Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Gore-Worms (Wermspittle)


No. Enc.: a single mass of 6d6 writhing worms
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 20'
Armor Class: 9
Hit Dice: 2 (for entire mass) [single, bloated specimens have been recorded reaching up to 8 HD...]
Attacks: 1 (blood-drain or infest) + Feeblemind effect
Damage: 2d4 blood-drain/per turn or infest
Save: F2 (+4 to Save against all non-surgical forms of removal)
Morale: 4

Thoroughly nasty things, gore-worms are prone to infesting areas around butchers, tanners, and such establishments where wholesale slaughter takes place, including some of the less reputable underground gladiatorial arenas, almshouses and hospitals. The gore-worms are not fussy about what, or whom, they infest, as long as it has plenty of blood for them to feed upon.

When a group of gore-worms bite into any sort of flesh, they either drain it of all blood until it or they are killed, or they attempt to infest the flesh, squirming deep into the tissues and going dormant (in dead flesh), and attempting to subvert the will of their host (in living flesh). Every other turn that a victim suffers blood-drain by gore-worms, they must make a Save or else fall under a Feeblemind effect and obey the worms crawling around within them. The victim gets to re-roll this Save every other turn they are being fed upon or infested. Every time the victim fails the Save, they take no damage but are urged to seek out fresh blood for the gore-worms to dine on. Anyone subjected to this sort of domination for too long runs a serious risk of slipping into permanently becoming a host for the gore-worms (called 'Worm Feeders' by the butcher-boys), and in some extreme cases, these hosts have survived the transition into undeath only to continue serving their wormy masters, which has led to the development of Writhers and Wormtongues, among other, even worse specimens.

Because of their exposure to various contaminants in the sewers, such as the decayed remains of dismembered undead, vampire ashes, and other such waste-products of an active and on-going adventurer sub-culture, there are  various sorts of sub-types and mutant varieties of gore-worms that appear from time to time. Some of these variant strains are of more or less value or interest depending upon their abilities, proclivities and overall disposition.

Infectidrone (Fever Machine) [Mutant Future/Mythos Future]

Infectidrone (Fever-Machine)
No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Chaos
Movement: 120'
Armor Class: 3
Hit Dice: 4*
Attacks: 3 (2 Claws, Toxin or Psychic)
Damage: 1d10/1d10, or Toxin, or Psychic
Save: L3
Morale: 12
Hoard Class: None

Basic MutationsAberrant Form (Yuggothic nanofungi), Neural Telepathy, 1 random additional mutation per Hit Die gained over the initial 4HD.

*Infectidrones gain +1 hit point per victim fully consumed. When they acquire one full hit die over their starting amount, they undergo either fission (becoming two half-powered drones), or mutate into a new model with 1d4 new randomly determined abilities, skills or mutations.
Psychic Attacks: One of the following, determined randomly
[Average WIL= 9-16 (D8+8 ]
  1. Mental Phantasm
  2. Mind Thrust
  3. Possession
  4. Vampiric Field

They do not sleep. Nor do they dream. They survive in vacuum or in a wide range of environments. The infectidrones continually mutate, evolve and refine their abilities, attacks and defenses over time and through exposure to new stimulus. Literally, anything that does not kill them makes them stronger, and even things that kill one might trigger an evolutionary adaptation in any survivors in close proximity.

Horrid, unspeakable amalgams of machine and fungus, their internal organs awash in bizarre viral solutions and genetic transembly sub-systems, the Infectidrones are autonomous weaponized vectors of pestilence made flesh and unleashed upon the populations of the Solar Possessions as a plague incarnate. A million-million plagues incarnate, really, as no two Infectidrones are ever exactly alike and they are continually adapting, evolving and growing into ever stranger, weirder and more horrific things as they accumulate experience, exposure and interaction.

Infectidrones are autonomous cyber-fungal automatons that spontaneously develop from cultures of Quickspores that have been seeded across the inner-reaches of various contested solar systems by the Yuggothians.

Each and every outbreak of Infectidrones quickly evolves into something unique that unleashes any number of radicalized fungal-plagues within closed ecosystems such as habitats, ships or bases.

Range 50' and inflicts 2d10 damage plus one additional damage-effect as rolled from table below:
  1. Make Save or Infected with fever that allows the drone to control victim for 3 rounds (as per Parasitic Control).
  2. Inflicts Reduced Oxygen Efficiency mutation on victim.
  3. Causes Hyper-Hemophilia.
  4. Infiltrates victims inner systems and begins to grow a small nanoscale tumor that will hatch as a Quickspore in 1d100 years (even after death). This has no other obvious effect on the victim.
  5. Victim's skin dissolves into a sticky, wet mass that sloughs off and remains actively toxic for 5d20 years.
  6. Fever One: Victim must Save or loses 1 point of INT per hour, every hour, becoming increasingly irrational and delirious. Should they reach 0-INT they become mindless hot-hosts to ambulatory fungal colonies. If they make their Save 3 times in a row, the fever breaks and either goes dormant (80%) or is purged (10%), or will relapse after 4d20 turns (10%).
  7. Fever Two: Victim must make Save or lose 1d4 CON and their blood becomes infiltrated with spores, allowing them to breathe freely in spore-clouds, but also rendering them effectively demi-fungal and has a base 30% chance to be recognized as non-human by scanners, detectors, spells, mutations, etc.
  8. Fever Three: Victim's bones are converted into a brittle, waxy consistency making them exceptionally prone to limb-breakage. They now must make a Save or else take double damage (60%) or suffer a broken bone (40%) from all melee attacks.
  9. Fever Four: Victim's flesh is rapidly consumed and replaced with fungal tissues. Re-roll all physical stats as though a new character. Every time the new body sustains more than 4 points of damage and manages to heal (at double the previous rate), it gains 1d4 points to apply to the alien consciousness (INT, WIS and CHAR) growing deep within its cells. When/If the fungal body achieves enough of its own personality, it will begin to attempt to take over the character's mind...
  10. Fever Five: roll once on Gorgonmilk's Dungeonfunk Table.
  11. Save at -2 or suffocate within 2d6 turns from choking on rampantly expanding spore-pustules. Sometimes these spores dissolve easily in alcohol (50%), other times they dissolve in oil (40%) or vinegar (10%).
  12. Make Save or else fever results in spontaneous combustion of victim's flesh for an additional 4d10 damage within the next 2d4 turns.

Cyclopean Sub-Types (Random Table/Any System)

Le cyclope by Odilon Redon [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Not Just Any Cyclops...
  1. Slightly stooped, even bow-legged and nearly hairless, these cyclopes have curiously snoutish faces that end in a sharply curved turtle-like beak, granting them an additional (and wickedly effective) bite attack. Their skin is speckled, streaked and wrinkled like a turtle, and their fingers and toes all end in long, narrow claws that are slightly webbed, which they use to swim. While they cannot actually breathe underwater, they will only reluctantly move very far beyond the reach of whatever source of freshwater they currently lurk around. They cannot tolerate salt-water, it does some slight but persistent damage to them (1d4/turn for as long as they are exposed). Those of their number who are war-like will always carry a heavy, scale-encrusted shield, even if they rely on their fists or spells to fight. Non-combatants prefer to rely upon their swimming ability to carry them away from possible predators or those who would seek to harm them. In general, these cyclopes are peaceful, and have a semi-clannish culture that is dominated by basket-weavers and net-makers. Their baskets, nets and other such works are incredibly delicate and much sought after by merchants...but the cyclopes have no use for money, and insist upon bartering.
  2. Tall, shaggy and with twisty-curly horns jutting from their massive heads, these cyclopes have exceedingly pronounced brows that give them a grim, even taciturn countenance. They deliberately allow a special type of vine to wrap itself around their limbs, even going so far as to make small incisions so that the vines can send tendrils into their veins to acquire sustenance. It is a curious symbiosis. These huge beings move about the heavily forested slopes of their preferred territories silently, unseen and without attracting unwanted attention. They also craft incredibly large longbows and have set-out all manner of dead falls, pits and worse traps to deter intruders into their isolated valleys and plateaus.
  3. Short, spindly and dull ochre in over-all complexion, these diminutive cyclopes erect peculiar structures atop lonely hilltops. They are very, very old as a people, and seem to know most languages after listening to them only briefly, as they know the root-tongues of the primordial tribes, or at least that is what certain disreputable scholars have speculated. A persistent and beguiling theory that has led to countless expeditions to study these reclusive beings. So far no such group or individual intent on learning the secrets of these cyclopes has ever returned. Little more is known about them, though charlatans, frauds and liars have spun many an unlikely tale about the strange secrets reputed to be known by these beings, though no one knows what they are called. Even the oldest, boldest and crassest opportunists have never named these creatures. Yet.
  4. Heavily bearded and olive-complected, these cyclopes wear a great deal of intricately wrought jewelry and curiously articulated breastplates so encrusted with ornamentation as to be practically unwearable by anyone not able to lug around as much weight as they apparently can manage without encumbering themselves. Masters of working with amber, ivory and gold, these cyclopes craft incredibly rich items of ostentation and opulence that have attracted the avarice and greed of thousands of tyrants and despots. But these cyclopes do not care about such things. They care only for their craft and the mastery of their chosen materials. Violence and fighting mean nothing to them, though they are indeed physically powerful and capable of demolishing their opponents with weapons so beautiful they can make demi-gods weep in appreciation of the workmanship alone. Amongst themselves, these cyclopes do not compete in wrestling or brawling, instead they compete through their artistry and their works. And that is what makes them so dangerous--for a weapon to be truly beautiful, it must be put to use. So these beings who create such incredible things rely upon the lesser, far more vulgar and mentally-stunted races to put their latest creations to work in slaughtering one another.
  5. Hairy, smelly and brutish, these cyclopes have a single rather pronounced horn jutting outwards from their skull just above their one big eye. Their upper body is covered with a thick, pock-marked hide and their lower legs are those of a satyr or goat. Each hoof is the equivalent of a heavy mace when used to kick opponents, and a good stomp can be as effective as a battering ram against doors, walls and gates. They will use weapons, but most often prefer to rely upon their huge fists and whatever is easily to-hand, such as boulders or trees. These cyclopes generally cannot swim, but have been known to construct crude rafts. They will content themselves with wandering across the rocky defiles and cave-riddled hills of their homeland, tending flocks of goats, sheep and eloi, unless something -- or someone -- stirs them up and gets them agitated. Then they relentlessly hunt down their enemies with a single-mindedness that is both incredible and horrible to behold. They are implacable foes, some of whom rise from their graves to continue their vendetta against particularly hated opponents. These cyclopes know nothing of forgiveness, and much about vengeance.
  6. Mountain-dwellers who sing paeans to the wind and tempests in their incredibly deep voices, these cyclopes wield lightning as their preferred weapon of choice and manufacture hordes of brazen and other automatons that they send into battle ahead of them. They only deal with the lower, lesser races through emissaries and agents...but few can tell which of these are legitimate and what ones are duplicitous opportunists.
  7. Scaly and serpentine, these cyclopes grow fat and sluggish beneath the tumbled ruins of great stone cities that have long since been overgrown by the jungles and rain forests. Poisonous, wretched things, they lurk deep within the ruins of their palaces and mutter to themselves in sour tones. Accursed and cast down from the heights, they crawl through the dirt, dust and bones like the snakes they once enslaved. Now they are hunted by medusae and preyed-upon by the worms who claim the deeps. Serpent-men war once warred upon them, but that was long ago and they have mostly forgotten about these lingering remnants of an unfortunate age when these beings still walked upright as bloody-handed kings and queens who lorded it over vast armies of poison-deranged slaves driven mad by the cyclopes mind-destroying venom and addictive, soul-rotting spells.
  8. Crystal-boned oracles cursed to abandon the sun and embrace the darkness, these cyclopes are few in number these days. Aged and bent, wizened and ponderous in their movements, they remain incredibly clever in their bitterness and spiteful in their defeat. With elaborate patience they have slowly, carefully developed subtle plans against the forces that destroyed their empire long, long ago. But as with many of their efforts, perhaps they have been too subtle, waited for too long. Old now, mostly forgotten and relegated to obscurity and mythology, these cyclopes brood in their shadowed vaults and contemplate intricate strategies that may never see any real fruition beyond their descent into senility, dementia and impotent madness. Their blood is corrosive with the hatred they hold smoldering within them and their eyes have become glassy, gem-like spheres that reveal much to any who would risk harvesting one from among their deep, deep tombs. But anyone capable of seeing so much would undoubtedly take precautions against such retrieving the smoldering eye of one of these cyclopes is an exceedingly dangerous undertaking. But as with all their kind, the cyclopes tend to be a bit one-track about things, and they lack true depth perception. A flaw that proved fatal to their old dominions when the so-called lesser races rose up against them. But to underestimate them is just as potentially fatal. Who knows what a few random incidents might make possible? Those who go rummaging about in the deep, dark places might unknowingly give one of these beings the opening they've long awaited...
  9. Richly robed with dense, heavily braided manes, these cyclopes wield elaborately inscribed spears and halberds that serve them as staves as well as thoroughly enchanted melee weapons. Makers of magical implements, these cyclopes have spent many long years learning the mechanics underlying myriad forms of magic and they use the insights and knowledge that they have gained from their studies to build impossible things. Where others of their kind once stood against celestial armies, fought the hosts of ancient gods and waged wars upon ultratelluric outsiders, these cyclopes withdrew from the worlds and focused on their studies, learning many secrets and developing terrifying sorcerous weapons that they sealed away in shimmering cysts to await the time and place they would make the difference, once and for all.
  10. Great and noble people, these cyclopes are well-known for their near immortality and handsome demeanor. Their flesh seemingly sculpted from the finest polished bronze, their hair a hundred tints of gold and amber and sunlight, they shine like the gods of old and they know it. Vain and lusty, innately magical beings, they often inter-breed with other races and beings. But for all the hybrid and half-breed offspring they have spawned, they raise none of them as their own. It is this irresponsibility on their part that has most often brought them to bloody, ruinous ends at the hands of their patricidal descendants who have grown up without any advantage but that granted by their blood and their wits as they grew up among those who feared them, reviled them and often hunted or tried to kill them in retaliation for any number of transgressions and wrongs perpetrated by the progenitors...

Dismemberment Table (Spectral Arquebus)

When we posted the Spectral Arquebus we inadvertently dropped the Dismemberment Table.

It just isn't the same using that magical weapon without the full, gory glory of the horrific wounds it can inflict, at least until you run out of dead-lead shot or someone drops a whirling pillar of salt-and-fire on your position. That requires an entirely other table.
Dismemberment Table D(20)
  1. Lose an ear.
  2. Lose 1d10 fingers (select randomly, even=right hand, odd=left hand).
  3. Lose an eye (even=right, odd=left).
  4. Nose torn off.
  5. Top of head removed, but you're still alive, even though your brains are exposed. Icky.
  6. Neck torn nearly in half; X3 damage, save or instant death.
  7. Head completely smashed or removed. You're dead, but your head might be rolling around as a potential tripping hazard now, if that is any consolation.
  8. Shoulder pulped, arm now fairly useless (unless save is made, then you're made of sterner stuff than the average soldier and can continue fighting unaffected and unhindered for 2d4 turns after which you collapse from shock, blood loss and trauma. Roll one more save or die on the spot, but you do so valiantly. We salute you.)
  9. Upper spine removed forcibly out your backside. Save or instant death, make the save and you're pretty much incapacitated, though you can call out in agony to your friends, allies and enemies. A little cursing might be not be out of order.
  10. Belly erupts open and your guts are spilled forth like spaghetti on a soggy paper plate at a family reunion. You take X2 damage and are now going to spend 1d4 turns picking up your own personal gut-pile.
  11. Lower spine is smashed. You no longer have the use of your legs. Save at -4 penalty or it's permanent.
  12. Lose one leg at the hip (even=right, odd=left).
  13. Pelvis broken in 1d4 places. You won't be moving any time soon. Take X3 damage from internal bleeding.
  14. Thigh is mostly torn away, lose the use of one leg, determined randomly.
  15. Lose 1d10 toes (as fingers above).
  16. Kneecap destroyed. Save or lose the leg below it.
  17. Calf ruined. You now hobble until attended to--save or gain a permanent limp.
  18. Foot removed, determine which one the usual way.
  19. Shin is driven out of your leg and becomes a missile weapon all on its own, roll randomly to determine who it hits for 2d6 damage.
  20. You feel fine, but will drop dead at the very moment that the battle ends. You are now one of those heroic souls that survivors write sonnets and other forms of bad poetry about, but this probably doesn't offer you much comfort. Better luck next life.
If you have any ideas for things you think we ought to think about adding to this already horrific table, feel free to suggest them in the comments and we'll consider adding them to the table.

Eye-Beams (Random Table/Sorcery)

The Drala-Thallu, among other creatures, have a randomized eye-beam attack. Sometimes this is best handled as simple damage, so we provide a basic Random Eyebeam Damage Table for that purpose.

Other times you want some sort of effect, something special and malevolent, with or without any real damage, so for that sort of thing we have a second Random Eyebeam Effect Table.

With the Drala-Thallu you get to roll on both tables. Sometimes multiple times. They're just that way.

Random Damage (Roll D20)
  1. 1d4
  2. 2d4
  3. 1d30
  4. 1d6
  5. 1d4+1
  6. 3d4
  7. 1d4X4
  8. 1d10
  9. 2d4+1
  10. 1d8
  11. 3d10
  12. 2d6
  13. 1d6+1
  14. 1d12
  15. 2d6+2
  16. 3d6
  17. 2d10
  18. 2d8
  19. 3d6
  20. 2d12

Random Eyebeam Effect Table
  1. Target stunned for 1d4 turns, save for half effect.
  2. All iron and iron-alloys (like steel) are oxidized into several pounds of rusty flakes. Victim also gets a free bonus roll on the Random Damage Table for the effect of their blood partially oxidizing as well.
  3. Petrification; save or be mineralized.
  4. Disintegration; roll 1d12 for how many inches in diameter the new holes are, then have another roll on the Random Damage Table.
  5. Paralysis; complete and total immobility for 2d4 turns, no save.
  6. Lose 1d4 Wisdom, save or go insane. These points are destroyed and will not come back without a miracle, Wish, etc.
  7. Victim struck blind, save or it is permanent.
  8. Target is reversed, made the opposite of what they were in terms of gender, class, alignment, etc.
  9. Rotification; victim now heals at 1/4 the normal rate, cannot benefit from healing spells, and is covered with a growing, festering mass of oozing sores (-4 Char, Save or loss is permanent due to hideous scarring).
  10. Everything organic on the victim's body dissolves, their body just takes damage, as in another bonus roll on the table above.
  11. Target is completely and thoroughly colorized in one shade, tint or hue all the way through and through.
  12. Victim's skin completely ablated away, exposing all muscles, etc. How embarassing and very, very painful.
  13. All microorganisms within/upon target erupt into a frothy foam of hyper-evolving goo that completely dissolves their body as they acquire a newfound sentience and a peculiar outlook on life that sadly the victim will never share.
  14. Victim affected as by Coagulation spell.
  15. All magical energies within all magical items, devices or weapons on target are spontaneously released; save or potentially be vaporized.
  16. As 15, only for technological devices -- in case target lacks any such items, they are charged with a dissonant surge of crackling green or puce energy that renders them a living, breathing, walking, talking anti-technology nexus; all technological items must make a save or fail, crash or short-out within a 10' radius of this character. Save or this effect is permanent.
  17. Target's bones (or exoskeleton) are converted into a pliable, gelatinous substance no longer suited to supporting their muscles; take two quick rolls off of the Random Eyebeam Damage Table.
  18. Victim rendered completely hairless, their skin now flakes uncontrollably with full-body dandruff.
  19. Entire skeleton is now magnetized.
  20. Unfortunately you are now but a shadow of your former self. Literally.
  21. Target is now the focus-point for a massive thermal* reaction inflicting 1d8 damage to everyone susceptible to fire damage in a 20' radius for 2d4 turns, they take 3d8 damage per turn or take three rolls on the Random Damage Table. Their pick.
  22. Complete deliquesence. Get a mop.
  23. Metallization; target is bronzed, literally. Save or become a metal-encased trophy. Suffocation will only take a few minutes.
  24. Vaporization. Just a puff of rancid smoke is all that remains, unless they make their save, then they are smoldering, take 1 roll on the Random Damage Table and a heavy cloud of smoke rolls off of their charred flesh, filling a 30' square area. Mmmm roast meat...
  25. Lose one point from one stat, victim's choice. Save or this is permanent.
  26. Go to sleep. Cannot be woken for 1d100 days without magical intervention, save to halve that duration.
  27. Target becomes an incubator for a form of yellow mold, or something worse (Ref's Discretion).
  28. Save or all wood and similar plant-derived materials rot away at your touch permanently.
  29. Target's bones are saturated with necromantic energy. Upon dying they will immediately arise as a skeleton. Save and they retain full intelligence and memories (and levels).
  30. Victim affected by a permanent continual light effect, roll for random color.
(We only stopped at 30 for now. There may be a sequel to this table later.)

* Of course this could as easily be a Frigid effect that inflicts cold damage, or any of a multitude of other forms and flavors of energy/damage that you prefer. It'd get awfully boring to add each such option individually to a table that would then be way too long. A third table for energy-types might be useful. We'll consider it for later. Any thoughts?

Drala Thallu (Zalchis)


No. Enc.: 1d2 (1d4)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 60'
Armor Class: 4
Hit Dice: 8
Attacks: 1 or 2 (1 Eyebeam or 2 claws/weapons, or 1 claw/weapon and follow-up Tail-Blade)
Damage: 3d4/1d6/2d4/2d4, or by weapon
Save: F8 / L7
Morale: 10

Special: Use the Random Eye-Beam Table to determine which particular Eye-Beam they are each attack. More advanced specimens may have additional physical mutations, implanted/grafted weapons, psychic attacks or magical spells...

The Drala-Thallu are invertebrate tinkers who seek out any and all forms of mechanical constructs, especially robots, whom they then attack mercilessly until they've hacked them to bits and pieces. The Drala-Thallu then sift through the wreckage and try to cobble together replacements or enhancements for their own, damaged systems, organs or limbs. The only loot that a Drala-Thallu will carry are cybernetic and other body parts, robotic limbs, artificial organs, synthetic or animal body-parts, and the like. They might have some mutant plant parts or samples taken from fungal colonies and the like as well, should they gain access to such things.

And yes, the Eyebeam Attack/Effect is intentionally left vague/randomly determined. They Dralla Thallu are continually self-modifying and upgrading, so it could be just about anything the DM desires...

We suggest using the excellent Random Space Debris Tables at The EXONAUTS! blog for possible scrap and junk that the Drall-Thallu might be carrying, hoarding or trying to peddle at some open-air swap-meat or flea market.

Slithering and silent, they approach with great stealth, hoping to ambush their prey with a hellish onslaught of rays and beams emitted from their terrible, cyclopean eyes.

After a battle, whether they fought or not, they slither about scavenging limbs, organs, and especially mechanical parts. When victorious in personal combat, they rip apart the mechanisms and machines of their enemies and eviscerate them, dissect them, carefully removing any organs, glands or other parts that they deem worthy of incorporating into their perpetually-enhanced bodies. But not just anything will do. No. Only those things that are strong enough, potent enough, powerful enough -- things that have been able to survive their dreaded eye-beam attack -- those are the things that a Drala-Thallu wants, and will have. One way or another. Whether a limb or organ is enchanted, runic, clockwork, golemic, or bionic -- they make no distinction. They can work with any and all of those modalities and more. They are the Drala-Thallu.

Drala-Thallu are fairly well known within Zalchis, where they prowl the ruined regions of the Great Ring looking for salvage and spare parts. There are rumors that they might also have been encountered in a number of ruined star systems left in the wake of various great wars. On more barbaric worlds the Drala-Thallu have engaged in limb-trading and organlegging without any regard for those affected by their dealings, entire regions have been completely decimated and wantonly depopulated by waves of over-hunting when ignorant or desperate locals discover that the Drala-Thallu will trade for exotic animal parts or bits and pieces of broken machines dragged out of old ruins that no one knows how to use or do anything with anyhow. Many a tribesman has sold internal organs or muscle fibers to these beings from beyond the sky in order to gain silver fists, sinister-looking new eyes, or other replacement parts and pieces that they believe will make them more powerful. Sometimes it works out that way, but always at a cost the recipient never fully imagined or could fully appreciate or understand. But it is a free market approach and Caveat Emptor is the cardinal truism all Drala-Thallu learn before all others.

Wherever or whenever you find them, the Drala-Thallu are great opportunists who are always trying to take advantage of whatever situation they find themselves in, and they are always looking to make a trade, swap or deal for spare parts and random junk that only they seem to think has any value. The Drala-Thallu often find some of the strangest old artifacts, relics and bizarre remnants imaginable by sifting through junk heaps, scrap-yards, or plundering regressed and forgotten neobarbarian worlds....
Intro to Zalchis | Zalchis Index | Zalchis Bestiary | Zalchis Grimoire

Player Resources: Zalchis | GM Resources: Zalchis


No. Enc.: 1d4 (6d6)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 30' (10')
          Swim: 60' (30')
Armor Class: 0
Hit Dice: 2d8
Attacks: 3 (claw or weapon/tail bash, bite)
Damage: 1d6/1d6/3d4
Save: Special (F4 plus Hit Dice, i.e. 8 HD=save as F12)
Morale: 12

Mutations: Radiation Metabolism, Consume Isotopes, Reflective Epidermis (Base 50% chance of 1d4 additional random mutations)
...voracious predators known to devour entire villages. Ponderous, implacable beings, the Xilmpa will stop at nothing once they are stirred to war, or when their bizarre hungers are aroused...

Xilmpa are huge, hulking, brutish crocodilian warrior-amazons with a taste for uranium. They have lain waste to vast tracts of land, destroyed countless castles or citadels, and enslaved thousands of their opponents in order to have them mine the mineral that they crave above all else and despite the terrible effects their depredations inflict upon the land and the native populace.

Xilmpa are immune to any/all fear, confusion or suggestion effects. Likewise they are not only resistant to radiation, they derive sustenance and physical power from radioactive substances such as uranium. It is unclear what, if any effect plutonium, neptunium or other, similar isotopes might have on Xilmpa metabolisms. But they will certainly kill hundreds of slaves in order to try out such mineral delicacies.

Crudiv (Wermspittle)

No. Enc.: 1d6
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (flight)
Armor Class: 9
Hit Dice: 2
Attacks: 1 (lash or spores or weapon)
Damage: 2d4 + spores, weapon
Save: F2
Morale: 6

Bizarre, blind aerial fungi with highly developed extra sensory perception, the Crudiv levitate naturally and are always looking for victims to coat with their spores. Crudiv prefer to attack from ambush and will seek to escape from opponents too powerful to be overcome with a few quick hits. Their spores are only capable of growing within dead bodies. If a victim survives an attack by crudiv, the spores will only cause nausea and discomfort for 1d4 hours then go inert, remaining latent within the flesh of a former victim for up to a year or more in some cases. Spores typically take 3d6 hours to completely infiltrate a human-sized corpse and will produce 1d6 crudiv that will erupt forth and start hunting for new victims immediately.

There are claims, strange stories and rumors that a substance can be extracted from a crudiv to awaken the extra sensory perception capability of humanoids, but none of this has ever been proven, so far.

Damned Things: Table II (D30)

Damned Things: Table II (D30)
  1. (1d100x100) Tiny Pink Jellyfish.
  2. Four tons of wriggling, worm-like larvae.
  3. Fifty-two pounds of inert insect chrysalises so brittle they collapse into papery fragments when touched.
  4. 500 pounds of rotting vegetable matter falls like greasy globs of fat. But there is no rain.
  5. Hundreds of tiny yellow corpuscles that contain a peculiar form of cobalt.
  6. (5d20) off-white spherical masses of some chalky substance.
  7. Gelatinous gray masses accumulate within low-spots until reaching a critical mass of volume at which point they become 1HD Gray Oozes.
  8. Stinky yellow powder that changes coloration over time, but is otherwise useless.
  9. Lumps of gelatinous goo the color and odor of dried, brown varnish.
  10. A flurry of lichen-based 'manna,' fully edible and capable of being stored indefinitely, coats everything like a freak snowstorm.
  11. 600 pounds of ambergris splatters across the area.
  12. A coal-black, leafy mass that falls like snowflakes that are 4d10 inches in diameter, damp and smell disagreeably, like rotten seaweed, but, when dried, the smell wears off. They tear like fibrous paper.
  13. Greenish felt-like matter that tears like paper.
  14. A burning mass of sulfur and limestone fragments crashes into the vicinity.
  15. 4,200 marble-sized balls of some soft and pulpy substance which, upon drying, crumble at the slightest touch.
  16. Black rain falls for 1d10 turns. Once it starts to dry, the fluid becomes a wool-like whitish fiber that seems to be possessed of a rudimentary instinct making it squirm and burrow into the closest patch of soil where it wraps around itself until it can form some weird, alien seed of some sort.
  17. Red snow that melts into an ochre slop that dries into yellowish scab-like crusts that cause plants covered with it to spontaneously sprout branches, runners and roots that produce completely other kinds of plants.
  18. Hundreds upon hundreds of fresh mussels fall out of nowhere--not a cloud to be seen.
  19. Black, capillary matter resembling niter, and that tastes like sugar, falls mingled with rain. After 1d4 hours, the black material will generate a horde of hundreds of tarry-black toads.
  20. A mass of black leaves, having the appearance of burnt paper, but harder, and cohering, and brittle.
  21. (1d100) burned scraps of paper covered in unintelligible hieroglyphics.
  22. Thousands of small, white frog-like things fall with a heavy rain. They quickly dry-out and crumble into whitish ashes within 1d6 turns of the rain ending. The ashes are slightly toxic.
  23. Rain turns into a hail of hot slag and cinders and ashes doing 2d4 damage to anyone caught out in it.
  24. Salt, essentially imperfect cubic crystals of common salt, about 4 tons of it falls over a 6 mile square area.
  25. Olive-gray powder made up of an aggregation of hairs of two kinds, black ones and rather thick white ones. They are mineral fibers, and when burned, they give out a powerfully revolting ammonia smell. Three miles of a fibrous substance like blue silk drapes everything within reach for 1d4 hours before it melts into a sticky residue.
  26. 400 stunned carp fall from the sky. Most are still alive. For now.
  27. Rancid-smelling, yellowish material oozes out of hollow hailstones. This substance is flammable.
  28. (1d6) large, smooth, waterworn, gritty sandstone pebbles pelt the area for no good reason.
  29. Kernels of some hitherto unknown grain come sleeting down mixed with a light hail.
  30. Ragged fragments of a viscous silky/cobweb-like material clutters up anything it can adhere to, including travelers or small animals.

Damned Things I (Random Table/Any System)

Damned Things: Table I (D30)
  1. Snowflakes (1d20) inches in diameter, (1d6) inches thick fall like cold, sharp whirling bits of ice . (Treat as a Blade Barrier spell.)
  2. Orange-flavored hailstones sizzle across the area doing little appreciable damage.
  3. (1d100 x10) tons of butter fall from the sky, amazingly, no one is hurt.
  4. (1d6) Aeroliths: stones falling from the sky, each one explodes on impact, sending shards across a wide area. Anyone caught out in the open suffers 1d6 damage.
  5. Loud noises heard in the sky, but nothing is seen to happen.
  6. Thick, inky-black rain that leaves a most disagreeable odor as it drizzles across the area like syrup.
  7. Blue hailstones sleet across the region. They seem harmless.
  8. Mahogany logs drop across a 3 square mile area.
  9. Masses of charred beef and blood crash into a nearby area causing 2d4 damage to anyone caught out in the open.
  10. Yellow substance including numerous globules of cobalt blue, also corpuscles of a pearly color that resemble starch falls during light rainfall.
  11. Red sand containing 3d10 percent unidentifiable organic matter sifts into place over everything within a 62 mile radius, the sand continues to drizzle into this region for 3d4 hours.
  12. (6d10) Tons of red mud falls from out of nowhere, causing landslides and some flooding.
  13. Dust that is chocolate-colored and silky to the touch and slightly iridescent blows in from some indeterminate location.
  14. Comingled reddish raindrops and gray sand fall for 2d4 turns.
  15. Pink Rain falls for 1d4 hours.
  16. Dust that is yellow-brown, with a tinge of pink coats everything within a three mile radius.
  17. Jet-Black snow falls for 3d6 hours leaving drifts of 2d4 feet in depth across 1d4x100' radius.
  18. Minute yellow organisms in the shape of arrows, coffee beans, horns and disks gently flutter to the ground where they wriggle helplessly for 2d6 turns until they shrivel, then melt into a nasty goo that leaves faint reddish stains.
  19. Dust of a deep yellow-clay color from another world swirls across the terrain leaving a gritty residue.
  20. Rain of blood lasts for 1d6 turns. (30%) chance that it revives 1d4 random vampires from the local dust.
  21. Finely divided-up organic matter, a thick, viscous, putrid red matter that leaves stains.
  22. Food-supplies from cargoes of super-vessels, wrecked in interplanetary traffic, come tumbling through the air like flaming meteors of questionable nutrition.
  23. Orange-red hail of a peculiar substance consisting of red iron ocher, carbonate of lime, and unidentifiable organic matter covers a space roughly 200' square.
  24. Red, white and blue hailstones pummel everyone within 600' radius for 1d4 damage/turn for 2d6 turns.
  25. A gelatinous fungus, vaguely bowl-shaped object that has upon it a nap, similar to that of milled cloth. Upon removing this nap, a buff-colored, pulpy substance the consistency of soap is found. It has an offensive odor, and, upon exposure to the air, turns to a livid red and absorbs moisture from the air until it liquifies into a sticky mess. This thing was said to have fallen in conjunction with a brilliant light, but that might just have been coincidence.
  26. Dead and dry fish that turn to blood when exposed to water.
  27. Frothy, gelatinous spawn of frogs and fishes covers everything within a 300'x900' space.
  28. Blue-green gelatinous matter that could be nostoc ( ) drapes the surrounding 300' radius.
  29. Organic substance with the consistency of beef, in the shape of flakes 1d4 inches in diameter falls like snow for 1d4 hours, leaving a bloody, horribly bad smelling mess once it begins to melt.
  30. Grayish, nut-sized masses of a resinous substance that is odorless unless burned, in which case it then produces a sweet smelling gas that causes 1d4 damage to all who come into contact with the cloying pink smoke.
Originally, we developed the Tables of Damned Things for use with the Zalchis setting, but these tables are also pretty useful outside of Zalchis. We intend to adapt them for use in Wermspittle during the long dark nights of deepest winter, when the forces of misrule are at their most powerful. These tables can also be adapted to Call of Cthulhu, Savage Worlds, Trail of Cthulhu, or whatever you like.

For More on Charles Fort, please see our article at Old School Heretic.

For more ideas about how to integrate anomalous and Fortean phenomena into your game, we highly recommend the incredibly excellet Suppressed Transmission 1 and Suppressed Transmission 2 books by the one and only Ken Hite.
Buy This Book!
And/Or Buy This Book!

Petrocloptrian [Swords and Wizardry (White Box)]

Here are the basic stats for the Petrocloptrian using Swords & Wizardry (White Box):


No. App.: 1d2
Hit Dice: 7
Armor Class: 4[15]
Attacks: 1d6+1 (1d4 each, or by weapon)
Move: 120' hover/levitate
Save: 10
HDE/XP: 7/1,200
Special: Contact-Telepathy, Close-Quarters Telekinesis, Personal Levitation, 1d4 random spells as Psychic Abilities (all with a range of Touch)

Large, rugose beings that seem to be carved from some form of greenish stone, the Petrocloptrians are wily and clever hunters who seek the most incredible trophies possible. Anyone or anything that is neither a Petrocloptrian or suitable prey, is deemed uninteresting and will be ignored. They can attack up to seven opponents at once and have no scruples about overwhelming lesser opponents whatsoever. Little is known about them other than they tend to ignore most creatures under 5 HD unless threatened, then they are implacable, unrelenting and ruthless.

Specialized sub-types of Petrocloptrians will be featured in further posts and in certain of the forthcoming setting/monster PDFs...

Crannit (Zalchis)

No. Enc.: 1d4
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 30' (90' directed levitation)
Armor Class: 2
Hit Dice: 8
Attacks: 2 (weapon, spells)
Damage: 2d6, weapon
Save: F7 / L7
Morale: 7

Bizarre pseudo-crustacean-like perpetually-levitating beings who inhabit a spectrum of closely resonant planes, the Crannit are patient observers of myriad alternative cosmoses and adjacent universes who know many strange secrets. Each Crannit consciously occupies up to a dozen planes at once, but no two Crannits occupy all the exact same planes as any other. Their senses and perceptions extend across even more planes than they can physically interact with, thus they are very gifted oracles, seers, diviners and prognosticators.

The typical crannit prefers to dwell within places of intense magical energies, such as around Ley-line junctions, sacred sites, ruined temples, abandoned wizard's towers, etc. Crannits are uncannily aware of all manner of energies in their vicinity, their independently mobile eye-stalks can observe matters of interest upon two different planes simultaneously and they automatically Detect Alignment, Detect Lie, Detect Magic, Know Alignment, Read Magic, See Invisible, and will always know when someone is preparing to cast a spell in their immediate vicinity. They also can Plane Shift 3x a day at will, but for some reason they dislike to discuss crannits cannot use Dispel Magic. Ever. They also dislike resorting to Charms or other such coercive magics to get their way. But if they are confronted with no good alternative, they will do so and cope with the shame and revulsion later. Magic trumps morality with the crannit. Every time.

Crannits cast spells of any type or sort as though they were 8th level. They seek out all sorts of arcane lore and knowledge and will gladly exchange spells, trade scrolls, or discuss magical manners with anyone at any time. However, a crannit will attack anyone who seeks to deny it access to some bit of magic that it knows that they are not voluntarily sharing or trading. They can also use any magic item, armor, weapon or device except one that involves the active dispelling of magic.

Crannits also have the ability to digest or imprint spells from scrolls that they are directly observing, meaning that they can remove a spell off of a scroll and replace it with another spell that they know.

Blatherer (Wermspittle)

No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (90')
Armor Class: 9
Hit Dice: 7
Attacks: 1 (constant)
Damage: 1d4 per turn
Save: F4
Morale: 12

This unwholesome worm-like thing wriggles and squirms across myriad planes and domains, and can be encountered in even the most unlikely of places. But it rarely comes as a surprise. A typical blatherer spends all its time spewing forth an unending torrent of casual blasphemies, off-hand curses and inelegant notions. They are actually quite gifted in profanity, obfuscatorial rhetoric, vulgarity, crude repartee, and cryptic mutterings of the worse sort. In fact, a blatherer never stops talking. Ever. It can do this because it breathes through its skin, which has led many a disgruntled hermit or stalwart tomb-robber to attempt to drown the thing. To no avail. A blatherer can breathe underwater. And still doesn't stop talking. Ever. They are one of the few creatures known that can dispel any sort of silence spell just by entering into its area of effect.

The noble sage Pandrus Kamut of Z'lendium was the first person to discover that blatherers are not only vocal, but their endless stream of conversation and abuse of language is also of a psychic character, enough so that they can even drive the deaf mad. As one did to him during his time trapped in a pit with a broken leg and he was discovered by a blatherer.

A blatherer carries nothing, never strikes anyone, and rarely bites. Their only attack is the constant babble and chatter that they create, an unholy racket that gnaws away at a person's brain, mind and soul until at last they either expire or go stark raving mad.

The damage inflicted by a blatherer ends once a victim loses their mind, which is always an option when confronted with one of these vile creatures.

There are stories whispered in shadowy places of botched scrolls that summon a blatherer as a familiar. It is a horrible thing to contemplate.


...The Elajess are violently opposed to all forms of boredom, they regard ennui as nothing less than an affront to all life and act to confront it, fight it, destroy it wherever they may discern its insidious, soul-sucking presence...

No. Enc.: 1d2
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (in any environment)
Armor Class: 4
Hit Dice: 8
Attacks: 1
Damage: 3d6
Save: F8
Morale: 11

The Elajess can use Plane Shift or Passwall 1d6 times in a given day on a particular world/plane. They see invisible and out of phase objects and monsters as though using a True Seeing spell and possess a form of visual perception that extends into X-rays and other exotic spectra. Extremely visually-oriented, the Elajess are completely deaf and impervious to all sounds. They also tend to not pay attention to any noises they might make, so they almost never surprise anyone without resorting to their Plane Shift or Passwall ability.

Being incapable of discerning sound, the Elajess use a visual form of language and are often hyper-literate, being able to read/write hundreds of different languages. They are great students of calligraphy, manuscript illumination and penmanship. They prize scrolls, books and the printed word over gems or lumps of crude metal.

Should one know the correct wording and combination of icons/glyphs, a contract can be drawn-up to hire the services of an Elajess. The spell Visual Speech can also come in handy in this regard, as it translates spoken words into visual glyphs. Otherwise you are left with pantomime or sign language if you want to communicate with these beings.

Instead of rolling for initiative when encountering an Elajess, you roll to see how soon it takes to bore them. They have notoriously fickle temperaments and lose patience quickly. They also get distracted easily. Essentially, roll as for initiative but when/if the players lose to the Elajess, the creature(s) become bored and either attack (1d30=even) or leave (1d30=odd).


Yirgao (Horrithicus)

No. Enc.: 1d4 (1d8)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 1
Hit Dice: 5 to 12*
Attacks: 3 (Bite, weapon, constrict)
Damage: 3d4 (+1d6 blood drain)/byweapon/2d6+free bite every other turn
Save: F5 to 12 (same as Hit Dice)
Morale: 9

Vile, inhuman and wicked beings withouteither backbones or souls, the Yirgao are driven only by hunger andvanity. They respect no one but themselves, trust no one but themselves, and will fight, kill or eat anyone, including themselves -- as functional self-fertilizing hermaphrodites, the Yirgao givebirth to their own cloned offspring that literally do eat their way out of their parent-host. Most of the time the parent is severely weakened, but they do survive the experience, if they have planned ahead and provided an alternative food-source for their ultra-voracious young.

The Yirgao prefer to subdue and enslave opponents whenever possible. They can be bribed with offer of slaves and fresh bodies.

Yirgao are natural telepaths and have theability to cast the following spells at will: ClairaudienceClairvoyance, Detect Magic, ESP, and Ventriloquism.

The Yirgao are malign invertebrates with decentralized nervous systems and delusions of grandeur that include subjugating all other races as fodder and slaves within the great empire that they have never quite gotten established, mostly because the Yirgao are incapable of cooperation amongst themselves for any real length of time...
Yirgao regenerate 2 hit points eachround after taking damage until completely healed. They also continueto regenerate until they are reduced to negative hit points equal totheir normal amount, i.e. a Yirgao with 38 hit points would need tobe reduced to -38 hit points before the regeneration would cease. Fire works wonderfully well. So does acid.

Spectral Arquebus (Wermspittle)

There's a terrible, underground trade in dead-lead; dull gray metal ripped scandalously from consecrated lead caskets and used to create shot for these weapons no one will take credit for having introduced into our lands. Like a pestilential scourge these Spectral Arquebuses cut down the flower of our knighthood, living or undead, without distinction or discrimination. These are vile, peasant's weapons that spread terror and anarchy in their wake...

Spectral Arquebus
Cost: No one will sell one for less than 75gp, and most will ask for twice that, depending upon condition & provenance.
Variable Damage: 3d4 + Save versus petrify or suffer discorporation or dismemberment (see table below).
Weight: 5 pounds unloaded, 2 pounds loaded
Rate of fire: Once every other turn
Chance of trapped soul: 30% (Base willpower 20 for influence check purposes)

A Spectral Arquebus actually gets lighter and more manageable once it is loaded, if one is using dead-lead shot. Anything else and the weight remains the same and the weapon incurs a -1 penalty to hit due to its unwieldiness. If used as a club there is a 25% chance of damaging the wrought iron firing mechanism, rendering it a heavy, unwieldy club until repaired by a gonnesmith or talented blacksmith.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011


No. Enc.: 1d4 (2d6)
Alignment: Neutral (Chaotic)
Movement: 90'
         Swim: 90'
Armor Class: 8
Hit Dice: 4
Attacks: 1-4 tentacle, bite or spells(some use weapons)
Damage: 1d3 per tentacle/1d4 bite/ byspell or weapon
Save: F2
Morale: 9
% Liar: (2d10 per HD as %)

Cold and calculating, unforgiving and given to sorcerous feuds amongst themselves over the most arcane bits of trivia. The Octoscholars have had a long-standing multi-planar cold war with the various offshoots of the primordial serpent people, especially the tube-born clone-descended serpent men who no longer even remember the long ago rule of their now nameless Queen.

Octoscholars are the sages of their particular sub-species of Octopoidal Degenerates and as such most of them know 2d4 random spells and will possess 1d4 random magic items(usually [30%] scrolls, [30%] rings or [30%] wands, but sometimes[10%] weapons). Their areas of expertise tend to be quite esoteric and wide ranging, often veering into areas of restricted scholarship, forbidden knowledge, primal arcana or even more troubling fields.

Octoscholars have an innate ability to spew forth a cloud of clinging, inky darkness (as Darkness spell, only an actual cloud of suspended ink droplets), or to Befuddle Laymen with their grossly arcane and convoluted pseudo-scientific discourses, lectures and rants (effectively a Confuse spell). They also use their natural ink to inscribe scrolls and to form sigils. They have a rather fine sense of touch and are extremely dexterous, enabling them to pick pockets, open locks, or disarm/set traps just like a thief.

Their ink becomes a more potent poison the angrier they get.

For a small fee (X3 the going rate) an Octoscholar will attempt to decipher and translate ancient inscriptions, old journals and spell-books, or scrolls. They always reserve the right to make copies for their own use, of course. If they roll over their % Liar score, they complete the translation honestly and with no hidden pranks or spurious gibberish to complicate matters or cause things to fail, explode or melt-down spectacularly.

They also have a base (20%) chance to cobble together some infernal contraption or improbable device, if sufficiently motivated. It is left to the GM/DM as to what constitutes 'sufficiently motivated,' in this instance.

Impressionable Young Shoggoth (Class/Race option for Labyrinth Lord)

Matthew from Rended Press demanded that we provide a Class/Race write-up for Irving the Shoggoth, so here it is, at least the first draft. We kept it to one page. A lot is intentionally left to the devious imagination of the GM. We've uploaded the Free PDF to our Freebie-Folder over at BOX. Use at your own risk. Monsters may be hazardous to your health. Side effects may include nose bleeds, sporadic fevers, discoloration to the skin or schlera, sudden weight-gain, night sweats, mild hallucinations, uncontrollable flatulence, and brief periods of disorientation or even acute paranoia coupled with violent outbursts. Consult your local GM in case of any lingering strange rashes, itching/oozy sores that seem to move about on their own or any sort of writhing lump in your throat or belly that just won't go away. These are all temporary and nothing to worry about. Void where prohibited.

Irving the Impressionable Young Shoggoth

This is Irving.

He wants to be an adventurer.

Irving is a youngish shoggoth, whose bud-parent only shed him just a short time ago (362 years...). In shoggoth terms Irving is the equivalent of 13 years old. A precocious 13 years old. He'd like to join your party...

In fact, that small, timid and oh so child-like voice calling out from the darkness "Is there anybody out there?" just might be Irving.

Irving isn't like the other shoggoths. At least not at first.

He's a little bit shy, at first, but after a bit of conversation and some wheedling, and a CHAR reaction roll or three, Irving will eventually ooze forwards from the shadows and try to prove himself to the group.

He's young, inexperienced, and very naieve. Or so it seems. At first.

Did we mention that he's a shoggoth?


You'd have to be insane to let such a thing join your party...but how do you turn it away without really getting it angry? Chances are, you wouldn't like Irving when he gets angry...

After all, he's a frikkin' shoggoth...

Irving's character sheet for Labyrinth Lord:

A few of the Pros in accepting Irving into the party:
  • The half-ton or so of this dim-witted blob of praeterhuman plasticity won't attempt to eat you, yet
  • The thing can extrude sensory organs and appendages at will, enabling it to spot things you'd never think of checking for. Of course you might not have words in your language for some of this stuff...
  • You could have a shoggoth to help break down doors, lug around godsawful-heavy piles of loot, and intimidate the goblins
  • It floats
  • Irving loves to learn new tricks
  • He is terribly loyal to his friends
  • His flesh is a lot like silly putty and has a 40% chance of reproducing any scroll you mush into it (with an additional 10% chance that the spell becomes lodged in Irving's brain and he's now a multi-class Fighter/Magic User...with just that one spell, so far...)
  • He's practically indestructible, regenerating even if reduced to a thin coat of slime by some particularly wicked trap or major demon...

Some of the Cons incurred by accepting Irving as a fellow adventurer (and by no means all of them):
  • It's a frikkin' shoggoth
  • It will eat you. It's only a matter of time...
  • There's something very wrong with this creature
  • Irving has wild mood swings depending on how long he goes without eating human brains -- the more brains he eats, the more human he thinks he is -- its a strange allergic reaction that he'll eventually grow out of before he gets too much older...
  • Every time Irving gets reduced to zero hit points, his brain has a 30% chance to reset as it regenerates and he loses all trace of his previous pseudo-human persona instantly
  • Never, ever let the shoggoth bind someone's wounds...
  • That's probably not water in your canteens/water-skins any more...
  • This thing can eat several horses in one go and might ask for seconds
  • Irving has a base 25% chance to go berserk if his most favoritist friend of all time gets hurt...
  • Detect Lie won't work on this creature -- its brain(s) are too alien for it to register properly -- which is an automatic red flag right there...
  • Irving may just be too incredibly clever for your puny intellects and this has all been a malevolent ruse that has allowed him to herd your party into a diabolical trap...
  • These things are older than your entire species...
  • He's practically indestructible, regenerating even if reduced to a thin coat of slime by some particularly wicked trap or major demon...
Last, but no means least -- keep in mind that this is the kind of creature that could get a human as one of the low-end options for its familiar...