Linguaeater

In the shadow-choked mists and rotting fenwood of the Kargathian Wetlands dwells a rare and eerie lifeform known to local lore as the Linguaeater, a parasitic yet symbiotic creature that has evolved a peculiar and intimate relationship with its host.   The Linguaeater begins life as a translucent, leech-like larva no longer than a finger, found clinging to the undersides of damp rocks or floating gently in stagnant pools. Despite its humble beginnings, its destiny is singular and grotesque: to find a host, burrow into its mouth, and replace its tongue.   The process is swift and painless, thanks to a numbing enzyme secreted by the larva. Once it consumes the host’s tongue, the Linguaeater fuses to the muscular and neural architecture of the mouth, taking on the shape and function of the original organ. After this transformation, it becomes nearly indistinguishable from a natural tongue, save for the occasional ripple of movement, the glint of an independent eye at its base, or a faint, serpentine hiss heard in quiet moments.   What makes the Linguaeater unique is its feeding method: it does not drain the host’s blood or consume nutrients directly. Instead, it feeds on the spiritual residue, the animic essence, of the prey the host consumes. Only creatures that kill and devour others can nourish it. Thus, the Linguaeater is found exclusively in the mouths of carnivorous predators and skilled hunters, wolves, raptors, lizard-beasts, and, rarely, humanoids.   Despite its parasitic origin, the Linguaeater bestows unexpected benefits. Hosts experience heightened perception, particularly the ability to “taste” the emotional or spiritual residue of their prey. This often manifests as a supernatural intuition: knowing when prey is near, sensing fear or deception, or even glimpsing a creature’s past sins or traumas. Some hunters describe it as "tasting the truth in flesh."   In combat, the Linguaeater can momentarily extend from the mouth, flicking like a serpent’s tongue, granting the host momentary insights into an enemy’s intent. Others claim their reflexes improve, as if the symbiont reacts to threats before the host is consciously aware.   Symbiosis with a Linguaeater also brings subtle changes. The host's voice may deepen or grow more resonant, sometimes echoing faintly as if another presence speaks alongside them. Dreams grow vivid and disturbing, filled with swamp-mist visions and whispering trees. Long-term hosts often develop a faint discoloration in their gums or veins, turning dusky purple or iridescent green, the same color as the Linguaeater’s skin when removed.   In the Kargathian Wetlands, some druids and shamans regard the Linguaeater as a spirit-gift, believing it to be a child of the fen itself, an emissary of the old gods of predation and decay. Others consider it a cursed mark, a symbiotic demon that slowly swallows the soul.   Regardless of belief, one fact remains: in the mists of the Kargathian Wetlands, when one hears the low growl of a hunter and sees the glint of something wrong behind the teeth, it is already too late.