Electro-Clockwork assassins of the Far East.
The grinding of gears in the dead of night is a precursor of an unforgiving danger. Survivors remember little, save the smell of metal and death.
The dead, imbued with the divine essence of magic, walk again, ever hungry for the missing spark of a living soul.
Loathsome creatures born of magic gone hideously awry, the trolls of Kuramen are little more than ever-hungry masses of cancerous tissue.
Though each drone possesses little intelligence of its own, together, they are the Kth’k'k’kt, who span the stars.
These lovely people had the unfortunate luck of living adjacent to a zenophobic bug race and a species that would defend their colonies
Synthetic Bioforms: (Syns, Synths, SBF): The use of synthetic people helps alleviate the manpower shortage and most real peoples’ dislike for manual labor. They are also cheaper, easier to utilize, and easier to maintain than robots in most situations. Encyclopedia Galactica 2453ed
There it was, big as two horses and all scales and wicked looking head. thought we was alldead, we did. Then the beastie did the damndest thing. Instead of breathin fire on us, or cursin us with magic it started eatin one of the damned bushes.
Explorer Kurold the Hammer
You can hear the song from miles away. The song is enchanting in a mild way. Even the plants sing this haunting tune all day. This gives you fair warning to be ready to dance to a different tune. You are leaving your country and entering theirs.
The deadly legacy of a vindictive demon, Shugrat’s lust is to be feared by those who dread to sin..
I know. I know. It sounds crazy. But look at it! Look at what it is doing. The lightning strikes! Three times right on top of us. The hail. It just struck our car. The Wind hitting the house so hard. It is after us. It wants something. And, if we can figure out what it wants, I say we give it to ... it.
The everyday kin to the elementals and the demons
Exotic birds for any game
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
Bringing more fantastic elements to the old classic.
The Dark Kind came to the world as conquerors. They failed. Now they are odd neighbors.
Pitiable creatures, wandering forever in search of that denied them, unable to rest even as they crumble away to little more than crawling wrecks of bones.
"My god, what is that?"
"Orcweed, sir. Never need a wall with this growing."
Burninating the countryside,
Burninating the peasants
Burninating all the peoples
And their thatched-roof COTTAGES!
The leftover remnants of Mind can sometimes cling to existence when the Body fails and the Spirit departs…