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.

Stay out of the woods.  It's not a place for men.  Not anymore.

Meles, the eyes in midnight bands
the plagues would see him dead
yet Meles, his brood unchained
they ate the plagues instead

Codex

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

Out of all lifeforms on this planet, none is more feared than the insidious Moadi-Bird.

Seek Not the Moadi-Bird

The Sylvan Incubus is a common name for the plant Dendrophagia Necrofoenae, a member of the Necrofoenae family. Like all Necrofoenae, it feasts on the dead - but it is one of the few that actually murders it's prey, before it feasts.

-Court Herbologist Gertrard di Vini, from his tome "dyFoenis Terrae Modae" - On the Plants of New Terra

A silent vestige sits among the vine covered ruins in a forest that has overgrown who once lived here. No more towers rise among the skeletal remains of a seeming once vast city. Instead, carved into the face of a leveled statue of a man, peaceful in his dead slumber now are etched the words - Si vis pacem para bellum – If you want peace, prepare for war.

Quest

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 . . .

Only after the unicorn hunts ended did the people realize that the unicorns were not returning. Many were saddened to discover that they had killed the last unicorns.  Some wept.

But when they returned many long years later, many more would weep.

Some people might call them cute, but unlike fireflies that just glow and look pretty, Fire Flies can give you nasty burns if you mess around with them, so look but don't touch.

Quest

Tiny, side-scuttling spiders.

Rumored to be lurking in the dark jungles surrounding the exotic city of Zibaba, these elusive beasts have yet to be seen by anyone within living memory.

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…

As the tree sprouted from his chest, and the roots anchored his body to the ground, he wished as he died that he had not eaten the golden apple.

Ever wonder what secret a Wizard’s beard holds? How did it get so long? Has this man really not shaved for that long?

"Though they walk as men and grow as weeds, they are neither; the angry dead, feeding the green with the rage until they walk again, yellowing bones bound by the twining green."

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.

A tree of somewhat macabre aspect - its coconut-sized fruit have hair-like fronds hanging down, suggesting decapitated heads dangling from the tree.

- First encountered during the Green War, leading to the loss of Castle Marcharin at the culmination of the Druid’s Seige