Elven Hacker

While the True Elves sing the physical world into existence, your ancestors lost that ability when they descended into this world. You though, with research, practice, and a little luck, have found a way to mimic the lost ability - but for the digital domain. 

While you’re referred to as a “Hacker,” you don’t really know technology any better than the average nobody. You don’t really need to, as you can simply ask devices to work for you. What’s RAM? A male sheep. And cookies are the things you eat. Why’s everyone always yelling about them?

Elven Hacker

Requirement: Elven template A

  1. Digital Song, Perceive the Realm Digital, +2 Songs

  2. Network Step, +2 Songs

  3. The Road Goes Ever On, +2 Songs

Digital Song

Whereas your elven cousins in the real world are able to sing the physical world into existence, you are able to alter the digital world through your song. Your songs mimic the abilities of a Hackers Warez, and you'll be choosing from the same list for now. Gain a number of song dice equal to your Elven Hacker Templates.  These work/are just like the standard GLoG Magic Dice: Whenever you roll 4-6 on the song dice, you lose that dice until refreshed the next day.  

Faults and Snowcrashes still apply and are detailed at the bottom. I should rename them something singing related, but I won’t. I know nothing about singing. 

You need no gear to perform these songs, but you obviously need to be able to speak. 

Perceive the Realm Digital

You are a creature of the physical realm, able to gaze down into the digital. This sounds cooler than it actually is. Basically what this means is you are able to perceive AR without additional gear or implants. Big annoying advertisements, roaming AI, device HUDs - all are visible to you. 

Also, you’re able to speak with devices. You just do that now. All the time, if you want. Devices usually have an attitude based on their purpose, however, and for unfamiliar devices you’ll need to make a vibe check (reaction check) to see if they’re even remotely friendly. 

Network Step

As an Elf, you’re able to step up briefly into the True World to short cut your way across the Physical World. As an Elf Hacker, once per session you’re able to step down briefly into the Digital World to shortcut your way across the Physical World, moving 1 node per template across a network you have access to. 

The Road Goes Ever On

Should you (when you) die, make one final Charisma check. On a success your personality gets embedded on a nearby device, and you can rewrite as an AI bound to that device. Think along the lines of “Really Good Dog” but more “Really Good Gun” or “Really Good Vizzy.” If you succeed by 10 or more, you get to choose the device. If you fail, well, you’re finally free of this nonsense. 


  1. Wrong Lyrics - Dice only return to your pool on a 1-2 for 24 hours.

  2. Forgotten Lyrics - Cannot sing anymore songs for 1d6 rounds while remembering the proper lyrics. .

  3. Headache - You suffer 1d6 damage from severe headaches.  

  4. Intrusive Thought - A stray thought keeps distracting you. Lose a song slot for 24 hours.

  5. A Bit Flat - Whatever you just sang was horrible. Just awful. You’re now Deaf for 1d6 rounds.

  6. You Look Silly Doing It - Take 1d6 Charisma damage


  1. Talking Fast - It worked for Sid McCray, maybe it’ll work for you. You can not speak for 72 hours.

  2. Better Make it a Full Week - You can not speak for 1 week. 

  3. Bit Your Tongue - Well, it was more of a chomp than a bite. Mute permanently. 

  4. Wait, What? - You completely forget the words to the song you just sung, and will need to relearn it.  

  5. Monster of Your Own Design - You’ve sung something horrible into existence. A powerful AI has been created and immediately gone rogue. And it hates you. So. Very. Much. 

  6. Terrifying Visions- I don’t know how you done it, but you sung yourself back into the True World. Don’t worry though, you return 24 hours later at the same location, dripping with DMT and incoherently blathering about the terrible fractal visions you saw.  You’ll never sing again out of pure terror. 

Learning Songs

Where Hackers can simply purchase new Warez (or trade favors), in order to learn a song you’re going to have to do some research and practice. Spend a number of days equal to the number of songs you know + 1 in study, spending 1000 Soviet Ruble (the new currency standard) a day for beer, drugs, and broken electronics, afterwhich make a Charisma check. A successful check means a successfully learned song, with every additional 1000 Ruble spent providing a +1 to the check. 

Device is unable to record new data to memory for [sum] minutes. Save negates. 

Visual sensors on a device fail for [sum] minutes. Save negates. 

Device treats you as an approved user for [sum] minutes. Save negates. 

Audio sensors on a device fail for [sum] minutes. Save negates. 

Device (usually a camera) replays the last [dice] rounds as output until reset. Save negates. 

Song::Summon Digital Assistant 

You are able to bind an AI to your service for [Sum] days. 

The assistant acts independently, however it will always follow your commands to the best of its ability and you are able to instantly communicate with it when within 100 ft of it. It’s not exactly telepathy, but it might as well be. With concentration, you may experience any sensory data the assistant is experiencing, however this does leave you, yourself, effectively blind and deaf for the duration. Also, when within 100ft of you, the assistant can use any song you know, based on the highest dice rolled: 1-2, 1 song dice; 3-4, 2 song dice; 5-6, 3 song dice. 

The assistant stays around until destroyed or dismissed, however it does not count against your follower limit. You can’t have more than one assistant at a time. 


Werberth: A Miserable Little Setting

When it comes to projects, I got three major hurtles: starting, doing, and finishing. Indecision, you see. Wracked with it. 

Anyway, I made a map. Filled it full of random features, random place names. Really making it up as I went, grabbing words out of a thesaurus as I went, all in an attempt to get over the hemming and hawing I seem prone to...and it seems to have taken on a theme of decay and ruin. I neither know why, nor what that says about my headspace at the moment.

Is this anything? I don't know.  

The Map

The Places

Northern Cordillera  
A mountain range. To the North. Yeah, the names here are gonna be along those lines. On the surface it's a land of Mountain Giants, Rock Trolls, and Frost Thralls. Below it's a realm of World Sap, Dwarven Ghosts, and Neitherlings. 

Capital of Mountain Giants and the remains of their kingdom. Full of twisting Halls and feral giants guarding corroded and tarnished treasures of a forgotten empire. 

Last Grotto
Once the home of the Maggot King, now just a tomb full of dwarven ghosts and eldritch machinery reaching deep into the greasy earth. 

Vestigial Forest
A thick, ancient forest of black wooded trees littered with spiderwebs and assassin vines, stretching from the coast, out past the Unnamed Lake, and coming to border the Trash Lands. Home to your typical woodland inhabitants (though each and everyone is a bastard), as well as various Trolls, Landwights, and Mistfelled. Dotting the landscape are ruins of an unknown civilization, neither dwaven, giant, or elven. 

Skybound Temple
An open air temple complex, the "rooms" of which are separated by statues so tightly pack together they're effectively walls. While the statues appear vaguely human, closer inspection shows they are clearly not, howeer each and every one bears an expression of awe as they look to the sky. Little is known about the sight, as researchers tend to go missing. This is almost certainly due to the rune of teleportation carved in the exact center, aimed somewhere beyond the stars. 

The first time magic was declared outlawed in Weberth, the more well-to-do magic users struck North along the coast, staying close to the City enough to continue trade, but far enough away to ignore most of the laws they disagreed with. Due to this, the premier University of Magic was established - it probably bares some haughty, hoity toity name - and still operates to this day. While Arcanum does train the majority of War Mages in the Werberth army, you can rest assure their loyalty lies with Arcanum before the Republic. With such a large population of magic users in one location, one would probably be worried of some eldritch, other worldly nonsense probably happening. Well, worry not, because it definitely is. 

The city built on the location where Man first arrived at these shores. Essentially the capital of Man's expanse, as contact with the Old World has been lost. The sky hangs heavy with greasy clouds raining soot from the factories burning troll oil. Slums are swollen, overfull of population numbers they were never fit for, easing occasionally as sickness burns through them. Meanwhile, the plutocracy grow fat in their mansions, playing at politics in their corporate republic. 

Kings Ruin
Briefly, just after contact with the Old World was lost, there was a big fight about whether or not another monarchy should be established. The pro-monarchists won this drawn out, and bloody, argument, and built their victory city and new capitol of Kings Run on the shores of the Unnamed Lake. Soon, disease struck the city and as the city fell, so too did the new monarchy. Now, the city lies empty, lifeless, and hollow. 

Plague Spring
When the disease struck, those that carried it were at first rounded up and driven from the city. These exiles eventually settled and founded a city referred to as Plague Spring. They also eventually got better, the sickness clearing just as mysteriously as it came. Unfortunately, the disease had taken a psychological toll on the carriers, which was passed down through the generations. People here tend to shun outsiders and are prone to paranoia. 

Unnamed Lake
I just forgot to name it.

Fort Forlorn
If one referred to it as the farthest reach of the Republic, they would be wrong. Given the population and manpower, the fort is definitely an "over reach." Supply caravans are late and under supplied, if they show up at all. Cannibalism and mutiny have are often a problem. At this point it's a gang of madmen sanctioned by the government to terrorize the local wilderness. Why does the Republic continue to operate this obviously cursed place? It's probably just the nature of crumbling empires to spread their military as widely as possible, continuously throwing money at it, rather than acknowledging the actual, real problems facing the population. 

Flooding Tidewater
A low lying coastal forest, with perpetually water logged ground, which tends to flood every nine and a half months. The effect of this is a permeating smell of mildew and general sense of discomfort in the summer months. Moldmen are said to lurk the woods, spreading their spores as they shamble. 

The only real, organized settlement in the region. The streets are paved, crime is low, the sky is always sunny, and everyone wears a smile near constantly. Who knew dark rituals and mass drugging via the water supply could be so effective? The haute cuisine here is divine (in that it's served in a sacred ritual to the god of Rot and Consumption. Probably cannibalistic. Definitely not healthy.) 

Once the Moldmen burial grounds, the settlers here have cultivated the mold into an edible harvest. Not great, but edible. Surely there is no side effects from eating sentient mold. Mold covers everything here: the houses, the people, the odd livestock. Everything but new comers, and that doesn't last long. 

The Barricades
A collection of barrier islands separating the mainland from the Haunted Mere. Okay, technically, they're just a sandbar; sand and sediment pilled up and not actually connected to anything. Which explains why a town or camp will go missing occasionally after a seasonal hurricane. Definitely not due to anything coming off the ocean in a mist of spirit light. Phares (lighthouses) and ship wrecks dot the shores. The later almost certainly due to scavengers tying lanterns to horse heads and pretending to be the former. 

Sound Side
One of the only permanent settlements in region, largely due to it being built on the sound, rather than storm ridden waters of the mere. Serves as a smuggling route between Werberth and Arcanum. 

Channel Phares
Twin colossal lighthouses marking the deepest path out into the Haunted Mere. Built before contact was lost with the Old World to guide vessels in, they now serve as cold reminders of what was lost, signaling only to fishing vessels desperate enough to harvest out in the open sea. 

Trash Lands
It's shit. Absolute garbage. The area lacks topsoil and the land is mostly baked clay mixed with salt. What flora does grow there regrets it, what fauna there is no longer fears hell. Rain hardly bothers to fall, and what does is damn near undrinkable, unless collected before reaching the ground. Yet, still, some damn fools attempt to live out here.  

Sallow Tower
The first time magic was outlawed in Werberth, those magic users of lesser status and financial influence couldn't flaunt their presence the way the Well-Too-Dos could. Funny how laws apply to you if you're not an oligarch. Without financial based protection, the lower class magic users had to use distance for protection. Eventually, they came to the Trash Lands and called it "good enough." Soon, a Tower was established, though lacking the refinery of the Arcanum college.   

I wonder what the hell this is. 

Missing Mountain
It looks like there should be a mountain here. And there should be. Just there's not. There's a rim, a crater, and huge boulders of bedrock - about a mountain's worth - but no artifacts of an impact or implosion. How do you lose a mountain?

The Forgotten Colliery
Way out in the middle of the windswept, featureless hell impossibly ancient buildings, preserved by the salt and dryness, encircle a shaft reaching miles into the earth to a coal vein. Is the coal vein actually a  desiccated black pudding leviathan? Most likely. Is the coal mine full of ancient machines and forgotten corpses? Definitely. Are the corpses infected by something down there and altered into Coalwights? No. They were already like that. 

Caustic Sea
An inland sea filled with alkaline waters that burns the skin and eyes of any creature not adapted for the environment. I could prattle on about sodium carbonate, but I don't know what that is. Should you choose to sail on it, be aware of the Colossal Salt Crabs and big, fuck-all Squids. 

The Forbidden Charterhouse
IT IS FORBIDDEN. A monetary full of evil clerics fully prepared to teach their evil ways to anyone willing to brave the Caustic Sea. What evil plans are afoot? What forbidden knowledge is to be gained? Is there a difference between clerics and warlocks, other than PR? FORBIDDEN. 

Spoiled Champaign
Someone take this damn thesaurus away from me. An open countryside spanning from the Flooding Tidewater to the Caustic Sea, marred by ancient trenches and pockmarked by artillery craters. Forgotten embattlements from a war with no human participants are being reclaimed by murderous vegetation.  

The Golden Arcology
It's actually made of brass. A mysterious spherical structure of impossibly large size with few outer features, save for shallow window like structures and multiple communication antennae (not that the humans know what these are). Unbeknown to the outside world, the inside is VASTLY larger than the outside, time moves differently within, and the structure is a pleasure dome the elves retreated into to escape the horrors they had created outside.   

Shadow Chateau
At some point some foolish entrepreneur set out into the "empty" wilderness to claim land for growing the last of the grape wine seeds smuggled over from the Old World. Trouble is, the land they claimed was, and still is, haunted. On moonless nights, wights of creatures not exactly human roam the vineyard rows, reliving their final horrific moments. Strangely, this seems to have improved the taste. That or the land soaked in elf blood and chemical weapons that the grapes are grown in. Either way, the family still tends the land, and produce a rather successful wine, widely sought after for it's side effect of bestowing Other Sight for a short while. 

The Gatorlands
Hell, yeah, brother, you're in the Gatorlands now! Swamps as far as you care to roam and not a damn lawman in sight. Some big damn gators though, and cat fish nearly larger than the fan boats you need to get through the place. It certainly don't help that an alchemist once tried brewing what we'd call methamphetamine, only to end up spilling a large portion of it into the swamps. Now them big damn gators gots big damn attitudes and no dang old fear. 
Flooded Temple
An ancient step pyramid rises from the murky waters of the mangrove forest, crumbling steps leading up to a temple adorned with murals depicting a night sky with twin moons. There's only ever been the one, though. In the center of the room, a circular stair case descends back down into the pyramid, soon leading to vast flooded sections and an ominous stirring in the water. 

ARRR! What ye be having there, lad? Be it meth? ....can it be? A town built entirely on stilts breaks up the constant fog and Spanish moss laden trees. A town untouched by the law of Werberth, but soaked with strange alchemical agents, as alchemists of ill repute come to apply their trade. Drugs, gambling, whoring, light to mild piracy - all can be found in and around the waters of Bogtown. 

Crypt of the Gatorlords
Is "Gatorlords" one word, or two? I can't read my own handwriting. Either way, a gigantic red rock inselberg pierces the surrounding swamp, surprising any oblivious traveler. On the eastern side of this iron rich monolith a door has been carved by crafty hands, long ago. Large statues of seated figures with alligator heads adorn either side of the open doorway, guarding entry deeper into the temple complex. What secrets lie within, forgotten by time itself? Oh, uh, Gatorlord mysteries. Specifically their crypt. 


Is this anything? Again, I don't know. I might come back to it when writer's block hits, as it's want to do. I do know I spent much more time on it than expected.  


Werewolf Unionist

In the year 20XB (just a few short years before modern day 20XX) a lunar factory was established on the moon. While not remarkable on it's own, as the first lunar station, colony, mining, and manufacturing establishments were all decades before, what set this station - designated AMZN Lunar Prime - apart was the fact that it lacked even the most basic of automation. High stress parts, AI cores, Turing locks, and all the necessary power sources and maintenance cost money after all. Employees are replaceable. 

Another notable event in the history of the AMZN Lunar Prime was it's abandonment in 20XG due to what is commonly referred to as "the Werewolves Incident." 

The employees were originally abandoned in the facility, however you're one of the few who managed to glom the guts of a rattler back down the well (hop a freight shuttle back to earth). 

Werewolf Unionist

Starting Equipment: Union Card, Union Pamphlets,  Picket sign (as club) 
Starting Skill: 1) European Folklore 2) Lunar Operations 3) Labor Laws

For every Werewolf Unionist template you take, gain +1 HP. 

A. Beast Mode; Collective Action
B. Don't Mourn, Organize!
C. Monstrous Transformation
D. The old John Henry 

Beast Mode
With a moment of concentration you can shed off the trappings and burdens inherent in being human and embrace the freedoms of being a wolf. You are able to transform into a dire wolf while retaining human reasoning, with all that that implies. 

Collective Action
While Conviction is typically gained by putting yourself in trouble, your Conviction can also be gained by successfully convincing someone to join a trade union. 

Don't Mourn, Organize!
After seeing a member of your party die of lethal damage, a successful Wisdom check restores half of your total hit points and all uses of per day abilities. 

Monstrous Transformation
You've gained further control over your form changing abilities and can now shift into a horrendous combination of were and wolf. While in this form gain a claw attack (as heavy melee), implied wolf abilities, +2 strength, and Damage Reduction 3. Being successfully attacked with silver ends the damage reduction effect until a long rest. Holding this form hurts like hell, however, and inflicts 1 non-reductable damage per round. 

Anyone bitten by you doesn't necessarily become a lycanthrope (assuming they survive) but they do slowly develop pro-worker ideal. 

The old John Henry 
Once per session, when in a contested roll with a machine (before rolling), you may simply announce that you pass the test and beat the machine. 


Secret Jackalope 2022

I signed up for the Secret Jackalope over on the OSR discord server this year, and was paired up with Azaz from RPG Toolbox, who wanted "A village secrets table -- who hates whom, who's sleeping with someone's wife etc". So, below is just that, a table of secrets. And, because they've been (I assume) very good this financial quarter, I've also thrown in rumors. Ho Ho Ha. 

Village Secrets and Rumors 
  1. Mrs Thelch once described Mme Aelfwear's honeycomb biscuits as "Fine. Maybe a little dry?" while at a harvest festival, in front of everyone. Madam Aelfwear has sworn a blood oath of revenge. 
  2. There's much speculation behind the arcane symbols that appear in the wheat fields from time to time: from their meaning to their sources. Truth be told, it's just the Gerrenth brothers, youths of 15, sneaking out at night and pressing shapes into the fields. 
  3. Reverend Father Rickbranch, in the light of day, is a devote subject of the local, well loved good aligned deity. By the light of the moon, however, he willingly serves Katheres, the Black Goat with One Thousand Eyes, the Chewer of the Cud That Will Flood the World, Bleater of the Final Song. 
  4. Ichabod Slatewater served in the King's War in his youth. He doesn't speak about his service, or the strange spider idol he brought back and has kept hidden all these years. He doesn't speak about it, but he does speak to it. 
  5. Magrit Saurglem, the elderly midwife who has served the village for decades, remembers each and every one of the townsfolk who were born with tails. 
  6. The Duskhorn family were once a proud witch hunters, who retired after a large and successful local campaign. There were, of course, no witches and the family was just blaming innocent people to buy up the confiscated farmland for cheap. 
  7. Mr and Mrs Coldforge have been the ones leaving baskets of food and supplies on the doorsteps of their less fortunate neighbors at night. 
  8. Mr and Mrs Coldforge have been the ones murdering vagrants on nights of the full moon.
  9. The Gerrenth brothers were seen stumbling the roads drunk, near the Duskhorn farms, the night Reverend Father Rickbranch is said to have reported terrible nightmares. 
  10. The mines just outside of town are said to be haunted by the ghosts of the miners who's lives were lost deep within the earth after a cave in. This is a lie. One that was started by a local social group, so they could set up a place to hide from their spouses for a bit. 
  11. Douglas Fir, the tavern keeper, has been watering down his ale's for years. The bastard. 
  12. Most of the stray cats in the town disappeared right around the time when the "strange" family moved in. Nothing happened to them, all the cats are fine and safe, and they all finally carried out their long planned relocation to the Dream City of Ur. The timing was just really coincidental. 
  13. Mr. Mathers is sleeping with Mrs. Weathers. And Mr. Weathers. Mrs. Mathers is also sleeping with both of the Weatherses. None of the spouses knows of their own spouses "rendezvous." 
  14. Rumor has it that there's a trove of silver buried in a fake grave within the village cemetery. This is nonsense. It's electrum. 
  15. Some will tell you "the owls are not what they seem." This is false, they are exactly what they seem: haughty assholes with nocturnal divination abilities. 
  16. The crops only grow because the Coldforges remember what Vazell, Goddess of the Bloody Fields demands. 
  17. The town's water supply tastes rather funny, and not for the high sulfur content of the ground as an "expert" suggest. Rather, the BIG STOMPa and his goblins have moved into the town well. The expert knows this, but he's just 3 goblins in a jerkin. 
  18. If you give a special knock on the back door of the Apothecary shop, they'll sell you a recreational tincture. It's brewed from the Cud of Katheres. 
  19. The Duskhorn family, famous witch hunters, have all been witches for several years now. Who have they been hunting? Not witches. 
  20. Most of the recent vagrants lately, have been werewolves, summoned there by Madam Aelfwear. 

Octopus Wrestling

Been working on an entry for Char2terie Board, a follow up to the GLoG zine Charcuterie Board. (Also the Under Hill, By Water Yuletide Jam, but more on that later) What follows is the entry submitted for the first Charcuterie Board. It's been a year. Why not. 


Way off yonder ways, down on the coast, lies a stretch of beach surrounded by cliffs - once mountains in their own right, noble and strong, their secrets now layed exposed by the same water they hold back, forever assaulted in six hour increments as the waters are driven by their cruel lunar mistress. Betwixt a few of these here cliffs industrious hands have taken to forming an artificial tide pool out of the smooth stones and ancient whale bones liberated from their geological prison by the ocean. 

Should the PC folk arrive around High Tide, they’ll find a figure sitting happily upon the boulder that overlooks the tide pool, as though a Lord reclining and gazing upon their domain and knowing to be Right. Any meger attempt at investigation soon reveals the figure to be a man of middling height and of ending years. Adorned in only canvas britches sheared off at the thigh, the man’s skin is tanned and hardened by decades of sunburn, his hair bleached and burnt by the sun and age, his teeth are forgotten by his lips like the words to so many songs. His eyes, however, will sparkle with a passion. He’ll give his name simply as “Dale.” (L4, Geriatric Berserker) 

Should the PC folk arrive at Low Tide, Dale will probably be making margaritas and cooking seafood in his rustic shack, just off to the left. 

Dale is Friendly enough, and will gladly trade and share what he has, though it ain’t much. The occasional story and company is really all he lacks at present. 

If pressed about his backstory he’ll share. It ain’t a terribly happy one, but he’ll share. Perhaps he was a soldier in a horrific war. Perhaps it is a story of love and loss. Perhaps it involves a family and a  plague. It truly matters not. For you see, Dale has forsaken any old life he may have had, or any customs and traditions he may have once kept. Nowadays, the only meaning and joy he manages to strangle out of his existence is engaging in the True Sport of Kings: 

Octopus Wrestling

Once High Tide makes its way here around, and the tide pool gets good and deep, old Dale will scurry like a man forty years his junior to the top of the predominant boulder. He’ll sit and center himself for a moment, collecting his thoughts, gazing upon the pool. When the time is right (he’ll know it), the melanomatic man will produce an unassuming flute and, in the direct, boiling sun, he’ll begin to play a haunting tune. 

A tune that reminds of the cold, frigid depths. Of alien landscapes dotted with coral. Of inhuman thoughts and cruel desires. Of ancient shores illuminated by no known star. Of favors owed and debts to be repaid. Of vengeance due. 

The tune will then drift to silence and soon a pair of cephalopod eyes will appear peeking from the waterline, the water around them bubbling angrily. Dale will slide from his rock into the water, and begin for foam violently from the mouth as the Rage overtakes him. 

An overreaction? Well, I imagine you’re picturing one of those run of the mill, 22 pounds and 4 foot long things. What you’ve got here are the 150 pound bastards, reaching up to 20 feet. Real big, and real ornery. And real psionic. We’ll get to that. 

The first round goes to Dale. Or, hell, maybe it doesn’t. Either way, should the PCs be up for a little friendly wager, old Dale will be up for a good old wrassle. Winner learns the summoning song (requires a flute to play). 

What Dale Don’t Know

 - will probably kill him.  You see, the octopus are plotting an invasion of the surface world. They don’t know much about it, other than Dale is there. They hate him. Him and that damn song. Well, actually, they love the song, almost too much. They can’t resist it and Dale’s constant summoning is cutting into their plans. 

They also don’t realise Dale isn’t an oddity of the surface. After all, why would there be mermen AND landmen? That’s just silly. Whenever a PC interacts with an octopus via wrestling, have them Save vs Mind Scan - failure means the psionic cephalopod has copied a template into the collective consciousness and it will be implanted into the mermen serving as mindless thralls and servants. They currently have “Berserker” from Dale. 

Add groups of floating octopi and the merman thralls to the random encounters in the wilderness. Should Dale fall due to octopus fight or general murderhoboing, double their appearance, as no one is holding them back anymore. 


Dire Octopus

Squiggly brain bastards with eight arms

HD 3

AC as leather  Atk bite/crush 1d6

SaveIntelligence 20


  • Psionics - see below

  • Grappler - +1 to Grappling combat maneuvers for every tentacle involved. 

Merman Thrall

More Kevin Costner’s “the Mariner” than some half man/half fish manatee based thing, that have been bred to be mentally weak and subservient. 

HD 1

AC as leather+1  Atk spear 1d6

SaveIntelligence 10  Morale 8


  • Blank Slate - May hold/use one template of Octopus master’s choosing from the collective consciousness 


You’re probably running psionics in a certain manner, if you’re running them at all. Well, that certainly doesn’t matter - octopi have a decentralized nervous system, so they use it differently than centralized brain folk. To them it comes as easy and naturally as thinking; they just do it. No dice hassling, however it is their action for the round. 

Octopus have one ability, in addition to their floating and telepathy, chosen from below:

  1. Fold Space - Instantly teleport 64 feet in any direction. Host’s eyes permanently glow blue.

  2. Life Leech - Host is able to drain 1d4 HP from a grappled target and restore their own by the same amount. Host with this ability appears sickly pale. 

  3. Mind Blast - A psychic ranged attack that deals damage as a light melee weapon. Hosts of this ability have crystalline growths on their head sacs. 

  4. Mind over Matter - Gain damage reduction 2, and strikes with tentacles do damage to equipment struck as well. Host 

  5. Remote Viewing - By concentrating on a target they’ve encountered or have a personal item from, the host is able to scry on the target. Host has dull, milky eyes. 

  6. Sense Mind - Host is able to perfectly locate intelligent minds within 64 feet. Host has an inflated or swollen head sac. 

  7. Will Sap - By grappling a target for a round, the host forces to make a Save vs Mental or lose 1 point of Conviction. 

  8. Wither - A grappled target takes 1d8 of Inventory damage, filling up empty slots until a short rest. Host has stringy, barbed tentacles.