They were formidable even before they learned how to use weapons.
Nahactl, the Wanderer
Does that thing ever shut it’s blasted mouth? Why did you give it one to begin with?
What follows is an passage from the journal of the famous Beastiographer Laans Torier
“Many have said the Old Men of the mountain were mere myths, or had been wiped out by the Theosians many years ago, but I am staking my reputation on the fact that they do in fact still exist!”
The Great White Dragon is rarely seen. Nobody knows where he slumbers, but they do know his cave is on one of the highest peaks in the world. Only few stories have made it to be Known about across the lands. Few ever made it back to there home villages to tell the story.
In a sparse and hungry land, the kha-nyou have no problem finding food and flourishing.
Vog’s Children, the Lava-Oil Symbiotes
The camp was eerily quiet this evening. The fire itself seemed nervous enough not to crackle; the wind seemed too scared to whistle. These treks into the Blade Peaks always worry me, what am I doing here? I find myself asking that very questions even during the day time now, not just during the night. Tales of rangers heading into the peaks and not returning were always common, what worries me is that myself and the group of rangers are heading into these blasted mountains in search for one such group. How my life would be much better had I not learned the truth. The Oricks are here, small brutish little bastards for true, but ruthless and uncaring. I just want to return home. Wait, a sound in the darkness. A scrap? A grunt? oh no they are here!
- Ranger Arkisa, Last journal entry,
Crystal Hornets are heard long before they are seen. Their humming is like the beautiful sound of a violin that is being played by a master musician,and to those who have encountered them before, it acts as a warning.
They come in the night, and they take things. Nothing neccesary. Maybe they’ll take some candle wax, mabe a few sticks, a curtain, anything. But guard all your possesions boy, because if you don’t, they’ll come down on you like a hellbeast in one of their damned machines.
An influential fungus among us!
Deep in the mountains, beyond where the trails end, one can find collossal stairways and long, cliffside roads, massive arched bridges and huge vaulted tunnels, spanning thousands of miles. These roads, though seemingly deserted, are closely watched by their creators, the reclusive and strange Iothun (“yoh-thoon”).
Ru-Men are an old race who dwell throughout the area encompassed by the Hundred, but are most plentiful in their traditional homeland on the Andraverly Mountains on the west coast of the Heavy Sea (northward of Peklichr). They live in small “nests” of 10-20 individuals which generally lie in the mountains or cliffs. Many call them the Crow Men or the Jackdaw Men, while others refer to them as the Black Mountain Bastards.
It is interesting to realize that in the scheme of the world we are but one oddity. But we are an oddity that the humans and other smaller pitiful races take for the corrupted races of Sethalis. That we are not. I would say they hate us for our superior mentality and superior quality weaponry. As is with all children who can’t have what is out of their reach.
-Synn the Undying - Troll Cheiftan and Mastersmith
The wait shall be over soon infidel. Soon we shall come from our darkened homes and sally forth on the Plains of Redemption and wipe the blight of our anscestors from our history. Our counsins will tremble at our approach, the humans will run from our strength and the Gison will board themselves in the mountain citadels giving the land beneth them to us. Oh yes, weakling. We are coming.
-Shieox Chief-priest of the Night Eyes Clan
The children of stone care little for the others who are not of our kind. Ours is a kinship with the world around us, while the others destroy and pollute. It will be only a matter of time before the world itself fights back against those atrocities. Before the mother world rights herself. I feel no pity for them, only outrage.
Gundarg - Gison Philosopher
Sometimes, someone is watching in the middle of the night.
When the great ice-sheets covered the north, life retreated before them, but some species stayed and endured. Whilst man huddled around fires in his caves, mighty beasts roamed the tundra: the Woolly Mammoth, the Woolly Rhinoceros…and the Woolly Wyvern.
The grisly anthropomorphisation of a rockfall…
There are seven or so types of lifeforms considered Gargoyles by the less informed. This is one.
Grolen are another semi-sentient creature which is called a Gargoyle in popular parlance.
Crevasians were human long ago. The differences are several, but few were ever noticed by outsiders. They have astrong communal feeling, which _literally_ flows in their blood…
Bag on a Stick
Very simple gag but a great one, since it can be used multiple times over, even in the same adventure. Great for tribal natives gone restless and humanoids, but anyone can have set this up. Just what the header says, a simple bag over a stick stuck in the ground or floor.
As GM you can place the bag on a stick anywhere, in a floor crack the heroes have passed before, outdoors in a clearing or path, or at the edge of the PCs' encampment the following morning, what have you. Place anything on the stick - a coiled yellow viper angered by the bag removal, mini crossbow w/poison, transdermal hallucinatory drug dusted on the bag, yellow mold colony, an NPC ally's head, a weapon, scroll tube or satchel, what have you.
The idea is to build tension and/or stall for time/distract the party. Provided it's used properly, you'll be amazed at how paranoid players will get from this simple gag.