Pronounced “foo-wah” (Irish origin).
These creatures of the deep are the protectors and guardians of the Grey Isles. Any mortal being who enters the lake without paying the Charonian Ferrymen, uses their own boat, has a leisurely swim or even accidentally falls into the water, the Fuath will come.
Their method is simple: grab and caress your flesh with icy cold hands and drag you down into the depths to drown, which is accelerated by their deathly breath-sucking kisses.
If you die this way, you join the ranks of souls trapped in the Opal City… but forever trapped in a living nightmare of despair.
The Fuath don’t usually try to entrap mortals by luring them into the water… but it does happen on occasion. Above water they appear in whichever form is most desirable to the potential victim: gorgeous men or women of absolute perfection to each onlooker. No one sees exactly the same Fuath… but then again, few survive to tell the tale.
Under the water they are skeletal, rotten, scaly, spiny and translucent in the worst possible ways. The only things that give them a semblance of joy is draining out warmth and breath from their victims; their vicious mockery echoes throughout the abyss when their targets die of fright.
While they respect the King and his servants, they ultimately serve the Queen of the Opal City, which lies at the bottom of the lake.
As monsters, they are immune to magic that inflicts cold or heat. Mundane weapons cannot give them wounds, save ones made from Cold Iron, which betray their fae ancestry.
They will never leave the water: if somehow forced out, they turn into black sea-slime and re-materialize the next sunset in the deepest underwater caverns.