Everyone knows that firearms are weapons only fit for orcs—smelly, loud, and unreliable. But there are guns made for ogres, too, and the largest of those are called Thunderguns.
The cries sounded like some misshapen creature being devoured alive. Or a stillborn baby deer, somehow struggling back to life in the filthy grove where it had been abandoned, crying in infinite pain and hatred.
As I neared the ridge, I could hear a set of shuffling, twitchy half-steps, more like pained spasms than any sort of a gait. And when I saw it. . . Oh gods. . . It's like. . . that face. . . THAT HORRIBLE FACE!
Mondaloa is a name shared by both a city and a deity. Mondaloa, the city, is built on layers of crypts and tombs that are far more opulent and majestic than the city that covers them. Mondaloa, the deity, is the god of rest, peace, and death. There is nothing Mondaloa desires more than to see the dead buried deep in their tombs where they can rest in honor and peace. But there is trouble: something is torturing the dead of the city, and driving them to madness and rage. Now, 500 years of honored ancestors are trickling into the city above, seeking blood and pain and death.
There's more to the Dembraava Wilds than just deformed beasts and unicorn husks. In that place there are also men--or something very similar to men--and no one has ever recovered one of their corpses.
A big flock can suck a cow bloodless in a few minutes, yet your doctor shows up carrying one around a small birdcage in the tip of his staff. Maybe you're better off just learning to live with the kidney stones. . .
Stay out of the woods. It's not a place for men. Not anymore.
Lady Evica is one of the prides of the Hesayan Church--it shows that even monstrous, overtly sexual, colossal mermaids can be brought to worship in Iasu's light. Except not really.
Only after the unicorn hunts ended did the people realize that the unicorns were not returning. Many were saddened to discover that they had killed the last unicorns. Some wept.
But when they returned many long years later, many more would weep.
Many magic staffs shoot rays of disintegrating acoustics or summon laser elementals. The Staff of Seryl gets you pregnant.
Unless you are a dude, of course.
How a disgruntled con man managed to kill hundreds, become a saint among death cults, and create plagues of monsters. All by writing a pamphlet.
Veglins are fungus-goblin hybrids with a unique life cycle, all of whom are inflicted with inescapable racial dreams. Their biology and psychology are product's of an ancient, evil wizard's plan to get someone else to build his hideouts for him.
What if cancer is not an ailment if one has a will powerful enough, and knows what do do. What if one using the right techniques could control it and use it to become immortal, or to grow into something else?