Royal Terrorgheist

Every great court keeps its menagerie, and the Royal Terrorgheist is its crowning glory. To the courtiers it is a wardragon out of the old sagas, caparisoned in royal colors and loyal as a hound; heralds compose lays praising its gleaming scales. What actually answers the king's call is a mountain of undead wing and bone, a bat-thing risen from the deep crypts and wrapped in grave-chill and hunger.

Its weapon is its voice. The shriek of a Terrorgheist is a wall of sound that stops hearts outright, and where it rolls across a field, whole regiments simply fall silent and still. Ghoul Kings ride the beasts to war as the monarchs of legend rode dragons, and if the royal mount sometimes feeds without leave, the court agrees, graciously and unanimously, not to have seen it.