Today (as of this writing), I received my Random Dungeon Generator and Wandering Monster posters from the Blog of Holding Kickstarter campaign. Paul started the project to fund production of the former, and generously required only a $22 donation to have the latter thrown in as well! I got them laminated, and they’re now hanging in a place of honor above my workspace.
If you are unfamiliar, the random dungeon generator (pictured right) was originally created by Gary Gygax, and included in the Dungeon Master’s Guide as appendix A. The generator takes up about 4 pages of the book, and is intended to help GMs create dungeons both in preparation for, and even during, a session of game play. The variety included in the tables is impressive. Numerous types of corridors, room sizes, trap types, treasure and even whether or not a monster is present can be generated with the tables. They can be somewhat difficult to follow, and require a lot of page flipping, but the creation of it is a feat of Gygaxian proportions.
As Paul tells the story, it first occurred to him that the tables could be re-drawn as a flow chart. It then struck him that a dungeon is basically a flow chart with monsters in it. So he set out to represent the random dungeon generator as a dungeon, and it turned out beautifully. It’s extremely simple to follow. I’ve already created a few dungeon levels using it, and aside from having a difficult time finding a table large enough for it, it has been a pleasure to use. The art is top-notch as well. I know many of my readers have a soft-spot for detailed black-and-white art, and I don’t think they’d be disappointed by what Paul has done here. There are little visual treats everywhere, with tiny characters making their way through the many dungeon obstacles present.
The Illustrated Wandering Monster Tables are of somewhat less use to me, since I have so much fun creating those tables myself. But the art is, once again, very nice. Plus I think it will be fun to use in conjunction with the random dungeon generator. If I can somehow fit them both behind my GM screen, I won’t even need to bother making any game preparations any more!
So far, the poster has only been made available to those who participated in the Kickstarter campaign, but Paul has said they will be made available somewhere online soon. When it does become available, you have my recommendation to purchase it.
May is winding down, but we’ve got time for one last May of the Dead post. I’ve really enjoyed writing these, and if you’ve enjoyed reading them I hope you’ll decide to stick around. Papers & Pencils updates regularly, and it’s difficult for me to go too long without writing something about the undead. They are so much more engaging than other types of fantastical creatures.
I’m going to make a bold leap, and assume we’re all familiar with the traditional vampire. The one which stays out of the sun, doesn’t show up in mirrors, and sustains itself off of people’s blood. That last point is what I’m going to focus on here: blood as vampiric sustenance. Aside from being dead, feeding on blood is perhaps the most consistent element of vampire lore. Some stories will dismiss vampires being invisible in mirrors, others disregard their weakness before religious relics, but even the greatest bastardizations of the vampire concept maintain the idea that vampires must consume blood to survive.
So…what happens if they don’t consume any blood?
There doesn’t seem to be any definitive agreement on what happens if a vampire doesn’t consume blood. For living creatures the answer is simple: if we fail to consume sustenance, we die. But vampires are already dead, so the consequences for them seem far less certain. I haven’t found any primary source that could provide an answer to this question either. I’m not exactly a scholar, but my limited knowledge of folklore and classical literature has not provided me with an answer. Probably because those traditional stories are not told from the vampire’s perspective, but rather from those desperately hoping they don’t become the vampire’s next meal.
Lacking any definitive answer to the question, we have the opportunity to fill in the blanks ourselves. And I’ve got a few ideas.
The Official Explanation As a Pathfinder GM, I still rely on a lot of my old D&D 3.5 sourcebooks. And on page 9 of Libris Mortis, there is a table which categorizes and quantifies the various undead, how their hungers affect them. It indicates that Vampires are “Diet Dependent” on Blood, and have an “Inescapable Craving” for life force. These terms are defined thusly:
“Inescapable Craving: Some undead have no “bodily” requirement to feed, and could continue to exist solely on negative energy, but are driven to their diet all the same by inescapable cravings. These cravings, denied too long, could turn even a sentient undead to mindless hunger. Once the feeding is accomplished and the hunger sated, the intensity of the craving drops back to tolerable level, but it is a cycle doomed to repeat itself.” -Andy Collins & Bruce R. Cordell, Libris Mortis, Page 8
“Diet Dependent: Some undead must feed on the living to retain either their mobility or some of their other abilities. The link to the Negative Energy Plane for undead of these sort grows increasingly tenuous the longer they are denied the necessary food. At some point, their mobility or one or more specific abilities are suppressed until they can feed again. However, no matter how enervated by lack of feeding, undead cannot be starved to the point of permanent deanimation. A fresh infusion of their preferred food can always bring them back to their full abilities. Most diet-dependent undead can go for 3d6 months before losing all mobility.” -Andy Collins & Bruce R. Cordell, Libris Mortis, Page 10
I cover some of these ideas in more detail below. Personally I don’t find them very satisfying.
Re-Death: I see no reason why there shouldn’t simply be a point at which lack of blood to feed upon causes a vampire to be destroyed. Part of what makes vampires such intriguing villains is that they are notoriously difficult to kill. Take them to 0 HP, and they’ll just turn into a cloud of mist and escape through the cracks in the walls. The only way to kill a vampire is to outsmart them in one way or another. Fool them into entering an area of sunlight, for example, or find their (no doubt well hidden) daytime lair and drive a stake through their heart. Depriving a vampire of blood for a year fulfills the same criteria: it requires the players to outsmart the vampire by first constructing a prison which will hold it, then figuring out how to get the vampire inside of it. Though if you could do that, I’m not sure why you wouldn’t just expose it to direct sunlight.
Insanity: Each month a Vampire goes without blood, they permanently lose a little more of their grip on reality. After one month, it’s just little things. They forget minor details, like where they left their favorite candelabra. After two months, they occasionally forget larger things. Whole years of their existence disappear from memory, only to be recovered later. Three months without feeding causes the Vampire to occasionally depart reality entirely, and they suffer vivid hallucinations. After four months the vampire lives constantly in a disconnected state. It knows to avoid that which is dangerous to it, such as sunlight, but it otherwise seems to have no connection to reality. After five months, the vampire becomes like a feral creature, constantly hunting for blood, with no thoughts or concerns beyond finding more and more blood to feed upon. Finally, after six months, the vampire loses its understanding of danger, and will most often wander into the sunlight and destroy itself.
This insanity is cumulative throughout the vampire’s existence. Feeding on blood only prevents the process from continuing forward for another month. Nothing can help a vampire regain lost sanity.
Blood is an Addiction: Vampires are blood junkies. They don’t need it to survive, but they crave it with a desire more intense than they can possibly resist. If they don’t drain at least one victim a week, the cravings become unbearable and drive the vampire to take greater and greater risks in order to get their fix. If, by some miracle, they manage to resist the urge to feed on the blood of the living, there is no amount of time which will free them from their addiction. They will begin to suffer withdrawal pains, and will continue to experience agony until the end of time if they can’t feed.
Blood is Power: Perhaps there are no real ill effects for failing to consume blood. If a vampire never leaves their mark on another neck, then they can continue to exist as they already do for as long as they like. However, it is only through consuming blood that a vampire learns, and grows, and becomes powerful. Immediately following a feeding, the vampire feels a rush of power which slowly fades after about ten minutes. But a small sliver of that power remains. After draining 100 living victims, the Vampire gains 1HD.
Less Blood is Power: Assuming blood is an addiction, as stated above, then what if vampires grew in power the longer they were able to exist without blood? Perhaps the pains of withdrawal are simply the pain which is inherent to being a vampire unencumbered by narcotics. The longer a vampire avoids dulling their mind and their body with Blood, the stronger and smarter they become. The greatest vampires have gone without blood for centuries, and exist in a state of constant pain.
Demotion: Vampires are the highest form of undead creature, rivaled only by the lich. They retain all of their knowledge, their self-awareness, their willpower; everything about who they are remains intact. Even their appearance is unchanged! The only real drawback is that in order to retain everything that they managed to keep from their living existence, they must constantly feed upon blood. If they do not, then as time goes on they will begin to forget things. They will become less self aware, and their willpower will fade. After too long, they will be nothing but a ghast, or perhaps even a lowly zombie.
Blood is Youth: Each week a Vampire goes without blood, their physical body decomposes about the same amount that a corpse would normally decompose in a given day. So vampires who wish to intermingle with human society (as Dracula did) must feed frequently. While those who care less about whether or not they can pass for alive do not need to concern themselves with feeding regularly. The effects of this decomposition would be cumulative, so once you miss your weekly feeding, you’ll never be able to return to a less-decomposed state.
Coincidentally, this would explain the large variance in vampire appearances. In the original novel, Dracula was able to pass for a living human. Whereas the classic silent film, Nosferatu most certainly cannot. Strahd is somewhere in between, as he is often depicted with deathly blue skin.
Last Blood: About six years ago, I started reading a webcomic called Last Blood, which was about a group of vampires attempting to help some humans survive the zombie apocalypse. Its been some years since I stopped following the comic, but it was quite good. And the catalyst for the story was a vampire who went for too long without blood. You ought to read the comic’s explanation, but the short version is that if a vampire goes too long without blood, then they become a kind of “alpha zombie,” which is able to create other zombies, and control them. Not too frightening in a high magic world where zombies are commonplace, but in a low magic world where the the very thought of walking dead is still enough to send a shiver down an adventurer’s spine, this could be an interesting method to use.
I’ve always had a passion for the macabre. In particular, I am very fond of all things pertaining to undeath. My preference tends towards the unsettling majesty of gothic fantasy, but I’m not above enjoying a B horror movie or two. So when I was asked to participate in May of the Dead, I didn’t hesitate. I don’t exactly need an excuse to fill this site with my darker imaginings, but since I have one, I thought it would be a good opportunity to work on a number of undead-themed posts in a row. Each Friday during the month of May, I’ll be animating a new undead-themed post. And if you’d like to read more, there are many other websites participating in this little carnival.
For this first post, I’d like to discuss zombies. Though they lack the elegance of an animated skeleton, and are currently suffering from their severe overexposure in recent years, the zombie is none the less a fundamental fantasy foe. And while the classic shambling cadaver will never go out of style, it is diminished by its own omnipresence. What is a GM to do? How can we inject a sense of danger back into a creature which players have faced so many times that they know the creature’s statblock and abilities like the backs of their character sheets?
We reinvent it.
Part of the reason zombies are so enduring is because they are the most fundamental kind of undead we can imagine. They are dead bodies, which none the less are capable of moving on their own, and want to hurt the living. You might say that a zombie is a blank slate, waiting to be given the kind of unique attributes which can turn it into a truly memorable monster. Pathfinder has already done this, somewhat. In the Bestiary, the zombie entry contains a small section titled “Variant Zombies” on page 289. Detailed therein are the “fast zombie,” and the “plague zombie,” both of which are pretty self explanatory. The former are faster than normal zombies, and the latter can infect victims with a zombifying disease. Here are a few other ways I’ve come up with to reanimate your player’s fear of zombies:
Exploding Zombies These have become popular in zombie-centric video games which need a way to ramp up difficulty without straying too far from their core theme. The idea makes a certain kind of sense: when a person dies, their decomposing body creates a lot of gas. Normally this gas is expelled gradually, but if we can stretch our imaginations far enough to accept walking dead in the first place, then we can certainly imagine that all of these gasses somehow end up trapped inside the corpse. Perhaps inside a bloated and distended stomach. This state could be an accidental byproduct of the reanimation process, causing perhaps one in every ten or twenty zombies to become an exploding zombie. Particularly sinister necromancers might create these undead bombardiers intentionally, and unleash a horde of them on an unsuspecting adventuring party.
Pungent Cloud Zombies Speaking of gasses, why limit ourselves to something as ostentatious as an explosion? I find undead are always the most enticing when they’re a little mysterious, and subtle. Those same gasses produced by decomposition could form an oppressive miasma. A single zombie would only effect those standing in adjacent squares, but each zombie reinforces the cloud of fear and despair which surrounds them. A large enough horde might affect anyone standing within a mile of them. Those affected would have their intellects clouded, and their bodies made sluggish. Wizards would find they could not recall their most powerful (read: highest spell level) incantations, and fighters would seem to miss a lot more than they normally would (-5 to attack rolls).
Slightly Intelligent Zombies Traditionally, zombies are mindless. That’s almost part-in-parcel of what it means to be a zombie. If a necromancer needs a servant which can think, they create a ghoul. A zombie is created when a necromancer needs a large force which will obey them without question. But lets say that a group of zombies is created by an erratic necromancer, or perhaps has no master, but has managed to avoid destruction for years or even decades. Why not give them an intelligence of 2? That’s not enough that they could learn speech, or form any kind of society. But it is enough that they could communicate on a very basic level, and even form simple tactics to better defeat their enemies with.
Somewhat-to-Highly Intelligent Zombies Zombies created by a downright insane necromancer, or who have lived for a century or more, might become as intelligent as you or I. It is unlikely that they would recall, or care to recall, anything about their life, but their intelligence would provide them with a unique advantage in their un-life. It is doubtful that any such zombie could ever be anything but evil, since their continued life depends on negative energy and consuming the flesh of the living. But as villains, they might be truly formidable.
Necrotic Bite Zombie The dangerous nature of a Zombie’s bite is an important element in most zombie fiction. For some reason it’s never really made the leap to game mechanics, leaving Pathfinder zombies to rely on their slam attack. Necrotic Bite Zombies gain a +0 bite attack which deals 1d6 damage. Anyone who is hit by the zombie’s Necrotic Bite must make a fortitude save (DC is equal to 10 + half the zombie’s HD + the zombie’s cha modifier). If the fortitude save fails, roll 1d10 to determine where the victim has been bitten. A result of 1-2 is the right leg, a result of 3-4 is the left leg, a result of 5-6 is the right arm, a result of 7-8 is the left arm, a result of 9 is the torso, and a result of 10 is the head. The skin around the bite becomes black and flaky, like skin which has been severely burned. This effect slowly spreads throughout the day. After 24 hours, it grows enough to spread to an adjacent part of the body. The spread can be stopped either with magical healing, or by amputating all affected body parts. Aside from severe discomfort, the necrotic zombie bite has no negative mechanical effects until it has fully spread throughout both the torso and head of the victim, at which point the victim dies and rises as a necrotic bite zombie 1d6 minutes later.
Zombification Zone A particular dungeon could be enchanted in such a way that anything which died within it would be raised as a zombie within 1d6 minutes of death. This would include any creatures which the players slay, or any players which die within the dungeon. Just as the players leave a room after clearing it, they would be accosted from behind by the very creatures they thought they had just destroyed!
Boneblade Zombie Zombies are often covered with jutting bones. It can be an exposed ribcage, a broken femur, or just a forearm without a hand. Boneblade Zombies have been specifically crafted to maximize the number of jutting bones, and to sharpen those bones to razor points. The slam attacks of these zombies deal 1d8 +6 piercing damage, and they gain +2 natural armor bonus to AC.
Minion Zombies When I was first learning about 4th edition, the concept of minion NPCs was one of the first things to really turn me off to the game. As a rule, I don’t like the inclusion of enemies which functionally exist for the purpose of being defeated easily. As an option, however, I think it could be a flavorful alternative to the zombies presented in the bestiary. When a level one party is fighting a necromancer, and 5 zombies enter to assist him from the next room, the players are in pretty serious trouble. While zombies are not particularly difficult to hit, they are capable of doing a fair amount of damage. And since each one has 5 damage reduction on top of 12 HP, the party is going to need to devote at least a few turns to each one. If, on the other hand, you remove the damage reduction from each zombie, and reduce their HP to 1, the necromancer could call 30 zombies into the room to help him! Since Zombies are cannon fodder anyway, it makes sense for them to be easy to destroy. And since they don’t lose any of their ability to harm the players, they still pose a serious threat.
Plant Zombie Rather than being animated by negative energy, zombies could functionally be created by a flower which grows in the skulls of dead people. The roots weave throughout the brain, and stimulate it to produce movement. The blood and flesh of the living are used as fertilizer, allowing the plant to sustain itself, and a puff of pollen on the corpses of the dead would allow it to reproduce. Functionally this would be no different from a normal zombie, but don’t discount the value of fluff in making something old feel new again.
Parasitic Zombies Did you know that zombies are real? There are a variety of real life parasites which take control of their host creatures. One such parasite, the lancet liver fluke, was featured by The Oatmeal, and its life cycle serves as a good example of other similar parasites. Insofar as I’ve read, all of these parasites take control of a specific type of organism, then do their best to get that organism eaten by one of its natural predators. The parasite then reproduces in the colon of the new host, and its eggs are released into the world when the creature poops. In reality, I’ve never heard of these parasites taking control of anything larger than a small fish, but in fantasy such a parasite might be used to take control of humans. Once controlled, the brain-dead humans would function essentially as zombies. They would attack anything in their path, sustaining themselves on the flesh of others, with the ultimate goal of being devoured by a dragon, or other large human-eating creature.
Beloved Zombie These zombies are sometimes created by experienced necromancers with a particularly sadistic bent. Each zombie is under the effect of powerful illusion magic, which causes anyone who sees the zombie to believe it was created from the remains of a deceased loved one. Any attack roll made against such a zombie is made at a -1 penalty per HD of the zombie. Low level beloved zombies might simply appear to be the viewer’s long dead grandparent who was kind of a dick. Whereas a high level zombie would appear to be the recently deceased son of the viewer, crying while he plays with all of the viewer’s dead childhood pets.
Anyone who plays tabletop RPGs eventually starts coming up with ways to pervert the concept. A group will only play good and neutral heroes for so long before they start to consider playing evil characters. They’ll only play as humans, elves, and dwarves for so long before they start to wonder what it would be like to play as an orc or a goblin. It’s only natural for a person to look for unusual and flavorful experiences, particularly in a game which is already about exploring the fantastical. Even Gygax would purportedly send his D&D players into Western or Science Fiction scenarios–still wielding sword and spell. Deviations like these can be great fun. and it was while entertaining these perversions that I struck upon the idea of having my players take the reigns of mindless undead creatures.
I would start with a dungeon, probably on the smallish side. Perhaps only a single level. It would be filled with everything you would expect to find in a dungeon: interesting rooms, treasure, traps, and so forth. It would even have adventurers. The only thing it wouldn’t have is monsters, because that’s where the players come in. Each player would take command of a single skeleton or zombie with a very simple task: prevent adventurers from defeating the necromancer who was kind enough to animate them. They would be given a map of the dungeon, as well as guidance from their master’s divinations about the location of the invading adventuring party. They would be free to use any tactics they wished to defeat the adventurers. I, in turn, would move the adventurers through the dungeon, rolling for damage when they passed a trap and buffing them up a bit each time they encountered treasure.
I would do my best to defeat the zombies, but until the adventurers slay the necromancer, a new zombie or skeleton will always join its fellows within 1d6 rounds of its predecessors death. So no matter how many the adventurers kill, they’re fighting an uphill battle through the dungeon. Any time an adventurer is slain, one of the undead may spend a full round eating its corpse to regain all of their health. Any time the undead succeed in causing a TPK, all of the individual undead involved gain 1HD, and are allowed to add +1 to their damage rolls henceforth.
The cool thing about the idea is that player death really doesn’t matter all that much. When a player has invested a lot of time into creating, or playing a character, it can be a sobering experience for that character to die. It’s one of the big weaknesses of Pathfinder’s involved character building process. But when all of a character’s abilities and statistics are found under “S” and “Z” in the Bestiary, there’s no character creation process to go through. And since the new character appears a mere 1d6 rounds later, I imagine it won’t take long for players to start wantonly sacrificing themselves to create barriers, or to lure adventurers into deathtraps. And while a character who has leveled up might be a little too valuable to just throw away, I doubt any player would grow so attached to a few more HP and a +1 to damage that they’d feel at all sad to lose the character.
The way I imagine it, this would be a pretty fun evening of gaming to run. A brief deviation from the norm to cleanse everyone’s adventuring palette. Little will the players realize the insidious information they’re inadvertently providing to their GM: tactics. It’s just a side benefit really, but I know I’ll be watching my group carefully to see what they come up with. And I’ll be sure to use something similar against them next time they’re unfortunate enough to be level one adventurers taking their first wary steps into a dungeon.
In truth, this is closer to a board game than it is to an RPG. The only reason I wouldn’t call it a board game flat-out is because of tactical infinity. There are no limits to what the players can do to defeat the adventurers, so long as they can convince the GM that the idea is plausible.
As the title notes, full credit for the creative parts of this post has to go to Telecanter, of Telecanter’s Receding Rules. To be frank, I’ve contributed nothing of value. I’m just taking care of the legwork that any halfway competent Pathfinder GM could handle on their own. If you don’t read TRR, then you’ve made some fundamental mistakes in your choice of which blogs deserve your attention. But hey, I won’t complain about the traffic.
Recently, Telecanter put up a post entitled “Three Spider Terrors,” where he created three types of deadly spiders which were meant to evoke the kind of terror giant spiders once instilled in us, before we became completely desensitized to fantasy creatures. All three connected with me, and I decided I would really like to use them in Pathfinder. And that’s exactly what I’ve done below: taken Telecanter’s spiders, and given them Pathfinder stats. Telecanter’s original descriptions of the spiders are also reproduced below as blockquotes, and all of this is done under Telecanter’s Creative Common’s License. The Pathfinder stats are based off of the Giant Spider and Spider Swarm stats on page 258 of the Pathfinder Bestiary.
Pale Spider
A skittering noise hovers around the edge of the torch’s flickering light.
Pale Spiders live in the dark, and they feed on those who don’t belong there. They are attracted to sources of light as a means of procuring food, but prefer to bide their time, waiting just outside the outside edge of the light source’s radius. A quick party might see, at most, a white leg just as it disappears back into the darkness. Pale spiders like to wait until one of their intended victims is rendered incapacitated before they venture into the light to feed on the creature’s soul using their Soul Drain attack.
Pale Spider; CR 1; [Vermin] [Underground / Dungeon] [Damp & Dark Climate] [Any Activity Cycle]
Str 6 Dex 17 Con 12 Int — Wis 10 Cha 2 Base Attack +2; CMB -2; CMD 11 (15 vs. trip) Skills Climb (+16), Perception +4 (+8 in webs), Stealth +11 (+27 in webs) Feats Weapon Finesse (Bite Attack)
ECOLOGY
Environment Any Organization Hunting Party (6-12), or Swarm (13-24) Activity Cycle Any Treasure Incidental
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Soul Drain(Ex) Bite–Injury; save Fort DC 14; frequency 1; effect 1d6 Charisma damage; Cha damage is maximized (6) on a character who is at -1 HP or lower. Any creature whose Charisma is reduced to 0 by this ability cannot be healed or resurrected.
TELECANTER’S ORIGINAL TEXT
These cat-sized spiders follow just at the edge of light, wait for a death, then swarm in. Never fewer than six, they prod and clamber over a body in order to steal a soul. They prove to be vicious fighters if an attempt is made to keep them from a body. Corpses pale spiders have fed on can not be revived.
Grey Mugger
A brief glimpse of fleeing grey legs moves quickly out of sight.
A young Grey Mugger is most often just looking for a safe place to rest. Most end up under a rock, or in a fallen log. However, when travelers are not careful with their discarded boots or open bags, these can seem like a perfect place to rest for a Grey Mugger. And when the creature’s rest is interrupted, they strike with surprising lethality, and use their remarkable speed to escape.
AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 14 [10 + Dex(3) + Size(4)] HP 2 (1d8 + 0) Fort +2 Ref +4 Will +1; Immunities mind-affecting effects
OFFENSE
Speed 50 ft., Climb 50ft. Melee Touch Attack bite +2 (1 damage, plus Life Link)
STATISTICS
Str 6 Dex 17 Con 12 Int — Wis 10 Cha 2 Base Attack +2; CMB -4; CMD 9 (11 vs. trip) Skills Climb (+16), Perception +4 (+8 in webs), Stealth +11 (+27 in webs) Feats Weapon Finesse (Bite Attack)
ECOLOGY
Environment Any Organization Solitary, pair, or colony (3-8) Activity Cycle Any Treasure Incidental
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Life Link(Su) Bite–Injury; save Fort DC 22; effect the target of the life link receives no benefit from any form of healing, regardless of its source. Instead, all magical, divine, natural, and mundane healing goes to the Grey Mugger. Every 8 hit points gives the spider an additional HD, increasing its maximum HP. Every 3 HD gained, the Grey Mugger grows one size category, and with each size category the damage dealt by the creature’s bite attack increases (1d4, 1d6, 1d8, 1d10, 2d6, and so on). In order for the Life Link to be broken, the Grey Mugger must be hunted down and killed. Until then, the victim can receive no healing whatsoever. A single Grey Mugger may establish a Life Link with any number of victims. In some rare cases, Grey Muggers have been known to absorb enough energy to gain Intelligence, sending out “drone” Grey Muggers, and devouring them to gain their Life Links.
TELECANTER’S ORIGINAL TEXT
A tiny reclusive spider that often catches explorers unaware as they probe old bags and chests. The bite of the grey mugger is but a sting (1 hit point) but thereafter the healing of the victim with serve to feed the spider (each hit point the victim heals, whether by magic, divine aid, or naturally, will go to the spider– every 8 hit points will grow the spider and give it an additional hit die making it more fierce). The spider must be found and slain to sever the link.
Jerky Man
What appears to be a human man moves with jerky, sudden movements, as though he is controlled by an inexperienced puppeteer.
They were once human, or at least, their bodies once contained a human. Their internal organs have been replaced by a swarm of deadly spiders, and their nervous system and musculature has been replaced with an elaborate tangle of webs. The once-human creatures stagger about in a poor imitation of a human walk. They attempt to mime the desire for physical contact–and embrace or a kiss…
XP: 2,400 N Medium Vermin Init -1; Senses darkvision 60ft.,Perception +0
DEFENSE
AC 11, touch 10, flat-footed 11 [10 + Natural(1)] HP 14 (3d8 + 0) Fort +0 Ref +0 Will +3; Immunities mind-affecting effects
OFFENSE
Speed 20 ft. Melee slam + 2 (1d6 plus infect)
STATISTICS
Str 12 Dex 10 Con 10 Int — Wis 10 Cha 2 Base Attack +1; CMB +2; CMD 12
ECOLOGY
Environment Near Caves Organization Solitary Activity Cycle Any Treasure Incidental
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Infect(Ex) Any touch from a Jerky Man requires a DC: 14 fortitude save. Failure indicates that the target has become infected by the spiders which control the Jerky man from within. The spiders immediately begin laying eggs and spreading themselves throughout the body of the host, dealing Con damage each day equal to the number of days which the host has been infected. (On the first day 1 Con damage is dealt, on the second day 2 Con damage is dealt, and so on) This ability damage cannot be healed unless the infection is cured. If the host reaches 0 Constitution, then the host dies, and their body becomes a new Jerky Man.
Cure It is exceedingly difficult to cure the Jerky Man Infection. Most who know its effects resort to self-amputation of the affected limb without hesitation. The clerical spell “Heal” can be used to cure the infection as well, if a cleric of sufficient level can be found.
Last Ditch Leap(Ex) Upon its destruction, the skin of a Jerky Man will rip open to reveal cobwebs roiling with spiders. The round following the creature’s destruction, the spiders will leap free from the ruined corpse in every direction, and quickly skitter towards the nearest viable host. Anyone standing within 5ft of the creature’s body must make a fortitude save as though they have been touched. Those with the evasion ability are entitled to a reflex save (DC: 16) to avoid the spiders altogether. The spiders will move about the battlefield as a Spider Swarm (Pathfinder Bestiary Pg. 258) for 3 rounds or until destroyed. After three rounds, spiders without a host die. Any who come in contact with the swarm during this juncture must make a fortitude save against infection.
TELECANTER’S ORIGINAL TEXT
They are said to come staggering out of caves or old mines and motion for passersby to come close. An embrace and a kiss is all they wish. But they are not men. A kiss from a jerky man, or just a touch, will infect the victim and the flesh near the bite will begin turning to tiny spiders (an inch per day) unless something is done.
If a jerky man is killed in combat its thin skin will rip open to reveal cobwebs roiling with spiders. The round after one dies, the person that killed them will be covered with spiders and begin taking one point of damage per round. Upon death the victim will become a jerky man themselves. (DMs can adjudicate how successful various means of removing the spiders are).
Today I learned that the newest player at my game table, Poker the Rogue, is an artist. Now I’ve got two of them! The comic above depicts a scene which took place early in his first adventure, when I rolled “Worg” on my random encounter table, and “Wounded” on Trollsmyth’s “Monster Motivation” table. I think the party’s reaction is documented rather well.
Two of the members of my group (both of the artists, actually) have a large interest in ecology. So when one of them mentioned that it might be an invasive species, I confirmed that Worgs (along with any “Magical Beast”) could be considered an unnatural, and thus invasive, species. It was funny to see sympathy for the creature completely dry up once the players realized it was harming the game world’s ecosystem.
The whole exchange took perhaps ten to fifteen minutes of game time, and the fact that it was memorable enough to make a comic about just goes to prove what I’ve always said: the best kind of fun is the kind which players create for themselves. The game included several well crafted NPCs, a dungeon filled with rich lore, and a few very impressive landmarks. But the #1 thing this player latched on to, and wanted to share, was a moment when a randomly-rolled encounter gave birth to some quirky party interaction.
This comic tickles me absolutely pink. I hope there are more of them forthcoming!
Today, for the first time in a few months now, I managed to get together with my friend Jeremy to play a session of our Zalekios Gromar campaign. For me, this is always a huge amount of fun. Not only is Jeremy an entertaining fellow to sit around and chat with, but he’s also the only person I know who is willing to occasionally take on the mantle of game master. Most of the time managing the game is my responsibility, and I love it. That’s why I have an entire site dedicated to running Pathfinder games. But being the game master can also be both limiting, and stressful. Taking some time to be a player rather than a GM lets me cut loose a little bit. All I really need to worry about is my own actions, and how I can survive and succeed with my own goals.
Being a player also allows me the opportunity to see the game from the opposite perspective. No matter how concerned I am with ensuring that my players are having fun, it’s always valuable to sit down, be a player, and figure out what I want. Are the things I want as a player being facilitated in the games I run as the game master? Which elements of the game am I enjoying, and which am I finding arduous? I find that my occasional jaunts to the other side of the GM screen are often more educational than a week’s worth of reading blogs and old Dragon magazines. And tonight, two lessons stood out to me.
First, some quick background on the game. Zalekios is currently working a number of angles within the game world, many of which are indirectly opposed to one another. Not only is he working for a kingdom, but he’s also working for someone else who wants to destroy all the kingdoms, whilst simultaneously attempting to establish his own kingdom. It can become a little confusing, but I’ve got 23 charisma and 10 wisdom, so what do you expect? Anyway, the kingdom Zalekios is working for (Angle #1) sent him to investigate some strange attacks which were destroying ships as they left a nearby port city. This worked to Zalekios’ advantage, since he needed to scout that same port city as part of a plot to destroy all the kingdoms (Angle #2). In the city, he booked passage on one of the ships, and sailed with it until it was attacked. He captured one of the Sahuagins, and forced it to lead the vessel to the mysterious “Wet Gnome Lord” who was behind these attacks.
So here’s a bit which will become relevant later. Having captured this creature, I began forming plans for how I might find use for it as a minion. So, when we left the ship to venture to the island home of the Wet Gnome Lord, I took the Sahuagin with me. Memory may fail me, but my conversation with the GM went something like this:
Me: I’d like to take the…Sha-hugga-mug with me. GM: The Sahuagin? Me: Yes. That. I’ll untie him from the mast, but leave him tied up with some loose rope for me to hang onto. GM: Like a leash? Me: Yeah, kinda like a leash. How long can he go without breathing water? GM: Lets say 48 hours. Me: Alright, well, we’ve been sailing for over 30, so I’ll let him swim to the island in the water, whilst I hold his leash from within a rowboat.
Now, what I understood to be happening was that the Sha-hugga-mug’s arms were tied to its sides, and I had a rope around its neck to serve as a leash. I figured it could swim well enough with its legs, and if it couldn’t…well, Zalekios is Chaotic Evil. Keel hauling a sea creature is far from the worst thing he’s done. Hell, earlier in that same session I’d committed a murder simply to enhance an intimidation check. Then killed the fellow I had been intimidating to keep him from pinning the murder on me!
Once we reached land, we entered the Wet Gnome Lord’s tower, and that’s about the time my ladyfriend joined the game, once again playing as Zalekios’ four faithful level 1 goblins. We encountered the wet gnome lord, and I completely ruined all my GM’s plans by negotiating with the session’s endboss. (Let that be a lesson to all GMs: players will always defy your expectations.) It ended up being well worth my while, because not only did I convince a powerful wizard to leave the ships alone (Thus fulfilling my obligation to Angle #1), but I also convinced him that we were allies, making him Angle #4. I am a devious little schemer, yes I am.
To solidify our partnership, the Wet Gnome Lord asked Zalekios to take care of a golem which had gotten a little out of control. Zalekios agreed, and climbed up into the locked attic, where he found the golem walking around in circles, paying the intruders no mind. Zalekios moved off to kill the creature, and assumed the four goblins would find some way to help (or, more likely, find a way to make things much more difficult) We rolled initiative, and I leaped into combat. It was then that the GM asked;
GM: So, wait a minute, you’re just leaving the Sahuagin there unattended? Me: So what? It’s tied up. GM: No, it only has a leash. Me: …fuck, yeah, I guess that’s how you would have interpreted that. What I meant is that its arms were still tied to its sides. GM: Then how would it have swam? Me: It has webbed feet, I figured that would be fine. GM: No, it would need its arms to swim effectively.
Oops.
I was already engaged with the golem, so I wasn’t going to bother with a low level creature like the Sha-hugga-mug when I was already facing something which could probably kill me. Fortunately, thanks to the marching order, my four goblin worshipers had the creature surrounded. So whilst I battled the golem, they subdued my prisoner. They even managed not to kill him! Though he will have a nasty burn on his face, and a bad limp from now on. Everything went better than expected, but this all goes to illustrate a point. I wrote recently on the point of GM clarity, but this story goes to show that player clarity is just as important. There was no clear point during play when my GM being more clear with me would have fixed the problem. Even if he had allowed me to have the creature’s arms bound due to the misconception, that would have meant changing a minor ruling from an hour’s worth of game time prior. (Namely, whether or note the creature could swim, and thus continue to survive on land). The entire problem could have been fixed had I, as the player, simply been more clear about my intentions.
On an unrelated note, a funny story from this game session: one of the four goblins, named Poog, is a cleric. He cast the spell Burning Hands on the Sha-hugga-mug during combat, and I quickly looked it up in the Pathfinder Core Rulebook, where I was surprised to learn it was a 15ft cone. My GM, also surprised, said “Well I guarantee you it wasn’t that way in 3.5.” So, I got out my 3.5 PHB, and we looked it up, and much to our surprise, it had been a 15ft cone in 3rd edition as well! Flustered, my GM added “They must have changed it from second edition!” So, I pulled out my 2nd edition PHB, and he found the spell and read the description aloud.
GM: When the wizard casts this spell, a jet of searing flame shoots from his fingertips. His hands must be held so as to send forth a fanlike sheet of flames: the wizard’s thumbs must touch each other and the fingers must be spread. The burning hands send out flame jets 5 feet long in a horizontal arc about 120 degrees in front of the wizard.” Me: …So, it’s a cone? GM: Shut up.
For the first time in a long while now, I sat down to write today’s post without the foggiest idea of what it was going to be about. It’s Friday, so my choices were narrowed down to either Merciless Monster, a Colorful Character, or a Magical Marvel. Most of the time, when I wake up Friday morning, I start thinking about what I would like to create. While I’m taking care of the mundane tasks which make up our daily lives, I’m also fumbling through the details for the monster, character, or item I’ll be writing about once I can finally sit at my keyboard in the morning. Today I…just didn’t do that. Not quite sure why. By the time I got home I was so exhausted I went straight to bed after dinner. Couldn’t have been later than 7 o’clock. When I awoke at 3 in the morning on Saturday, I sat down to write without the foggiest idea of what I’d be writing about.
I had wanted to continue my Magical Marvels series on the artifact weapons found my my Ascendant Crusade campaign, but the artist who has been illustrating those is asleep, so that’s a no-go. And since I’m still a little tired of the Colorful Characters posts, I decided to write another Merciless Monsters post. But what to write about? If you’re not willing to randomly combine animals together and call it a ‘monster,’ coming up with a fearsome creature on the spot isn’t so easy. I was first inspired by my plushie of Jabba the Hutt to create a Pathfinder version of Hutts which hoarded gold and made Faustian bargains with those who sought their aid. Truth be told I think it’s a really great idea, and I may return to it, but the creature I imagine would be used for role playing encounters, rather than combat encounters, and that’s not what I wanted to write about tonight.
Out of ideas, I gave into my inner-zombie and googled “Undead in Folklore.” Unsurprisingly, wikipedia was the first result, but I opened a number of windows in anticipation of a lengthy search. I started with Wikipedia’s list of “Forms of Undead,” and clicked the first type which I wasn’t already intimately familiar with: the Draugr. At first they didn’t seem particularly interesting, just mummies without the wrappings. I almost clicked away, but continued reading long enough to learn that they could grow in size at will. That’s pretty interesting. I kept reading, and learned even more interesting things. This creature (which, incidentally, was the very first type of undead on that list) is surrounded by superstitions and rituals which I’ve never seen represented elsewhere.
Let this be a lesson to all game masters: Mythology will never let you down.
Particularly the shit that vikings came up with. Those people were fucking crazy.
Draugr
The imposing form of the corpse-blue creature stands before you, emanating a stench of decay which nearly makes you gag. It wears the garb–and the grin–of a fearsome warrior.
XP: 38,400 NE Medium Undead Init +1; Senses Darkvision 60ft, Perception +0
DEFENSE
AC 23, touch 13, flat-footed 21 [10 + Dex(1) + Dodge(1) + Ring(1) +Armor(10)] HP 85 (11d8 + 33) DR 5/Iron Regeneration 2 (See “Destruction”) Fort +9 Ref +4 Will +5; Immunities Undead Traits
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft. Melee+2 Greatsword +25/+20/+15 (2d6 + 17)
STATISTICS
Str 29 Dex 12 Con — Int 3 Wis 10 Cha 16 Base Attack +11/6/1; CMB +20; CMD 33 (+8 vs. Bull Rush or Trip attempts.) Feats Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Disruptive, Dodge, Improved Vital Strike, Lunge, Mobility, Spellbreaker, Spring Attack, Vital Strike, Weapon Focus (Greatsword), Weapon Specialization (Greatsword), Whirlwind Attack Skills Intimidate (+14) Languages Common SQ Gaseous Form, Stability, Armor Training 3; Weapon Training (Heavy Blades +2,Light Blades +1) Gear +1 full plate, +2 Greatsword, Ring of Protection +1
ECOLOGY
Environment They guard their crypt unless disturbed, then they will attack nearby settlements. Organization Solitary or in groups of up to ten. Activity Cycle Primarily nocturnal, but do not tire, and can function even in daylight. Diet None; Natural Enemies None Treasure Standard
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Gaseous Form(Su) As a standard action, a draugr can assume gaseous form (Pathfinder Core Rulebook Pg. 287) at will. It can remain in this state indefinitely, and has a fly speed of 20 feet with perfect maneuverability.
Swim Through Earth(Su) As a standard action, a draugr may enter into earth or stone at will as though it were water. This state lasts indefinitely, and allows the dragur to travel at a speed of 10 through any surface made of these materials. A draugr may take a grappled creature with him when he uses this ability. This creature will not suffocate, but is considered to be under the effects of a Meld Into Stone spell (Pathfinder Core Rulebook Pg. 312). Non-casters may be unable to escape without assistance.
Enlarge Self(Su) As a standard action, a draugr can enlarge itself at will. This functions as the spell Enlarge Person (Pathfinder Core Rulebook Pg. 277) except the draugr can only cast it on itself, and its duration is indefinite. In addition, a draugr is able to grow up to four times its normal height. A medium creature would become a huge creature, gaining a -2 penalty to attack rolls and AC, a -6 penalty to Dexterity and a +6 bonus to Strength. The creature also gains a +2 special size modifier to combat maneuver checks and defense due to its increased size, and has a reach of 15ft. A draugr’s speed also doubles while in this form. One of the draugr’s preferred methods of slaying its victims is to crush or devour them while increased in size.
CREATING A DRAUGR
Brutish Draugr lose nearly all their intelligence when they become undead, though they retain enough to be sentient and aware. They are also creatures of immense strength. When a draugr is created, its Intelligence is reduced to 3, and its Strength is raised by an amount equal to the amount its Intelligence was lowered. So if a creature has 10 STR and 10 INT, then upon becoming a draugr its INT becomes 3, and the STR becomes 17.
Forceful Presence Upon become a draugr, a creature gains 6 Charisma.
Weapon Resistance Draugr gain Damage Reduction 1/Iron for every 2 HD
Overweight Draugr are unnaturally heavy, and gain a +8 bonus to their Combat Maneuver Defense when resisting a bull rush or trip attempt.
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
Background Draugr are crypt guardians, not unlike their distant undead cousins mummies. They rise to protect their tombs (or the tombs of powerful leaders they were interred with), from graver robbers and thieves who would defile them, and pilfer their riches. They are sometimes created intentionally,using simple burial rituals which are known to a number of warrior peoples. Most often, however, draugr simply rise from the corpses of those whose wealth was gained through violence and bloodshed. Warriors who valued gold more than they valued the lives of others.
Draugr are intelligent, though barely so. Most draugr know only two things for sure: they must protect their tomb, and they hate the living. Draugr are painfully jealous, and take great delight in killing. If they cannot have life, then why should anybody else? Often times after they encounter a living creature who has entered their tomb, they will become so enraged that killing only once is not enough. They will dare to leave their crypt for a few hours every night for a few days, searching for more living creatures to kill. If anything is actually taken from their tomb, then the draugr may not stop venturing out at night until it is slain.
Occasionally when a draugr kills someone, they will drag the body back to their crypt. The next night, that body will also rise as a draugr, and work with the first to protect the crypt. Some scholars speculate that the draugr who do this are slowly becoming more intelligent, and realize that additional draugr will allow them to spend more time away from their own crypt, killing the living.
Appearance Draugr are bloated and ugly. Their skin is a blue-black color, and they have a pungent stench of decay about them.
Emanations of Evil Animals which feed near a draugr’s tomb often become dire animals. They will attack anyone who approaches, and obey any command given them by the draugr.
Progression Sometimes, usually after a draugr has left its crypt and slain a number of interlopers, it begins to regain some of its Intelligence–though none of its memories. These draugr become even more intensely jealous of the living, and often become more concerned with tormenting them than they do with protecting their tomb. They also gain a number of powerful magical abilities, allowing them to enter dreams, spread magical diseases and plagues, bestow curses, control the weather, change their form to that of an animal, or even see the future. On occasion, extremely powerful draugr have been known to prevent the sun from shining anywhere within miles of their tombs. The goal of these draugr becomes to drive all living beings mad, so that they cannot enjoy the life which the creature so envies.
Destruction Destroying a draugr is difficult. Even when its damage reduction can be overcome, the creature’s bones knit back together of their own volition. Wounds will close, and even severed limbs may reattach themselves. Even a draugr reduced to 0 HP is not destroyed, as most undead creatures are. The only way to truly destroy a draugr is to cut off its head, incinerate it, and scatter the ashes into a sea or river. If this is not done within 6 days, the draugr will regenerate within two weeks.
REFERENCE
The Undead Type is described on page 309 of the Pathfinder Bestiary.
I recently became rather intrigued by Bloody Mary folklore. I’ve always been a fan of undead creatures. In particular, I’m fascinated to learn about the reality of humanity’s fear of the dead. Pop culture is so inundated with movie monsters these days that it’s easy to know everything about zombies of vampires without ever learning the reality which inspired the fantasy. In fact, it was the trailer for the movie “Paranormal Activity 3” which first got me interested in this folklore. I find it hilarious that a movie trailer failed to convince me to see the movie, but succeeded in motivating me to do some reading. Even if it was just Wikipedia, and a handful of other websites.
Each of us is a student of popular culture, whether or not we realize it. But there’s so much more to these creatures. Historical information, which filmmakers never passed down to us. Did you know that while Catholics in Western Europe took a slowly-decomposing corpse as a sign of sainthood; Catholics in Eastern Europe took it as a sign that the corpse was waking at night as a vampire? It’s true. Likewise, Zombies originate from Afro-Haitian superstitions, where “sorcerers” would use psychoactive chemicals to place a victim in a highly suggestible state, then order that victim to do their bidding.
Interesting stuff.
Hoping to find some similarly interesting revelations for Bloody Mary, I did some looking around. I haven’t found a ton of solid information on the tale’s origins–it seems to be a relatively recent, and particularly fractured piece of folklore. However, the sheer volume of completely different accounts of this mirror-dwelling creature make it a curiosity to me. And as I looked for additional sources of information, I began to wonder if Mary had ever been converted into a monster for gaming. I flipped through the various incorporeal undead in my Bestiaries and Monster Manuals, but didn’t find anything which seemed specifically based on her. Since I find the folklore so fascinating, I thought I’d go ahead and create my own.
As an aside, in my study of Bloody Mary, I learned a word which should be very useful to game masters and world crafters. Catoptromancy; Divination by use of mirrors, or other reflective surfaces.
Bloody Avenger
At first all that can be seen is the dripping blood, falling apparently from thin air. Once one looks upon vengeful specter’s crimson form, the black pits of its eyes widen, and it gurgles a curse from a blood filled mouth.
XP: 6,400 CE Medium Undead Init +7; Senses darkvision 60ft; Perception +12
DEFENSE
AC 18, touch 18, flat-footed 14 [10 + Dex(3) + Dodge(1) + Incorporeal Deflection(4)] HP 90 (9d8 + 45) Fast Healing 2 Fort +3 Ref +6 Will +12 Defensive Abilities Incorporeal Immunities Undead Traits
OFFENSE
Speed fly 30 ft. (Perfect) Melee Lacerate Face + 14 (4d6 + 4) Special Attacks Death’s Gaze, Share Guilt, Expose Guilt, Bloody Chains
STATISTICS
Str — Dex 16 Con — Int 6 Wis 15 Cha 18 Base Attack +6/1CMB+9 CMD 19 Feats Improved Initiative, Dodge, Ability Focus(Death’s Gaze), Iron Will, Toughness, Natural Weapon Focus (Lacerate Face) Skills Fly (+12), Intimidation (+21), Perception (+12), Stealth (+20) Languages Common
ECOLOGY
Environment Most commonly in urban homes, but they can strike wherever a mirror is nearby. Organization Solitary Activity Cycle Primarily nocturnal, but do not tire, and can function wherever there is low light. Treasure Standard
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Invisibility(Sp) A bloody avenger may cast Invisibility (as the spell) at will.
Catoptromancy(Su) A bloody avenger can enter any mirror, and exit through any other mirror on the same plane. Broken mirrors do not affect the creature’s ability to travel through them, however, a mirror covered with a cloth cannot be traveled through. The creature can do this while invisible. Note that this ability works only for mirrors, surfaces which are incidentally reflective cannot be used for this, or any other mirror-related ability of the Bloody Avenger.
Lacerate Face(Ex) Bloody Avengers are compelled to destroy their victim’s faces. It is not entirely clear why they do this, but it is surmised that it is based on the creature’s intense feelings of guilt, and a desire to destroy its own identity. This is a melee touch attack which deals damage equal to 1d6/2 hit dice. A Bloody Avenger’s charisma modifier is considered a weapon bonus for the purposes of this attack, and can be added both to the attack and the damage roll.
Death’s Gaze(Su) 3 times per day, as a standard action, a Bloody Avenger may show a target opponent their own death. This is the death which they are currently fated for, though their fate is not immutable. However, the individual who sees this image of their death will know, inherently, that it is not an illusion. The fear this causes is profound. The target becomes immediately Panicked, but is entitled to a will saving throw [DC 20 (10 + 1/2 HD + Cha + Ability Focus)] to be only shaken. Targets can repeat the will save on each turn until they succeed. The Shaken condition lasts 3 rounds. In order to be affected by this attack, the target must look either at the Bloody Avenger, or at any mirrors.
Share Guilt(Su) Once per day a Bloody Avenger may pass through a target creature by moving through a square which that creature occupies. The target is entitled to a reflex saving throw [DC 17 (10 + 1/2 HD + Cha)] to take an immediate 5-foot step out of the way. If the Bloody Avenger successfully passes through the target, then for the next 24 hours, any damage inflicted on the Bloody Avenger will be inflicted on that target. This effect is treated as a curse, and any ability which removes curses will end this effect.
Expose Guilt(Su) Once per day, a Bloody Avenger can select a target. As a standard action, the Bloody Avenger shares the target’s greatest unknown sin to all of that target’s allies within 60ft. Any moral boosting effects which that character granted to his companions ceases to function, and all opponents within 10ft of the character take a -1 penalty to all rolls. This effect lasts for 24 hours.
Bloody Chains(Su) Once per day, a Bloody Avenger can cause four blood-soaked barbed chains to emerge from any mirror within 60 feet, and grapple with a target. The chains are treated as having the Grab ability, so they do not provoke an attack of opportunity when they attempt to grapple. The chains have an effective CMB of +14, and can extend a maximum of 30ft from the mirror. The chains immediately begin attempting to draw a grappled target into the mirror (requiring a successful grapple check each round to move the target at half of the chain’s speed of 30). Each of the 4 chains has hardness 10, hp 5, and a break DC of 26. Each chain destroyed reduces the chain’s overall CMB by 2.
If the chains successfully move a target to a space adjacent to the mirror which they came out of, then on their next turn they may attempt a final grapple check to pull their target into the mirror. (This is considered a hazardous location, granting the target a +4 on their grapple attempt). If the target is successfully drawn into the mirror, then they fall out of another mirror somewhere on the same plane. This mirror could be elsewhere in town, in another nation, or even on another continent.
Death Rattle(Su) Upon its destruction, a Bloody Avenger lets out a piercing wail of anguish. Characters within a 60ft radius of the destroyed Bloody Avenger, who are not wearing protective ear coverings, take 10d6 sonic damage from this wail.
SPECIAL WEAKNESSES
Distraction All Bloody Avengers are created from a death which resulted from the death of someone else–whether or not they are guilty of it. They are fixated on that event, and seek indiscriminate revenge for it. However, if they are presented with someone who reminds them of whomever’s death caused their own, the Bloody Avenger may become distracted. For example, a mother who went mad and died after the passing of her child may, as a Bloody Avenger, become distracted by a young child, believing it to be her own for as long as her distraction is not interrupted.
Summoning If an adventurer looks into a mirror and speaks the true name of a Bloody Avenger three times, then confesses to causing the death for which the Bloody Avenger is seeking vengeance, then the Bloody Avenger is immediately transported to that mirror.
Forced Medium Bloody Avengers can be used to discover secrets which may otherwise be impossible to discern. Once one is encountered or summoned, the party or individual who encounter it must not meet the Bloody Avengers eyes, nor harm it at all. For 1 minute (10 rounds) the Bloody Avenger will attack the party normally, however, unless the party meets the creature’s eyes or attacks it in return, it cannot use lethal force. After a minute has passed, the Bloody Avenger can no longer attack the party. The party can, at this point, ask to speak with a specific dead person. They need not know the person’s name, but must know something about them. “The person who designed the ruins of Aomur,” or “The little boy who was killed by Joey Grills four years ago” would be sufficient. The Bloody Avenger will then retrieve the soul of this person with unerring accuracy, assuming they are dead, their souls still exist, and the phrasing of the question did not specifically exclude the intended person (Such as if Joey Grills killed a girl).
The soul is then compelled to answer any questions the party has for it. This bypasses any of the normal restrictions on the Speak with Dead spell. Three conditions cause this effect to end: 1) if the party meets the eyes of, or attacks, the Bloody Avenger, then the dead spirit disappears, and the party must combat the Bloody Avenger normally. 2) If the party tells the spirit it can go, then the Bloody Avenger will also excuse itself by exiting through the nearest mirror. If the mirror has been covered, the Bloody Avenger will attack the party. 3) after 10 minutes, the Bloody Avenger is released from its compulsion, and will release the spirit and attack the party.
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
Background A Bloody Avenger is a very particular manner of ghost. In life, the creatures who eventually become Bloody Avengers all suffer greatly from the horrible death, or loss, of someone dear to them. Such as a mother whose child goes missing, a man whose mother is murdered, or a child who watches another child fall down a well. The exact manner of the loss is irrelevant, so long as the person feels guilt over the loss. It matters not if the person in question is actually responsible in any degree for the loss, so long as they feel guilt over it.
That guilt must then drive the person to their own death, or dominate the rest of their life. To use the above examples, if the mother who lost her child went mad, and eventually committed suicide, that would qualify. If the man mentioned above had murdered his mother himself; and was then tried and executed for the crime, that would qualify. Even if he denied his guilt, it is likely that he still felt that guilt on some level. Lastly, if the young child lives a long life, yet is always haunted by feelings of guilt for the other child’s death, then even dying of old age would not save him or her from qualifying. Any of these people might potentially rise as Bloody Avengers.
Bloody Avengers remember very little of their lives. They wander, only half aware of the world around them, while the other half of their attention is constantly reliving the moment which caused their guilt. This leaves them angry and violent, and poised to attack anyone who disturbs them.
REFERENCE
The Undead Type is described on page 309 of the Pathfinder Bestiary.
The Incorporeal Subtype is described on page 312 of the Pathfinder Bestiary.
The Incorporeal Trait is described on page 301 of the Pathfinder Bestiary.
Information on the Bloody Mary legend drawn from the Wikipedia entry, and the Snopes.com entry (oddly enough. Do ghost stories really need to be verified?)
Images for this post taken from a remarkable fan-video for the Lady Gaga song “Bloody Mary”
The concept of a lich’s phylactery is taken from Judaic mysticism. In reality, phylacteries were a complex kind of ‘magic underwear’ which were apparently quite common in Jewish communities at one time. Jewish Encyclopedia.com has an absolutely fascinating article on the subject, written in the early 20th century. There’s an impressive amount of detail there, much of which I think I would need to know a lot more about Jewish tradition to fully understand. But enough of the article is written in plain English for me to learn a lot about the beliefs surrounding this tradition.
As I mentioned in my post titled Succubi Deserve More, I like to explore the mythology behind fantasy tropes. Not only does it result in me becoming a more educated and historically aware person, but the real-world mythology always offers fascinating insight into the fantastic possibilities. Whoever first decides to take some cultural or mythological element and include it in a fantasy story takes what works for them, and leaves the rest. That’s how fantasy writing works. But who is to say that the elements they left behind aren’t sometimes just as interesting as the elements they chose to keep?
For clarity’s sake, lets start with the explanation of what a phylactery is in Pathfinder, pulled from The Pathfinder Bestiary, page 188. For those curious, this excerpt is functionally identical to the same excerpt in the Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 Monster Manual.
An integral part of becoming a lich is the creation of the phylactery in which the character stores his soul. The only way to get rid of a lich for sure is to destroy its phylactery. Unless its phylactery is located and destroyed, a lich can rejuvenate after it is killed. (See Creating a Lich, below).
Each lich must create its own phylactery by using the Craft Wondrous Item feat. The character must be able to cast spells and have a caster level of 11th or higher. The phylactery costs 120,000 gp to create and has a caster level equal to that of its creator at the time of creation.
The most common form of phylactery is a sealed metal box containing strips of parchment on which magical phrases have been transcribed. The box is Tiny and has 40 hit points, hardness 20, and a break DC of 40.
Other forms of phylacteries can exist, such as rings, amulets, or similar items.
Not a lot to go on, really. I also seem to recall very distinctly that the process of becoming a lich (and so, presumably, creating the phylactery) is supposed to be profoundly evil. To my knowledge, that is the sum of official material on what a phylactery is within the game world. There are probably a few dragon magazine articles, and sourcebooks from the 70s and 80s which contain further tidbits of “official” information, but for now the basic definition will do.
Before moving any further, I would like to again remind my readers that I am not a credible source on the topic of Judaic history and lore. The sources for this post, which have far more information on this topic, are the Jewish Encyclopedia.com article on Phylacteries, and the Skeptic’s Annotated Bible.
The historical phylactery, by comparison, was considered a very holy thing. In fact, if you look at the word’s etymology, the Greek root words suggest that it was intended to protect the wearer from evil. The Jewish custom is based on a number of passages in the Torah, most notably this excerpt from Deuteronomy:
And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou shalt bind them for a sign upon thine hand, and they shall be as frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write them upon the posts of thy house, and on they gates.
The ‘words’ this passage wants the reader to spend so much time talking about are, as best I can determine, God’s laws. Variations of this passage show up in a number of places, since repetition is an essential element in an oral tradition. The important part, though, is the bit I emphasized. That’s the origin of the historical phylactery. The exact means of how these devices were worn is somewhat unclear to me. The image at the start of the post demonstrates how complicated they appear to be–and every element was important. Even the way the knots were tied was meant to symbolize specific Hebrew lettering. Essentially, however, historical phylacteries are small boxes or pouches which are worn on the arms and between the eyes. Within the pouches are a specific arrangement of passages from the Torah, written on tiny scrolls of paper. This is likely where the idea of a lich’s phylactery being a metal box filled with tiny magical scrolls came from.
One of the archetypical things which liches do is hide their phylacteries. Common ideas are to hide it in a fortress somewhere, or to give it to a powerful dragon to protect. I’ve been involved in discussions on /tg/ and elsewhere which focus just on coming up with the most outrageous, funny, and clever ways to hid a phylactery. And I’ve heard some positively fantastic ideas. But the historical phylactery was a thing which had to be worn. You couldn’t leave it at home and continue to rely on the spiritual protection it provided.
Of course, if every lich was wearing their phylactery dangling between their eyes, the monster would loose all of its flavor. But what if there was a limit to how far away the phylactery could be from the lich? Say, it must be within 1 mile of the lich’s location. For each additional mile away, the lich suffers from 1 negative level, and if the lich reaches 0, it dies and re-forms at the location of its phylactery. Perhaps the lich might even get some kind of bonus if its phylactery is within 100ft, say, plus one caster level? Adding a mechanic like this takes nothing away from the the fun of hiding the lich’s phylactery, and in fact may end up being a great deal more fun for the players. Looking for a hidden item can be fun, but if that item is in an adamantite box which shifts to a random location in the multiverse every 30 seconds, the players are simply going to get bored. Adding limits gives the players somewhere to start their investigation. Plus, this adds a fun element to the game of a lich needing to actively manage their phylactery’s location in order to avoid negative levels.
Also interesting is that the wearer of a historical phylactery was not supposed to enter a cemetery, or “any unseemly places” whilst wearing it. Again, this suggests some interesting possibilities for the lich’s phylactery. Since liches never have their phylactery, it wouldn’t make sense for certain places to only be accessible when the lich didn’t have it, but what if there were certain places a lich couldn’t enter UNLESS it had its phylactery with it? Such as an area which is consecrated, or perhaps they cannot go within 10 miles of their original birthplace without their phylactery. It might even be interesting to say that a lich could never enter a cemetery without its phylactery. Though, given a lich’s frequent need for necromancy reagents, this could make things difficult.
There are a number of rules for historical phylacteries…actually there are a plethora of rules. There is an entire pantheon of rules. This is, after all, Judaism. The rules range from the spacing on the letters on the little scrolls, to the attention span of the chap scribing those letters, to even the color of the case. Largely, I don’t think these have much application. They could be fun if one was trying to come up with a good ritual for creating a phylactery, but unless a character becoming a lich is the focus of a campaign, I don’t think it’s particularly useful to go into the creation process too much. Although that would be a kickass campaign.
However, this rule caught my eye: “The straps (Yad. iii. 3) were made of the same material as the boxes, but could be of any color except blood-red.” Perhaps I’m shooting in the dark, here, but what if blood were harmful to phylacteries? What if, perhaps, blood was the ONLY thing which could harm a phylactery. The blood of a goodly person–or perhaps even the blood of a fallen hero. The phylactery must be coated with it, and then it becomes as brittle as a twig.
I encourage you to read up on the historical phylactery yourself, and comment on your own ideas for making a lich’s phylactery more interesting!
