Saturday, January 13, 2018


A Legends of Asgard staple I am looting from our database for my own cruel purposes.


Imagine a crow - your standard crow, we don't need to get fancy. Now, picture it the size of a dog. You got it? Not the thing you wanna find in the woods while alone, is it?

Great. Remove the feathers and skin from the skull, thickening the skull a bit; liberally apply mange and open sores across the whole of it. Don't forget parasites. There we are.

I suppose "vulture sized crow" would have saved us all time.

These bastards have the intelligence and a penchant for stealing things of normal crows, combined with a cruel intention and a desire to ruin your day. Typically found in groups (a premeditation) of 2+1d4 among the tree tops of the spookier forests, waiting for the opportunity to prey on an inconvenienced traveler. They smell of moist, rotting meat. They taste of skin flakes, old dust, and parasites. They feel as you would expect. Their cry is a cross between a 'caw' and solid anxiety ground into a powder.

2 HD
Armor: Touch 

   * If It Ain't Nailed Down - On a successful attack, instead of applying damage the Gorcrow snatches one randomly rolled item not with in the target's pack. It then proceeds to fly off with it, probably back to a nest (...gornest?). 
   * Cannonball! - Should no one have items outside their pack, or sometimes as an opening move, a gorcrow will drop from the sky, diving down directly into a target. Said target gets a Save vs Falling on their ass, spilling the contents of their pack in the process. These newly exposed items are prime targets for the other gorcrows. 

Saturday, January 6, 2018

Gran' Paw, what's a dragon?

"Dragon?" Who done taught you that word, y' dang Turnip Head? Let me guess, they also done told you they was a form of thunder lizard, sorted based on the color of their scales. Well. they were right, to a point, but they were also egregiously wrong. Dragons, or a dreki as my grand-sire's grand-sire called 'em, are large and lizard like, but they ain't born that way, nor are their temperament a consequence of their scale coloring, y' kin?

See, they don't start out as no egg, but rather a man, kin to the likes of you or me. Now, we all gots our vices, true enough, but them there dreki-kin (see it was a consonant gradati--oh, shoot, nevermind, you ain't got the head for wording, Turnip), when they was man, loved their vices. Took to 'em more than was healthy like. Imagine them pinnacle of virtue's the preacher man's always telling y' about, then apply 'em to the vices he warns you against. Thems were they folk.

Lowest of the low, y' kin? You ain't gonna be finding the average, or even above average, hooch- nor whore-monger shrugging outta their skins and leaving what few villages we have for the seclusion of the hills.

Now, for whichever reason - I ain't the preacher, ask him - these folks became altered by their chosen evil. Corrupted. Twisted. And depending on the vice sacked up inside 'em, that's what led to the style of dragon. From there, their coloration is dependent upon the environment that they take to holdin' up in, and the diet they take to there. Much like those one legged birds down on the southron shores.

Now, here's what we've got to knowing about each of the sorts, based on a codex I seen in the city a long spell ago. They all take to having a fairly similar shape: monitor lizards heightened to draft horse stature, with the skin of a gator. Though, the older they get the bigger they get, mind y', and I've heard tell truly old ones bear wings, but, honestly, that sounds made up. Their claws do damage as though a Standard Weapon, their bite tends to be equal to a Great Weapon.

Yeah, that's the one.

Most of these tend to be one form of avarice or another, but preacher man swears they're different:

Magics a talent, and with so few of us left, a very few are able to master it. Like boat building, for them shipwrights of old, 'fore they all were called back to the old world. Understandibly, there are them that covet the ability for magicfying when they lack it. The worst of 'em take to hoarding any and all petty magics - scrolls, grimoirs, and like. Major magics too, don't rule them out. They can't use 'em, but boy do they like looking at 'em.

When the Vice finally takes them, they're known to be able to smell magic - from the spells in a magician's head, to the fetishes carried by a wizard. Their very breath is said to cause Maleficence upon them caught within it.

8 HD
Armor: Chain 
   * Smell Magic - The dragon can smell magic upon a creature, or within a place, out to 50'
   * Chaotic Breath - target must Save vs Breath, else roll upon the Maleficence table, suffering the effects
   * Steal Spell - Any castin' sort that comes in physical contact with the beast looses a portion of their magics. Whether it be a prepared spell, free slot, some magic points, or whichever your system hankers to, they're gone until refreshed as normal. 

Thems the ones for hording gold and other material wealth. We all needs a bit of coin now and again, but there are them that are never happy and crave it more than anything. Some even take to killing for it. It's that final murder that tends to do it. Either way, given their propensity to lounge upon their amassed wealth - better to guard, y' kin - their skin tends to stick with gems and coins. Makes them a bit harder to hurt. No doubt they can smell items of value on y'.

8 HD
Armor: Chain + 1
   * Smell Riches - The dragon can smell items of significant value (50+ of money standard) within 50'. The more expensive it is, the better it smells. 
   *  Increasing Hoard - Once per 1d4 rounds, when within 50' of the beast, a random item from the party vanishes from their possession and appears in the collected hoard 

These are the ones that tend to ravage the country side, consuming everything they come across: livestock, trees, houses, coal piles, and so on. The land around their lairs tends to be stripped and left barren. Their lairs themselves are little more than shafts of consumed earth, serving as den and midden. Following 'em, should you have the strange notion, is fairly easy t'do as their swollen bellies drag along, leaving a track.

Armor: Chain
   * Rending Bite - Any bite attack made by the dragon that is blocked by armor, but still touches the target, does half damage to the target's armor instead. Armor damaged in this way has a lower AC rating until repaired. Should the AC drop to touch value, the armor is destroyed.
   * I've Eaten Worse - Anything that finds it's way into the dragon's mouth does no further damage to the beast. Poison, fire, pointy bits; all are consumable to it. 
   * Vomit - The beast can expel the contents of it's stomach, burning anyone caught within the deluge as if acid. 

Thems be the ones kidnapin' all those princesses in the stories. Y' see, when a man and a woman...that is t'say, you're at the age where you'll, I had to tell your pap 'bout your age, it's his turn to tell you. Pester him for this one.

Armor: Chain
   * Pleasure or Pain - As the sublimating azure breath washes over the target, the target is given a choice. Either take the damage to HP or accept the effects of Hold Person (no save). 
   * Obsession  - The spit of the beast is laced with a powerful chemical that makes any touched by it feel an uncontrollable longing for their greatest desire. If'n they don't have one, one may be provided for them. 

Them there one that take to riddling and yammering on 'cause they thing they're better'n you? Thems the pride ones. They're magnificent and they'll make sure you know it. Their scales are shinier, their voices are a rich alto/bass.

Armor: Chain
   * No Higher Power - The beast is so devoid of humility that any, and all, divinely inspired abilities cease working within their presence.   
   * Pride Prevents the Fall - Any compliment paid to the beast - and it'll fish for 'em - will be "stored" and act as a shield, being sacrificed to prevent damage taken from a future attack. 

More of the "acedia" sort, than the "lazy" sort. These are the ones that take to brooding in solitude. Doesn't sound much harm, sure, but they do it to the point where it gets to infecting the very land itself. Green, healthy forests turn to black, dying woods forever choked in an unmoving fog. Sparrows leave, replaced by overlarge bats. Gloom. Doom. You're gettin' the picture.

Armor: Leather
   * Invasive Thoughts - Anyone the dragon is aware of tends to be plagued by invasive thoughts of failure, unable to act. All affected by these thoughts must save versus Magic every round. Those that fail will attempt to harm themselves to the best of their abilities. Poisons, cliffs, nooses; anything convenient. Probably most convient'll be the very weapons they're holding, autohitting themselves. All affected characters (still standing) must save successfully for the Thoughts to end. 
   * Slowing Touch - Anyone struck by the dragon must save vs Paralyze, or suffer a level of encumbrance and the effects that come with it. Effect lasts until a long rest.  

Thems the sort that go around breathing fire on everything. Theirs eyes literally burn with hatred, glowing as embers. Smoke constantly billows from their nostrils, and their scales are scorched, covered in soot and melted metal. You'll feel their heat long before you ever see 'em. Should you ever find a cave glowing with heat and surrounded by scorched earth, you'll probably be wanting to leave, as it'll most like be a den of wrath.

Armor: Plate + 1
   * Fire Proof - As living furnaces, they ain't inclined to be burned themselves.
   * Torrent of Flame - If'n you hear 'em start to suck in a deep breath, you'll be wanting to get out from in front of them, as they're about to breath out a 40' worth of flame. Not just normal flame, mind you. It's hot. Damn hot. Any one dumb enough to be caught in it while in metal armor will be burnt the next 1d4 rounds for 1d6 each.
   * Blind Anger - For whichever reason, should the beast's Intelligence be damaged (spell or what not), it's Constitution increases by that much damage. Should it's Wisdom be affected, it's Strength is adjusted. 

So why slay these creatures?

Because it's doin' a kindness to the poor souls trapped within, Turnip Head. Also, there's some that take to the fame and glory of it. And the loot. There's also a rumor that cooking and eating the heart will get y' strange knowings and doings. It's probably true.

Monday, August 21, 2017

Because people won't stop talking about it

1d8 hooks involving the reason people will suddenly think it's a good idea to stare at the sun. 

  1. The village fool has burned out their retinas by staring at the eclipse. He was given a "magical" pair of glasses by a local wizard, and was told he could view the celestial event safely. Turns out is was just a pair of smoked glass. If confronted, the wizard finds this hilarious and congratulates himself for the wonderful joke. He refuses to return the money, or fix the situation. 
  2. My man who has successfully hidden his lycanthropy for several years is sent berserk and super empowered during the eclipse. He's probably in town when this happens. 
  3. A strange and peculiar plant is found in the forest, and replanted by the town herbalist, who later sells clippings. This plant, and the clippings, are sentient, carnivorous, and evil; all facts the herbalist was trying to keep secret. 
  4. The ancient snake god has returned to the world and is LITERALLY eating the sun. Good luck with that one. 
  5. The celestial event interferes with a wizard's summon ritual. The wizard had no knowledge of the eclipse, but now things from beyond the collected realities are spilling forth from the portal in the sky. 
  6. Turns out the town is cursed! Due to some Incident in the past, the town only appears in this reality during the eclipse, before disappearing again, along with everything in it. "But eclipses don't last that long!" Really? You'll accept magic, but not the fact the moon is just a little more lazy and takes just a little longer to get across the sky?
  7. The eldritch light of the eclipse reveals several of the town's people to be lizardmen in disguise, including at least 1d4 town officials. What do they want? How do the heroes stop them? Maybe the Sasquatch in the nearby forest can help.
  8. A wizard's unattended telescope has accidently focused and entrapped some eclipse light in a bottle. The wizard knows nothing of this, having been drunk for sometime. Since then, the country side has had the same dream, night after night: a voice demanding the return of the starchild and a nightly count down. Last night '1 cycle' remained. What happens at zero? Who is coming? Doom and Starmen, I bet.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Magic and Sanity

Sanity Based Magicking 

The following system assumes the usage of Item Quality, that being a dice value assigned to a consumable item, which is tested on usage. Given a roll of 1-3, the quality lessens to the next step down, thus representing the entropy of the item. For reference the steps are d20>d12>d10>d8>d6>d4. I wish there was a step between d12 and d20, but there ain’t and it's the best I got. Maybe one day the special DCC dice. Maybe. But not yet.

Either way, magic users get a new item: Sanity. The item doesn't take up an inventory slot and can't be traded in a mundane manner. Usually. It can sure as hell degrade, though. The item starts at a quality of d20, and most people you meet should be assumed to be at this rating.

Magic, the way the class reckons, works based in the way the user assumes, and is a reflection of what the user thinks is able to be true. The more your cast, the more you're able to believe is true. However, this thinking isn't natural and is therefore a stress on one’s mentality, occasionally giving way to breaking and insanity. Though, it also “gifts” greater power. Mechanically, this translates to a Wisdom penalty but access to higher level spells.

Highest Spell Level
Wisdom Mod
Most people are at this rating normally
Wizard Sight is constant this level and below

Further, a decrease in sanity is outwardly manifested through delusions. At creation, generate five of them and list them somewhere. The first should be something small - a minor phobia, perhaps. The final should be substainial, a held paradoxical truth about reality possibly. “Fire is actually cold, it is the cold that burns” or some such nonsense. When your sanity first deteriorates, take the first Delusion. When again, take the next. Should your sanity heal, lose the Delusions in a “last in, first out” manner.

As suggested, unlike most items, sanity can repair itself naturally, at a rate of 1 ‘side’ per week of no magic usage; meaning between d4 and d6 takes two weeks, and d12 to d20 takes eight weeks. If locked in an asylum, let's go ahead and say 4 sides per week. Most magic users sit at d12 because of this, giving the stereotype that magicians are weird some truth. Other ways of repair include potions and/or trading. Or outright theft.

Learning Spells
No change from the system your using, I imagine. Save that you can learn any level of spell at any time; just can't access it until the Sanity level is met.

Casting Spells
Casting magic on the system is fairly straight forward: declare the spell you're working, then make an Intelligence check based on your Intelligence attribute modified by the spell level (add if roll over, subtract if roll under). Should you pass, the spell functions. Should you fail, make a Sanity check to see what form the corrupted magic takes. The tables listed suggest a roll under; just flip the numbers if using roll over.
Roll Failure Effect
20 Corruption + Major
19-11 Major
10-5 Standard
4 Minor
3-1 Success (but with meaningless quirk)

Yep, that's right. Still a chance to succeed even if you fail. The chance becomes more probable as you get more crazy

So what happens when you lose Sanity completely?
Ah, yes, that's the question, isn't it? Well, obviously, your insane. You're basically a witless animal with a head full of confusing arcane knowledge, possibly scared, certainly confused, and every spell you cast does so successfully. In short: hand your character sheet to the GM and hope folks can subdue you peacefully. And find a reputable asylum. Maybe it can be fixed, maybe it can't.

You mentioned trading?
I did. Through a complicated ritual, with expensive reagents, the magic user can ‘distill’ another's Sanity out of their body, into a physical representation. The magician can then ingest this item and, after acclimating to the new Sanity, vomit forth their old Sanity to be placed in the original subject. Or not. May you leave them insane. Should the spare Sanity not be ingested within its Quality die worth of hours, it will evaporate into the aether.

Should you want to repair your old Sanity, simply place it into the original target and let them rest for the time period. Yes, this does imply professional lunatics. Though, your own Sanity just feels better. Like wearing old pants.

What about the potions?
Think of them like Pickled Sanity, operating like the trading above, but without vomiting the old one up. It just is that one now.

What about the rest of the class?
What about it? This is largely replacing the "Spells per Day" portion of the class. Everything else should function normally. Unless it doesn't. Then I'll give a refund, if you still have your receipt.

Why would anyone want to play this?
Hell if I know. Though I, myself, enjoy the gambling sort of classes on occasion. Big risk, big reward. Gonna have to sucker someone in to play testing this. And shoot, if'n it doesn't work, maybe it'll at least give someone some idea for something else.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017


Whale fall. It's when a whale carcass falls into the abyssal zone of the ocean, bringing it's now unused, carbon filled meaty chunks to the eldritch horrors that live in the deep down. I saw an article on it the other day and it got me thinkering: What would happen if an n-dimension creature of unfathomable physicality came crashing down into our abyssal third dimension?

Probably the carrion-eaters would swarm it and form a complex localized ecosystem that could be sustainable for decades.

Or, to put it another way, people would form a city around it in an attempt to exploit it for their own financial gain.

It would start with someone wanting to know more about it and looking to hire people to explore it. Then, someone dumb enough would take the job. Assuming they survived, tales and rumors of their discovery would spread, then more would show up. Knowing these folk would need basic necessities at hand, caravans would arrive to feed off the discovery second hand. Then the families arrive. At some point along the line, the generic mass of people organize and a town forms.

They'd probably give it some dumb name too, like...


The event occurred one cold, snow covered, winter evening in the Dalr valley of the Fjell mountains. Without warning the quiet valley erupted in madness as the beast crashed it's way into reality, fracturing the laws of physics and causality as it did. It thrashed and rived for days, tearing up the surrounding area, until finally dying.

While the noise was maddening, the deafening silence that followed was perhaps even worse. The noise, caused by reality attempting to reject the presence of the Beast, resounded with the pure essence of rebellion and chaos. The silence, however, echoed with submission; a reality broken and beaten with no fight left to ward off the intrusive presence.

To the untrained eye (that is one not forced to look upon the Beast day in and day out) the Beast is hard sight to behold, its very presence an offence to any sense held by a creature of this reality. A pallid skinned creature, appearing as a slain cross between a blobfish, harvestman, and an axoloti suffering from sever genetic drift, it lays partly upon the surface, and partly fused with the rocks of the mountain range itself.

If one were to find a map of the area from three hundred years ago, they would probably note a vast dwarven kingdom that inhabited the mountain region, though somehow forgotten to modern memory. Maps drafted three hundred years in future, however, show an ancient dwarven kingdom, absent of any notation regarding Godfall.

The Surrounding Area

Just getting to Godfall is a pain in the ass, as a metaphysical crater was left from the impact. Some of the hazards include:

Midnight Woods - A region of forest populated by blacken gnarled trees that exist in a constant midnight. This ain't a metaphor - no matter the time of day outside, within the match it is constantly night, though the night sky visible through the trees offers no known constellations. The woods actively offer resistance to any who enter, the trees themselves striking out.

The Standing Men - A field of standing figures, dressed in attire from various cultures throughout the ages. Though scattered throughout the field, any who enter the field freeze permanently. There's at least one figure frozen midair with a terrified look on his face. A few have crossbow bolts pointed towards their head. While no one has figured this out, the figures are locked in a temporal field. For them time passes normally, while outside they move at one hundred thousandths of normal speed. A safe path through does exist, for those clever enough to find it.

Crystalline Pass - A passage between the mountains where every exposed rock and plant has been transmuted into crystals, with mirror like surfaces. Upon closer investigation, however, the crystals do not reflect the observer, but a possible version of the observer. Whether these alternatives are from an alternate reality or timeline is uncertain. Take care when passing through this region, however, as it has been rumored that one can become confused in the perfect reflects and, sometimes, the reflections will walk out, leaving the original trapped.

The Valley of Glass - Some places it rains water. Here it rains glass. Don't get caught in the rain.

The Outer City

The Outer City is similar to any city with a colossal carcass of an extra-dimensional being rotting in the center of it. General stores, blacksmith, tannery, game halls, whore houses, iron-barred-window asylums, flesh mines, sinister looking wizard tower that echos strange noises in the dead of night. You know, the usual.

Yare's Yaren - A tanner who cures their leather in the strange liquids that seep forth from the rotting creature. Items made from this process typically carry unique properties, depending on the solution it was cured in.

The Flesh Mines - Exactly what they sound like. Though only marginally less dangerous than the mines of the Inner City, the exterior Maggot Halls employ more of the populous through the simple fact that workers get to see the sun at least once a day. While some of their product is sold as food within the town, the majority of their harvest is sold directly to the Wizard Tower.

Wizard Tower - More of a collection of towers and joining wall around a central pit, than a traditional single tower, it was the very first building built in the town. Strange glowing can be seen in the windows at night and horrifying sounds echo from within. None of its members show themselves in public, and rarely speak of their intentions. Rumors abound of flesh gollems that serve the wizards and of the vats they're grown in. These rumors are true. They are entirely true. What the rumors don't speak of are the homeless and lower class peasants that are pulled off the street and thrown into said vats to serve as stock to bound with the added beast flesh.

The Inner City

This part of the city is built within the creature itself, specifically the part that is assumed (and hoped) to be it's mouth orifice. First thing new arrivals notice is that the creature appears to be larger on the inside than the outside. Next, which they may learn the hard way, is that spatial based reasoning and perception doesn't work exactly the same as it does in the outside world. Alleys that one can walk hundreds of times can suddenly lead to a different location, or deep into the Belly, with no warning. Even just entering the Inner City carries a chance of becoming lost. At some point some genius installed a rope for people to follow from the Outer to the Inner, after paying the toll of course, but every so often (say 1 in 20) not even that will lead to where it is suppose to.

Here you'll find the mining offices, the distilling factories, and various other processing plants, along with the worker barracks and company store. Raw materials from the Belly are brought here for processing before being shipped out to the Outer City.

The Belly of the Beast

Some of the more sought after materials are drawn from here. Trouble is, the deeper in you go, the more standard rules of reality stop applying. Fleshy tunnels give away to stone hallways, whose walls still carve as meat. Euclidean space dissolves away into non-Euclidean expanses. Time rethinks the whole "linear" thing, and explores other options. Wizards mutter something about metaphors being made reality, but no one really pays them mind. Not as long as their gold is good, at least.

Here's a peek at some of the creatures (antibodies?) lurking within:

The Flat Ones - "Humanoid" looking creatures that lack a third dimension and, as such, are often mistaken for paintings and graffiti within the strange hallways, though they appear invisible when "seen" from their missing dimension. Anyone killed by these things does not die, but rather they have one of their three dimensions sapped from them, joining their ranks and becoming trapped in a never dying, never living two dimensional hell.

The Lost Boys - Any semi-industrial town is bound to generate at least a few orphans. It's just a natural occurrence. So, what do you do with them all? Stick them in a group home and hope some soft-hearted person will take them away? No, obviously not.  You employ them with a promise of hot meals, tie a rope around them, give them a sack and send them into the Belly in hopes their tiny hands grab something of value. Sometimes, though, they don't come back.

Cephalocells - Imagine an octopus. Now, remove everything that makes it an octopus. Then add a beak full of barbs, and the ability to freely move in all three dimensions. Also, an eye on the end of each tentacle that is capable of unleashing a variety of awful magical effects upon reality.  Often found around neon green sacks of neutrophil, from which they're being expelled.

People of Godfall

Beyond the usual collection of townsfolk (merchants, craftsmen, prostitutes, etc) there are a few assorted people unique to Godfall:

Humor Cults
Though it would serve as solid proof their god exists, no legitimate cleric will claim it, as it also proves their god is dead. Several have jumped at the chance to claim it as an enemy of their god, to flaunt the corpse of a vanquished foe and the victory of the mighty god they follow. There are those, however, that do take the creature as divine, and see the rotting carcass as a chance at, or at least a vision into, something beyond. Going along a vague train of thought related to "you are what you eat", cults have sprung up around consumption of the humors - or what is thought to be the beast's humors - in order to harvest some of the dwendling divinity. You can usually identify these people by their mutated visage and the occasional painful seizures that take them as four dimensional shapes boil over them.

Flesh Shamans
No decent religion is without a counter part for which they can claim is sinful and damnable. This is where the Flesh Shamans come in for the Humor Cults. Where the Cults consume the humors, the Flesh Shamans consume, believe it or not, the Flesh of the creature, seeking the divinity that they insist is in the meat of the creature. They're notable by their rolling mounds of mutated flesh that doesn't seem to hinder their dexterity.

The Wizards
Madmen who hide their insanity through the thinly veiled excuse of arcane eccentricities, they seek to learn all they can, and more, of the beast at the center of the city. Some seek to reanimate the flesh, some seek to call others like it from beyond reality. The wizards are easily identifiable as none leave the tower without donning animal masks and heavy, form hiding robes.

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Additional Bug Catcher bugs

Currently running what was suppose to be a one shot in the GLOG system. The dinner part continues ever on, however, and the one shot has turned into a two-parter. One of the players is running Bug Catcher and, due to the situations they find themselves, will need to restock their bugs soon, though the example ecosystems don't match where they find themselves. So, more of 'em:

>>Bugs are insects, spiders, snails, slugs, and limbless worms of all types.
I'm also counting crabs in this, because why not?

EDIT: Apparently, there was a desert ecosystem already written.  As such, I've renamed the ecosystem. Also, after some goodly peer review, I've made a few changes. 

Ecosystem: Red Desert Waste in That One Spot, On That One Guy's Island
  1. Camel Grub - A bloated grub about the size of a small shoe. Surprisingly full of water - really just more than it should have. 1d4 pints worth, in fact. Enough to extinguish a touch, or fill a water skin. The water is clean and refreshing, with no ill effects gained from drinking straight from the bug.
  2. Knock-Knock Butcher Boy - A green and bronze schemed pill bug, that smells slightly of ethanol. When placed into the keyhole of a lock, it'll immediately get to work trying to pick it. Should it successfully pick the lock, it will crawl proudly back into its container, and is usable an additional time that day. Should it fail to pick the lock, it will explode in anger, doing enough damn to destroy the lock, allowing what it was protecting to be accessed. Bug begins with 1d4 skill points in Lockpick, and loses one for each successful attempt. 
  3. Cactus Dancer - Lithe, needle legged spider that has learned the secrets of acupuncture from the cactus spines it dances across. Save vs Stun for 1d4 rounds. 
  4. Corpse Crier Worm - A thin, pale worm that, when placed into the ear of a corpse, will burrow in, stimulating not yet rotten neurons. Allows for 1d6 minutes of Speak With Dead before the brain bits become too eaten to continue. 
  5. D'nith Dust Devil - A trembling little thing with the ability to burst when frightened as a, presumably, evolutionary defense mechanism. Creates a 20' cloud of sand, thick enough to hinder vision to anyone inside, or trying to see through, the cloud. Anyone caught within the area suddenly finds themselves trying to breath sand. Save vs Suffocation, or spend a round chocking and coughing. Easiest way to frighten the thing is to throw it. 
  6. Missile Hornet - A blue and black schemed hornet, with an ethereal glow. By shaking the capture phial vigorously, then uncorking and pointing towards a target, the hornet will strike out in pure hornet anger. It attacks over multiple rounds for 1d8, 1d6, 1d4 and finally 1 point of damage. The target may circumvent these attacks by spending a round to crush the thing, doing 1 point of damage to itself in the process. 
  7. Scorpion - Just a normal scorpion. You ever have one of these thrown at you? Good Lord. Target makes a save vs Fumble, or lose everything they're currently holding as they freak out. 
  8. Skillapede - A foot long centipede looking monstrosity​, with legs nearly the same length as its central body. When applied along the user's spine, the skillapede burrows its various appendages into the flesh. Its legs wrap around the nervous system, the fangs pierce the base of the skull. Why use this horrific thing? Because somewhere along the way someone, somehow, figured out the bug Bestows increased skill ability. Add 1d4 of a following skill, rolled when finding the bug (1. Carpentry, 2. Advanced Mathematics, 3. Metal Working, 4. Herbalism, 5. Alchemy, 6. Theoretical Biology) 
  9. Apocalocus - A black and red locus with far too many barbs. When placed or thrown on an object of relative organic status, it will devour that item entirely, before collapsing into a food coma. Wooden door, worn leather jerkin, coal golem. Living creatures have enough sense to move away it as it starts biting, so it lacks in attack application (save for eating away the armor). 
  10. Grim Maggot - Actually an inch long caterpillar, bearing a skull pattern on its head and a Vantablack body. Upon being released from the jar, the Maggot will crawl exactly 10' before standing on its hind most legs an beginning a sobering dirge loud enough for anyone in the room to hear (50' if outside). The song functions as the Doom Song spell for 1d4 rounds. At the end of these rounds, the caterpillar's skin splits open, releasing a Grim Fly (1 HD) into the world. It is under no one's control, nor is the subsequent Reverent. 

Ecosystem: Beach
  1. Beach Comber - A tiny, palm sized crab with a knack for finding small, shiny objects. When released, it will scuttle off and return 2d6 rounds later, dragging a one-handed size object behind it. Once delivered, it will wander off, full of a sense of accomplishment from a job well done.
  2. Black Tea Slug - When squeezed and wrung out, this tar black slug produces enough Grease to cover a 10x10 area.
  3. Black  Musta Lentaa - Target must Save or not act that round as the fly's painful bites distract them. 
  4. Bunker Barnacle - Popping this barnacle in your mouth grants you immunity to weapons for 1d4 rounds, as your skin calcifies. It also, however, glues you in place, disallowing you to move or take any action other than muffled speech. 
  5. Eldritch Worm - Seems more tentacle than worm. By sliding this into your ear, and allowing it to crawl in completely, the Bug Catcher gains Wizard Vision for 24 hours. Strangely, it never comes back out. 
  6. St. Tollan's Hermit - Through sucking this poor, malformed crab from its shell and swallowing whole, the Bug catcher can merge with the next stone surface they touch. The stone must be larger than the User. While the Catcher can hear through the stone, they can not see, move or eat. They may stay merged for as long as they like, however any damage done to the stone, magic or otherwise, expels the Catcher, leaving them stunned for 1d6 rounds. 
  7. Fulgens Gemma Beetle - By squeezing this glittering beetle into your mouth, and swallowing the innards, the Bug catcher will vomit forth a Prismatic Ray in 1d4 rounds, for (level)d6 damage. 
  8. Naty Maton Fly - By uncorking the bottle this tiny, proboscis wielding fly is kept in and screaming "GO! NOW! GET 'EM! GET 'EM! BRING ME THEIR BLOOD SO THAT I MAY FEAST!"* said fly (0HD, 1HP, Def 6) is encouraged to launch out, making touch attacks on targets. Upon successful attack, the fly drains 1d4 HP and looses 2 defense, as it becomes slowed by the sweet red nectar. Upon screaming the command "TO ME! RETURN!"* and gesturing at your open mouth, the fly zips back, allowing you to swallow it, thus healing yourself for the same amount of damage done. (*The screaming is vital to the process. If the player refuses to scream, well, the fly wanders off doesn't it?)
  9. Wave Crasher Flea - When ingested, save or gain 2d4 points of Drunkenness. It is said the original waves were started from drunken whales vomiting. 
  10. Siren Slug - The Bug Catcher whispers to the slug, before releasing it. It then begins to make a high pitched "song." Anyone who can hear the Slug's song, must make a save or gain a Conviction (told to the slug in the initial whispers).

Friday, April 14, 2017


Lately I've taken to woodworking. I'm still getting the hang of it, learning the ropes and all that, but I'm enjoying it. It's a relaxing change to the typical "herp derp, neural network *type type type*" of my day. It lets my mind settle, run clean. Nearly zen like. And lately, as I've done this inner searching, I've realized one thing:

Fuck Paladins.

Seriously. Bunch of jerks named after a hill.

Everyone I've seen played has been merely a fighter that happened to get spells because they carried a holy symbol. Most showed more concern for their horses than, say, a beggar in need.

This can be fixed.

The main change I'm throwing around is that the paladin's spells aren't guaranteed. None of this "spells per day because I'm holding this holy symbol" nonsense. As a paladin, you are not the extension of your god's Will; that's the cleric's purpose. As a paladin, you are a Champion of the god. You must be seen carrying out their work, and proving your worth. You wanna wield divine power? Go feed the poor. Defend a peasant farm from bandits. Sacrifice yourself so your friends can escape. Gain the heart of the people and you'll gain the favor of your god.

In performing such tasks you'll earn Good Boy Points Points of Divine Favor. While an hour of prayer will give you access to all your spells for the day, you must have enough Divine Favor to cast them. Essentially, the "casting cost" of the spell is equal to the "level" of the spell. Looking to cast Bless? As a first level spell, that's one point cost. Commune? Five points. Part Water? Too bad, that's not really your thing, but you get the idea. A non-exhausted list of actions and their point rewards are below. As is your spell list.

Now, as said, gaining these spells requires an hour of prayer, usually taken in the morning. Casting them, however, is a quick action, in which the favor of your god is called upon, either through prayer or dedication. Casting in this way is fairly subtle and, save for some of the higher level spells, can be mistaken for skill or luck. Going for a Michael Carpenter vibe here, I won't lie.

Rewards and Associated Actions
1 point
  • Praying at Shrine
  • Donating items of minor value
2 point
  • Upholding a tenant of your god
  • Completing a Church Quest
  • Donating items of value
3 point
  • Defending a Holy Site important to your pantheon
  • Returning a Major Artifact to the church
  • Defending those weaker or in need
4 point
  • Completing a Holy Quest 
  • Sacrificing yourself for another in a significant manner
Again, not exhaustive, and should be tailored to suit the god in question. I image a Snake god and a Fire god have very different definitions of "good things."

Points do carry over from day-to-day, however any unused points diminish by two every week. The intent is you continue doing good deeds. There are ways to lose points, mind you. Ask your GM, or stab a beggar, to find out.

Fighting bits are left mostly the same. Proficiency in armor and weapons, skills (where appropriate), and others track mostly the same. To Hit bonus has been halved, to account for spell casting without an attribute attachment.

You'll notice the only healing spell/prayer in the spell list is Sacrifice. This is intentional.

The Brass Tacks 

HP: As Fighter
To Hit bonus: +1 every other level (half of Fighter)
Saves: As Cleric
Max Divine Favor pool: Character Level

Hit Points
To Hit






Spell List

Level 0
Detect Evil

Level 1
Bless (unable to target self)
Detect Magic
Protection from Evil
Remove Fear

Level 2
Delay Poison
Detect Invisible
Resist Cold
Resist Fire

Level 3
Dispel Magic
Detect Illusion

Level 4
Detect Life
Protection from Evil 10'
Turn Undead (at Level-4)

Level 5
Dispel Evil
True Seeing

Level 6
Anti-Magic Shell
Find the Path

Level 7
Holy Word
Spell Turning

Closing Thoughts
Balanced? Probably not. Divine favor pool could use some tweaking. I can see Bless getting out of hand as currently written. Level 4 could use some beefing out. I've become genuinely curious as to how this plays.