How Bugbears are Born

Let's join the life cycle of the bugbear with our little friend, the goblin. Goblin children, about the age where human children might be called toddlers, are notorious for getting into places and situations away from their parents. They are also notorious for being horrifically violent, cruel (as in physically cruel) and deceptive, but that's not important right now.

In some areas near where goblins dwell, the little goblins sometimes find themselves (either by misadventure or design) in proximity to a certain breed of enormous semi-translucent spiders.

Sort of, but 8 feet long and way more gross.

The little goblins are bitten, envenomed, and swallowed whole by these spiders, which have big sacs, one sac per spider, inside their abdomen. The little goblins languish comatose in the spider’s translucent abdomen as they slowly transmogrify into full-size bugbears. As they grow, they gradually take over the spider’s body, slowly killing it as their limbs squeeze out into the four rear legs of the spider, expanding the girth of the legs and forcing them to moult aggressively.

In the final stage of the process the spider takes on a centaur-like existence, with the bugbear occupied abdomen (with their head in part of the thorax) acting as the horizontal motive portion, and the rest of the spider vertically upright, it’s non-bugbear-filled front legs flailing in pain as it continues to search for sustenance to feed the growing bugbear within. Finally, the fully grown bugbear bursts from the still-living spider, killing it. The bugbear will, over time, produce spider eggs about the size of green grapes. These eggs generate in glands analogous to a dog or skunk’s scent glands. You can probably guess where these nasty, slimy, translucent eggs can then be found, and what the hatchlings' diet consists of.

Super Secret Event Table

After much contemplation, I share my Event Table for the 1 hour walk between Castle Nicodemus and the visiting Caravan from The Fields We Know. Compared to most of my event tables, it has a high percentage of actual encounters. This is mostly due to the fact that I only end up rolling on it twice a session, due to the nature of the G+ Hangout game.

I think it's ok to go ahead and share this now, since there are more people with characters actually originating in the world where Nicodemus sits.

Using the two different dice types puts a big flat spot of equal probability in the middle of it, from 9 to 13. When you do that, the flat spot will be one more than the difference between the two dice.

Environs 1d8+1d12
2 Dead body; roll again to see what died
3 Gnomes 1d12
4 Heavy winds for 2d8 turns; 2d6 for clock direction, 1 = due east
5 Snakes
6 Corkens 1d8; If night, Hellhounds
7 Thunderstorm for 1d8+1 turns
8 Sheep! 4d10
9 Orc Patrol 1d10+1d12; no. times 10% = chance of leader
10 Human Bandits 2d6; no. times 10% = chance of leader
11 Bridgewater Townies 1d4 or Strange Noises
12 Rainstorm for 1d12+1 turns
13 Goblin Bandits 3d6; no. times 10% = chance of leader
14 Giant Beetles or Giant Spiders or Giant Wasps; If night, Ghouls
15 Wolves or Deer
16 Anhkhegs or Giant Rodents
17 Owl Bears 1d6-2; <=1 is 1
18 Spider Bears 1d6-3; <=1 is 1
19 Bulette
20 Roll on the super secret special table


The Super Secret Special Table
1 Wyvern
2 Manticore
3 Wizard
4 Elves
5 Giant Toad
6 Trolls
7 Priest
8 Ominous Raven
9 Gargoyles
10 Hill Giant
11 Giant Slug
12 Werewolves
13 Ogres
14 Purple Worm
15 Sink Hole, 20% chance it opens as you walk over it
16 Sandestin
17 Wights

Life on Grot

How does the ecology of Grot function? Why does the weather do what it does? Why does the violet-white-tinged sun of Grot rise red and set blue? One may as well ask why Azathoth enjoys the piping of a trillion frantic flutes, or what’s inside a chicken mcnugget.

There are many ruins across the face of Grot, but there remain no living cities. The bastions of civilisation, if one is pressed to call them that, are generally found in ancient isolated castles. These fortresses look out onto a countryside teeming with death, disorder and degenerate savagery. They bear ancient names like Castle Xoon, The Fortress of Necron, and The Morgus. But the prospective visitor must be wary, for these fortifications can often prove as treacherous as the wilderness.

The wilderness contains few of what most would think of as species. The preponderance of Grot’s creatures are too subject to malformation and grotesquerie to conform to such mundane classification. Of those few that do, one type of note are the shockingly prolific Vogg, or Pig-Beasts. These bipedal abominations, clammy in their rubbery and unwholesomely pallid flesh, either creep in singular stealth or pour forth in maggot-like masses in many places across Grot.

The Vogg, their faces only suggesting the porcine, have glistening whitish translucent flesh, like some thing vomited forth from the blackest sun-forgotten pits, and their entrails twist and writhe visibly under the surface, like unfried spring rolls full of squirming black-eyed grubs.

Goggle-Eyed Cluelacker

Because of this.


Goggle-Eyed Cluelacker
2 hit dice
Pummel attack for 1d6 damage
Armor class 6 due to rubberiness, blunt weapons do -1 damage
Move 9
Surprised on 3 in 6
Can see all round, 360 degrees
Low intelligence
Encountered in groups of 2d12+8 (10 to 32)

These idiotic creatures appear similar to pale-skinned frog people. The batrachian appearance is due mostly to the large round goggley eyes sitting on what would be a flattened human's forehead. Their mouths, though large, flappy, and gibbering, are not the ear-to-ear affair of a true batrachinoid. Their pale skin tends to be quite clammy as well. They occasionally have hair on their heads, but if so it is very thin and lank. Their pale skin can range through whitish green to whitish blue, or even a whitish yellow or violet cast, mostly based on geographical region. Also, their long spatulate fingers are not webbed. They tend to be pot-bellied and weak-shouldered, with spindly arms and legs, and large hands and feet. Most are from 5 and a half to 6 feet tall.

Although they will not actively attack unless directly threatened, they can be quite dangerous nonetheless. Upon noticing any humanoid, they will attempt to crowd around the individual or individuals, touching and pawing at them while gibbering their inane mutterings. Each round anyone thus in contact with them (even if not entirely surrounded) must make a reaction save versus wands (or a difficult dexterity check) to maintain their footing. If the unfortunate focus of their attention loses their footing, the victim will immediately be subject to 6d3 trampling damage. The victim may attempt to crawl out of the press during the next combat round by repeating their saving throw (or ability check.) Each subsequent round of trampling reduces the efficacy of escape attempts by 2 points.

Black Goat of The Woods

You have trouble defining the feeling of these woods. They are not necessarily evil. They are.. Wrong.

When seen from a distance this goat looks unusual, but not impossible. It is dark. Black, in fact. It has 4 horns, which normal goats sometimes have. There is something disturbing about its back.

When you can see it properly, you see the dozens and dozens of moving eyes on its back and shoulders. The eyes are of many sizes. They gaze in many different directions. You dare not look closely enough to see if they are of many colours. Then you see the many mouths opening and closing.

Then you see the intermittent dripping. The dripping of eyes. The eyes slide down its sable hide to the ground and grow. They grow and transform.

1d6 eyes and mouths slide from the goat's back and shoulders each round, each growing to a full Spawn of Shub-Niggurath in one round. The goat itself is an avatar of Shub-Niggurath, and as such is virtually indestructible. As an instantiation of the Old Ones, it is also all but oblivious to mundane creatures, such as adventurers. Due to its constant propagation, it is horribly easy to follow its trail, though perhaps unwise to do so.

Gormenghasts’s Bestiary, A Page at Random - Grue

The book is extremely thick and very large, with a cover of highly tooled and decorated, one might almost say sculpted, leather of unknown provenance. It is closed with a heavy leather hasp in the form of two paws which grasp one another when brought together. The book’s origin lies within the labyrinthine libraries of a vast and storied castle, but it has been many generations since it rested there.

Grue, Vashta Nerada, Devourer in The Dark.
Many children fear night-time and the dark spaces of the world, but most learn to dismiss this fear as they grow to adulthood. This is a potentially deadly error. When entering a place occupied by a grue, a lack of illumination spells near-certain death. All that is necessary to ensure safety, however, is to bring forth a source of visible light. It is of special note that beings with some ability to see in utter darkness are not thereby made safe. The grue will remain quite unviewable to persons of this proclivity, yet its deadly efficacy will be unabated.
None know what manner of physical form this creature possesses, for upon exposure to visible light it is instantly dismissed. Sages ponder the nature of this banishment, but most agree it has to do with the inherent shadows present within the folds of reality. Some have heard sounds of slavering and the gnashing of a great maw just before the spark of a flint lit their lantern, yet there are others who report only the clattering of an object or two before their newly lighted torch revealed a bit of gear which belonged to a now missing compatriot.

Statistics - a decidedly deadly beast to encounter, the grue has more in common with a devilish trap than a typical creature. If in an area occupied or frequented by grues, and unfortunate enough to be without a source of visible light, a character in utter darkness for more than one round must save versus paralysis or be utterly eliminated. 1d4 items carried on their person, determined randomly, may fall to the ground and remain behind. The grue will only devour one character per round, determined randomly from those present. Those devoured by a grue may be retrieved by a wish, but no other means is sufficient.

Off With Their Heads!

Firstly, you can be one of the first to sign up at the HUGE RUINED PILE fantasy fiction message board! It's only just begun, but I have the feeling it's destined to be the premier internet location for the discussion of fantasy literature.

And now, another deity.

Karth-Gohmon, God of Severed Heads: 

Two sorts pray to this god. Those wishing to sever the heads of their enemies, and those wishing to keep their heads attached to their bodies. He stiffly rebukes all who might ask for a painless beheading, as those are someone else's business.

He appears as an animate vertical stack of severed heads, all slightly larger than human-sized. The number of heads varies depending on the level of power he manifests, but is never less than 3. The heads are usually human males, but can be of any race and gender, again usually dependent on the situation. When he speaks, a few words of each sentence come from a different mouth, in succession. If making a particularly strident point, all mouths shout in unison.

Karth-Gohmon is the god of choice for penanggalans, and he is often accompanied by a retinue of prime examples (maximum variables) of this creature.

He is widely known for his blessings and curses, which include:
Blessing of Vorpality - bestowed upon an edged weapon.
The Headsman's Curse - your head leaves your body, but you don't die. Rather, you must carry your head with you, or use temporary means to affix it atop your neck, and use it to eat, breath, etc. There is no wound. Hijinx ensue.

Many other curses and blessings are possible, and the enterprising DM is encouraged to be both devious and beneficent, as appropriate.

Cabbages!

Az-Nur, The God of Cabbages:

Blind and only semi-intelligent, it is found sometimes at the center of vast patches of wild cabbages in remote seacoast areas. Once per round it can spawn a small angry warrior infant out of the center of its folds, or from the center of surrounding cabbages. It can also blast antagonists with a wave of ignorance and apathy, with results similar to confusion. If defeated and eaten, it is rumoured that great wealth will come to those who dine on its leaves. It is not as dapper as the illustration above, having neither the limbs nor inclination to wear suits.

Cabbage-Spawn of Az-Nur: Tough, leathery skin gives them AC 7 despite being naked. Additionally, they are only 1-2 feet tall, and thus receive any armor class benefit due to size differences. Each has 4hd, much in the way cabbage flowers have 4 petals, and attack with either hands or any nearby implements. Due to looking like human babies, any lawful or good opponents must save vs. spells or suffer a -2 to hit these highly aggressive but otherwise adorable minions. When killed, they fall to the ground as a scattering of small cabbage leaves.

"Cabbage: a familiar kitchen-garden vegetable about as large and wise as a man's head."
-Ambrose Bierce

Small Doughy Gods

Ever since James at Grognardia announced his call for petty gods last week, I've been thinking about minor deities. Two things have kept me from submitting a few ideas. I've always been lazy and wafflish about putting stats on my creations, and as far as deities are concerned, I almost never applied stats to them anyway.

Much as voiced by Newt at Sorcerer Under Mountain, I never felt it was appropriate for my players to have any remote chance of actually defeating a god or demi-god in battle. I understand that's kind of the point behind James' idea, and that he tailored it specifically toward petty gods just because of that. I don't have a problem with that at all, and agree that it sounds like a good bit of fun for a high level party in the right situation. The thing is, I'm still left with my own total incompetence at applying stats to deities.

My solution is to post up some of my ideas here, with no stats. I posted some of what I'll be putting up here over the next few days over in Scott's PbP forum. Over there, I offered that others could stat these up and send them to James, and I'll say the same here. Here's the first one below.

Temulac, God of Baking:

Propitiated to ensure the successful completion of pastries, bread, pies and other baked goods. Easily enraged by throwing out leftovers or extras. Appears most commonly as a bulbous naked man covered entirely in flour, with a baker's hat. Those deemed particularly evil in their wastefulness may find themselves turned into some type of small anthropomorphic baked good, remaining sentient but immobile and unable to communicate.