Chunks of the thunderbirds' prey can fall eternally, or splatter upon the floating islands that spin through the sky. The Plane of Air's few land-bound creatures make their homes here, isolated for eons until the winds push two islands together and the denizens fall to xenophobic warfare.
Like the pitiless sky, creatures from the Air Rifts are uncaring, arrogant, entirely heartless. They are the wind that twirls a falling man end over end like a shiny bauble, letting him crash against the rocks without ever raising him aloft.
Griffons, rocs, and harpies fly Telara's skies, lifting cattle back to their mountain nestsâ€”and only cattle, if the cowherds are lucky. Brutish gargoyles crouch on the parapets of abandoned castles, while cockatrices nest in towers, the filthy scavengers ready to swarm the unwary with plague-ridden claws. Vespidsâ€”wasps the size of horsesâ€”venture from their barrow-hives, hunting for mortal bellies in which to lay their eggs. And yetis barrel down from the mountain peaks, shrieking like the wind, hungry as a yawning crevasse.