Thursday, June 27, 2013

Compiled Pit Trap Surprise Table Entries

2014-02-21: PDF available! Rended Press Community Project - 2d24 Pit Trap Table

Here is an extremely rough compilation the entries for the Random Pit Trap Surprise Table contest. I added a few more at the end to round it out to 47 total entries so that you can roll 2d24 on it. I'll clean it up in the next couple of days and have a nice PDF for download at some point.

2d24 Table of Pit Trap Surprises

2    Pit lined with 1d24 vampire vines.

3    Dessicated corpse at bottom of pit is actually a naked mummy.

4    1d24 giant burrow worms.

5    Bottom of pit holds secret door to gelatinous cube nesting room.

6    1d24 fire beetle larvae.

7    1d20 rot grubs.

8    Rabid cave bear cub.

9    Landing in bottom of trap triggers release of 1d20 X 100 flesh eating ants after 1d3 rounds.

10    Secret locked false door in side of pit trap triggers release of poisonous gas upon unlocking.

11    Not a pit trap, but the open mouth of a giant, aged, toothless purple worm.

12    Bottom of pit trap contains another pit trap.

13    Trap appears to be lined with iron spikes, but this is an illusion; it's actually filled with flesh-eating acid.

14    Falling into pit trap triggers release of 1d24 rabid pit bulls elsewhere in the dungeon. Increase Wandering Monster checks to every turn for 1d24 turns.

15    At the bottom of the pit is 3' of ice cold water. It reduces falling damage by d6, but a character must make a save each round he is in the water, failure results in a loss of a point of constitution. If the character is reduced below half their constitution, hypothermia has set in. At this time the player is making save vs. 1d6 damage. Save will halve the damage.

16    Pit trap is of spongy material that is hard to puncture/ falling damage, but begin to take 1d3 acid damage each round as the pit digests you.

17    Not a pit! As soon as you fall, you find yourself walking in another corridor whose plane of gravity is perpendicular to that of the corridor you were in.

18    Pit trap was used by intelligent monsters to dispose of sewage. Reduced falling damage, but chance of disease/rot grubs. Some treasure may be lost here if you really want to dig through the feces.

19    Magic mouth at bottom of pit jeers at you for falling into pit.

20    Secret door in wall of pit (half way down if pit is deeper than 10') grants access to another area of the dungeon (perhaps a sub-level).

21    Pressure plate at bottom of pit propels you back up at high velocity, with the result that you impale yourself on the previously unnoticed ceiling spikes for 2d6 damage. Gravity takes over and you start to slide down the spikes... back towards the pit and the pressure plate, which has reset itself.

22    After you hit the bottom of the pit you notice that the walls are starting to slowly close in and the floor area is getting narrower and narrower...

23    Pressure Plate at bottom of pit propels you back out of the pit and you land 1d20 feet in a random direction on the floor (Normal damage for fall, half as much damage for getting thrown out, and it gets really funny in a big room with lots of pit traps...)

24    Pit trap is filled with soapy water. No damage from fall, but chance of drowning, and soap makes it extremely hard to grab ropes or climb walls etc.

25    The pit is not really the trap. Any pressure on the floor of the pit (which naturally has something that looks lootable on it) releases the ceiling, which is actually a 10' think slab of stone. Ouch.

26    The floor of the pit is a spring-loaded trampoline, which will launch you to the ceiling, which is coated with contact poison. No damage from the fall or softly hitting the ceiling but save or die from poison.

27    Floor of the pit rises rapidly, until it touches the ceiling. Someone who survived the fall could jump off in time. But once it gets to the ceiling the floor stays up there, blocking off the hallway permanently. (Did anyone leap, fly, or climb across the pit? Now the party is split....

28    Pit trap reverses gravity for the first PC to fall in. 1d6 damage at the bottom of the pit plus 2d6 when you hit the ceiling. Spend next 1D6 turns walking on ceiling, knocking allies helmets off with your spear, rappelling down the up staircase, and so forth.

29    Pressure plate in the center of the pit trap causes all spikes to fire upward into the ceiling, impaling anyone who's walking along the bottom or who is trying to cross above.

30    Exchanging trap at the bottom. Whoever falls into the pit trap is teleported into a holding cell, and the previous inhabitant of that cell is teleported into the pit trap. Exchange only works with living beings of at least kobold size.

31    The floor is illusory. The the real floor is another 10' down. It has Silence 10' radius permanently cast on it. The walls of this sub-basement are too smooth to climb. No one can hear you call for help, and you can't hear them calling to ask if you're ok. Oh and you can't cast spells with verbal components.

32    You drop into a metal cage, that then is transported along a conveyor sideways, up, and back sideways directly over the pit and get dropped out of the ceiling onto the trap again, that has reset itself.

33    Like another pit trap, but this one is built onto a wall, and if it's activated by searching for secret doors or touching the wall, the gravity for the offender is tilted by 90 degrees and he falls into the wall pit. Gravity effect ends as soon as he exits the trap.

34    Half way down the pit the victim seemingly vanishes into thin air. He has, in fact, been teleported back outside the entrance of the dungeon but is otherwise none the worse for wear.

35    At the bottom of the pit is a great transmutation rune. The character must make a save, failure results in a permanent polymorph...

36    Pit trap is filled to the brim with opaque mist. Maybe poisonous. Maybe just paralyzing. Maybe makes the victims voice sound suspiciously like a whiny goblin.

37    Pit trap is just a feet deep, with a warning about going father into the dungeon written on it's floor.

38    The pit trap is just an amazing painting of a pit. The character(s) will fall in and keep falling. It is not until the painting is destroyed. It is immune to magic and physical damage. To undo the magic someone will need to create their own picture on top of the pit picture. The paints do not need to be magical the canvas is. Of course whatever is drawn on the painting will happen to all those who have fallen into it.

39    A nice, soft feather mattress with warm blankets and overstuffed pillows. Totally safe. I swear.

40    Pit trap leads to a portal in which an alternate dimension exists. Everything is the same, but you are using a different game system.

41    The pit trap is actually a powerful reverse gravity zone. Those who try to jump over it slam into the ceiling.

42    The pit trap is filled with animated "helping hands" ala Labyrinth. "She chose down!"

43    The pit trap slowly fills with water. This is can swim out! But, it is hard to do without leaving armour and heavy gear behind....

44    The floor on the far side of the pit tips if over 50 lbs. is placed on it, dumping jumpers into the pit.  40' down pit widens out and contains sticky webs and Giant Spider. PC falling in will be stuck to the webs and immobile, unless makes a strength check.

45    Pit trap is 10 feet deep and filled near to the brim with rat bones.

46    At the bottom of the trap is a finger-sized roach named Samwith who knows the way to the treasure hoard. He only speaks Orcish.

47    Bottom of the trap is lined with flypaper and 4d24 giant flies in various states of decay. 25% chance 3d24 giant maggots are also feeding here.

48    Pit trap contains a giant halfling pie.

mwschmeer, Tim Shorts, ravencrowking, Tim Knight, Rorschachhamster, mikemonaco, fadedearth, Tim Snider, Dungeon Lord, THOMAS.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Pit Trap Surprise Table Paperback Winner!

We had 30 entries in the comment section for the Random Pit Trap Surprise Table. There were actually 33 comments, but two of those were mine and one was deleted by its author.

So, cranking up the random number picker . . . and Comment #14 was the winner!

fadedearth said...
Pit trap reverses gravity for the first PC to fall in. 1d6 damage at the bottom of the pit plus 2d6 when you hit the ceiling. Spend next 1D6 turns walking on ceiling, knocking allies helmets off with your spear, rappelling down the up staircase, and so forth.

fadedearth, hit me up with your email address at mwschmeer AT gmail DOT com so I can get this paperback in the mail to you! You have until Friday, June 28th, to claim your prize; otherwise, I'll have to pick another winner.

Thanks for playing, folks. I'll compile all the entries into a single post & file for download soon.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

All the Heavy Metal Magazine Covers

Just what the post title says.

A Few Words About The Man of Steel

Superman doesn't kill, just like America doesn't torture.

Superman stands for truth, justice, and the American way.

But the American way is no longer about truth, no longer about justice. The American way is now security at any cost. Any. Cost.

Even if that cost is a perversion of what we say we hold dear as a country united only by the promise of a common creed: that we are, in Lincoln's words, "a government of the people, by the people, for the people."

Snyder has given us the Superman we've become, not the Superman we need. You want your Superman back? Earn him back.

(cross-posted from my Tumblr)

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Tuesday Morning Random Spew

First: Don't forget the Random Pit Trap Surprise Table Contest!

Second: Props to Zach for dropping by my office to let me fondle his copy of Better than Any Man that he scored on Free RPG Day. This is one sweet adventure and I wish I had been able to score a copy for myself. While I'm not a fan of gory gaming (splatterpunk, slasher horror, and full-on visual gore are not my thing), I recognize that Raggi is doing what all creative types should do: push limits in order to make us think and feel beyond the ordinary comforts of our lives.

Example: In "Queen of the Black Coast," Robert E. Howard writes:

. . . There was a confusion of movement, a writhing and
melting of lights and shadows, against a background of black jungle,
green stone ruins and murky river. Black men came up the river in long
boats with skulls grinning on the prows, or stole stooping through the
trees, spear in hand. They fled screaming through the dark from red
eyes and slavering fangs. Howls of dying men shook the shadows;
stealthy feet padded through the gloom, vampire eyes blazed redly.
There were grisly feasts beneath the moon, across whose red disk a
batlike shadow incessantly swept.

We skim right over this as we read; maybe we picture it as a loose sketch, a series of events. We get the intellectual gist of it. It's a comfortable fiction we can skim over. We don't see or feel the horror of those dying men, of those being eaten by beasts. We don't like to picture the actual flesh and blood too much. It's too distant, too removed from us. We like our horror manageable and make believe and digestable, thank you. The majority of meat-eaters among us have never killed, skinned, gutted, and butchered our own animals for consumption; we don't have the stomach for it because its easier to have someone else do it where we don't have to confront the reality of having to kill in order to live.

We even fight our wars this way. We let volunteers and hired hands go forth to wage our wars. No conscription for us, thank you. No universal service to protect our country. No risk, please. Keep us safe so we can continue to buy and consume and entertain ourselves to death. We Americans watch CNN or FoxNews and see (admittedly sanitized) images of protest and war in other countries, and then we sit comfortably away from life and death struggles and shake our heads and turn back to our games to distract us from the hum-drum of our lives (don't even get me started on the whole meh of public opinion on the actual content of the Snowden revelations). In other words, we have become well-sheltered sheep.

But Raggi is giving us the horror in our game anyway; he's asking us to face in our game what we won't face or refuse to face in real life. He's done with dancing around euphemisms and wants us see just how brutal the imaginary world of sword & sorcery should be, how life-threatening and soul crushing the fight for survival truly is: hellish, frightening, twisted, soul-crushing. And he asks us to guide our PCs through these worlds to become heroes. Or let them die trying. Here's the message he's sending in a nutshell: The world is actively trying to kill you. Will you let it?

Others are following his lead. Look at Rafael Chandler's SlaughterGrid and tell me this isn't inspired somehow by Raggi.  Of course, the original Carcosa supplement started this all, but Raggi took those ideas and ran with them, and then brought along McKinney as a co-conspirator with the new version of Carcosa (which I really do need to get my hands on) and Island of the Unknown. And let's not forget the best supplement I've ever had the pleasure of reading, Zak S.'s Vornheim.

At any rate, Raggi raised the bar on the quality of a giveaway product; the Kickstarter (which I did not back due to limited hobby funds) was a genius move to produce what is essentially an advertisement for LotFP and a damn cool scenario/sourcebook for the rest of OSR-inspired gaming.

Also, I really dig the cover artwork of BTAM:

Because of this:

That second one is an illustration by Leonard O'Grady of Ywehbobbobhewy, Lord of Waters, King of Mirrors, Patriarch of the Most Profound, one of my Petty God entries.

Think these tentacled beasties are related? Hmmmm . . .

(the ranty parts of this section brought to you by four hours of sleep after starting to read In Cold Blood again for the first time in a long time.)

Third: It might be old news to many of you, but I just discovered this site:

They have over a thousand free icons for use in gaming products, websites, etc.

So, here's what I think would be neat: some sort of random glyph picker ala Rory's Story Cubes. There's a limited random glyph picker built into RPGSolo (go to the link and hit the "MAG" button down at the bottom of the page), but it doesn't use ALL the glyphs and it's built into this hideous looking website (sorry, RPGSolo, but . . . ugh).

I do not have the coding skills to do this. But Wizardawn does.

HEY WIZARDAWN! Can you get on this? Please?

Finally: Has anyone ever compiled all the GM Merit Badges as individual icons for download? Is there a zip file somewhere?

Monday, June 17, 2013

Underworld Lore: Purple Pig

Underworld Lore - Purple Pig (for Gorgonmilk!)

No. Enc.:  1d6 (1d6)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 150' (50')
Armor Class: 7
Hit Dice: 4
Attacks: 1 (tusk)
Damage: 2d4 + 1
Save: F2
Morale: 9
Hoard Class: None
XP: 100

Purple pigs have been part of the underworld ecosystem for only a few hundred years and are the descendants of normal pigs that were trapped in a large cavern complex after having been trapped in a rockslide during the Hellands Upheaval of 302.  These porcines have developed into sightless, pale lavender beasts that rely on their superior sense of smell to navigate their underworld habitats.

In fact, these pigs have the uncanny ability to ALWAYS choose the shortest and least dangerous (for them) route through a cavern complex despite being 100% blind.  However, due to their superior sense of smell, they gain a +1 for attacks.

No one knows why they have developed their particular color; some underground adventurers have noted that in caverns where purple pigs have been found there are no fungal growths or spoor of any beast.

In most respects, purple pigs resemble their above-ground brethren in temperament, strength, and taste.  Most adventurers, however, would eat a purple pig as a last resort, as they are known to carry a rather nasty strain of intestinal parasites and/or other dungeon-borne diseases.

Dwarves and rock gnomes treasure purple pigs for their ability to sniff out veins of precious metals. Attempts have been made by some gnomish clans to adapt the purple pig as battle mounts; these have been highly unsuccessful, as the pigs cannot stand to be near each other. If two or more pigs encounter each other outside of mating season, they will fight to the death.

During mating season (which lasts roughly two weeks twice a year), purple pigs lose their sense of smell, gather in a large empty cavern, and engage in unending rutting activity with either sex for 72 hours (thus the origin of the dwarvish curse "May yer mother fall into an orgy of pigs!").

Perhaps the strangest side-effect of the pigs' estrangement from their above-ground brethren is not their mating ritual but their "musical" communication. Purple pigs have developed a high-pitched pattern of communication that relies on simple repetition of a few musical notes relayed in varying intensities and tempos. As they are solitary creatures outside of rutting season, recent scholars suggest that the pigs use this "music" to alert other pigs of their location to avoid confrontation and/or frighten would-be predators.

The snout music of the purple pig has been known to drive underworld explorers insane (Save vs. Insanity; failure means 20% chance of suicide if exposed to the music for more than 1d6 turns; 75% chance if in mating season). Captured purples pigs often have one nasal passage cauterized shut to stifle the music, but this often creates a highly temperamental and unruly pig.

The music was transcribed by one intrepid bard, who upon playing the music in a tavern was immediately attacked and torn to pieces by his audience. Luckily, a snippet of his manuscript survived and can be heard here:

Goblins are highly afraid of the purple pig, as the pig music has the ability to liquify their brains.

FYI, for your reference:

Monday Mail Call: 6 Iron Spikes and a Small Hammer.

Look what arrived in the mail on Saturday!

How much for ze leetel kobold? Ze leetel zcrawnee one?

This 16-page zine is chock full of useful stuff to run a a game or campaign around H.G. Wells's The Island of Dr. Moreau--you know, the book with the mad doctor stitching together/breeding weird human/animal hybrids.

As far as content, you get a not-actually-accurate synopsis of the book with some twists thrown in for gaming (best line: "The latter are catchy and end up enshrined in a popular track by the band, DEVO"), a small hand-drawn map (which could be better labeled; the locations are hard to discern from the terrain), a brief non-stated NPC section, a whole shit-ton of adventure seed ideas, and a nice wandering encounters table. But the best is certainly saved for last, the Beast Folk Generator.

I always picture the monsters on Moreau's island as looking something like Ferret and Bruno after their transformations in 1981's Swamp Thing movie rather than anything from the 1932, 1977, or 1996 film adaptations. This table is useful for creating low-level humanoid/monster hybrids along those lines. It's a cool concept and the stat rules John Yorio has come up with for creating the creatures are right on target.

This is definitely worth $2. It's print-only, so grab it here. I've also added it to the zine page.

Don't forget that I'm still looking for entries for the Random Pit Trap Surprises table. You could win an old paperback!

I'm sorry. This pit trap is occupied. Please try the one next door.

Also: No Free RPG Day for me. The in-laws were in town, and the closest game store that participates is an hour's drive away. So, if anyone wants to shoot me a copy of "Better Than Any Man," "Hall of Bones," and/or "Fire Dwarves of Zorr," I'd be greatly appreciative and in your debt.

Friday, June 14, 2013

Help Me Finish A Random Table & Maybe Win This Old Paperback

I'm stuck on this table thing. I started off trying to create a d24 table (just because) and I've come up with a number of entries. And then my mind drew a blank. Help me finish it. Obviously, we can go beyond 24 entries. I'll use this random number picker to select one commenter to receive this book:

Includes the original sales receipt from 1977!
Leave ONE entry per comment; you may leave multiple comments, but comments containing more than one table entry will be disqualified from the drawing. Entries must be received by 11:59 pm CST on June 22. I will ship this book anywhere in the world, although it might take awhile for it to get to you if you live outside the U.S.

Okay, here it goes:

1d?? Table of Pit Trap Surprises

1. Pit lined with 1d24 vampire vines.
2. Dessicated corpse at bottom of pit is actually a naked mummy.
3. 1d24 giant burrow worms.
4. Bottom of pit holds secret door to gelatinous cube nesting room.
5. 1d24 fire beetle larvae.
6. 1d20 rot grubs.
7. Rabid cave bear cub.
8. Landing in bottom of trap triggers release of 1d20 X 100 flesh eating ants after 1d3 rounds.
9. Secret locked false door in side of pit trap triggers release of poisonous gas upon unlocking.
10. Not a pit trap, but the open mouth of a giant, aged, toothless purple worm.
11. Bottom of pit trap contains another pit trap.
12. Trap appears to be lined with iron spikes, but this is an illusion; it's actually filled with flesh-eating acid.
13. Falling into pit trap triggers release of 1d24 rabid pit bulls elsewhere in the dungeon. Increase Wandering Monster checks to every turn for 1d24 turns.
??. . .

Thursday, June 13, 2013

d12 Table: What's Tattooed on the Dead Orc?

d12 Table: What's Tattooed on the Dead Orc?
  1. Recipe for delicious fungus-based pale ale.
  2. Upside down & backwards map of mad wizard's lair.
  3. Portrait of one of the PCs as they appeared in their pre-teen youth.
  4. A curse written in orcish; when read aloud, it prevents the reader from successfully hitting any target with any weapon for 1d4 days (does not affect sentient weapons or spell-based attacks).
  5. Caricature of a frog idol and inner-lip tattoo of a six-winged housefly.
  6. Six half-orc names; five of the names are crossed out.
  7. Part of a map of a secret route through the current adventure location; a small notation written in magical hieroglyphics at the bottom of the map notes that other parts of the map are tattooed on a kobold, a gnoll, and a hobgoblin.
  8. Facial tattoo boldly declaring "I WIL FECK U UPP UR ARS."
  9. Hereditary tribal designs revealing orc is a bastard son of a bastard son of a bastard king and thus entitled to the full rites and ceremonial burial afforded to such minor nobility regardless of race or class; the PCs are duty-bound to follow the unwritten social contract or suffer the consequences (which are at the DM's discretion).
  10. The abbreviated rules of a rudimentary game resembling baseball, played with a severed halfling head and a club +1.
  11. Intricate flowery designs around both ankles indicating the orc is a member of the Cult of Audrum.
  12. A full-color, beautiful half-sleeve tattoo depicting the torture, death,  and torment in Hell of one of the party members.

A Retro-clone I Didn't Know About Until 5 Minutes Ago.

Apparently this has been around since 2010 and is still in an "open beta" stage and yet I just stumbled across it this morning. How could I have missed it?

Lost Empires is a Sword & Wizardry variant, with lots of gorgeous artwork and fancy schmancy page design. I like the look and feel of it, but I don't have time to dig into the content of it and see how much it varies from the Swords & Wizardry rules. It seems to have been closely meshed with a specific setting, too.

You should definitely check it out, though.

A Thursday Bookface

Simon Forster is an excellent chap. He mailed me a series of hand-drawn maps from across the pond. Thanks, Simon!

Fancy envelope art! Bonus map!

City of Rowandale, built around what I can only assume to be Rowenmere . . .

Ferry Hill! Right smack in the middle of Rowenmere behind The Quail & Lake Tavern.

Also: my new digs. I have a fabulous view of student parking.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

d24 Table: What Came Through the Portal?

d24 Table: What Came Through the Portal?

1. USB flash drive containing complete technical details of an advanced, moon-sized battle station with an exhaust vent vulnerability.

2. A red umbrella.

3. A Swingline™ stapler and 1,000 staples, sealed in a plastic blister pack.

4. A glass dip pen.

5. Tube of antibiotic ointment.

6. Pad of 3M Sticky Notes™.

7. Sack of golden russet potatoes.

8. 2 Epson ink jet color ink cartridges.

9. A clear plastic 12-inch ruler decorated with cartoon anime characters.

10. A Leatherman Multi-Tool.

11. Pair of garden shears.

12. Box of jumbo paperclips.

13. Box of tacks.

14. 6 empty plastic milk crates.

15. Pad of legal-size paper.

16. Coal shovel.

17. Astronaut-themed sun visor.

18. Pair of cushioned arch support shoe inserts.

19. Bottle of multivitamins with childproof cap.

20. Package of cocoa mix.

21. Stainless steel egg beater.

22. 1d24 fast food ketchup packets.

23. 1d24 x 10 yards of fine nylon mesh, suitable for screen doors.

24. 1d24 bunches of fresh broccoli.

d8 Table: What's in the Dragon's Gizzard?

d8 Table: What's in the Dragon's Gizzard?

1. 1d100 fist-sized diamonds, used to grind meals to bits.

2. An antique ear trumpet.

3. 1d10 jugs spiced rum.

4. 1d10 recently swallowed halfling skulls. 1 in 10 chance party recognizes one of them.

5. Golden spear, bent beyond usability, engraved with mark of a long-dead paladin. Worth 500gp.

6. Small cask of high-quality ale (Roll on Gorgonmilk d20 Weird Drafts table).

7. Bones of 1d10 sheep.

8. A tin whistle. Within 1d10 rounds of blowing the whistle, a troop of Xvarts arrive demanding its return.

d10 Table: What's Blocking the Tunnel?

d10 Table: What's Blocking the Tunnel?

1. Bloated, decaying corpse of giant purple worm with 1d8 giant rats gnawing through the corpse.

2. 1d8 dead Xvarts.

3. Melting gelatinous cube.

4. Roof collapse; support beams show signs of damage by magical fire.

5. 1d8 tons of humanoid fecal matter.

6. Large boulder held in place by several cross beams spiked into tunnel walls.

7. 1d8 x 1,000 freshly molted snake skins.

8. Tunnel not truly blocked; it's only an illusion.

9. Tourist information booth manned by 1d8 rock gnomes eager to please.

10. Toll booth with 2gp fee. Phantom toll booth operator will mercilessly hound toll skippers at inopportune moments for 1d8 days or until toll is paid.

Monday, June 3, 2013

Salts of Despair

Salts of Despair (Rare)
Alignment: Neutral
XP: 1,025

Like the Seeds of Sowing, the secret knowledge of creating the Salts of Despair is guarded by the chief priests of the Cult of Audrum, as the salts are a rare and dangerous concoction. The salts themselves appear to be thumbnail-sized, multi-colored crystals of sea salt. If dissolved in water at a 2:1 ratio, the salts have the power to immediately destroy any plant or plant-based creature’s root system the solution is poured upon as if by an acid attack (no save). This solution will also render the ground into which it is poured forever devoid of plant life. It is rumored that the Desert of Ka’rat was formed in just this manner. The salts are generally produced in small batches of under eight ounces, but have not been produced for over 300 years.

Should a creature be so inclined to digest a salt crystal or drink the dissolved solution, they will suffer 6d20 acidic damage to their digestive tract and permanently lose the ability to speak.

Seeds of Sowing

Seeds of Sowing (Rare)
Alignment: Neutral
XP: 825

The exact recipe of the Seeds of Sowing is known only by the chief preists of the Cult of Audrum, and is a highly guarded secret. What is known is that the seeds appear to be a mix of special soils, nutrients, plant digestives, and other unknown ingredients packed into a shape roughly the size and weight of a chicken egg. When a normal plant seed is embedded into the Seed of Sowing and planted in temperate conditions, the plant that sprouts will be a sentient life form, capable of speech and thought and with 1000 times the life-cycle length of the normal plant of that type of seed. The resulting plant is incapable of reproduction and any fruit borne by the plant will be seedless. It is rumored that the Murmuring Forest of Nerm was the result of a clumsy cultist spilling a large collection of such seeds. There are no more than 1d4 seeds found at any time.

Eating the Seeds of Sowing is not advised, but has no effect beyond a severe stomach ache for 1d4 days.

Audrum, Petty God of Carnivorous Plants

Name: Audrum, Petty God of Carnivorous Plants
Symbol: A venus flytrap wrapped in a vampire vine
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: NA
Armor Class: -4
Hit Points (Hit Dice):  81 (13HD +3)
Attacks: 3
Damage: 1d12 crush + 1d20 acid +1d20 acid
Save: F12
Morale: 12
Hoard Class: XXII
XP: 12,500

Audrum is a giant, sentient pitcher plant who reigns over carnivorous plants. His gigantic, bulbous frame is attended by a host of an unnamable insectoid race descended from the offspring of alien Mi-Go vistors  and dwarf neanderthals. The insectoids swab his putrid girth in their acidic saliva to protect it from rot, and Audrum allows the insectoids to crawl within his fetid orifices to feed on the rotting sacrifices held within his seventeen-chambered digestion system.

Worshiped by sentient venus flytraps, vampire vines, razor grasses, pitcher plants and other flesh-eating plant life, he is also well regarded by those creatures whose life force are tied to the Green—including dryads, wood nymphs, and other such beasts. Some sentient jellies, ochres, and slimes who don't know any better also pay him homage. Every carnivorous plant pays tribute to Audrum by offering him every third victim devoured; if pleased with the sacrifice (20% chance), Audrum teleports the unlucky victim into his stomachs, where they will be slowly savored over seventeen year, one year in each chamber of his gut. Victims usually die in the second or third year. Those devoured longer than a two years in his stomachs cannot be raised or resurrected. He can also teleport non-sacrificial near-dead, dying, and undead (including ghasts, ghouls, mummies and vampires) into his gut to feed his tremendous appetites if these creatures have physically attacked him.

The Cult of Audrum was once relatively well-known in the ancient kingdoms, but has withered to a few hundred adherents in scattered locations around the realms. The cultists are easily recognized by the blood-red doors of their greenhouses. It is rumored that a few of cultists hold the secrets to crafting the Seeds of Sowing and Salts of Despair.

Audrum is psionically connected to all uninhabited green plant life and can command and control these plants anywhere on the material plane at will. He can negate any spell cast by an Elf,  Druid, or Ranger, and he can only be attacked by magical edged weapons of +2 quality or greater. He is impervious to undead attacks, gaze attacks, and normal fire.

Audrum himself is physically immobile, but radiates a powerful, non-dispelable illusion to make it appear he is capable of movement. In order to destroy Audrum, his miles-long root system must be utterly destroyed or he will fully regenerate in 1d6 days, larger and more loathsome than before. The true location of his throne is hidden deep within a collapsed temple on an uncharted atoll in the Fair Isles, as he must live on the material plane to receive sustenance.

Audrum is a gregarious petty god who enjoys stories, songs, and bawdy jokes. He is likely to provide a boon to bards, especially if they sing the nearly-forgotten ballads “The Tale of Gerwan,” “The One True Vine My Lover Swallowed,” or “The Grave O’er Grown” within his presence (real or projected). He has the power to grant a limited wish if the wish deals with plant life of some kind.

If his true physical form is attacked, Audrum will be vigorously defended. All the sentient plant life in his lair will attack  and 1d1000 of his insectoid attendants will swarm to defend him (treat as Xorns). Audrum will also command and control all non-sentient plant life in his lair to defend himself. His own physical attacks consist of a 1d12 crushing blow of his leafy protuberences,  a 1d20 spitting acid attack (this is a direct attack), and 1d20 acidic stomach disgorgement (an area of effect attack ). There are no saves for the acid attacks. There is a 40% chance the acidic disgorgement contains one or more partly digested sacrifices; if so, then PCs in the area of affect must also Save vs. Disease or suffer a –2 to all to-hit and damage rolls due to extreme nausea.

Reaction Table (2d6)

1-2    Gregarious. Will happily engage the party and grant request and boons within reason.
3-4    Moody. Will banter with and engage the party and demand they fulfill a quest in exchange for a just reward.
5-6 Anxious. Will engage the party to do his bidding at the utmost haste for the greatest possible reward within his power.
7-8 Indifferent. Will not engage the party unless pressed.
9-10 Hungry. Will demand the sacrifice of a party member before proceeding with any parley. Can be persuaded otherwise at great cost.
11-12 Wrathful. Will attack the party if not afforded the proper respect.

Tallemaja, Queen of Huldras and Lamias

Name: Tallemaja, Queen of Huldras and Lamias
Symbol: A bark-scaled snake with a cow's head.
Alignment: Lawful
Movement: 60' (30')
Armor Class: –2
Hit Points (Hit Dice): 54 (15 HD + 3)
Attacks: 2 / 2 (see below)
Damage: 1d8 spear & 1d12 crush / 1d8 + Special
Save: F12
Morale: 10
Hoard Class:  XVII (in lair only)
XP: 7,500

Tallemaja Bettencourt was a lady in waiting in the entourage of the Empress of Cerise. Her beauty caught the eye of Pherosathoola, Petty Goddess of Sexual Fear, who fell in love with the lass. Under the guise of night, Pherosathoola seduced Tallemaja with promises of ascendency and the immortality of petty godhood, a promise that was not hers to give. After several years of this affair, Tallemaja finally demanded her reward. Pherosathoola, unable to grant the boons she promised, released Tallemaja from her thrall.

Enamored with the thoughts of achieving godhood, Tallemaja plotted to attain such at any cost. She fell in with the powerful Lord Greensayne (an advisor to the Cerisian Emperor; see below), was initiated into the Cult of the Jale God, and appeared to have caught the Jale God's favor. To cement her place at court, she accepted Lord Greensayne's marriage proposal and prepared to enter the upper tiers of polite society and the bowels of cult leadership as a priestess novitiate.

However, three days before the wedding was to take place, Lord Greensayne discovered Tallemaja's dwarven heritage (1/6th dwarf on her father's side) and ordered her execution. Tallemaja fled, taking the Eidolons of Hate and Fear (which had been in Greensayne's possession for several years) with her. She ended up in a forest glade where she discovered an abandoned temple dedicated to Hymenphalia, Petty Godling of Hermaphroditic Fertility, who is a sworn enemy of Pherosothoola. When Hymenpahlia discovered where Pherosothoola's former lover was taking refuge,  Hymenphallia  beseeched Ywehbobbobhewy, Lord of Waters, King of Mirrors, Patriarch of the Most Profound, to interceded with the Greater Gods to ascend Tallemaja to minor petty godhood. A greater god found the irony of Hymenphalia's scheme agreeable and interceded, and thus Tallemaja was transformed into her current form and place of power.

Tallemaja is now a minor petty god and Queen of Huldras and Lamias. For twelve hours a day she appears as a half-snake/half-woman; she has the upper torso, neck, and face of a beautiful woman while her trunk is a 20-foot long constrictor snake's body. For the other twelve hours she appears as a stunningly beautiful human female except that her backside is covered in tree bark and she has a heavy, cow-like tail. Because she was in possession of the Eidolons of Fear and Hate at the time of her transformation into petty godhood, she was  rendered barren as well (the Eidolons were eventually stolen by a halfling wearing an Amulet against Scrying).

She now resides in the forest temple where Hymenphallia discovered her, hidden from the world in the heart of the great forest. She sometimes appears near the woods' edge to lure hearty young men to their deaths to feed, as she can cast Charm at will. The inhabitants of small thorps and farms that border the wood speak in hushed tones of the shed skins of great snakes that litter their fields and meadows thrice yearly. Female villagers rarely enter the great woods alone, as it is rumored that, grief-stricken at never being able to conceive and bear children of her own, Tallemaja has developed the power to shift the flesh of the unborn and  cause pregnant mothers to give birth to lamias or huldras (50%). Additionally, she can command normal and giant-sized snakes, salamanders, and newts to do her bidding (and sometimes a begrudging giant frog).

Tallemaja also suffers from infinite hunger; she can never be satisfied no matter how often she feeds. She must fill her belly at least twice a day with human or humanoid flesh. Huldras and lamias throughout the realms lure men to their death on a regular basis to feed her unending appetites. It is said that a clever clutch of lamias in a southern kingdom near the Thunder River has been raising dwarf Neanderthals in a secluded valley rift to fulfill their obligations to their Queen, while a coven of huldras near the western glaciers have discovered a way to raise cave gnomes in glass jars to send in tribute.

Needless to say, Tallemaja's table is never empty and she prefers to devour the tributes rather than tire herself in the hunt itself, although she is a fearsome foe in battle. When in her lamia form, she can attack with a large spear for 1d8 damage and do an additional 1d12 crushing damage with her constrictor-like body. She also possesses a limited Scrying ability for a 75 foot radius.  When in huldra form, she attacks with a large spear for 1d8 damage and can perform a Psionic Swat with her cow-like tail, creating a 20x30 cone of psionic energy that does 2d8 damage + –1 to CON to any creature caught in its area of effect. There is no save against this attack. The reduction in CON can be regained by eating a succubi or incubus egg laid by Pherosathoola.

Tallemaja is impervious to non-magical attacks in either form and cannot be attacked with edged weapons.

The Jale God was surprised at Tallemaja's ascendency to godhood and is seeking the god who dared interfere in his affairs. The Jale God despises Tallemaja and does what He can to derail her schemes and dampen her influence. His Jaleness is often perplexed to find his own interference in Tallemaja's affairs deflected by powers greater and darker than His own.

Reaction Table (2d6)
2-6    Indifferent. Will tolerate the party, answer questions, etc.. Will be helpful, but only to a point.
7-9 Hungry. Will attempt to seduce, kill, and feed on a party member. Or all of them.
10-12 Commanding. Will demand the party fulfill a minor quest (usually involving some intrigue against the worshipers of Pherosathoola) and will reward them richly for their service.

The Eldoon Namar

The Eldoon Namar (Unique)
Alignment: Chaotic Lawful
XP Value: 8,000

Created centuries ago by Ur-mu "the Bastard" Ab'rkada, once a necromancer of world renown and now a powerful ageless lich hidden from the world, the Eldoon Namar is a mask of great and dangerous power. The mask itself is a thin, flesh-colored stocking of tightly-woven, magically-created synthetic mesh that adheres tightly to the face and neck when worn. The material is highly porous—the wearer may breathe, talk, eat, and drink normally while wearing the mask—yet the mask completely obscures the wearer's facial features.

When worn, the mask transforms the wearer into another person (human, demi-human, or humanoid) of the wearer's choosing; the wearer must have an object recently handled by the person whose appearance he wishes to assume and must meditate on this transformation for 1 hour.  The new body must be of a person with a number of HD equal to the wearer or fewer. The wearer retains his own intelligence, hit points, saving throws, and ability to attack, but does gain physical abilities of the new form, including strength or strength-based attack forms and damage, including the magical abilities or other special abilities.  The wearer is able to cast spells up to and including the 3rd level when transformed. The spell Dispel Magic does not negate the effects of the mask, nor does a spell of True Seeing have any effect. The wearer will only revert to his natural form if the mask is removed, even if he dies while wearing the mask.

Wearing the mask for extended periods of time (more than a day or so) may warp the mind; there is a 50% chance  the mask leaves psionic damage of some kind for 1d8 days after it is removed. Roll on the table below or a table of similar psionic disfigurements:

Brain Damage Table (1d10):

1. Telepathic Noise
The PC's mind is invaded by the mundane thoughts of every creature (including, for example, body lice and planted ferns) in his presence in a cacophony of  jibber-jabber that makes it difficult to concentrate. The PC cannot "read" minds or sort out specific information, but is only swamped with the deluge of white thought noise. This might have disastrous effects for clerics and magic users.

2. Brainfart
The PC is unable to remember important details at the exact moment the details are the most expedient to know.

3. Stemtwist
The PC's brain is twisted around in his skull, making the left hemisphere the right and vice versa. If the PC was right-handed, now they are left-handed, and vice versa. The PC must relearn basic control of body functions, including walking, talking, and feeding himself.

4.  Hindsight
The PC's eyes now see things as they were ten minutes ago instead of how they are now.

5. Seconds
The PC narrates her every action in the present tense as if she is reading a story from a book , and consistently refers to herself in the the second person (i.e.: "You see the ugly goblin before you and think he deserves to die. You prepare to draw your sword.").

6. Mindwedge
Two times a day, the PC can drive a wedge of psionic energy into the brain of any creature within 20 feet and inflict 1d12 points of damage. Unfortunately, the PC cannot control the target or the timing of this attack.

7. Taint
The PC is able to recognize the alignment of  other creatures by their auras, but is also rendered colorblind.

8. Undiscernment
The PC loses the ability to tell good from evil.

9. Tongues
The PC loses the ability to speak but gains the ability to understand any spoken language.

10. Lich Dreams
The PC begins to dream the dreams of Ur-mu Ab'rkada, which often feature his beloved and now long-dead pet owlbear, Hargoth.

Lord Greensayne, an aspect of the Jale God

Name: Lord Greensayne, an aspect of the Jale God
Symbol: A blood-filled moneybag
Alignment: Lawful
Movement: 60' (30')
Armor Class: -3
Hit Points (Hit Dice): 55 (9 HD)
: 2
Damage: 1d6+2 OR 1d6+2 or +4 (see below)/1d4+2
Save: C12
Morale: 6
Hoard Class:  VII
XP: 5,600

Not a petty god in his own right and ostensibly the fifth son of a fifth son of a seventh son of a seventh son, Lord Filchard Pettybane Humbert Albin Adolphus Greensayne is regarded as a generous albeit minor noble in the court of the Cerisian Empire, where he serves as an economic advisor to the Emperor. Knowledgeable in all trade goods that move through the empire, he has made a name for himself by exposing complicated import/export tax evasion schemes of rich merchants, middling nobles, and other enemies of the court; thus, he has many enemies seeking his demise. No one has ever discovered Greensayne's network of spies and stoolies and so no one knows exactly how Greensayne comes by his intimate knowledge of hidden trade routes, back room money laundries, and hives of economic inequity.

Greensayne's position at court is a front; he is a priest of the Cerisian Empire's branch of the Cult of the Jale God, whose bloodcurdling induction ceremonies, insanity-inducing sacrificial rites, fetish-laden orgiastic festivals, byzantine organizational structure, and scrumptious cocktail recipes are detailed elsewhere in this tome.  As a member of the cult's council of priests for over twenty years, Greensayne has selected, seduced, preened,  and inducted members of polite society into its membership. He has taken great care to select those nobles and prosperous merchants whose political and financial connections enhance the power and reach of the cult, so much so that it is rumored that Lord Greensayne controls the Cerisian Empire from his whisperings in the Emperor's ear.

Several years ago, Greensayne came into possession of  the Eidolons of Fear and Hate. He often wielded both during lavish ceremonies in the catacombs beneath the Empire's capital city. Due to the stones' corruptive influence, he developed an incurable fear and hatred of dwarves and often demands their removal and/or execution. He is carrying out a quiet  pogrom against the dwarven clans of Cerise to drive them from their ancestral homes beneath the Fogthrum and Harthstrop Mountains, sending initiates and novices in the Cult to wage his secret war.

The Eidolons warped his body as well: he now has a hideous, fully articulated third arm with a  three-fingered hand growing from the middle of his back, the middle finger of which contains a fully-functioning eyeball impervious to irritation. This arm is functional during combat and gives him an additional attack. Additionally, the eyeball acts as an Orb of True Seeing. Greensayne has taken to hiding this arm while at court or on official business by wearing richly woven robes and other loose-fitting clothing. (Alas, the Eidolons were stolen from Greensayne by his former bride, Tallemaja, and their whereabouts are currently unknown.)

Greensayne currently possesses the Eldoon Namar, which he extracted from the cargo hold of the Townsend Hawk, a sleek smuggling ship attempting to make the Lessek Route in under twelve days to avoid the inter-empire fortnight tax. Greensayne dispatched the crew via sacrificial rites and now uses the ship for his own travels. Greensayne is unaware the Townsend Hawk's true owner is Ur-mu "the Bastard" Ab'rkada, a powerful lich and adherent to the Cult of Ywehbobbobhewy, Lord of Waters, King of Mirrors, Patriarch of the Most Profound. Ab'rkada is searching for his missing crew and ship. Greensayne now suffers from a permanent case of Telepathic Noise due to his use of the Eldoon Namar.

Greensayne plays things close to the vest, constantly putting the interests of the cult first, himself second, and the empire third. He awaits the sixth coming of the Jale God and the opening of the Age of Slith which will follow. On multiple occasions, the Jale God has inhabited Greensayne's flesh to prepare His arrival. There is a 10% chance the Jale God is doing such when the party encounters Greensayne; the observant party will recognize the Jale God's presence through His habit of washing his hands in spiced goat blood before meals.

Greensayne wields a short sword +2, a dagger +2, and a Mace of Dwarf Smiting (+2; +4 against dwarves); the dagger is usually used by his mutant hand. Greensayne will parley or flee before attacking, but he will defend himself fiercely and deftly if pressed. If at court or at home, he will call 2d20 cultists to his aid if attacked; if in temple, he can summon 6d20 cultists, 1d20 lesser demons, 1d12 greater demons, with a 30% chance of successfully beseeching the Jale God himself to manifest if Greensayne feels his life is in imminent danger.

Note: if dwarves are in the party , he will immediately demand the dwarves be dispatched or turned over to him before dealing with the rest of the party.

2-4    Friendly. Will gladly do what he can for the party if the party is willing to do a little favor for him . . .
5-7    Indifferent. Will answer questions, but not really willing to go out of his way to help.
8-10 Scheming. Will attempt to use the party to do his bidding in exchange for as little as a reward as he can get away with.
11-12 Coercive. Will trick and/or threaten the party to do his bidding; will willingly imprison or sell PCs into slavery if they refuse.