"Cities in the deep? I've never heard such foolishness. A talking lobster? Rubbish!"
''I stand before you now to tell you that the gods have spoken to me! Obey not the strictures of the Church! They seek only to deprive us of the very same pleasures that they enjoy themselves''.
"We just thought the winter was worse'n usual. Turns out we had an unexpected visitor. Wasn't until poor Dave and Glenda... died... that we finally got a clue. By then it was almost too late. You know how many of us'll never be the same? Oh, you doubt me, do you? Look in my eye, son, and tell me what you don't see. Yeah, I thought so. Damned Snow Devil!"
Ostensibly but a rock, a chunk of metal, it has one extraordinary use: randomly, the Igneus Saxum issue flames.
Cold, mystic master manipulators.
"They're many names given to the things of this vast consciousness that we don't understand, are afraid of, or otherwise just don't want to be associated with. These creatures, though familiar in appearance to many common races, have no name for themselves, but have been appropriately named "Concordare Iram", Translated: Harmonized Rage."
The Fae, they are called, though the reason they are not called by their true name, the Fairies, has been lost to the ages- at least, by the humans. The other races know, the other races know well of the Fae.
Humans have a very short memory. The elves, the dwarves, the goblins, the orcs, they don't. They remember of the interactions between Atheians and the Fae all those years ago in that other age. They know what happened. But the humans... they have forgotten.
This is why they will be the first to die.
Trapped in Atheus, blocked from returning to their home of Congeria, the daimon is (usually) a minor demon- though this does not mean that they are not a highly deadly adversary.
The Tulu are an evil and devious race, demonstrating the canny wickedness of Faustian devils and the perverse pleasures of hentai tentacle pornography.
A hostile race discovered through dimensional boring. The first encounter with the violent and nomadic Tarxan occurred in Neo-Constantinople of the Eurasian Alliance, hence the Turkish/Central Asian rooted name.
Greentails, sirens, mermaids, merfolk, the creature you think of when you hear these names is a Tangaroa.
Feet forever on the path; smile forever on it's lips. It walks roads beaten and forgotten alike through day and night. With it's troupe of mindless puppets, it is accosted not by beast nor fiend nor monster. For they know that Terror walks past this night.
Death travels with the Gandacai.
100 word submission. Rumors of the lands sounds of Abodroc
"We're nothing new. We've always been here. YOU're the newcomers. You're the animal that forgot that it was a man. Stop crying, you animal, you sleepwalker! If you opened your eyes for only an instant you would see that. You're a race of amnesiacs, of dreaming children. I said STOP CRYING! You disgust me. That's why I'm not going to explain anything else. That's why you will die--screaming--without ever having truly woken up. I will paint every inch of this floor with your blood."
-An Awakened, formerly Ms. Albright, speaking to Albert Frond, immediately before his murder
I try to avoid them if I can. I see them sometimes herding their flocks of flabby grey creatures into and out of Boston harbor, and it always gives me the chills. Briano tells me that they brought me back to life, but I can't remember it. I can't remember a lot of stuff. He also tells me that I was good friends with one of them once. One of the ones that begs outside of Grand Island Bank for nickels or blood. I can't tell you why I'm uncomfortable around them. They're just fish.
"O'er the Wall Mounts there's this race of creatures. They look humanoid, but big. Mebbe 15, 20 feet tall? There all covered in this hair. Most of the species' hair is an auburn, but theres some that are black or blonde or brown. There faces look kinda like a cat face. The eyes are always one solid color, but the colors differ, like with humans. But the thing that makes them special is that they milk our females, like we milk cows. They breed 'em. They treat us like cattle. They even breed out the aggressiveness and intelligence."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub
a.k.a. Mosquito Man, a.k.a. Stirgili, a.k.a. Mansquito.
The sun rises over the city. The great skyscraper's silhouettes from the fresh beams appear almost golden. The city is waking up, with the morning's half asleep citizens going about their daily routines. Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts open up, and revel in the influx of business. People head to work. The clocktower chimes, signaling the time of 9:00. But then a great shadow blocks out the sun. And the citizens of this metropolis start to scream as they are lifted up bodily by these beasts. An hour full of terror and screams goes by. And then another. And when the clocktower chimes again, signaling the time of 11:00, no one heard it. They had all been carried away. There were no flaming wrecks, nor collapsed buildings, as any other giant monster would leave. Simply empty streets, and a forbidding silence.
The manifestation of the Queen of Avarice, the Eye of Avarice is a worthy herald of that fell being.
Caution: contains mature content regarding the gruesome ecology of a parasitic beetle.
A terrible monster. A thing of nightmares. Tales of the creature shake the core of the most sturdy and chill the spine of all who hear. They say, "Be careful who your friends are. They may just want you for your body." They were right.
I was in a game with a GM that had a Masters in History, who made is a point to mention that the local peasants didn't have wheelbarrows. The rest of the players just shrugged that off but I knew that the GM was trying to tell us the peasants were on the knife edge of starvation.
All that from wheelbarrows? Yes, because before the invention of the wheelbarrow it took two men to carry that load. In it's time the wheelbarrow was the most explosive production multiplier that the peasantry could get their hands on.
This is worth two tips: One about the power of the Wheelbarrow and the other is the moral of the story...that people need to know the point you are trying to make.