. I sat back down and took notes, while the bovimastyx whinnied and looked understandably uncomfortable. Halting suddenly, the stalker flashed a red pupil and exploded with a thunderous crack, knocking the mastyx to the floor, bloody and stunned. I could only watch in fascination as smaller stalkers slipped from the larger stalker's carcass and began to devour both the body of the mastyx and what must have been their mother. A wondrous sight.
My journals are missing, I have horrible, terrible images of Bilrach pacing through the upper floors of Daemonheim, poring over any disrespectful entry and tearing it out - littering the floors with my prose. Indeed, everything written has gone missing from my offices: the requisition forms, the environmental notes, the written pieces I have collected on my travels. Nothing good can come of this. I fear a terrible cloud hangs over me in these weatherless depths. There is nothing left to do: I must continue as if all is well, and merely hope. My next task is to research a creature newly come to this plane; Bilrach has asked me to write notes on Shukarhazh, a stalker that is remarkable because it is so unremarkable. It is neither aggressive or communicative. It shall be a curious case, and it could yield useful results in taming of the stalkers - but my dark cloud also has a voice, and that voice tells me that this stalker is by no means benign. Bilrach, be merciful; let this not be a trap.
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Part 1, dropped by Plane-freezer Lakhrahnaz
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