God forbid that I should go to any Heaven where there are no horses.
- R. B. Cunninghame-Graham
Does that thing ever shut it’s blasted mouth? Why did you give it one to begin with?
A tiny life-form not consciously malignant but nevertheless to be careful of…it could get you into a lot of trouble!
The Thoron. The great crystal ones. The Speakers of Lightning. The unstoppable wall. The unmovable force. Many are their names, few are their numbers, even less is the understanding Man has of them.
Twin-aspected aliens, the Kel’Regar are strange creatures, and their alien society, strange technology, and lithe bodies evoking the images of elves in some humans.
And in the name of the great and powerful I command thee to return to your body, hearth and soul, so that you might walk again and continue in the gods plans.
See that. . . wait. . . what!?! NO! I knew it was too risky here. You have brought ruin to us all. Why you ask? Ready your weapon, a traveler has come.
-Father Hayden, performing a ritual on the deceased outside the protection of the church.
Bursting with an incredible, terrible complexity, the Oraki are a powerful breed of mechanoids, once that blurs the line between machine and man from the other direction.
The dual, muted voice called out it’s siren wail across the dunes, “...Of course, no one as brilliant as yourself would ever enter the deeper desert without one of my extra light canteens. Why, I haven’t seen anyone come out alive without them! If you act now I can give you the reduced price…”
Not all vampires suck blood, there are those who suck feelings as well and you often have no idea of it until the vampire is feeding upon you.
Standing atop the parched hill and triumphantly displaying their gory trophies , the berserker s begin to shriek aloud their terrible, keening war-cries, confident that the coming battle will belong to them as the enemy flees before their frenzied onslaught, all its discipline and training forgotten in the face of a foe that harbors no fear at all for any enemy born of humanity.
Just as the red mist clouding their eyes begins to fill their minds with fantasies of mass slaughter, a mass of shadowy figures suddenly materialises out of the darkness, charging towards the berserkers with long, loping strides that lend them speed that is at once awesome and terrifying to witness, even to the crazed minds of these onlookers.
As a heavy,furry shape hurtles into the the commander, he falls to the ground, his throat ripped out by the savage fangs of his assailant. As his life ebbs away from him in the rapidly expanding jet of blood gushing from his ripped arteries, savage growls become the lullaby lulling him into the never-ending slumber of death.
Egads! Don’t you humans understand how freaking repulsive you look? I’m getting sick to my stomachs right now… urp…
Nempori Diplomat Ocan
The shark is the most efficient hunters in the realms. This has empowered the Shark Spirit, to become the Beast Hunting Spirit. This powerful spirit has bound elementals of various kinds and places with a shark imprint. These bound spirits spawn new shark races: land sharks, sand sharks, sky sharks, and as for here, The OcrheMaws.
An assortment of magical, dangerous plants, derived from natural plants and steeped in odd magics.
Nothing like a slug to clean up a mess…
In the forests around the Unseen Fortress, there are numerous dangerous trees. Here are a few of them…
“Wait, is that the same Damn tree we’ve been seeing all day?”, Ured the strong demanded. “No… Yes, yes it is.” stammered Fenstill the mage.
“Well, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to kill you now…” said Ured, drawing his sword. “I understand,” said the mage, wondering why he got into the magic business anyway…
With apologies to Monty Python…
From their home, the winds high above the desolate lands below, these giant winged creatures strike silently and sure.
A great supernatural serpant - Wise yet mercurial
“Yarun slipped into the pit - his curses suddenly converted into screams of mortal agony. Looking down into the pit, all we saw was a mass of writhing serpents and frothing blood….”
“They just keep coming. You cut one down, two more are right behind it. We can’t win, they just keep coming…”
- Unnamed soldier, overheard at the battle of Caele Aran
“Why should we send our young men off to die when we can manufacture the War Walkers for the same purpose?”
- War-Theurge Ceylon of the Fourth Dynasty Army
The local band of 'nasties' (goblins / orcs / whatever) lives in relative peace with the local population.
Along come the PCs and go through their usual heroic monster bashing routine, wiping out the nasties and pinching all their stuff, then continue on their way.
Problem is, they don't kill ALL he nasties. The survivors want revenge and, after spending a few months recovering, start to take it in their own inimitable style (which is not unlike that of the PCs come to think of it).
Next time the PCs are in the area they find themselves VERY unpopular with the townsfolk.