The squid parsnip shuddered as the impact shattered the dawn. The dungeon had irrupted into the life of the —valley.
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.
Beyond the Rainbow bridge the Eater of Sins (gréhožêr- m VDR) awaits the Warriors of Wadarun
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!
“It’s amazing how little it is to connote a saint in Wapadi tradition. Simply learn how to project a little ectoplasmic (warm hue variant) halo and the Dear Consumer knows you are good and holy. Even if you’re merely a hedgefund wizard, not even a beeromancer.” – the Apocrypha of Saint Fox 2:16
In the six valleys of Water Bear XI the chernozyom angels would give life to dancing loam men to till the fields of the Flower War Gods during the festivals of the Balls and Sabers. Tourists and dignitaries from the plateaus of Water Bear XIII and the twin triplet cities of Fire Bear IV were regular visitors.
I’ll make no bones about it. Fools these mortals be, with their petty squabbles and their disregard for reason. Makes a shave-pate monk-saint wonder how all will end, after the last canticle is sung, the last candle mass is wrung.
We never did figure out what the No-eyes wanted. They just stood there, glowing redly in the mossy shadows of the Sporenoon Times.