When a mission becomes something more.
"And make sure the fruit stays dry."
- The Best Cook of Royal Navy, a book never read
The Zenahin Flower, Zenahin Bloom, Star Eye, Mood Flower, Little Judge, it has many names.
"Never forget the season if you want to defeat the plainsfolk."
The Stargate universe has revealed to humanity many of its secrets, and left more open. One of the most persistent mysteries stay the Furlings.
"That book?" sighed the librarian. "That one is hard to find. The priests say it is heretical. But," he continued more quietly "word is they have a few copies, and study them very carefully. That even they consider it true."
Elementals have been around for a long time. In many games they unveiled their impressive powers, and reflected their mystical origin no one cared about. It is time for a remake.
Of fire, but not elementals. Short-lived, yet intelligent. Bound to this world they are, more than most of its mortal inhabitants.
"Some creatures are simply hard to talk with. Take the Krys for example…"
“I… I only wished to help. But… I had nothing to give… save me… and this… unclean thing took advantage of it. And now I have given birth to another of the creatures. I cannot take care of it. My family would… I just can’t.
May gods have mercy with it.”
The peasant girl puts the little bundle to the convent’s door, rings the bell, and flees.
On his own, a Telgard demon worships the concept of individuum - to be solitary, resourceful, and hardy.
A smaller cousin of the typical fox, closer to trees.
The most disgusting fungus in the world.
Not quite a race of its own, not quite the mortals they are so close to.
Too many are the spirits of the Spirit World, these are only a few better known types.
“The Welcoming Ones” are the first contact many people will have with the spirit world. Actually, for many they are the first creatures they meet after death.
A race of little peoples, that have found the key to immortality. Sadly, it has evolved to more of a curse than of a blessing.
Many of the Undead face this terrible fate for mistakes of their own. Dark sins, or conscience heavy for the criminal deeds they have commited, they cannot pass on and linger in this world. But some do not deserve this curse…
Quote from an idea of Strolen: “A series of trees drop super spiny seeds to the ground. Only the most durable shoes can keep the spines from stabbing through.”
A very rare spider, combines a certain degree of inteligence and wickedness. Living in underground locales, it can survive for long periods of time without fresh food. Even a rat is good, but it likes bigger prey, even humanoids.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.