The PhoBits

We are many. Yet we are one. An entity composed of numerous creatures, each of us bearing specific abilities. Five fragments of a single being, willing to strike with terror any soul that crosses our path.

We are Shadread, the Nocis-Fragment, commanding the weakling's most primal fear: darkness. We plunge our prey into a world unknown, where none can escape our shadowy presence. We remain silent, but the captive soul unleashes terrified shrieks, losing its pitiful might under our tight grasp. There is no escape in our dreadful void. Slowly but surely, anything trapped is consumed and absorbed.

We are Spooknado, the Zephyr-Fragment, commanding the weakling's untamed neighbor: the wind. This time, roles are reversed; we shriek, and the captive soul stays silent. Yet we remain the predators, as our shady figure rides with our cold blows and violent squalls, frightening the prey even more. Desiring to try a different type of fear, we toy with our prisoner, wildly tossing the soul around like a pathetic pebble.

We are Waterfright, the Aqua-Fragment, commanding the weakling's unfriendly domain: water. From above, from below, taking many shapes and sizes, we invade the soul's territory with our tidal strength. Pushed by the wind's power, our new ally brings deadly despair instead of refreshing hope, tirelessly spreading its surging messengers across the conquered land or uniting them to unleash a furious frontal assault. Against torrential rain or tidal wave, the forsaken soul stands no chance.

We are Voltscare, the Fulgur-Fragment, commanding the weakling's hasty opponent: lightning. Our swift offender shatters the dazzled prey's ground, violently announcing his presence. The weakling foolishly approaches the light, believing that it will lead him out of the darkness. In his mind light and darkness always clash.
In ours, they always pair.
As our thunderous voices multiply, the soul finally understands. He cannot command a world ruled by wild fear. It is useless to hope in such a world, and we are here to remind him of how pathetic his cocky ambitions really are.

We are Armagedoom, commanding the weakling's fated rival: death. Our greatest ally joins the party, utterly destroying any glimpse of hope left in the captive prey's mind. We are finally united, ready to deliver our final blow. Abandoned, defenseless, the pitiful soul has no more reason to resist us. He is submerged by our power, vanishing when he thought he could ascend above life and conquer death.


Mission accomplished, we return to our master's lair, Mother Nature's reversed twin, the Empress of Disaster.
Lady Nightur greets us, pleased with our performance. Her elegant ebony black dress undulates like lurking shadows. Her long, dark blue hair move like raging waves, always pushed by a mysterious wind. Her light grey eyes shine like lightning, and her skin is white like a skeleton. Where Mother Nature brings life, hope and order, Lady Nightur spread chaos, despair and destruction. We are her messengers, chosen to carry her dreadful will: destroy the disrespectful beings who abuse of her sister's gifts.



May the sinners tremble before us, for we are the PhoBits, Emissaries of Fear.