Worming through ink-black holes formed by the submerged roots of drip drop trees, scumseers gather in small, secret numbers to bide their horrible time. They are dreadful creatures, pitiless and paranoid, bent upon the time when their hidden cults will rise from the muck and reclaim a long forgotten kingdom blanketed in a starless sky.

A scumseer is by nature a treacherous fiend, with sallow skin sagging over soft bones and tentactles that squeeze through tights crevices as effortlessly as slime. Their long, spindly fingers snatch toads and salamanders from lilypads, with each wriggling digit curling and bobbing like pit vipers. Though hideous as they are, scumseers were not always so. Long ago, before the Dungeon Era, the scumseers lived beneath a sunless Eem–a world of constant night, where day was eclipsed by what the scumseers call The Devourer of Day, who consumed the very starlight and whose terrible cosmic bulk blotted out the daytime. In that mythic time, scumseers were desert dwellers who huffed precious minerals beneath shifting mountains of dust to appease their hunger, and were said to be quite beautiful in their way, like beings made from brightly colored ribbons, whirling in the undying wind of a featureless land. Then Day came.