The hood of many horns weighed upon the angel of many horns as it beheld the cabbage of creation in the middle of the tow-path of thorns above the pass of prurient passers-by.
In a city of angels, each angel forever bears a fragile, wonderful biome for ever with them in their suit. Safe, protected, pure and inviolate, never changed by admixture or dilution. The angels speak in pulses of high-frequency radio waves repeating to each other how terrific and tremendous and hugely complex their internal environments are.
Hey! Teachers! Leave them potential-labor-units alone!
All in all it’s just another housing-construction-element in the wall.
Dakota Pulpdike went to Saint Nick and said, “I’d like to fly like a dragon, sir, that’d make me happy as a fir!”
Far Future Ulrich came into sight of the cities of Wasteland and Warlords. It’s cargo of hieratic antiquities from the age of the Mock Turtle would purchase enough soulmill credit to appease the Lords of the Light to return Jitana after she was slain in the metalmeater ambush at Vault of Creation 723:2.
In the lychee jungles of Hy-Lomblay heroic hunters hasten hither and thither, battling the bark-skinned dandelion lychee-leeches whose succulent white-and-red-and-blue speckled flesh is a delicacy among the Socialite Vampires of the Upper Trader Philanthropist Caste.
The goatodon is the chimerical elephant-analog your gonzo fantasy game deserves. Also, it’s more green than an elephant.
Recently John Carlson asked me if I would be interested in illustrating his OSR adventure, Automata Run Amok in the politest e-mail I have had the pleasure of receiving in a long time. What ensued was a fun collaboration and the opportunity to help shape a very enjoyable entry-level adventure. Oh, I also drew a few pictures for it.
Brave Sir Knight Pointyhorns strove against the Buggles of the dark places of the ——shire, the bards do tell. Beasts they were, great and gaunt. Half-bug, half-man, half-elephant, with mouths like razors and great mourney eyes. Yay, verily, smote them Sir Knight Pointyhorns most well, as proven by these dents upon his shield of yore and by this vial of pure buggle acid.