The Crystal Scholar is a feminine Quasi-Soul with a passion for knowledge.
The mundane-looking "Sanguine Coffee Cup." A ceramic monstrosity that holds something said to be thicker than water.
Time to test yet another one, He thought as he approached the bus. He withdrew the quarters from his pocket, the exact fare. Marvelous!
Sometimes walking through a moldering old crypt can be a pleasure. With the smell of bone dust and ancient burial wrappings, almost like a library. Certainly as quiet. Until you step in a patch of Choo Mold.
A horrible torture device. Not for the squeamish.
"All I could do was stare as my strange opponent hefted his key-like lance. He told me my armor would only hinder me in this fight. I didn’t believe him at the time, but he was right."
Blonde is one cool dude.
A candle inside of a skull is a typical creepy feature in cultist's lairs or haunted places, but what if they served a more practical purpose?
The Mihradhz shrieked, with a sound like fingernails on slate, as it was dragged headlong into our world by a greedy and uncaring spellcaster whose only desire was to defeat his rivals.
A hilt built like a ceremonial goblet, and not the nice kind, a hideous blade of ash and flame erupt from the lip. To wield this blade is to forsake the Heavens and thrust the power of Hell into your foes.
In the dark one morning, the Bloated Black Beast slowly rose to the water's surface. Whence it crested, great gouts of flame erupted from its Misshapen Form and were hurled hundreds of feet in all directions. It dove again, and appeared as nothing more than an Inky Shadow of Malice. With no purpose, It swam on; occasionally cresting and flaming, but still without purpose.
Malevolent Vampire Mutation? Or Brain-Dead Sun-Junkie?
Don't run blindly for the silver vein or you will never see that what you seek is pain.
"I pick your fleas, you pick mine. Well, that would be if either of us had fleas. Haha, right?"
Even though I often didn't see my father for months at a time, I know he loved me as much as I love you, Son, and as he once said to me, 'I may not be the best father, but I will always send my prayers when you need them the most,' and that is what I intend to do for you. Remember this, even if you don't see me for a while and want to hate me, I love you.
The Elves of Hielaepriaus grow plants for many different things, not the least of these is war.
A mysterious legacy of a hard-working and much-loved mariner and welder.
"Attention, Flesh-beings! The time is now Sun-High-point-five, towards dark, 180 Units Past. Curfew in 30 Units. You are welcome."
A simple and fun fantasy octopus ready to be used as an ally, pet, or interesting meal
Completely silent; jumping from Shadow to Shadow, he stalked his prey through the streets. Dawn would be coming soon, and he did not want to be caught within the enemy’s grasp.
Along the sluggish Vanne River, the banks are lined with thick stands of tall bulrushes. These areas of wetland are considered ill-omened by the locals, for they hide the skeletal remains of thousands of grazing animals, washed downriver in a terrible flood decades before.
Adding to the uncanny reputation of the place is the occasional undead cow or goat that lurks there. The product of a necromancer's experiments some years before, these relatively harmless undead wander the area at night, startling livestock as they attempt to graze with them.