According to the Pnah-u-matigg of Miblos (Easter Edition) the sentient tree processors of the Savage Forests Turquoise West of City Fifteen Human 70% are infested by a tiny race of chameleon riders.
Defeated, Pointyhelmet railed against the demimonde that misunderstood him so. Against the fool companions who had failed against Bigtroll Blaargh.
Go, go lord Flower Power!
Unremitting lord of vegetable messengers!
Bringer of pots and powers!
We never did figure out what the No-eyes wanted. They just stood there, glowing redly in the mossy shadows of the Sporenoon Times.
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.
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.
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.