Statted for Old School Essentials. I am using the attack bonus and ascending armor save instead of THAC0 and descending armor. Suitable for low level parties.
Star Beast A monster from the dark spaces between the stars. Its ever moves stirs clouds of poisonous air as it decays in the Earth’s alien atmosphere. A line of blackened trees mark the trail of its fiery entry to the surface. It writhes in pain.
Immune to sleep, charm and mind control effects.
Armor Class: 12 Hit Dice: 4 Attacks: 3; [Swipe: 1d6] [Decay Cloud: When the Star Beast moves or attacks for the first time on its turn, every character within 15’ must Save vs Breath or take -2 to hit next round from coughing.][Star Sickness: The first time any character that comes in contact with the Star Beast they must Save vs. Poison or contract the wasting disease Star Sickness] Attack Bonus: +4 Movement: 20’ Saving Throws: As a 4th level Magic User Morale: 8
Statted for Old School Essentials. I am using the attack bonus and ascending armor save instead of THAC0 and descending armor. Suitable for low level parties. Its pointed bone-like armor seems to grow from its form.
Keeper of the Old Tombs The Keeper’s hideous bladed form fills the underground chapel. It advances in jolty movements with 4 arms outstretched. 2 of its arms terminate in blades.
The Keepers head can rotate 360 degrees (can’t be back-stabbed). It takes double damage from spells and magic weapons.
Armor Class: 15 Hit Dice: 8 Attacks: 4-6; [Slash (x2): 1d4][Grapple: On a successful grapple it will throw the target across the room for 1d4 damage, Save vs. Paralysis or be stunned for 1 round][Souless Scream: All players near the Keeper Save vs. Spell or take -4 to hit next round and 1d4 damage][Caustic spit: Sprays in a 10’ x 20’ cone. Save vs. Breath or take 1d3 damage, characters without armor don’t get a save.] Attack Bonus: +8 Movement: As human Saving Throws: As a 8th level Fighter Morale: 12
I imagine the Keeper of the Old Tombs as a mix between Vorinclex, Mergo’s Wet Nurse, and the Shrike.
Statted for Old School Essentials. I am using the attack bonus and ascending armor save instead of THAC0 and descending armor. Suitable for low level parties.
Shadowling An escaped force from the Land of the Dead, let loose by a misguided wizard’s apprentice. Its vague form seems to be comprised of thick black smoke flecked with stars.
Armor Class: 16 Hit Dice: 3 Attacks: 2-3; [Claw: 1d4+1] [Aqueous Form: Instead of attacking the Shadowling can dissipate (AC=20 for this round). The next round it can make a [Chilling Swipe: Save vs Spell or take -5 to hit next attack] as its first attack] Attack Bonus: +3 Movement: As human Saving Throws: As a 3th level Magic User Morale: 9
Continuing the monster series from the previous post. Statted for Old School Essentials. I am using the attack bonus and ascending armor save instead of THAC0 and descending armor. Suitable for low level parties.
The Forgotten Queen She emerges from her imprisonment in the ice. Larger than any human, her limbs have too many joints. Her armor is richly ornamented and her glaive gleams in the witch lights of the icy cavern.
Armor Class: 15 Hit Dice: 5 Attacks: 1-2; [Glaive: 1d6] [Grapple: On a successful grapple she will smash the target against the ground the following rounds for 1d4 damage] Attack Bonus: +5 Movement: As human Saving Throws: As a 5th level Fighter Morale: 12
The temple on Little Red Scale teaches weaving and dyeing. These are holy arts. And lucrative arts. Textiles are the Hundred Red Scales’ primary export.
So admission is competitive. Towards the end of the dry season candidates gather. You must dress in self-made clothing: plain, in sepia or red.
You should bring self-made gifts: curries or cakes; fresh fruits and greens; tools or furniture you planed yourself. The temple’s students are also its labour. Life skills definitely count in your favour.
You and other candidates must swim to the island at high tide. Shivering, your tribute hopefully still dry, you wait in a line on the narrow beach.
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Ultimately, the priests judge your cloth. An examiner scrutinises your soaked sarongs:
How well its weft winds through warp; How evenly colour covers its breadth; If the dye is fast, or leached by water.
The faults in your work may seem infinitesimal. The examiner may seem arbitrary or biased. They may prefer monitor-folk. They may prefer women.
Students will spend years cloistered on Little Red Scale. Rejects are dismissed. There are no appeals. Try again next year.
Atop the hill Oldest Hara sang, holding her beguiled; and Youngest Hara swung, knocking off her head –
So was the demon Palalaq slain. Her head went tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.
Watching it tumble away, Oldest Hara felt woe beat his heart, and declared: “O my brother, I can tolerate violence no longer! I will cease adventure, and live my life in peace.”
Understanding each other, Youngest Hara departed, and Oldest Hara remained.
There atop the hill he built his house. And there atop the hill others built their houses also. Because word of Oldest Hara’s voice had called abroad, and many came – to listen, to learn his songs, to hear him speak of peace.
But in the vastness of the world are those for whom peace is weakness. And these too came to the hill where Oldest Hara built his house.
Three river bandits, deaf to beauty; seven plague spirits, devoted to bile – they roughhoused and robbed among the hillfolk, and Oldest Hara’s words would not stop them.
Watching such harm, Oldest Hara felt agony slice his heart, and cried: “O my brother, in peace I refused to look at power! Who now will protect my people for me?”
So the demon Palalaq reappeared, in answer. Her head came tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.
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PALALAQ’S HEAD
A lump of meteoric ore: pitted, scored.
The demon Palalaq taught Oldest Hara the arts of iron, murder, and smithy. His three children were forged from chunks of her head.
Smaller flakes go into every blade the town makes. In this way Palalaq is matriarch to every family here.
Two sextagenerians lounge on their porch. They tease their daughter: a knife with a handle shaped like a smoke wisp.
“Visitors!” Kuna Nor says, as you approach. She longs to meet the wider world.
Her parents fall silent. Peer at you through their cataracts. When they see you are not who they fear – they unclench their fists.
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RAJI AND SHEKA, CONCERNED PARENTS
Raji was touched by a plague spirit. A wandering monk with a blurred face saved his life. The monk asked for no payment, except the crafting of a small knife.
The monk left before Kuna was finished. So they raised the little knifeling as their own.
Sheka woke from her nap gasping, yesterday. She dreamt of the blurred-face monk. They are coming to take Kuna away.
You wake up. Hung by your head, you panic: you kick and you swing and you twist -suddenly you are free.
K-thump! You are on the ground. Touch the top of your head. The ragged end of the stem there bleeds white sap. It will stop soon.
You kiss the root of the tree that bore you.
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You are a jackfruit with arms and legs and a face.
Though you feel and love, you are not a full person. You are a vessel. A hundred seeds sleep within you – a hundred trees, yet to be planted. When the last seed leaves your skin, you will rot into the earth.
Until then, you remain eternally ripe. So there’s no hurry, really. Why not see the world?
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You stand as tall as the average person’s hip. You have HD, saves, and proficiency progression as a Rogue.
Your limbs are pliant as young branches. +1 dexterity. You contain orchards. +2 charisma.
You are kin to sap-kind. You may speak to plants. Your scent is sweet and strong. This is difficult to mask. You have advantage in negotiations, if you also offer a seed and its flesh from your body. You may make holes in your skin to extract seeds. As you empty you begin to lose your shape. Pad yourself with stuff, or bind yourself in fabric – otherwise suffer disadvantage on all checks.
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The tree that bore you had a paramour:
1: A golden stormcloud, who showered the land. Your seeds, still viable, are also solid gold. 2: A bronze war-god. He came, then he left. Your baritone voice may boom like a ship’s horn. 3: The moon’s gentle light. She would visit every month. At will, your face shines like a lamp. 4: The spectral huntress. Paste made from your seeds, applied to the skin, grants invisibility. 5: A magician wise in herblore. Your sap, mixed with bone ash, creates an unbreakable glue. 6: A woodcutter, who adopted you as their own. A younger human sibling journeys with you.
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You were befriended by:
1: A priest, always drunk. +2 to checks involving spirits mystic and alcoholic. You have a book of spells. You only know how to cast one. 2: A dancer, aging and insecure. +2 to checks involving footwork and flattery. You have a ring; if worn, you appear as a human teenager. 3: A luthier who took their own life. +2 to checks involving fingerwork and melody. You have a boat lute whose song attracts snakes. 4: A thief, now missing a hand. +2 to checks involving legal procedure and organised crime. You have a pet squirrel that fetches items. 5: A gardener, childless. +2 to checks involving garden tools and fire. You have a bag of magic beans. You don’t know what they do. 6: A chef who served a noble family. +2 to checks involving kitchenware and curries. You have a book of recipes, penned by a poisoner.
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(Am working on character classes for A Thousand Thousand Islands. These will likely be all different, system-wise; am using this as an excuse to figure out what mechanical framework we want, for the book nanti.
