“Evil” often infests swamp. This tree thrives when the other plants wither under the presence of true Evil. However, this is not an evil plant, but a land healing one as nature attempts to reclaim its own.
Fydre tried to destroy cities and return people to the Green in his lifetime. His “curse” attempts to drive people out of the cities.
There are times at night when you think the evil tree spirits are out to get you. They open their eyes. They reach for you, grasping for your soul. When you try to run, the very ground rebels, you trip and fall, often finding the branches reaching for you in the night air.
The basis for many a bardic tale of courting and love, these beautiful small flowers symbolize new love to many.
A plant named for its gords, both in the smell of wet dog and for their roughly dog like appearance.
Treller Vines are impressive enough in the jungle, where they wind along trees adding a riot of color. Then they moved to a new neighborhood.
Sometimes, someone is watching in the middle of the night.
It is a squeeky clean flower.
Scarlett Call: Also known as Blood Tangle, Tryms Mark (Trym being a god of Battle), Hunter’s Eye,Krell’s Mark (Krell being an Evil Spirit whos worship has to deal with blood), Widow’s Tears, Scarlet Call, and Earth’s Wounds. When blood has been shed in anger or waste, The Scarlett Call will be there.
When an opposing army brings in the big weapons, your kingdom has no choice but to ante up or fold - and a trained Battle Mage from the Guild of Arcane Combatants if nothing if not a big weapon. But what happens your generals and their generals have a common goal?
“ew. What is that smell? Where did it come from?”
“Where did that wyvern come from!”
A bright red flower that faces certain directions all in unison.
Quote from an idea of Strolen: “A series of trees drop super spiny seeds to the ground. Only the most durable shoes can keep the spines from stabbing through.”
Pixie flowers are small flowering ground cover. The plant itself is a creeping vine that can cover the side of a building like an ivy.
“Like the Jewel of the Mire, the soul is a bright light along the dark path of time. “
All too often, a new magical creature, or plant is not seen with wonder or awe, but rather a keen eye for exploitation. In the often violent and brutal realm of role-playing, the wonders of nature are often overlooked, and never realized. I though I would start this thread to see if anyone else had any ideas along these lines. With that being said, may I present…
The authors of Mediaeval bestiaries were not merely concerned with providing a description of creatures. No, for them, everything in Creation had a purpose - nothing had been made without an ulterior aim: the edification and instruction of sinful man. So, each creature described is not merely an animal but a living parable, imbued with moral or religious symbolism.
Sovereign’s Swords are the distinctive weapons of the Sovereign’s Finest, the upper ranked members of the Kingdom’s forces. These special agents are the Sovereign’s hands, imparting justice and rulings when needed, being embassy, or doing special duties.
On the intersection of Noble Avenue and First Street lies Kandorr’s Fine Perfumery. The shop occupies the entire building which is built in a classical style with majestic marble pillars and stylish stained glass windows.
Long ago it was the ‘Sleeping Bull’ or something, but everybody calls it The Chimney nowadays. All because of the atmosphere, it is thicker than the soup they serve here, as some patrons like to claim.
Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the “Ash-Wind” comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.