In a world filled with unique chimera, some are more unique than others OR A chimera divided against itself must fall!
500 word, chimera challenge
A real-world location fit for filling out your adventure; where norse icelandic fishermen suffered unthinkable conditions throughout frigid winters to harvest the fruits of the ocean.
The challenge is simple, write a 500 word location submission, with the theme of Winter being prominent. Entries will be added to this codex.
The bow is a highly intelligent weapon, with memories and plans. The wielder of the bow is a brainless zombie, who is still perfectly capable of wielding the weapon. Together, they're an NPC.
An unstrung and useless piece of cold wood, unless you happen to be dead.
Suddenly an east wind blew, and far above the clouds rolled and folded. Where there were once whisps of white there was now a long cloud formed in the shape of a recurved bow. Malakh bowed her head in humility. "That which you have asked is granted you, O Warrior."
...Vaakri reached and stretched, grasping at the sky. At first he seized nothing, but his heart was filled with the Empyrean Emir's winds and light, and finally he grasped the bow from the far sky and drew it to the earth.
- The legend of Vaakri
The dark elf femme fatale Elainuk was the firstborn son of Robert and Lulu Bobblecork. She was born a healthy bouncy baby boy in the shire of Pedstand, which was part of the Cordially Aligned Tetrarchy of Halfling States.
An addition for the Whimsical Flora Codex (based on my Crunalan society in my Dragon Empire setting)
Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood..."Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...'"