"Ye've ne'er heard of the Shnickels? Ye must 'ave not grown up in yonder country. The Shnickels are pests. Varmints. They move in, and you're done, son."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
A short sidebar of encounter information for the fel Shadowbeasts.
The nobleman was out on horseback when he came too close to a nest of Changeling wasps. The first sting made him scream and sent him falling from his horse. When he felt the second sting and was close to passing out with the pain, he thought Whatever happens now, my life of freedom is over. Even if I am not stung again,and escape being paralysed or killed I will be a girl. I will no longer have the right to choose who I marry, to carry a weapon, to join the army or to have control over my own finances.My life is ruined now.
Death is the fate of every birth, and life is only a brief loan of light before the eternal darkness swallows us. The remaining years of life have been stolen from the creatures known as Time Zombies, who stalk the living in the hopes of stealing a few more years of precious life.
The cries sounded like some misshapen creature being devoured alive. Or a stillborn baby deer, somehow struggling back to life in the filthy grove where it had been abandoned, crying in infinite pain and hatred.
As I neared the ridge, I could hear a set of shuffling, twitchy half-steps, more like pained spasms than any sort of a gait. And when I saw it. . . Oh gods. . . It's like. . . that face. . . THAT HORRIBLE FACE!
A big flock can suck a cow bloodless in a few minutes, yet your doctor shows up carrying one around a small birdcage in the tip of his staff. Maybe you're better off just learning to live with the kidney stones. . .
Stay out of the woods. It's not a place for men. Not anymore.
A variety of bizarre but otherwise harmless insects.
30 squirming maggots, worming their way through dead and decaying flesh.
Viva la Musca!
30+ slightly-off or downright demented flies for your campaign.
Not only an interesting species of fungi, but a fashion statement as well!
100 word pest
"What I wouldn't kill for a rodent problem. I'd give anything for an infestation of plague-ridden rats. But no. We have Drakes. Bloody gods - it never ends."
Imagine this. You are the honored guest of the Conyamo himself and his chosen peers. You are placed at his right hand so everyone in attendance can look on you with wanting. Your every move, every breath will be watched. You are the highlight of this evening. Unfortunately, removing the talari eggs will cause you great pain. The nostrum I've just given you will not help the pain but it will burn your vocal cords so you do not disturb the dinner with your screams. With more than one talari loose inside you, you will beg for death. If you had a voice, and you will receive what you wish for. It will be a long and painful as they eat down to your hallows. I would almost pity you, but your not worthy of my pity. Do not worry though as my attendants are very skilled and will remove most of the eggs to be eaten, but not all. Enough of this dribble, be happy for tonight you are the honored guest of tonight’s celebration.
Syr Caran - Head Chef to the Conyamo
Welcome, Lads, to Thunder Reef. A marvel of magical energies existing in harmony with the local fauna. Here, in Thunder Reef, you can find a large variety of oceanic creatures just overflowing with sonic energy. From the lowly Cacophony Crab, to the mighty Thunder-Squid, we will be taking a look at all of them today.
The wind picked up to the point where it sounded like a chorus of a hundred howling banshees. Even deep in the cave, we all felt the temperature drop even further as the Chill Squall moved through; snatches of wind fingering in as if it was trying to pluck us out of our hole.
When you want a horse, but not any horse will do. You don't want a Lord's horse, nor one fit for a King. You want a horse bred for a God.
Be careful of unearthing legends, however.
The eyes came closer and with them came a growling sound, and the warrior swung at them with his sword. They flew around it, revealing themselves to be harmless insects. The warrior swore...it was no Cave Bear or Giant Spider but a pair of Eye Flies out looking for insects to eat that were smaller still.
While traveling trough farm land the PCs come upon a merchant sitting on a wrecked wagon without a mule attached to it, hid face burrowed in his hands. He explains that he was robbed by petty goblins, unable to defend himself he had retreated. He asks the PCs to help him retrieve the mule before the goblins roast it, as a reward they may keep his goods. How hard can it be?