"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
"Gak! Cough! I just swallowed a bug."
It is said that the bite of a Manna Mosquito can turn someone with no magical power into a spellcaster, but few are willing to pay the price for such power.
The susurrating death-bringer of the Northern Moors.
As the small group of mercenaries settled down for the night, they failed to notice that some small pieces of barbed wire sticking out of the ground nearby were moving like tentacles.Until it was too late and they woke to feel it clutched around their throats and squeezing hard. As their blood spilled upon the ground the Barbed Arms had claimed yet more victims.
Also known as the Ankarran Thistle, Magewort, and a general nuisance.
The Snarf is one of the funnier and seemingly harmless and defenseless beasts, but underestimate it at your peril.
The VirginsBane Beetle has ruined the life of many an innocent girl. Many a forced wedlock or an honour killing has been caused by it’s sting.
Fiendish of appearance, beware these black kine…
“Careful where you step. There’re grassbiters ‘round here.”
“Like a great, green god he stalks the savannah!”
The Falani Tersk is an easy going and willing breed. They are very intelligent and eager to learn new tricks or commands. This along with their lovely silver color makes them highly desirable as circus horses as well as very accomplished hunter mounts and race horses.
“From the desert I come to thee on a stallion shod with fire.”
The calcobrinian Hotblood. One of the Oldest and purest of all horse breeds. Also a foundation breed for all know types of light riding/racing horses. It is considered by many to be the single most beauitful of all the breeds as well. With it’s refined head, dished profile, large expressive eyes, high spirits, and unique floating gait.
To the vulture, the body of the lion down below seemed to be a tasty morsel. It appeared to be slightly swolen with the beginnings of decay, but that was to be expected. He dived down, landed beside it, and bit deeply inside it.And the body exploded, showering him with entrails, blood, and a strange dust.
He preened himself to get as clean as possible, ate his fill and flew off. And an hour later he fell dead to the ground, and his body began to swell with the spores and fibres of the Corpse’s Revenge.
The Hill Folk are friendly, as well known for their crafts as their crops.
Blibs are generally genial in nature, posessing malicious thoughts only for the flying insects they eat. But regardless of their peacful predispositions, bodily harm is inevitable if one happens to be standing in a blib’s shadow as it falls out of the sky.
Brutish masters of the Highlands, the grey-skinned, wolf-riding men of the Flinthill Clan are famed for their ferocity and their savagery.
They are the menace of the borderlands, travelling with their herds paths they used for millenia, and razing any signs of civilization in the process. When the winter is especially harsh or the summer unusually dry, they descend upon the heartlands of kingdoms like a plague, more a natural disaster than an enemy.
The accepted mode of getting otherwise unobtainable information is to go visit the cranky old hermit living in the mountains. It's just the sensible thing to do. So, naturally, everyone takes their monthly excursion to the hermit's hovel to consult him on everything, from lock-jaw to lovesickness, necromancers to nasal viruses.
Now, if everyone's always visiting the poor old hermit, there's going to be an enormous queue... "Wellcome to the Hermitt's Hovele, Please Take Ye a Number and Have Ye a Seate" reads the sign outside the packed dwelling.
Imagine the poor hermit, having retreated into the mountains to escape this precise situation...