A most useful race - if one can get past their appearance, and avoid being eaten...
The immortal dwarfs of Damor
Gives life to the notion of no good deed goes unpunished.
Nod to Gossomer, for her Solomon Grundy forum post, my inspiration
500 Word NPC challange
A list of thirty different dragon flavours, in no particular order, just waiting for your campaign to give them life. (although I really wanted to, you will find no "Tandoori Dragon" or "Barbecue Dragon" or "Egg Salad Dragon" here. Not that kind of 'flavour')
To all space explorers, rogue traders and Federation colonisation and expeditionary force officers!
Thirty new alien species have been discovered. You are well-advised to inform yourselves, as to engage these entities correctly, without risk of harm to yourself or to the interests of Terra.
Ten of the described species are human in origin, yet modified to such a degree that they no longer need to be considered human.
Another ten are civilisation-building aliens competing with Terra for available space.
The final ten entries are remarkable life forms that display sapience, without using it to create civilisations. Caution is advised.
The Black Leviathan from the eastern sea is a greater hazard in legend then in fact, as it only infrequently preys upon man. At least, as far as can be told, for many are taken by the sea with no record of their passing.
What do you mean they are organized and using weapons? We destroyed a group a week ago, they were but simple zombies then...
"Cities in the deep? I've never heard such foolishness. A talking lobster? Rubbish!"
''I stand before you now to tell you that the gods have spoken to me! Obey not the strictures of the Church! They seek only to deprive us of the very same pleasures that they enjoy themselves''.
"We just thought the winter was worse'n usual. Turns out we had an unexpected visitor. Wasn't until poor Dave and Glenda... died... that we finally got a clue. By then it was almost too late. You know how many of us'll never be the same? Oh, you doubt me, do you? Look in my eye, son, and tell me what you don't see. Yeah, I thought so. Damned Snow Devil!"
Ostensibly but a rock, a chunk of metal, it has one extraordinary use: randomly, the Igneus Saxum issue flames.
Cold, mystic master manipulators.
"They're many names given to the things of this vast consciousness that we don't understand, are afraid of, or otherwise just don't want to be associated with. These creatures, though familiar in appearance to many common races, have no name for themselves, but have been appropriately named "Concordare Iram", Translated: Harmonized Rage."
The Fae, they are called, though the reason they are not called by their true name, the Fairies, has been lost to the ages- at least, by the humans. The other races know, the other races know well of the Fae.
Humans have a very short memory. The elves, the dwarves, the goblins, the orcs, they don't. They remember of the interactions between Atheians and the Fae all those years ago in that other age. They know what happened. But the humans... they have forgotten.
This is why they will be the first to die.
Trapped in Atheus, blocked from returning to their home of Congeria, the daimon is (usually) a minor demon- though this does not mean that they are not a highly deadly adversary.
The Tulu are an evil and devious race, demonstrating the canny wickedness of Faustian devils and the perverse pleasures of hentai tentacle pornography.
A hostile race discovered through dimensional boring. The first encounter with the violent and nomadic Tarxan occurred in Neo-Constantinople of the Eurasian Alliance, hence the Turkish/Central Asian rooted name.
Greentails, sirens, mermaids, merfolk, the creature you think of when you hear these names is a Tangaroa.
Feet forever on the path; smile forever on it's lips. It walks roads beaten and forgotten alike through day and night. With it's troupe of mindless puppets, it is accosted not by beast nor fiend nor monster. For they know that Terror walks past this night.
Death travels with the Gandacai.
The ochre sands stretch for miles around. Something kicks up the dust. It's a yak. A desert-yak. It ambles slowly, nuzzling the ground for the low-growing shrubs. The ranger freezes. "Stay very still," he warns. "Don't move at all."
"What is it?" you ask, breathlessly.
"It's the most dangerous creature in the whole Ocadian desert. And it's about to eat that yak..."