The rules against nighttime travel in the Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin are there for some very good reasons, not least the highly dangerous Geyser Ghosts.
Deep in the marshes the Tree of Cognizance feeds on whatever living creatures come near it, using very powerful illusions and brute strength. It’s fruits are prized by those that understand the powers they offer.
The soldiers charged screaming into battle, their faces twisted into masks of hatred as they struck out with blows stronger then humans would normally be capable of. Each wore on his shield arm a Star of Rage, a starfish-like creature, ruddy red with the blood that it was draining from his body.
Never look over your shoulder when you hear that hiss..
Despair! Despair! The Dread Crow’s Glare!
Beware the amphibious wolves my child, and most of all, avoid the red-eyed crow!
Swift and deadly as any Dunleoustous, the Anura remain a proud and free people, though outsiders have time and time again, imposed great cruelties on this race.
A dark shadow falls over the still waters of the swamp, and for a brief instant every sound made by a living creature ceases.
Unbeknown to them, the party of Brave People wading in the shallows in hot pursuit of a small band of defeated human soldiers, have themselves unwittingly become the prey.
‘‘By the strength in my sinews, I swear upon the spirits of my ancestors that this Curd will not forget the mate and children he has lost, nor find rest until his jaws have crushed the life out of the scum that dare to call themselves the Brave People!’’
Listen now and hear my words, for they are the words of truth and they are the legacy of our people.
Toltep, the eldest of the Cuada
For many years, the Periccus vine had been considered little more than a pest; and a dangerous one at that. However, modern advances in herbalism and alchemy have proven that this weed does have some use, after all.
Sun haters and child snatchers they may be, but you can’t deny their fashion sense..
Sing to me and I shall write, on lilies, poetry of the night.
Sleep with a cloth wrapped around your face or you’ll be a frungy garden in the morning…
A brief summary of the Pessimal Beast as revealed by the Pessimal Manuscript and other anecdotal evidence.
Whilst they are not the leading predators that they used to be, a bite from them is still to be avoided.
Often mistaken for the mystical Black Lotus, the Black Oleander is a common blooming plant found in temperate swamps.
An enormous Angoath was holding a young recruit in his hands, his body broken and blood seeping freely from between the cracks of his banded armour. The dead legionary’s head lolled unnaturally; obviously the neck had been crushed. It was amazing how fast these creatures could move and suddenly it lowered its head and charged headlong towards me, no doubt intending to skewer me on that sharp, spiky ridge. All around me I glimpsed similar scenes. The Angoath were washing over us like a wave of black silver, their claws rending us apart, their teeth chewing into our armour.
Although the stink and slime of the swamp is not the perfect habitat for dry plants, within forests of the Mura Katur can be found a respectable variety of lichens, mosses, and ground covers.
From the Black Marsh to the Glowing Swamps of Luminiall, the Mura Katur is home to a great abundance of funghi. Enclosed is a sampling of the many species found in its dank mires and soaked forests.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman