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....
Have you noticed that The Elves all belong to the same culture, all speak the same langauge, and all seem to be equally good at everything? I have a theory about that.
These lovely people had the unfortunate luck of living adjacent to a zenophobic bug race and a species that would defend their colonies
Synthetic Bioforms: (Syns, Synths, SBF): The use of synthetic people helps alleviate the manpower shortage and most real peoples’ dislike for manual labor. They are also cheaper, easier to utilize, and easier to maintain than robots in most situations. Encyclopedia Galactica 2453ed
You can hear the song from miles away. The song is enchanting in a mild way. Even the plants sing this haunting tune all day. This gives you fair warning to be ready to dance to a different tune. You are leaving your country and entering theirs.
I know. I know. It sounds crazy. But look at it! Look at what it is doing. The lightning strikes! Three times right on top of us. The hail. It just struck our car. The Wind hitting the house so hard. It is after us. It wants something. And, if we can figure out what it wants, I say we give it to ... it.
It is pitch black. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
The Dark Kind came to the world as conquerors. They failed. Now they are odd neighbors.
You could only hear the rest of them. And you could only hear them because they didn’t mind being heard. Running in the trees they were. We followed the little guy named Dorto. He led us to a spot and said in broken Gallen, "Here is village". There was nothing there I tell you. We looked about and could not see a thing. He smiled and pointed up. You could see it then, the huts and nests and ropes. A bunch of them were just hanging there by their feet looking at us. It was going to be an odd night. Exerpt from A Sailor’s Journey, by Ptholus WindRider
Clarence was singing in harmony as his kind is wont to do. Their singing reinforced the "song of existance". It was a somewhat important job, even though only a handful were needed rather than the hundreds that did so. He and others near him noticed the pin prick discordence in the weave of melody that was the material realm. Those dark alien notes rose up. The Angel Mind touch the Divine and followed the new sub melody. Humans would call it a plan. Angels dove to the material realm and, of course, if any world was going to be causing problems, it had to be Earth. Oh well, at least Clarence would know his way around.
The mall was all in motion as the tide of people moved to and fro. From behind the Santa Photospot, it formed. The circular "wreath" manifested. The Green Monsters slipped through The Gateway. When they numbered five, they lumbered forward. Breaking through the Santa Photo Display, they began their destruction of Christmas.
There was a flicker through the workshop. Most Elfs did not realize it had happened. They kept working like nothing happened. Toby didn’t understand how he knew, but he felt more solid, more real; which for an Elf - a spirit of Christmas- was pretty amazing. Toby knocked on batteries he was putting in some toys, they seemed more solid too. This odd feeling did not last long, as the Ultra Naughty Alarm went off. Someone was threatening Christmas itself. He quickly reached into his tool kit. Toby hefted his monkey wrench which felt amazingly stable and solid. The Elfs were going to fix this naughtiness straight away.
Humanity is as varied as the stars themselves.
Gate Hounds, also known as Temple Dogs to the South, are a breed apart from most hounds. These gifts from The Others
The Others are a magical, elder race, that occasionally interact with Humanity.
Captain, I see two dozen general displacement ships just coming into sensor range outside the system. There is no warp signature sir.
How Odd. Helmsman lay in an intercept course and let us investigate.
The D’athri took to space in such a way to make Terrans look "gun shy". They can be found in small numbers in and around every space port in Known Space.
Their wyrm tainted blood and slaver ways mark them as not Human. These are the Evil of the Old World. They are Dylori.
"I have to give the creature credit. After it stood its ground for a bit, it charged me. Sure I outweighed it by nearly 100 stones, but that would not deter it. I almost didn’t have the heart to kill it." Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIV Blue Guild Press
"...The spider did win, but his victory was short lived. The Crawler came down from the rocks above and killed him, then eating the Waste Spider, The Rat, and the small bit of jerky that I started this battle royal with. " Exerpt: A Prospector’s Tale, VOL XXIII Blue Guild Press
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?