These flowers give an... explosive suprise to those who would pick it for its silver stem and gold petals.
An addition for the Whimsical Flora Codex (based on my Crunalan society in my Dragon Empire setting)
All you need to stop a brain is a bullet.
"Alright where is the beast so that I can size it up?"
"That's the thing...you see that mountain range over there?"
"Yeah, the twin spires, what of it?"
"Well that's the beast"
An incarnation of Laserbeak, and condor/cyborgs for the Cosmic Era
Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards... -- Gildor, via J R R Tolkien
The food of the Gods: specifically a bitter sappy God.
"Bah, dere be no such thing as no 'peripheral beast'. How can their exist a creature you canno' even look at?"
Torax Shieldbreaker, Dwarven explorer
A variety of bizarre but otherwise harmless insects.
Rabbit-leonine like grass dwellers, for flavour
When you want a horse, but not any horse will do. You don't want a Lord's horse, nor one fit for a King. You want a horse bred for a God.
Be careful of unearthing legends, however.
“So, you want to buy a horse?” the grizzled Catfolk horse-master said.
“Yes. I'd like to buy a battlesteed and I'll pay whatever you ask,” the human replied.
“No. We never sell the Little Brothers of the Clan. Find a regular horse instead.”
“But my Lord wants a battlesteed and ...”
It's so cute!
Wait, why is it glowing?
Mapmaker's bane, a few of these can ruin a decade of cartography!
Mind the nettles son, it's wet out.
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.
Displaced natives, the alien Kebah-Di'i have taken to the new ways of their adoptive society with surprising gusto.
Ghostchasers are small nocturnal birds that have the ability to see what normal humans and most other animals cannot.
The see the land dragons of Tevesage is to see the sharks of the land.
"And make sure the fruit stays dry."
- The Best Cook of Royal Navy, a book never read
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.