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
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.
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.
A tool-using monkey of great dexterity.
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
A flower from the gardens of the Divine…
The Shambler is not a subtle foe. It bursts onto the scene like an elephant-sized lion to trample and smash it’s foes…
Beware these shrub-sized gaurdians of the forest.
Moonlight shines down on the tranquil scene of a slumbering inn along one of the many roads that cross the land. Trees sway gently in the night air, and the stars twinkle brightly. All is quiet as the PCs snore away, a fine tendril of smoke curlsrnunder their door. The tavern is on fire! This is particularly bad news if the PCs own any horses - the screaming they hear is probably from their mounts! Panicky people are rushing about with buckets of water, trying to tame the flames. The fire fighting effort is not very coordinated as everybody is either hungover or still drunk, including the PCs. Hurry!