Existing at once in the mortal plane and upon the plane of Fire, the Grand Pyre of the Phoenix is the ultimate testament to the power of the Lord Zevarith.
"See that one, with the burn scars and dark veins? Don't stick too close; he shoots fireblood before engagements. Keeps friends and foes alike at bay, it does."
"Kobolds have an empire? Since when?"
Don't run blindly for the silver vein or you will never see that what you seek is pain.
Crazy old woman, selling pieces of bone and fake charms. The fact that the villagers even tolerate the old eye-roller hag demonstrates a lack of piety to the Faith.
Ghostchasers are small nocturnal birds that have the ability to see what normal humans and most other animals cannot.
Even as humans can be, the Kel'Regar, too, can be touched by madness, and it can drive them to push to ends incomprehensible by the sane. The work of one such, Kararemi'ar'Salm'Torat, the Menangerie of Mad Creation, is a twisted, living structure, tormented by years of loneliness and incomprehensible need.
Mean ingredients bring mean effects...
Food, fun, and a mummy!
T'was a great roar, milord, and the ground was rent and the horses took their bits in their teeth and there was much confusion. No magic could reach so far, and none of our magehounds scented wizards. We do not know the deviltry of the enemy, and for this we lost the battle.
This sea monster seeks to devour more than just mere flesh..
Magik is slippery and dangerous to work with, and failure can have disastrous results. Yet the Sorcerer's continue to ply their art without the benfit of the engines and machines now widely recognized as essential to the making of magik.
One of man's most successful domestications has been that of the dog. Even in our world, the variation that has been bred is truly astonishing. It only seems natural that a world filled with magic and the supernatural could yield even greater variety. This is a collection of some of these possibilities.
"For days, we've heard nothing but cricketsong, from the coming of dust to an hour past dawn. Nothing he happened, but I'm sure something will."
last journal entry, Traggion the Explorer
Treasured texts of the infamous Doctor Alcomb.
Something flashes beneath the waves, a hint of green scales surfaces. A rainbow colored crest breaks the waters surface followed by a huge beast.
"What you wanna go messin' around up in the mountains for? Ain't nothin' up there but snow, and wolves, and more snow.
Yer lookin' for the old tomb? Take my advice, boys. Let that tomb alone. There ain't nothin up there you ought be messin' with. No money, no treasure, no fame, just ice. And death."
Driven by the need to keep his descendants fed, Daniel Andersson is one of the more peculiar undead - and gods - one might ever come across.
A tribal society which lives on the harsh Northern Plains consider it dishonourable to slay an enemy without looking it full in the face. Any missile weapon is treated with derision and contempt, while rangers and other archers are denied entrance to the tribal villages.