There's more to the Dembraava Wilds than just deformed beasts and unicorn husks. In that place there are also men--or something very similar to men--and no one has ever recovered one of their corpses.
Out of all lifeforms on this planet, none is more feared than the insidious Moadi-Bird.
Seek Not the Moadi-Bird
The excited, almost frantic sound of a mallet instrument erupts from the forest to your left. Within minutes, your party is confronted by a host of short, sprite-like gnomes clad in vivid greens and earthy browns. Attempts to communicate fall flat. The gnomes seem to ignore your words entirely, and you cannot understand the humming/whistling/snapping that apparently makes up their language. Luckily for you and your fellows, however, they don't seem hostile . . .
The Hunter, with his bow nocked, moved quietly through the underbrush. Not quietly enough. The Elgr spotted him; he had no idea what he was looking at: It was an eight foot tall Elk standing upright, and not only was it standing… it was… dancing? Quickly twirling with ribbons streaming from its antlers, it was coming closer…
You could only hear the rest of them. And you could only hear them because they didn’t mind being heard. Running in the trees they were. We followed the little guy named Dorto. He led us to a spot and said in broken Gallen, "Here is village". There was nothing there I tell you. We looked about and could not see a thing. He smiled and pointed up. You could see it then, the huts and nests and ropes. A bunch of them were just hanging there by their feet looking at us. It was going to be an odd night. Exerpt from A Sailor’s Journey, by Ptholus WindRider
Blessed by the spirits of the forests, these feline creatures have barely begun the long, slow climb to civilization.
Beware these shrub-sized gaurdians of the forest.
Representing a primal force of nature which wants to strangle and slay all humanity, to bury their works beneath the roots of trees and their bodies as fertilizer.
Strange plant-creatures from Rosetta II, the Rosahomin are, for a small portion of their lives, roughly humanoid creatures, fully sentient, and capable of interacting with the galaxy.
Twin-aspected aliens, the Kel’Regar are strange creatures, and their alien society, strange technology, and lithe bodies evoking the images of elves in some humans.
Queens of the forest, the Loru Valsharris are respected by elf, dryad, and ent alike.
As we viewed the island from afar, I knew we would be forced to land there. Our hull was breached and we are taking on water rapidly. My hope of us making the island is grim, but I keep a face up for the crew. The rumors every sailor has heard of this dreadful place makes even the stoutest sailer make water. We shall see.
-Captain Edver Brakuars, Second to Last Journal Entry.
Out of the three giants I am hunting the jotun have been the most aloof. It seems like they stay out of my sight for a reason. Who knows. I will track them down as i have the others to gain their knowledge. Damn, even the surtur were not this hard. Wait, I hear a noise, a drum perhaps… I will follow to see if I can find the jotun.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian. His last entry.
Something of a new take on the traditional forest guardian. Like a dryad or a tree nymph but at the same time something completely different.
The Poison Eaters Tribe dwells deep in the jungle glades of the Ushaika, in the lowest reaches of the undergrowth where no sunlight pierces through the leaves, and where the marshy ground wells up with tea-colored water at the lightest step.
Growren are bear like people, who appear much like Giant Teddy Bears… and are as about as smart.
The Nasgareth may look like elves, but instead were created by an entirely different divine being, which admired the elvish looks and traits, but wanted to create his own army instead. One without Love.
The children of the west know not our ability. Ironically in their arrogance they ask us for advice and use us as ambasadors often, failing to realize that al lwe are doing is learning everything we can about their kingdoms and weaknesses. They will learn, but it will be when they are kneeling before us in their own cities.
-Laar Scaren - Advisor to the Kingdom of Rhomas
The Derevo are not a race unto themselves but a race of similar species. Similar to the different asian cultures. They are all different yet similar being similar cultures. The Derevo are like that.
The leaves talk and caress the mind of those who are willing to listen. We know what it is they say and it does not bode well for the civilized lands to our west. Woe to them I say, the land will return to it’s natural state one day.
-Enio Lacvite - Knowledge Seeker of the Rred Leaf
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.