The muggers cornered the little goblin against the wall, when with a hissing noise he suddenly grew to double his size. Muscles bulged out from his body and they lokked at each other, then turned and ran. The Sproggan watched them go and grinned at the thought of how well he had fooled them, and when they were gone he deflated back to his normal size and went on his way.
A plague in improverished locations, the Rot Beetle is the bane of those who are not careful about where or what they eat.
Also known as Virgin’s Rose, the Secret Flower, and the Scarlet Lady
The Zenahin Flower, Zenahin Bloom, Star Eye, Mood Flower, Little Judge, it has many names.
A flower that blooms in honor of the sun itself.
The thief looked around to make sure noone was near and then grabbed a golden jewel-studded chalice. At once two bronze effigies sat up on the tombs they lay on, their ruby-red eyes snapped upon and they spoke in a metalic voice which echoed through the nave. "Put that back and leave this holy place, or face death for your act of sacriliege."
"...I’ll be damned if I go within a league of the Girders. Death is there on eight damn legs clicking and chugging away." Ex-salvager Tim McClanny
Known as the Plateau of Dread, the desert where the civilization of the Thauns once shimmered is now a wasteland battled over by immortal tyrants.
Steel is the herald of dawn. Steel is the slayer of tyrants. Steel is the bringer of liberty. Steel shall prevail.
Thirteen souls the devil took
And thirteen sons back he sent
Lust, Greed, Gluttony
Perversion, Wrath, Envy
Pride, Vice, Blasphemy
Sloth, Misery, Catastrophe
In the bleak midwinter frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.
English poet (1830 - 1894)
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.
Electro-Clockwork assassins of the Far East.
"Never forget the season if you want to defeat the plainsfolk."
"It’s important to remember, when dealing with the clockfolk, that they only LOOK like toys."
"Aye, 'dis here is yer problem, squire. Yer gone and got yerself a Cog Devil infestation in the ol' gear box, haven't ya? Look at the little bugger squirm, eh? Nah, dont be embarrassed, squire. It's better than lice on yer privates, innit? Coz, they're harder to get rid of, they are. And a lot more expensive too.."
Istherm Mild (esq.), licensed steam engine mechanic, overheard advicing one of his customers…
In the deep of night, even the most jaded of criminals will look over their shoulders for the telltale scarlet glow of the steamwalkers.
The grinding of gears in the dead of night is a precursor of an unforgiving danger. Survivors remember little, save the smell of metal and death.
The dead, imbued with the divine essence of magic, walk again, ever hungry for the missing spark of a living soul.