Showing posts with label Kalaramar Drifts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kalaramar Drifts. Show all posts

Monday, November 12, 2012

Aegogur

Aegogur
No. Enc.: 1d4 (2d6)
Alignment: Chaotic (Neutral)
Movement: 60' (20')
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 1-8 (possibly higher*)
Attacks: 2 (may consist of using 2 wands at once)
Damage: 2d6/2d4 (or Wand Effect)
Save: as MU level equal to HD
Morale: 6 (re-rolls every other turn)

Special: Aegogur Move Silently (30%) gaining +4% per HD over 1. They also Detect Wands within a 120' radius, but must remain silent and motionless to do so. Aegogur are master craftsfolk skilled in the arts and sciences of making and restoring wands. They do not teach non-Aegogur their trade secrets. They never part willingly with a wand once they have claimed it.

Aegogur slither and wend their way quietly, carefully along the dim, dark by-ways and passages of old ruins, deserted outposts, and dead cities in search of wands. Diligent in their pursuit of their chosen treasure, they pass-over most other forms of loot in order to find even a modest, used-up or broken wand, which they will then devote themselves to restoring, recharging and using in their search for still more wands.

Civilized artisans of a sensitive disposition, the Aegogur are also a migratory species, transitioning from one plane or Adjacent World to another. They advance as magic-users (level=HD), molting and shedding their skins as they grow slightly larger, longer with each level/HD gained. Upon attaining the eighth level they undergo a period of prolonged torpor within a translucent gold-tinged chrysalis. These chrysali are tougher than steel and much sought after as raw material for the crafting of exceptional armors usable by spell-casters. The Aegogur have been known to trade the discarded chrysali, but they tend to be rather one-sided in their demands.

No one is certain just what exactly emerges from the chrysali of the Aegogur. Whatever their adult form might be, they prefer to keep it a secret. A secret they are willing to kill to keep...


Saturday, October 27, 2012

A'achael (From The Sketchbook)

A'achael
No. Enc.: 1d8 (4d8)
Alignment: Chaotic (50%)/Neutral (50%)
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 3
Attacks: 2 (claw/bite plus adhesive tongue, or by weapon)
Damage: 1d4/1d4+2/see below*
Save: F4
Morale: 10

Special Attack: A'achael possess sticky tongues that they can shoot out to a distance of 10-14'. Their tongue strikes as a +2 weapon, does no damage, but forces a Save or it adheres to the target, allowing the A'achael to attempt to either drag them closer for a follow-up attack, or to trip them or otherwise disable/disarm their victim, as the situation or occasion warrants.

Tinted six shades of blue, the A'achael are stout, sturdy reptiles who make themselves equally at home in dense forests, lush jungles, coastal marshes or even some of the more moderate desert regions, such as the fortified oases found scattered through the Red Wastes, where they often are persecuted and tormented by Zurians who despise them as barely better than animals.

A'achaels claim that their people once were able to selectively or reflexively change the coloration of their skins (there are opposing views), and that from time to time a throw-back is born that can shift their hue in order to blend into their environment, but this has become a rare thing. Seeing as no specimen has ever been presented to creditable authorities, most experts consider this so much folklore and mostly a spurious claim.

One peculiar talent that has been noted among the spell-casting members of the known A'achael tribes along the Red Wastes in particular is their ability to manipulate the coloration of inert objects and sometimes even living beasts. The effect seems to be permanent, and causes no damage to those things affected by it. For the most part those A'achael who have this ability use it to unfairly compete with dyers who rely on more traditional techniques. This has led to more than a few incidents of violence in those cities where the A'achael have made significant inroads into the marketplace.


Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Veilsect

'Subtle, stealthy kidnappers and poisoners who have no respect for walls or any other boundaries; the Veilsect make no such distinctions in the course of their transgressions.'

Veilsect
No. Enc.: 1 (1d4)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120'
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 4
Attacks: 1 (Bite) or 1 (Web)
Damage: 2d4+Aging or Paralysis
Save: T4
Morale: 7


Special: Use Passwall freely, cast Planeshift once per day per HD. Also have 1d4 random spells per HD that they cast at 4th level ability.


[Optional: Treat as a Thief (HD=Level).]


Fortresses mean nothing to the Veilsect. Distance is a meaningless concept, a bad joke promulgated by lesser mortals. Barriers, trenches, pits or mazes--none of them deter these creatures in the slightest. They go where they will, freely and unfettered by such petty considerations as gravity, obstructions or defenses. Veilsects make no such distinctions, nor do they abide by them. They reject all such considerations and constraints.

Veilsects strike when least unexpected and wherever they choose, then simply fade away as they scuttle  back across the insubstantial barriers between different worlds, realms and planes. No one is entirely sure how many limbs a Veilsect has, nor how many eyes it might possess--they are visually ambiguous, surrounded by murky auras that obscure their features and form (treat as perpetual Blur and/or half-strength Darkness spell). Most commonly they are referred to as 'arachnomorphic,' or having the aspect of spider-like beings, but this point is contested vociferously by the Arachnarchs of Lijjidia who vigorously assert that the Veilsects are pretentious, upstart crustaceans with delusions of grandeur and not true arachnids.

Veilsects are malignant, inhuman creatures motivated by an insatiable, invidious desire to accumulate forbidden knowledge. Veilsects prowl the underworlds, interstices and by-ways of countless planes, dimensions and realms in search of scholars, scientists, sorcerers and such-like to abduct, imprison and interrogate. They care nothing for jewels or the trappings of power. They only care about learning new spells, mastering every ritual, solving every riddle or learning the deepest secrets and darkest lore. Thus Veilsects rarely kill their chosen prey, but instead seek to subdue and spirit them off to distant, murky regions known only to themselves in order to wring and wrest each syllable, sigil or symbol from their victim's brains.

Those who do manage to eventually win their release from captivity within the dim domains of the Veilsect are never the same ever again. Some are diminished, lessened in some vital sense. Others are drained of their vigor, or afflicted with distinctive sores that never quite heal and from which tiny iridescent blue-green spider-like mites emerge from time to time. Even those who escape relatively unscathed from the notorious 'hospitality' of the Veilsects tend to have lost years, if not decades from their life-span, having been prematurely aged by the vicious fangs of their tormentors.

The bite of a Veilsect not only inflicts damage, it either ages or paralyzes the victim at the Veilsect's discretion.
A typical Veilsect Bite inflicts 2d4 damage and forces the victim to make a Save (at -2 penalty) or age 2d6 years -or- suffer the effects of paralysis (as with the touch attack of a Ghoul). Note: if the Veilsect attempt to age their victim and the victim succeeds in their Save, then they must roll a second Save (no penalty) to avoid being paralyzed. If the Veilsect is attempting to paralyze the victim and they make their Save, there is no additional effect.

For some, this loss of years is no real matter of concern, having mastered longevity or some other form of self-renewal or survival. To one who does not worry over-much about the loss of a few decades from their lifespan it is possible to negotiate with these creatures...

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Dust Collectors

Dust Collector
No. Enc.: 1
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 60' (20')
Armor Class: 7
Hit Dice: 3
Attacks: 1
Damage: 1d6 or by weapon
Save: MU 6
Morale: 11

Tall, gaunt inhuman savants, the Dust Collectors lurk in the shadows surrounding the Dry Rot in Wermspittle, the Mallannax Appendix in Jumio, or the Tower of Xallameo within the Red Wastes, and similar such places and spaces  to be found beyond the Kalaramar Drifts. They travel far and wide, always seeking after specimens dust and gathering trace amounts of cast-off matter or skin-cells that they absorb directly into their tissues, encysting this stuff into tiny internalized nodules that they somehow use to store, sort, analyze, and manipulate it, even use it in their sorcery or art. Dust Collectors extract information from even the tiniest speck of otherwise unnoticeable, inconsequential matter. The littlest fragments often reveal the most incredible secrets.

Their flesh is filled with a lambent, sickly pulsing light that seems to be seeping out from their diseased brains, which are lodged deep in their torsos and wrapped within a cage of cartilage. Lacking any sort of a real, proper head, they completely eschew sight and rely upon a range of other senses that allow them to discern trace amounts of rare elements, detect the chemical composition of anything and everything within 120 feet (or more if they exert themselves), and to observe the esoteric functions of matter deep down on the smallest scales. The member that juts forth from between their shoulders resembles a bloated and dead, vestigial organ used more to frighten the superstitious and the gullible than anything else, though it may in fact be some sort of sensory appendage. Dust Collectors are also gifted with a form of ESP that further enhances their ability to perceive extraordinarily minute things.

Not From Around Here
The Quadratic Codex ascribes the third planar layer of Baltong as the point of origin of these strange visitants. That may well be true. Certainly there is something of a bond between these cadaverous-looking beings and that dessicated wasteland beyond the Notorious Blue Box. But they are as likely to be denizens of some devastated world behind broken skies--if the account set down by Sarmandrio of Kalrion has any basis in truth. A debatable thing.

There are those who think that these beings are transplanar undertakers, after a fashion, but there are no conformed accounts of their ever having disturbed a crypt, sepulchre or tomb. Indeed, these creatures seem to be a bit too fastidious to ever delve into such hallowed precincts. Instead they prefer to collect samples of dust from libraries, studios, and lecture halls. They will go to great lengths to gather-up samples of dust that they feel is most potent or that has the most potential. They scrape these samples into small piles, expectorate a horrid mucous-like substance upon it and then absorb it through the mouth-like sucker-rings on their hands in order to carry it all away with them to their shabby lairs, often a dismal attic garret or some cramped cubicle walled-off within the dank cellar of some tavern or other place where the proprietor is unlikely to ask too many questions or to get too nosy.

What Are They Really Doing?
What are they looking for in the dust that they gather? The Dust Collectors are rumored to be skilled in the reformulation of what once were living things from the essential fragments left behind in cast off cells and flakes of skin--the primary component of dust. They seek nothing less than to dredge life back up from the dust itself, to revive things that have passed away from the world and to restore those beings, creatures or persons whom they choose from the cold shores of oblivion. Dust Collectors may be responsible for the resurgence and return of otherwise extinct species. They may also have played a role in the revivification of various notorious individuals who were reliably reported as being dead or destroyed. It is only a rumor, but many believe that the Dust Collectors can be bribed to restore the dead from only a few grains of dust, but no one is sure exactly how that works, or if those so returned are in fact really the people originally bargained for...

Why?
Nature may abhor a vacuum, but these strange beings abhor entropy and seek to subvert it by their little efforts, one small step at a time. They are nothing if not patient, methodical, persistent. Some say that they themselves are immortal. Perhaps they are. Maybe they make a practice of revivifying one another on a regular basis, possibly on some pre-arranged schedule. There are rumors that there may only really be one of these beings, that all the others are actually replicas, simulacra, copies of the one, actual connoisseur.

Shady Dealings
It might be possible to negotiate terms with a Dust Collector for the revivification of some friend, relative or other being or creature, so long as you can meet their steep price and have a suitable sample of their dust to provide to them for the process. It is also said that it is possible to purchase specimens of extinct species from the Dust Collectors, but only a few demented curators or eccentric sorcerers have ever pursued such an arrangement, mostly due to the exorbitant expense. Long ago, it is told in certain quarters, the Queen of ancient Xylaam is said to have struck a bargain with a cabal of Dust Collectors in order to resurrect a peculiar bird called the Dodo. Flocks of the ungainly, ugly birds now roost in the ruins of her once proud estates. To this day there are reports of the supposedly long dead Queen being sighted in yet another far away land, as young and beautiful as ever, but lost and wandering as though she no longer knew quite whom she really was or might have been. Everywhere she goes, Dodoes are soon to be found making clumsy, smelly nests.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Portal Effects (Any System/Table I)

When in the course of exploring strange Portals, Gates or Nexus Points, such as those encountered wandering through the Kalaramar Drifts or similar such questionable territories, adventurers will sometimes find themselves crossing the thresholds of unknown, unmarked and previously undiscovered/unexplored apertures to elsewhere. Many portals, gates and the like have been password-protected, sabotaged, or rigged with traps to deter casual or non-authorized use. Others are damaged or faulty. Some are just cranky old things with bad attitudes who dislike anyone using them without first saying at least a simple 'hello.'

Not all such portals or gates are necessarily awake, aware or even completely functional. Sometimes everything works out quite well, other times it can be disastrous. In-between those dramatic extremes, when a random portal appears, and you don't have anything else handy, there is this very deliberately un-balanced random table. You might consider giving the players the option to take a set amount of damage (like say 3d6) or roll on this table instead...
Random Portal Effects (D20)
  1. Everything that was green is now orange.
  2. Everyone within 30' suffers 2d4 damage after a tremendous thunder-clap. Save to take no damage, but be deafened for 1d6 hours.
  3. Make Save or all gear is inverted or reversed.
  4. All ferrous metals are magnetized, including the iron in your bloodstream. All magnets cause those affected to suffer 1d4/minute of exposure. Wielding, holding or carrying the weapons/armor/items affected by this change counts towards the ongoing damage.
  5. You now possess infra-red vision...unfortunately, you can no longer see in what you used to consider the normal visible spectrum. Save and this is only temporary.
  6. All gems taken through the portal are now unstable explosives causing 1d10 damage per GP value.
  7. All edible food is now toxic yellow sludge that does 1d6 on contact.
  8. All who have passed through this portal now possess twin shadows. This might just be only a cosmetic effect.
  9. Everyone passing through this portal has their hair fall out. Make a Save and it will regrow normally.
  10. All magic items requiring charges are now fully recharged.
  11. Everyone Healed to maximum hit points.
  12. All previously inert organic matter is now alive and regenerates at a rate of 1 hit point/per hour.
  13. All gunpowder passed through this portal has started to smolder...
  14. Wands start to crackle and shimmer weirdly. In 2d4 minutes they will begin to sprout tendrils and branches, leaves will uncurl, and they will quickly take root within 1d10' of the portal. There are already 1d100 similar 'Trees' in the immediate area. A careful examination will reveal 1d4 seed-pods or acorns that will be harvestable. These seeds will grow into trees that will produce (1d12) raw wands every growing season, once mature.
  15. Re-roll hit points, all results of 1=0, max. result=double points (i.e. a mage with D4 for hit dice rolls a result of '4' which would then be doubled to equal 8 hit points).
  16. Hit Die type shifts upwards to next higher Die-Type (i.e. D4 is now d6).
  17. Clerical magic above 2nd level no longer available. All clerics must Save or else be cut off from their Patron(s) for 1d100 hours.
  18. Everyone in 60' radius takes 3d4 electrical damage. A random electrical discharge will erupt from the portal every 2d10 minutes for the next 1d4 days.
  19. A Wandering Monster emerges from the opposite side of the portal simultaneous to the exit of the player characters. Roll normally for initiative.
  20. Healing potions, devices and spells are inverted.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Endo-Daemons

Endo-Daemons
(Entry-Level Foot-Soldiers)
No. Enc.: 1d4
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120' (60')
Armor Class: 2
Hit Dice: 2
Attacks: 2 (weapons or kick)
Damage: 1d4/1d6+ poison, or 2d4
Save: F4
Morale: base 6 (plus Summoner's CHAR bonus)

Vaguely humanoid and extremely cunning, the Endo-Daemons are wicked beings spawned within the mad labyrinths of Mudarra, a fractured ante-planar fragment caught-up within the Cerulean Vortex.

Originally, the Endo-Daemons were intended to serve as yet another series of synthetic shock troops in yet another squabble between two adepts, but the Endo-Daemons determined that the most expedient way to carry out their work was to kill their creator. This did in fact end the conflict, and it did conform to the parameters established by their creator who has since become a text-book cautionary example of unbridled hubris coupled with lack of fore-thought. The Endo-Daemons have since gone on to colonize a number of fragmentary planar remnants and generally do not interfere in the matters of other beings unless summoned.

Alas for the Endo-Daemons, they were developed from materials that their creator had pro-actively bequeathed to posterity, and so everything necessary to create or summon these beings is fairly well known and available even to first-year sorcery students. Endo-Daemons have become one of the first creatures that most sorcerers attempt to summon and even after achieving a fairly high level, many spell-casters still rely upon these beings as cheap, literal-minded transplanar mercenaries.

Bowing to the realities of supply and demand, and realizing a good thing when they are caught-up within it, the Endo-Daemons have begun to develop a variety of sub-types including pike-men, archers, petardists, artillerists, and others, all available by way of a simple summoning spell that even the most humble Endo-Daemon foot-soldier can teach to its summoner. For a small fee, of course.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Weak Points

Sometimes things, even people disappear. Other times things, even people, appear from seemingly nowhere. People sometimes speak of things, or people having mysteriously disappeared into thin air. Thinness might be one way to describe the situation, but it is not simply 'air' into or out of which these things disappear or arrive from elsewhere. The boundaries between worlds are far more porous and permeable than many would like to know. For whatever reason, the boundaries between the various strata of reality grow thin, rupture or get entangled or twisted-up somehow. The geometries describing this phenomena are mind-numbingly abstruse and form the basis of numerous sorcerous arts and sciences. The study of Weak Points has long been a fringe discipline, except in those places where they are far too common to be written-off or ignored.

Wermspittle is such a place. Weak Points are an incredibly common feature both in the immediate area surrounding Wermspittle, and all through the city itself as well. The place is littered with the things. Riddled. Like a worm-eaten bit of wood. It was the preponderance of Weak Points in this particular region that drew the attention of the scholars, sorcerers and their backers. Hundreds of cartogrammic surveyors, dowsers and others have descended upon the area over the years, but their wild accounts and fantastic reports were most often dismissed as faulty, sheer lunacy, or even dangerous propaganda instigated by foreign interests.

Everyone who knows anything about Wermspittle knows that the place is haunted and accursed, a festering den of heretics and outlaws, a birth-place of abominations and worse. But it is also a center of learning, healing and more. When one wants to study the sea, they must go where the sea is, and in the case of Weak Points and similar such phenomena, one goes to Wermspittle.

Meddling and Examining...
Weak Points are permeable regions that allow two or more worlds, universes or other such realms to commingle. Blend. Blur. Become resonantly harmonious, aligned or conjunct for a while. Most of the time this effect is on a very small scale and such regions are almost always temporary. Usually. But there are conditions under which a Weak Point can be 'captured' or affixed to a specific point and even tuned or modified so as to allow continuous access to what lies beyond. At least theoretically. Most of the research into such things is guarded closely by those who have gained some measure of hard-won expertise in such matters, often at serious risk and great trouble.

The body of work surrounding Weak Points, Tunnels and associated phenomena (such as the Cold Roads) has grown large and complex over the centuries since the formal establishment of 'Transitional Studies,' and 'Transplanar Reconnaissance,' as part of the established curriculum of the Academy. The Institute for Apocalyptic Studies was originally formed by a cadre of defrocked and excommunicated priests, but has transformed into an organizational body dedicated to the unraveling of the enigma of the so-called Dead Worlds that seem to flock around Wermspittle like flies, if one is to believe the accounts of some explorers and surveyors.

Scholars have trickled in to Wermspittle from across the farthest reaches of the Three Empires and many of the lesser principalities. Most of them at the end of their careers, whether they realize it or not. The sort of work that takes place in Wermspittle is suspect, often illicit, unsanctioned or worse. The stink of freethinking and open inquiry surrounds this place, provoking the disdain, disregard and even outright contempt of more mainstream authorities. No teachers ever leave Wermspittle for other schools. Other colleges and universities ship the intellectual debris discovered within the collections and corpus of otherwise respectable scientists and scholars to one or another of the archives and private libraries at Wermspittle. There is much Academic interest in the Weak Points and all that they imply, reveal or allow access unto within Wermspittle, but outside this region, such things are more often banned and damned by the Orthodoxies and Hierarchies who feel profoundly threatened by such things. That the majority of the science, research and experimentation being performed takes place in or around Wermspittle, a notorious hot-bed of heresies and discredited thinking only compounds the problem. And now, with the wars raging across the frontiers and plague spreading like wildfire even into the very heart of the Sanctumopolis of the Pontifical Triumvirate itself...these are perilous times...and a place like Wermspittle tends to get overlooked by those with more important matters to attend to, leaving only a few fanatics or zealots to contemplate the political utility of such a place and how it might serve their ambitions. Wermspittle has often been useful to a great many ambitious people, as with any discrete and deniable place of exile.

Who Knows...
But in Wermspittle, it is not only the Scholars vying for recognition and academic standing who delve into such matters as the true nature of the Weak Points. Inventors, dreamers, poets and schemers, and many of their ilk have come to this place to explore, to examine, to experiment upon Weak Points among other things. Some of them have reported spectacular successes, others have experienced terrifying failures. Daredevils and religious fanatics have likewise come to Wermspittle to find the way to fabulous, mythical kingdoms, to unlock the paths to any number of paradises or hells. Some seek out the Weak Points in order to escape, others hunt them down looking for answers to impossible riddles. For centuries the people of Wermspittle have learned how to live with the Weak Points, how to make the most of their situation, to mark the comings and goings of recurring Weak Points, to chart out the cycles of the more regular ones and to map out the Near Places and sometimes offer a few cryptic hints regarding certain of the Far Places, to note the Paths, the Trails and the Tunnels and to leave something of an oral tradition behind to remind those who come after as to what has been already seen or spotted along the Otherside of those Weak Points that have proven useful or dangerous, benign or malevolent.  If someone were to successfully gather up all these fragments, collect all this lore into some sort of comprehensive and organized ephemeris, catalog, or almanac, it would be an incredible achievement. So far all the in-fighting and under-handed rivalries between the various experts who might have some sort of a shot at completing such a work has prevented any such things taking place. So far.

For A Price...
It is rumored that even the Midwives know something of these things. Which comes as no surprise to anyone who has spent more than a fortnight in this place. It is said, that for a small fee they might scratch a small map or diagram into the hearth-ashes that will reveal something of the nature of a particular Weak Point, but they are loathe to divulge their secrets. One might also consider consulting the Sewer System Concordance & Cthonic Ephemeris published every October by the Sewer Militia, as it is said that these indispensable almanacs contain an appendix that deals with Weak Points in a fair bit of detail, from a practical stand-point, as one would expect from the Sewer Militia. There used to be a Ley-Hunter's Guide and Dowser's Digest printed annually around hundred years ago or so, but it suddenly ceased publication and has never been officially replaced or revived. Old back-issues of this venerable almanac are much sought-after by those engaged in the exploration of Weak Points, Tunnels or related phenomena, including various discredited Geomantics, Parasurveyors, Dowsers and the Ley-Hunters. Collectors and book-sellers are known to bribe apprentices out hunting Wet Spots and the like for the Corruption Trade for any old books they might uncover in their work within the various Abandoned Properties of the Burned Over District and other such places. The going rate for a decent copy of a Dowser's Digest has been steadily going up, to the point that certain of the collectors have actively interfered with recent attempts to revive the publication.

Opportunities
Weak Points offer Practical Philosophers a chance to learn about the actual structure of the universe and to acquire first-hand experience of things that have been left in the hands of contentious and squabbling theoreticians for far too long. There are few theoreticians who have survived long enough to achieve any sort of tenure at the Academy in Wermspittle. Those who study and explore the Weak Points tend to be among the best and the brightest, but they still have a high attrition rate. The high turn-over rate does mean that there are always openings and opportunities for those drawn to this sort of thing. If you have what it takes. It is not for the faint-hearted.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Displacement Effect (Random Table/Any System)

This Table is intended for the Assault of Chaos spell, but it can also be used in the course of an apportational or teleportational duel such as are sometimes fought in the Sepulchre-Arenas of Tsan Yian, certain instances of poltergeist phenomena, or at times when things get spatially-unhinged in the Kalaramar Drifts, for example.
Displacement Effects Table I
  1. Target shifted 1d100' in a random direction.
  2. Buried (1d10 x 1,000') below the surface. Save and a pocket has formed around victim with enough air for about 20 minutes. Fail the Save, there's no pocket.
  3. Victim is instantly transported 1d100 miles in a random direction.
  4. Target has been shunted over to an Alternate Timeline for the next 1d100 minutes.
  5. Spontaneously elevated (1d10 x 1,000') above the surface. Roll Save for disorientation, fail and target passes out for the first 1,000' of falling.
  6. Victim is instantly transported 2d100 miles in a random direction.
  7. Victim has been shifted 1d4 years into the past.
  8. Target shifted 2d100' in a random direction.
  9. Victim is embedded inside a wall or other vertical structure within 1,000' of starting position. Save and there's air for 10 minutes, fail Save and it doesn't matter--body is integrated into the materials of the object.
  10. Target has been shunted over to an Alternate World for the next 1d100 minutes. Save to avoid forming a Weak Point.
  11. Victim is instantly transported 3d100 miles in a random direction.
  12. Target shifted 3d100' in a random direction.
  13. Swap positions with opponent.
  14. Victim is instantly transported 4d100 miles in a random direction.
  15. Target superficially bonded to outer layer of nearest vertical surface. Requires 2d6 minutes to break free but suffer 3d4 damage, Save for half damage.
  16. Target shifted 4d100' in a random direction.
  17. Reversed position.
  18. Victim is instantly transported 1d100 x 1d100 miles in a random direction.
  19. Target exchanges location with a quantum shadow from an intersecting probability string. Make the Save and one or both instances of the affected individual reverts to their native probability stream within 1d100 minutes, fail the Save and one or both instances of the target are cast adrift upon the vast oceans of uncertainty, unlikely to be seen ever again.
  20. Target shifted 1d100 x d100' in a random direction.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Bloody Bones Servitor (Wermspittle)

Bloody Bones
(Spellbound Skeletal Servitors)
No. Enc.: 1d4
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 60' (20')
Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 3
Attacks: 2 claws or 1 bite
Damage: 1d6/1d6 or 2d4, plus see note below
Save: F4
Morale: 11

Gruesome travesties of the living, these servitors are made to literally rip themselves free from the still-warm  flesh of those most recently killed whether it is on the battlefield, at an unhallowed altar, or in some nameless back-alley. Bloody Bones are unconscious slaves, their minds broken and driven off, their bodies ruined  beyond recovery. There remains no shred nor hint of sentience within these things. They are more akin to horrible manikins or machines, cobbled together from fresh bones and ectoplasm, still dripping with gore and raw flesh. Few of these things endure for longer than a few hours unless care is taken to stabilize their constantly deliquescing condition, a step only taken if the spell-caster creating these things has plans that go beyond simply dealing with intruders or interlopers. In Tsan Yian, for example, this spell is a pre-requisite for certain rituals among the Brethren of Bone and Blood and it is rumored to play an important central part in the eventual Transfiguration each member of the Inner Sanctum is expected to partake of along their respective path to power. The Necrotects of Palash and Nidure are equally renowned to have designed and codified over a hundred different variations upon the Bloody Bones spell that creates these skeletal servitors...a situation both competing sects finds intolerable, so they continue to wring still more and even more twisted and distorted variations upon this one spell, this one relatively simple monster.

The alley-squatting mediums of Wermspittle are notorious for using one version or another of the Bloody Bones spell to interfere with the Goules of Latterkamp, whenever those groups find themselves at odds over some point of esoteric prestige or sorcerous standing. It is worth noting that the spells employed in these situations are altogether different from any offered for sale by the above-mentioned Necrotects, and represent an alternative lineage of development that has so far baffled scholars and brought a number of pet theories regarding the provenance of certain here-to-fore 'common' spells into question.

Fantomists will sometimes employ these creatures as ectoplasmic reservoirs, and others (especially those suspected of having ties to the Corruption Trade) have been known to use them as walking Gore-Worm farms. At least one apprentice has dared serious injury over-casting some ill-gotten variation of the Bloody Bones Spell in order to mislead or misdirect an Ordrang or Sanguinovore. It is also an article of faith among some apprentices that the Triple Shadow Spell will cause a Bloody Bones Servitor to slide laterally into an Adjacent World. Few apprentices are up to the task of actually casting this particular spell, and those who achieve the skill and puissance required rarely discuss such matters with apprentices, so the urban folklore persists.

Murlantrik the Octoscholar is known to pay good coins for variant versions of the Bloody Bones Spell or even more for a few choice samples taken from such a servitor--if it is one that she does not already possess. Good luck getting an appointment, though.

To create a Bloody Bones Servitor, the caster utters a blasphemous formula known in most references as a Bloody Bones Spell. Of course, as already noted, there are quite a few variant and modified versions of this spell available. According to some sources, this spell is best rendered in Aklo or D'honnik. This might be some sort of subtle distinction made by the Necrotects, perhaps to allude to the way that the particular language used to commit this spell affects the outcome. Unfortunately, no source outside the Necrotects has given this matter any in-depth study. Those who show signs of making real progress are often co-opted, forcibly inducted into a sect, or rendered undead before they can reveal their insights or findings. Occasionally, a necromantically-inclined Prodigy will cause quite a stir by publishing preliminary findings along these lines, but more often than not they disappear in the ensuing bombings, kidnappings, or assassinations. Some find this something of a sport. Their mentors would rather they took up something less disruptive, like politics or spell-fighting.


Note: These particular skeletons are usually turned as zombies, and anyone struck by their claw-like hands --or bitten-- must make a saving throw versus poison or become sickened for 1d6 hours, during which time they can only move at 50% normal movement and no other physical activity is possible.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Effects of Unknown Forces (Random Table/Any System)

This Table is intended to accompany the spell: Evocation of Unknown Forces, but it can certainly be used with similar spells and in other situations at GM whim, er um discretion.
Effects of Unknown Forces (D20)
  1. Every sentient entity within the area of effect of this spell has 1 point of WIS forcibly ripped from them (inflicting an additional 2d4 damage). The accumulated WIS is then aggregated into one nascent proto-consciousness that is entirely intuitive, instinctive and highly empathic. It also now knows how to take what it needs from those around it in order to become more than it already is and might decide to rip off INT or CHAR to become a more well-rounded personality. This feral egregore has 1 HD per every increment of 6 points of WIS it has to start with.
  2. Everything caught within the sphere of effect is now rendered permanently transparent (roll 1d100 for percentage). It might sound like fun at first, but as the victim's eyes become transparent, they lose a corresponding amount of their ability to see within the normal spectra. A kind GM might allow those affected to adjust their visual sensitivity into some other range, such as infra-red or ultra-violet or whatever. Perhaps they gain the ability to see across the planes or gain a permanent form of clairvoyance in lieu of normal sight...
  3. Save or become petrified. You're not 'really' petrified, but rather have been shifted into a much slower-moving temporal stream. Your body resembles nearly immutable stone that endures throughout the ages to those who view it on the original time-line. The effect might eventually wear-off, but only after some really extreme period of time, unless someone figures out some clever way to circumvent the temporal differential.
  4. Everything goes blindingly white. A vast cacophonous roar shakes you to your very bones. Then it is totally quiet for 1d6 minutes after which it starts to snow within the area of effect for the next 1d6 hours. That is all.
  5. Each living thing within range of this spell loses 1 HD that is extracted under excruciatingly painful circumstances by the writhing, slithering energies of something ultra-organic, but operating on an entirely other sequence of planar spectra. All the extracted HD are then compounded into a weird gelatinous mass of poly-cellular goo that requires 1d30 rounds to fully gestate/incubate/develop within its egg-sac, after which time a wet and very hungry abomination combining one or more features from everyone who contributed a HD to its creation process (typically in the most lurid, disgusting ways possible to describe with a straight face or in your best drop-dead serious HPL-tone) chews its way out of the amniotic caul-pod and starts looking around for its mother...and something to eat.
  6. Everyone re-rolls WIS on 5d6, discards the lower two results and replaces their original score. Then each character so affected must make a Save or lose consciousness for 1d4 hours, after which time they awaken to a new life with a new personality, and no memory of their past life. The old memories and identity might be recoverable (like via certain spells), but could easily require an adventure or two in and of itself. There are those who deal in such matters, beings who barter in souls, trade in memories, or peddle new identities, as well as those who recover old identities, for a price.
  7. It's all purple. Deep, dark purple. Oh, and all the air is screaming off into the void that is all deep, dark purple and empty, except for you.
  8. Those caught within the area of effect can no longer see the color green. Save or this is a permanent effect.
  9. Everyone within range of the spell's effect must roll a Save or have their eyes morph into wet, flabby masses of looping tendril or feather-like antennae that extend nearly a foot outwards from their skull. Each of those affected now has a permanent True Seeing spell always in effect, however they cannot bear exposure to bright lights as their new ocular appendages are extremely sensitive things.
  10. The entire zone of effect of this spell has slipped out of alignment with the planar plenum and the whole thing is now sliding precipitously across one adjacent plane after another, picking up speed as it does so, until at last it reaches sufficient velocity to break free of anything you might know or recognize as reality, never to be seen again. Anyone so desiring can, of course, leave the accelerating elliptical area of effect, but will find themselves left on some other plane, dimension or place. Each minute they hesitate before jumping adds 1d4 to the amount of damage they will take when they finally do jump, unless they opt to ride this thing out...then it's a one way trip to oblivion, unless the GM decides to intervene.
  11. Everyone within the zone of effect has had their skin and a small amount of their flesh commingled with everyone else. Cutting free will take 3d6 damage over the course of 3d4 rounds, with a need to either make a CON check or a Save in order to not pass out in the course of extracting one's self from this disgusting mess. Once free, another Save will be needed to avoid bleeding to death. If anyone stays interconnected like this without cutting themselves free, they will be conglomerated into a single macro-organism within 3d6 hours. It is a painless process, however the final conglomerate being will only retain portions of any one contributor's memories, abilities, or attributes...and it will most definitely not be human any longer. Oh, and it will certainly be quite hungry.
  12. Everyone hands their character sheet over to the person to their right for the rest of the session. Players must succeed on a Save for both their old character and the new one in order to switch back. They can attempt this only once per session.
  13. The zone of effect becomes a permanent storm with winds that lash out for 2d4 damage per round and a constant 30% chance of random lightning strikes for another 3d6 damage. See the Damned Things Tables for additional fall-out from the storm, and there is a base 5% chance that this place has become a temporary Weak Spot or Weak Point in reality, allowing things to cross-over from strange places and times. (This would be a great time to whip out one of those handy random tables of monster encounters from Mutant FutureHumanspace Empires, or some other game...)
  14. Each mind within the zone of effect has been swapped into the body of someone or something else who was likewise caught within the range of this spell. Roll randomly.
  15. All beings within the zone of effect must make a Save or be forcibly transmogrified into a living shadow of themselves. Their ability to assume a limited form of materiality will depend on their ability to derive substance from those they drain of hit points by a touch attack, or possibly other sorcerous solutions mostly known within Tsan Yian...
  16. All those affected have malleable features, essentially their faces mold like putty, for the next 1d6 days. Yes, they will stay that way if you're not careful.
  17. You all wake up with a headache, you've lost 1d4 HD, all your stats are re-rolled, and you may be an entirely other class and possibly even another race or gender now...and your memories of what happened are cloudy and painful, so it's probably best to get moving. This place just doesn't feel right to you and the sooner you get away from it, the better.
  18. Those affected have had their bones transformed into translucent crystalline material much more akin to carbon than to calcium. Each of them gains one additional Hit Die, heals at twice the normal rate, and now has the ability to store spells in their bones as though they were walking, talking rings of spell storing. There are quite a few 'interested parties' who'd dearly love to get hold of such lovely bones as those the player characters now carry around within their formerly worthless hides...
  19. Everything goes black --very dramatically-- and each person caught within the spell's zone of effect finds themselves facing an exact duplicate, a deranged, slavering, completely insane contra-replica hellbent on killing and devouring the original so that they can go forth from this place in their stead.
  20. No one will ever know what really happened. Roll up some new characters...

Friday, February 10, 2012

Flytaur [Type II] (Labyrinth Lord)

Flytaur (Drone Type II)
No. Enc.: 1d6 (4d20)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 60' on any surface (Include climbing as normal movement)
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 4+1
Attacks: 3 (Claws, weapons and/or special)
Damage: 1d4+1/1d4+1 (claws)/ 1d6+1 (Hook-swords/Cleavers), 1d6+1 (halberd)
Save: F4
Morale: 12 (Cannot Retreat)

Special Attack: Should a Flytaur Drone succeed in immobilizing or incapacitating an enemy combatant, they will spend 1 turn vomiting frothy white digestive juices upon them, inflicting 2d4 acid damage. During this turn, the disgorging Flytaur is immobile and cannot defend itself. 

Flytaur Drones are fearless subterranean scavengers who are notorious for sending wave after wave of drone-soldiers into what anyone else would see as hopeless or futile efforts. Ruthless and cold-blooded, the Flytaurs often eventually overwhelm their opponents though at a high rate of senseless attrition.

A typical Type II Flytaur Drone has incredible peripheral vision, excellent hearing and motion sense, making it very difficult to sneak up on one and nigh impossible to back-stab. The arms of a Type II Flytaur Drone are multiple-jointed and they can effectively attack from any angle or in any direction with any of their four limbs at no penalty. Unlike the Type I Drones, these soldiers do not leap or jump about in combat, these particular Drones are far more prone to hold a position and defend it.

Flytaur drone-soldiers (Type I-III) never parry or use shields. However, certain units among these types of Drones have begun to employ slaves and prisoners as shield-bearers and living manlets, a clear violation of the prohibition against their use of shields. It is unclear what this might signify, though some scholars speculate that the Type II Drones are far more intelligent that any of their fellows and it is suspected that they may be developing some form of autonomy.

There are rumored to be specialists among the Type II Drones who fight without weapons using a peculiar insect-style martial art.

Flytaur Drones are immune to most magical forms of Fear and Confusion magic, however they are susceptible to illusions and are notorious in their intense hatred for anything that has wings. Far from emotionless, Flytaurs resent having been denied their natural birth-right and being relegated to a flightless existence. Originally bred to be sterile, Type II Drones have proven capable of reproduction, but they have kept this a secret for some time now. Their masters would not be pleased to learn of the many changes taking place among their drone-soldiers. but there can only be so many 'accidents' or 'unexpected losses' before things begin to fall apart and the truth is discovered. There are those among the Type II Drones who are working furiously to prepare themselves for what they see as an inevitable breakdown, a time when their continued Drone-dom may be at an end. They do not see it as a rebellion, but rather as an ongoing process of evolution. their masters, however, might very well see things quite a bit differently...

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Zurian (War Breed)

Zurian (War-breed)
No. Enc.: 2d6 (3d10)
Alignment: (10%) Chaotic, (60%) Lawful, (30%) Neutral (But all are unstable, -2 reaction to all non-Zurians)
Movement: 90' (Passwall  & Planeshift Ability*)
Armor Class: 4
Hit Dice: 4+
Attacks: 1 (Weapon)
Damage: 3d4
Save: F5
Morale: 10

Special: Use Discern Weakpoint, Detect Ley-Line, and Locate Portal at will. Zurian War-Breed can use Passwall and Planeshift up to 3/times per day at no cost. A fourth attempt results in 2d4 damage, and subsequent attempts cost an additional 1d4. Zurian War Breed actively cultivate various forms of vampirism as a chosen weapon. Upon physical death they have a base 60% chance to rise as an undead vampire, if their body is not completely destroyed. The unlucky 40% who fail to make the transition take the form of lesser undead and serve as droogs, stooges and disposable cannon fodder for their vampiric masters.

Tall, dark and fearsome the Zurian War Breed are a specialist sub-type of pseudohumans devoted to the mastery of personal martial prowess. They almost never use missile weapons unless it is to demonstrate their significant skill in the use of an antique fire-arm or their accuracy with some complicated alien weapon system such as a customized heat ray projector taken from a fallen Sarmakian or something similarly gauche and show-off-ish as that.

All War Breed regenerate at a rate of 1/hp per hour. They can also restore lost hit points by draining them from opponents in melee combat, regaining 1 hit point for every 20 hit points of damage they inflict. Certain sorcerous weapons and special items allow this rate to be improved or adjusted, but such things are mercifully rare.

It might be helpful to consult the Alternative Forms of Vampirism Table for some idea of what approach or particular technique any given War Breed might be using, at least as a further option.

War Breed are not bothered by the whole casting-spells-while-wearing-armor silliness that seems to trouble lesser species. They are intrinsically dual-classed Fighter/Spellcasters and wield weapons or spells with equal skill and panache. (Treat their spell-casting abilities as being at a level equal to half their total hit dice.)

War Breed form small cadres of no more than thirty oath-sworn vassals. Some also attract various followers, familiars, servitors, or champions and many freely employ undead slaves and bound-spirits in their retinues, but these beings are not counted as truly being part of the War Breed's personal, core cadre.


Source: Zurians were inspired by some wild speculation of the best sort found in The Book of the Damned by Charles Fort, first published in 1919. You can download a copy of The Book of the Damned from Sacred Texts, or from Project Gutenberg.  There's a nifty hyper-text version of TBotD that can be accessed via Resologist's site, if that's more your speed. As an aside, the Complete Works of Charles Fort are available from Sacred Texts...which is also very handy. And yes, the Zurians really do build their castles and fortresses in such a way as to completely fuse and vitrify the outside into a dense, hardened glass-like surface by the sorcerous/technological application of great heat. They also tend to be great aficionados of heat rays as a lovely way to evaporate enemies at a distance...

Other sources of inspiration came from the depiction of Lord Shiva as having blue skin, perhaps a slight nod to the Vhadagh of Michael Moorcock, and the very real medical condition known as methemoglobinemia which produced the so-called 'Blue People of Kentucky.' All half-Zurians have a better than 80% chance to have full-blown methemoglobinemia, but all of them have bluish tinges to their skin, eyes and blood. Hair coloration in Zurians and half-Zurians seems to be randomly determined and encompasses a wide range of tints and hues beyond the 'norm.'

Zurian (Pseudohuman)

Zurian (Pseudohuman)
No. Enc.: 1d6 (3d8)
Alignment: (10%) Chaotic, (60%) Lawful, (30%) Neutral (But all are unstable, -2 reaction to all non-Zurians)
Movement: 90' (Passwall  Planeshift Ability*)
Armor Class: 4
Hit Dice: 3+
Attacks: 1 (Weapon)
Damage: 2d4
Save: F3
Morale: 9

Special: Use Discern WeakpointDetect Ley-Line, and Locate Portal at will. Most Zurians can use Passwall once a day per every 3 HD they have gained and they can use Planeshift by expending 2d4 hit points; some are adept at vampirically siphoning these points from enemies that they've struck in melee combat. Zurian Nobles keep a close guard on the secret to the technique of using these abilities without taking damage, mostly as a way to keep their lessers from getting into too much trouble.

Zurians are tall, athletically-inclined humanoids with vivid blue skin and dark eyes. From an early age onward the majority of Zurians are raised within a culture that spans myriads of adjacent worlds and parallel realms. The ability to traverse the length and breadth of these regions is very much taken for granted by the mainstream of Zurian society; those lacking even a rudimentary talent for slipping across the interplenal boundaries and interstitial zones of the paraverse are seen as somehow damaged or possibly morally questionable. Most such individuals somehow get stranded on some wilderness world far off from the usual haunts of the rest of their folk, either to fend for themselves or to at least have the good grace to not embarrass their fellows any farther.

The only non-spellcasting Zurians tend to be certain members of the so-called 'lost generations' mentioned above, and the War Breed who are a self-selected and modified sub-type devoted to martial prowess of the personal variety. Zurians have never had generals, nor have they fielded an army at any point in their Acknowledged Histories. Each Noble approaches their personal security and the expression of their political and military ambitions through a hierarchy of champions, agents and servitors, including summoned  xenomorphs, pact-bound spirits, specialized constructs, and enslaved non-humans. Designer insect-species are something of a fad among the ultra-elite.

It is worth noting that there is no real central authority or polity among the Zurians. They tend to clump together into loose affiliations, extended family-groups and demi-tribes, but rarely ever manage to maintain any real ties to one another that might lead to the formation of something even as prosaic as a clan. Even the most organized, orderly and ruthlessly rigid members of this pseudohuman species have not been able to weld a significant number of their fellows together, not even in the face of terrible enemies or threats of annihilation. Zurians just do not know how to cooperate meaningfully for any real length of time. They also tend to get distracted by sensory impressions filtering in from dozens of planes/dimensions/timelines at once.

Source: Zurians were inspired by some wild speculation of the best sort found in The Book of the Damned by Charles Fort, first published in 1919. You can download a copy of The Book of the Damned from Sacred Texts, or from Project Gutenberg.  There's a nifty hyper-text version of TBotD that can be accessed via Resologist's site, if that's more your speed. As an aside, the Complete Works of Charles Fort are available from Sacred Texts...which is also very handy. And yes, the Zurians really do build their castles and fortresses in such a way as to completely fuse and vitrify the outside into a dense, hardened glass-like surface by the sorcerous/technological application of great heat. They also tend to be great aficionados of heat rays as a lovely way to evaporate enemies at a distance...

Other sources of inspiration came from the depiction of Lord Shiva as having blue skin, perhaps a slight nod to the Vhadagh of Michael Moorcock, and the very real medical condition known as methemoglobinemia which produced the so-called 'Blue People of Kentucky.' All half-Zurians have a better than 80% chance to have full-blown methemoglobinemia, but all of them have bluish tinges to their skin, eyes and blood. Hair coloration in Zurians and half-Zurians seems to be randomly determined and encompasses a wide range of tints and hues beyond the 'norm.'

Violetics are specialized Zurian-hybrids. As far as anyone knows, there is no connection between the Zurians or Violetics and Lin Carter's Indigons...but who really knows?

Friday, December 23, 2011

Circles Turn: The Complete Series

Porky has now completed his 5-part Circles Turn series in which he provides a fictionalized account of the recent expedition of three stalwart adventurers as they sought to delve the depths of Zilgor's Repose.

The Cleave, Gruff and Wilt bravely dared to enter this notorious place in search of treasure.

They faced blood-thirsty worms, confronted the scittering-chittering arachnomites and won past the initial hazards only to run afoul of an ancient, diabolical trap.


Zilgor's Repose has claimed a terrible price. Again.

But there are those who still seek treasure or to learn the secret of this ancient crypt.

Perhaps others will be more fortunate...

...there are always others drawn to this place. There have been others who have returned with rare jewels and rich loot. And all adventurers think that it will be they who are the lucky ones...

Circles Turn
The Complete Saga is now available in one consolidated post, or you can click through the story one episode at a time, whichever works best for you.
Zilgor's Repose

Monday, December 19, 2011

Lone Survivors II (Encounters/Kalaramar Drifts)

Lone Survivors: Table II (D12)
  1. A filthy, smelly old man with long, bedraggled hair and grizzled eyes. He has no fingernails left, as he has spent countless hours trying to dig himself out of here by scratching away at the bare stone. His mind is broken. All he sees around him any more are slithering little Triss, each taunting him with a slow, painful death by rotting. He holds a folded leather map in his jerkin. It shows 2d6 rooms of some unnamed dungeon in great detail...but shows none of the interconnecting passages.
  2. The smell of putrescent meat is incredible. Anyone with a CON lower than 14 needs to Save or vomit uncontrollably for 1d4 rounds. A shambling, massively decayed figure of what once was some sort of humanoid being lurches towards you. Over a third of this thing's body is skeletonized, the rest glistens wetly as it drips, dribbles and peels off of the bones with each movement. It holds a roughly one foot long section of a black metal javelin or spike or blade that seems to have broken off in the process of impaling the mostly undead former adventurer. He wants you to have it...
  3. A laughing green hyena follows you for 1d4 turns. It seems to be laughing at some sort of inside joke. Arrows and other missiles harmlessly go through the thing's body with a wet popping noise. It will fade away at the end of its time and leave behind a patch of greenish phlegm-like stuff on the wall where it walked through. The patch is a perfect outline of the hyena.
  4. A tall, regal-looking woman in heavily corroded chainmail lies dead on the floor. Her entire left arm and part of her left torso is missing. There are 1d4 Gore-worms incubating in what is left of her abdomen and they will burst forth if anyone disturbs the corpse. She has 2d6 silver coins in her belt pouch and a dagger that is still in decent shape. There is also a slender bone scroll-tube capped with platinum in her pouch. This scroll-tube contains a contract with a Revivalist in one of the near-by City-States who is bound to resurrect and/or recover this adventurer's body in the event of its untimely demise. If you can transport the body to this place, there is a fair-sized reward involved.
  5. A dwarf in full plate armor sits in the corner. His head is in his lap. Literally. He will request a drink of wine, or anything stronger if it be available. Anyone giving the dead, decapitated dwarf a drink will receive a +1 bonus to hit with their chosen weapon, permanently. The dwarf fades away after a riotous belch.
  6. A duck.
  7. A translucent, greenish worm is gobbling-down the remains of a robed figure. The worm is the magic-user's familiar and it is attempting to absorb all of its former master's knowledge, intelligence, spells and abilities by devouring the master's corpse whole.
  8. Someone is crawling towards you. They are obviously exerting themselves terribly and you can smell blood. It is what is left of a scale-mail clad man-at-arms from the waist-up. There is nothing left of him from the waist down any more. He is going into shock and will die from extreme blood loss in 1d4 turns. He has left a trail back to where he received his terrible wound...
  9. A mauled-looking mule stands off to the side. It stares at you accusingly for 1d4 turns then disappears, leaving behind only a patch of wet blood and the scent of worm-spit. Investigating the patch of blood will reveal 1d4 random items of Low-End Loot. (Roll on any of the Low-End Loot Tables.)
  10. A Harpy on a 12' length of chain can be heard grumbling, as well as smelled, well before you see her. Her wings have been expertly clipped and what was once a well-tailored maid's outfit is in tatters. She was a domestic servant to some gentleman adventurer who has since gone missing and she is at loose ends. She might have references...
  11. A skull. If asked a single question, it will respond truthfully then crumble into dust.
  12. Three sheep and a goat. They were desperate. Afraid. Besides, they'll never talk about what really happened after the party got scragged by whatever that thing was...uh...yeah...they kinda do talk...a lot. They're not very bright and they've seen a lot. They've seen too much. The goat tends to just shiver uncontrollably and babble fragments of blasphemous spells or rituals that it might have observed or participated in--it's unclear and the sheep don't know nothin' about any of that weird crap. For crying out loud, they're nervous and want to go home. (Double Wandering Monster checks as long as these critters can still jabber freely.)

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Shell-Back

Shell-Back
No. Enc.: 2d4 (4d4)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 90' (30')
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 1+1 (improves with age)
Attacks: 3 (claw/claw/bite)
Damage: 1d6+2, 1d6+2, 3d4
Save: F2
Morale: 6

Special: Deliberate Adaptation, Closed Gestalt

Shell-Backs are an old, little regarded type of abhuman hybrid left-over from the grim days of the despot Mardalle and her blasphemous experiments in mixing and mingling the life-stuff of countless animals, plants and slaves. Most reputable scholars have long since rejected the methods first explored by Mardalle, but few can avoid the real and significant contributions that she made to science and natural philosophy, not the least of which are several varieties of abhumans and pseudohumans that survive, even thrive, to this very day. But few of them see themselves as any sort of living testament to their creator. Most revile her name and have rejected the society of those who would honor the dubious 'achievements' of the long-dead despot.

To Serve One's Betters
Originally bred to serve as laborers, porters, teamsters and the like within the dismal marshes and other wetland regions of Mardalle's demesne, the Shell-backs were also formed to act as an impromptu militia of sorts. They were intended to not only serve their masters, but to protect them from the giant leeches, bog worms and other dangerous flora and fauna of these areas.

Over time the Shell-Backs proved themselves to be eminently good at their various tasks and duties. Diligent and plodding, methodical and seemingly unimaginative, they served for generations without complaint or even the merest hint of displeasure or restiveness. But this may all have been part of an elaborate ruse...

More Than They Seem...
There are several varieties of Shell-Backs. Some truly are little more than animals, but these are by far in the minority. Most Shell-Backs are not only intelligent, they possess souls, harbor ambitions, and in some cases even develop sorcerous and/or psychic ability. But so far they have revealed only the very least of what they are truly capable of to outsiders. One major ability that few have ever suspected is that the Shell-Backs share a form of closed-loop telepathy, making them a Closed Gestalt -- a group-mind that remains withdrawn, hidden and so far unsuspected by outsiders. Whatever one Shell-Back sees, hears or learns, the rest likewise have access to according to their individual abilities (This is based on WIS).

A Shell-Back also has the innate ability to adapt to whatever natural environment they find themselves in, so long as they make a successful Save against any environmental effects. This takes the form of their shift from amphibian to desert-oriented bipeds who now have the means to store water and survive great amounts of heat, cold and deprivation. This capacity to adapt has not been fully studied, mostly for lack of funding and academic apathy--no one has ever really been all that interested in the Shell-Backs.

Until recently.

The More Some Things Tend To Stay The Same...
The prevailing expert opinion for centuries has been that the Shell-Backs are stable, amalgam-beings composed of only a small percentage of human characteristics, remaining mostly animals. They have been enslaved and taught simple tasks, even used as cannon-fodder (literally) during sieges and other extreme events, but for the most part no one has regarded the creatures as being more than slightly clever animals. This has been a mistake.

Shell-Backs are not just semi-mindless, bipedal animals that can be exploited as cheap labor and trained as simple servants. They are intelligent, very patient and have been extremely secretive about their true natures and capabilities. In effect, Shell-Backs have been hiding in plain sight, learning a great deal about the other races while serving them as slaves, lackeys, and the like.

The More Other Things Change...
The more advanced Shell-Backs have turned away from their ancestral wet-lands and have begun to establish enclaves deep in the dry wastes, deliberately adapting themselves to an alien environment as they master the arts and sciences that they have learned over the course of their long observation and service to the other races.

An army of Shell-Back pike-men is rumored to be forming out past the Ruined Perimeter...