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.
''In a world dominated by savagery and barbarism, we alone represent civilization. Is it any wonder then that we are forced to keep the horrors of the outside world at bay?''
-an anonymous Usholal
Veglins are fungus-goblin hybrids with a unique life cycle, all of whom are inflicted with inescapable racial dreams. Their biology and psychology are product's of an ancient, evil wizard's plan to get someone else to build his hideouts for him.
Swimming with the Great Western Tide that sweeps towards Tarrod from the far west of the Ocean, the mighty and enigmatic Uuluun sing songs that speak of the unfathomable gods of the deep, and wrestle each other in seabed-shaking contests of strength and martial skill.
The whales of the deep are not to be trifled with, those who hunt them are as mad as those who think to slay dragons.
Six months of hunting, six months of research and paying coin to scholars and sages, and now that we have the legendary wand of Geohadris the Stone King, it only summons stupid boulderkin? I am outraged beyond imagination!
Mapmaker's bane, a few of these can ruin a decade of cartography!
"It was just after nightfall when it came; a horrible, rotten mass of bone and flesh, with a voice that was like a thousand screams braided together. I only survived because I ran - I ran and I've never stopped running, because I know it's after me. Me, and everyone else who was there when the city of Vesta was slaughtered." -Hans, Former Captain turned nomad
Silent and invisible, the only herald of the arrival of Kayrun the Disintegrator is the screams of his victims.
He raised his sword to fight the foul undead thing in front of him, which was when it threw something only just glimpsed in the beam of his torch at him. When he blocked it with his sword, the resulting explosion both shattered his sword and took off his hand. As he turned to flee, screaming in pain, the Dumuzid he was facing stabbed him again and again until he fell dead to the sandy floor of the tomb.
Mind the nettles son, it's wet out.
Small puppets who take on the likeness of their owner upon death. They act as a silent sentry, militia, or officer of the law in the war stricken Dim-Sii Tribes of the Southern Lands
Wooden constructs skilled in the art of battle as well as extermination.
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.
The Harakan have been created with only one purpose in mind. They hunt the despised slaves of the Empire
This just in from the BBC. It seems a number of medieval archers and swordsmen have stopped a Grinch Attack in Nottingham mall. We take you live to....
A.k.a. Belcher, Fleshbag, Mr. Soupy, Spitter, or a Walking Cauldron
Support for your zombie legions...
It may be wondered why packs of wolves, Giant Spiders and other such animals would attack PCs, when said PCs are normally armed to the teeth with deadly weapons and spells. Surely it would make more sense to attack weaker prey? Sometimes it is because the PCs are threatening the animal's territory or cubs or egg sac. Sometimes the animals may be crazed with hunger. Or it may be because the animals have become infected by Atissi worms.
The fruit of the Wangadi tree should be treated with respect, because if eaten at the wrong time it can be mind blowing.
The Mihradhz shrieked, with a sound like fingernails on slate, as it was dragged headlong into our world by a greedy and uncaring spellcaster whose only desire was to defeat his rivals.
Now, this ol' ramblin fellow tends to walk his talk a bit too far down the train sometimes.. So I'll be brief in my recantin' of how it was my Tavern "came to bein'" on the multiverse as a weave of it's own spell.. And how I'm even alive to tell the story!
You see it's simple really, trust me.. that's my specialty, keepin it elementary. And you can trust this old Bard.
Anyway, this one night these wizards get a ramblin' on about the temporal exististance of space and time and how it could be manifested in a weave of super dimensional space. whereupon the folded space would give rise to an infinite number of entrances and exits to one or many spaces. Now, seein' how my talkin' sometimes get's locked into the way us folks used to talk back in the ol' west. These wizards didn't know I was a master of the word. and I had heard everything they said. They were also a bit over the wagon, while I was steerin' the show.
So that's how it came to pass, I struck a bargain with the wizards. They come to me in the morning and conjure up their idea into reality and I'd pledge them my life, my existance.. in essence my soul. but in a much nicer sense of the word. So they came by in the morning a half remembering our talks the prior evenin'. And I recanted their words verbatum, and that's how it came to be. The spell was complete that afternoon. My tavern would be the super dimensional cube that would exist in this weave of space and time, folks could come and go as they please, knowin in mind some of the rules and limitations set forth.
A few of 'em as follows.
No feller can be causin a ruckus inside any of my fine establishments, as always rule number one god damnit.
n' second the portal works kinda tricky. When ya outside ya cast the spell and lend your will to luck a bit and regardless the doors to the bar will appear, the windows a luminescent amber.. you can hear the chattee but ya can't see in. And the catch is the door might be locked, in which case you chalk it up to lady luck and go walk off and try again in an hour. Now most times the door pops right open and from the outside you always come in the front door, immediately greeted by myself or one of our many fine patrons of Hooper McFin's Ale & Steakhouse.
Now when ya cast the spell from inside the Tavern, another catch comes up. The back door is mainly a secret for the non-initiated staff and the regulars but for sake of the prose let's assume we all know there's a secret door in the back with a portal there. Now when you go on through this one, you got two scenario's you oughta be aware of. One is ya pop outside relative to the same spot you came out. The other is, you walk back on into this one or another of our many Hooper McFin's Ale & Steakhouse.
so it's a clever quantum railroad I got my tavern and my people's caught on. But, Hey the show's sure as always goin. ohhh' rutin tootin skidoodle -
** And that's it.. that's the only notes I found on the spell, apparently out there somewhere is a Tavern caught on the mighty ebb and flow of the multiverse. Well. at least I can put to rest my torment as to the condition now referred to as "Hooper McFin's Teleportation Paranoia".
Dr. Clarke T. Mulligan - Professional researcher of Time & Space.
Hooper McFin's Ale & Steakhouse