An incarnation of Laserbeak, and condor/cyborgs for the Cosmic Era
Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards... -- Gildor, via J R R Tolkien
The food of the Gods: specifically a bitter sappy God.
"Bah, dere be no such thing as no 'peripheral beast'. How can their exist a creature you canno' even look at?"
Torax Shieldbreaker, Dwarven explorer
A variety of bizarre but otherwise harmless insects.
Rabbit-leonine like grass dwellers, for flavour
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.
“So, you want to buy a horse?” the grizzled Catfolk horse-master said.
“Yes. I'd like to buy a battlesteed and I'll pay whatever you ask,” the human replied.
“No. We never sell the Little Brothers of the Clan. Find a regular horse instead.”
“But my Lord wants a battlesteed and ...”
It's so cute!
Wait, why is it glowing?
Mapmaker's bane, a few of these can ruin a decade of cartography!
Mind the nettles son, it's wet out.
The first sign of the Army of the Lost are the legs. Blown off legs, hopping along wearing their military boots. And not long afterwards, the rest of the Army arrives, and the horizon from left to right is filled with the decomposing bodies, many of which carry weapons. Unless you can outrun them or fortify your position, you will soon be joining this army of the Undead.
Displaced natives, the alien Kebah-Di'i have taken to the new ways of their adoptive society with surprising gusto.
Ghostchasers are small nocturnal birds that have the ability to see what normal humans and most other animals cannot.
The see the land dragons of Tevesage is to see the sharks of the land.
"And make sure the fruit stays dry."
- The Best Cook of Royal Navy, a book never read
The Zenahin Flower, Zenahin Bloom, Star Eye, Mood Flower, Little Judge, it has many names.
"Never forget the season if you want to defeat the plainsfolk."
Fluffy headed plant things with an equally fluffy headed personality
The grapes of sorrow
The city of Nausopol is built on stilts. Lots of very sturdy stilts and butresses, of course, because it rises about five hundred feet from the ocean. Even the most terrific of storms is only heard in the city as a distant cacophony of blasts as waves strike the solid stonework fathoms below. It has never been attacked because of its isolation and impregnability.
It's not a place for the faint-hearted: vertigo and sea-sickness are not desirable traits. But when you are standing in the middle of the city there is no way you could tell that you were standing above an ocean, separated only by a gulf of air and a few stones.
A thousand steps lead down from Nausopol to the floating docks. These docks are pitch-coated wooden and can be raised by winches during squalls. Trade with other cities and countries is good: Nausopol is built over a sunken atoll whose minerals are still mined by divers, and it was from this that it originally derived its wealth.
But the principal method of getting to and from the city is by riding the giant sea-eagles which have been captured and bred for that very reason.