Four Dignitaries of Hell of Special Interest to the Criminal Element

This can be considered an addition to the "Hell" entry in The Scofflaw's ABC.

1. Dulak-Mhir, Castellan of the Fortress of Joy. Appears as an aged man in a tattered scarlet robe, his body wound head to foot with iron rings, from which depend a clanking, jangling assortment of keys. He may be called upon to unlock any doorway, gate, or strongbox which stands between a mortal and their desire. He will perform this service in exchange for the petitioner agreeing to bear one of his key-rings. Dulak-Mihr will choose the ring himself, which may be small enough to wear around the pinky finger, or large enough to circle a man’s waist. Whatever the size, the ring will be heavy, uncomfortably tight (but not so much as to cut off circulation) and impossible to remove. It is not known what will transpire when Dulak-Mhir has cast off his last ring and may once more stand unburdened of his duties.

2. Kalkiskordivaay, Marchioness of the Wormwood Star. Appears as a leopard with the head of a woman of no mean appearance, her red-gold hair oddly cast in the light of a crown of pale green fire. When she speaks, it is as the tinkling of small chimes in the roar of a hurricane. Kalkiskordivaay delights in the corruption of stalwart hearts and the betrayal of duty. She will teach the lines and curves of her sigil to favored malefactors in dreams of unnerving beauty. These votaries will then seek out the individual they seek to bend from their purpose and attempt to persuade them to some inconsequential betrayal of a charge or duty. If they can be swayed but one iota, their doom is secured. The corruptor then inscribes the name of their victim in the center of their Patroness’ sigil. With each successive week after the the inscription, the victim becomes ever more susceptible to suggestion, and at a month’s end, they are firmly in their new master's thrall, unable and undesirous to disobey any direct order.  This binding may only be broken if the sigil is somehow defaced or destroyed, in which event, Kalkiskordivaay withdraws her favor in disgust.  She has been known to respond favorably to the sacrifice of a loyal guard dog, or a puppy whelped from same.

3. Ulshh, Master of Revels at the Court of the Inverted Citadel.  Vain, restless, and fond of novelty, Ulshh never appears to mortals more than once in the same form.  His last fleshly incarnation was as a grotesquely fat lavender-skinned man wearing the powdered and rouged skin of a slender fop, with the gaps in this unusual suit filled in with puffs of vermillion taffeta and laced with golden thread.  Ulshh is often appealed to by poets, actors, and musicians whose talents are on the wane, or have yet to acquire sufficent fame and fortune by more laborious means.  For the enterprising criminal, he has been known to provide the following service:  When presented with the tibia of a boy whose voice has not yet broken, Ulshh will fashion it into a flute, engraved with verses in an unknown tongue.  When the flute is played, all who can hear its music (save the player) are forced to dance a stately measure, and may do nothing else until the music ceases.  For every minute the flute is played, the player ages 1d10 years.  Should the player reach the age of 100 by this means, they must successfully save vs. Death every subsequent minute the flute is played.  Should the player die in the midst of playing, the flute splits open, shattering into useless fragments of bone.

4. Glalabursik, Carnifex-General of the Legion Inevitable.  Appears as a pale, hairless androgyne clad in antique armor encrusted with rust, with shrivelled, sightless eyes and a cavernous mouth containing rows of tiny serrated teeth.  The murderer's friend, Glalabursik will grant the following boon to faithful petitioners:  He will produce, from some dark recesses of his armor, no less than 100,000 writhing maggots, which will scatter to devour any and all corpses within a 100 ft. radius of the petitioner.  Every hair, drop of blood, piece of bone, or scrap of flesh will be entirely consumed, leaving nothing but clothing and personal effects, picked clean of any trace of their owners.  This will take approximately one minute per corpse.  When they have finished, the sated maggots will wriggle their way back into their master's armor, and Glalabursik will take his leave with a slight bow.  Those present for this gruesome spectacle will notice no change in their own outward appearance, though anyone who was on intimate terms with those so devoured will perceive them as dripping with gore from head to foot.

Three Monsters I Made Using Jack Shear's 3d6 Weird Monster Generator

I've been having problems with writer's block for the past few days, and today I decided to abandon what I had been working on and do something practical and constructive.*  Mapping dungeons, filling them with monsters -- the basics that I too often ignore, preferring instead to daydream about ambitious side projects that I hardly ever actually work on.  Not today!  Today, I'd have something to show for it!  I knew I wanted to stock the next dungeon with something weird and unexpected. -- something they hadn't encountered in any previous adventure.  Too lazy even to use James Raggi's Random Esoteric Creature Generator, I went with Jack Shear's 3d6 Weird Monster Generator from Flavors of Fear, which I'd glanced at and admired, but had never actually kicked the tires on.  It's inspired, in turn, from Zak S.' article here.  Anyway, here's what I came up with -- each monster completed in just a couple of minutes, with just one roll of 3d6.

Monster 1  "Stenchfoot Clubhands"

Head: Horned beast (+1 Attack, 1d6 damage + stun on a charge)

Body: Shaggy beast (+1 Armor Class)

Arms/Legs: Gnarled ending in club-like protrusions (+2 Attacks, 1d8 damage + save vs. stun)

Hit Dice: 4

AC: 13

Attack Bonus: +5

# of Attacks: 3

Damage: horns: d6 + save vs. stun on a charge,  clubhands: d8+ save vs. stun, clubfeet: d8+ save vs. stun.

Special: unholy stench (anyone in close combat takes 1d4 damage/round)

Vulnerabilities: Bleeder (loses d4 HP every round once injured)

Monster 2: "Skullface Freezytentacles"

Head: Fleshless skull (add Cause Fear to creature's abilities)

Body:  Emanates freezing cold [anyone within close combat distances takes -1 to all rolls]

Arms/Legs:  Writhing tentacles (+1d4 attacks, 1d4 damage + save vs. constriction)

Hit Dice: 2

AC: 12

Attack Bonus: N/A

# of Attacks: 2

Damage: tentacles: 1d4 + save vs. constriction

Special: Poisonous Touch, Cause Fear

Vulnerabilities: cannot cross water

Monster 3: "Shockmaster WitheredLizard"

Head:  Fork-tongued reptile (+1 Attack, 1d4 damage + poison)

Body:  Electric pulse [anyone hitting the monster with a metal weapon takes 1d6 points of damage]

Arms/Legs:  Withered limbs ending in long, reaching fingers (+1 Attack, 1d6 damage + save vs. disease)

Hit Dice: 5

AC: 12

Attack Bonus: +7

# of Attacks: 2

Damage: tongue (1d4, save vs. poison,) hands (1d6, save vs. disease)

Special: Can use Invisibility 2x/day

Vulnerabilities: 2x damage from Holy items.

I'm very proud of my babies and I can't wait to try to kill you with them.

Now roll 3d6 and squeeze out some fresh abominations.

*comparatively speaking

Gygaxian Naturalists: Your Campaign's Monster Manual According to the Players

This may have been proposed before, but just in case it hasn't...

So I was thinking about Galbaruc, and monsters, and how I wanted to handle monsters in my campaign setting, and what I wanted to emphasize, and avoid, and I got to thinking about a session of Jeff Rient's Caves of Myrddin campaign I was in a few weeks ago. We were somewhere beneath the East Tower, having just descended to a new level, and we encountered a grayish, winged creature we took to be a gargoyle. This prompted a brief discussion on whether or not our characters would know what it was, let alone its strengths and weaknesses, etc. And then Jeff said we were free to use any out-of-character knowledge we wanted. In fact, we were welcome to open the book right there on the spot, and look up the relevant entry.*

This came as something of a shock to me. For most of my (admittedly short, by community standards) gaming career, this simply WAS NOT DONE. "Metagaming" was high on the hierarchy of sins. This was madness. This was the Pope handing out condoms at a Pride rally.

So we looked up the entry, decided we had very little chance of taking on such an opponent, and ran like hell. But I didn't trust the entry anyway. The whole thing made me paranoid. No, there was a reason Jeff was so blase about the whole thing. This wasn't a gargoyle at all. Or maybe it was, but it had some kind of crazy anti-gargoyle powers and shot napalm out of its nipples or something.

I loved that feeling of uncertainty-- of having information right in front of you, but not quite being able to trust it. For all I know, Jeff might simply be running with absolute transparency, and I was getting all worked up for nothing.

But this made me think about Herodotus' History, medieval bestiaries and the accounts of early travelers and explorers. We've got information, sometimes very specific information, but it's not exactly reliable. Often, this information is second-hand at best, and you have writers and illustrators, often with the best will in the world, working from garbled accounts. And all this is further confused by a thick fog of lies, exaggerations, wishful thinking, and pious tempts to imbue these creatures with religious symbolism. I have a T.H. White translation of a medieval bestiary that describes the panther as a symbol for Christ, attests to the miraculous ability of the beaver to detach its own genitals (and thus become a symbol of chastity) and depicts the crocodile as some kind of wolf-creature with eagle talons.

This would be perfect for gaming, and even better for ConstantCon games, where you have a nice big pool of players and their characters hopping from game-world to game world. There's already a sizable amount of rumor and speculation flying around about the Caves of Myrddin, for example.
The PCs are explorers -- they venture into bizarre, uncharted territories and CHART THEM. Dungeons are explored, passages marked, traps, secret doors, and mysterious items cataloged and referenced for later use. Secrets are bought, sold and traded. Bounties are offered by other players for the heads of particular miscreants.

There's really no reason monsters can't work the same way. The party encounters some strange critter or swarm of critters they've never seen before. Half the party is wiped out, but the survivors take notes. "Large, single red eye and a black beak, wings, covered in dense, foul-smelling white fur. Can breathe paralyzing fog at least once a round. We needed at least a 16 to hit, so AC is 3 or lower. The one we killed was still alive after we did 18 damage to it, but then the cleric (God rest his poor soul) got it for 8 points in a single hit and killed it, so we know it had somewhere between 19 and 26 Hit Points. They seem to travel in packs of 3-5."

Later, these creatures acquire a name, maybe a sketch from someone whose character encountered one, or, even better, someone reading that person's account of the encounter. Rumors about possible weaknesses are raised. What if it's some kind of demon. Would Holy Water affect it? Only one way to find out... G+ chat sessions become Explorer's Clubs. "Didn't you try smearing your faces with gnoll bone marrow, old boy? No?"



*Now that I think about it, this may have just been so we'd stand around dawdling and he'd have an excuse to roll for Wandering Monsters

These Guys are Getting Statted Up and Dropped Into Galbaruc

Well, not on the city itself, but beneath it, sure, and in lonely places in the wilderness, and beneath the sea, and inhabiting strange, unexplored islands. I found these pseudo-Rabelasian monstrosities on the always-excellent Monster Brains yesterday, and they're exactly the sort of bizarre creepy-yet-somewhat- whimsical monsters I want to use in my setting. They look like the guys who were taking a cigarette break when it came time for the Temptation of St. Anthony, or something Sir John Mandeville saw on his travels while tripping on strange drugs with Prester John.

Here's a few:

Come Not in That Form! What the well-dressed demon is wearing this summoning.

Being creatures of spirit, demons are not bound by any physical consistency, and may adopt such forms as boredom, perversity, or personal aesthetics dictate. Here are 20 "costume changes."


1. A translucent, crystalline, perfectly proportioned male or female body filled with wriggling pink worms.

2. A laughing huntsman wearing a suit of stitched-together infants’ skin, complete with a jaunty cap.

3. A vaguely humanoid figure made of rusted and bloodstained metal implements.

4. A cloud of fat corpse-flies, buzzing as one.

5. A gnarled, stooped figure with pale green skin, branded all over with still-smoking magical sigils. Its long, tangled beard reaches to the floor. It has no visible eyes, tiny serrated teeth, and a tongue of blue flame.

6. A serpent with a flaming crown, its body folding back on itself like a Moebius strip.

7. A recently-executed criminal, with all the accompanying signs of his death.

8. A deceased close relative of one of the PCs, bleeding continually from the eyes.

9. A perfect replica of the most common popular depiction of demons – red, horns, barbed tail, pitchfork, etc.

10. A naked, faceless infant suspended in a floating sac of pale fluid.

11. A great hero/heroine from myth and legend, speaking in a voice of the opposite gender.

12. A pretty, effeminate young fop, clad in velvet and holding a peacock feather.

13. A constantly shifting riot of wings and eyes. Talks like Michael J. Anderson on Twin Peaks.

14. A wax replica of one of the PCs, slowly melting.

15. A huge, bloated maggot with the face of a beautiful young woman.

16. A kindly, care-worn cleric of the most popular local faith.

17. The last intelligent being killed by one of the PCs, as they appear now.

18. A flayed bear, walking upright and holding a fennel stalk and a flute made from a human thighbone.

19 An elongated figure made of black iron, topped with a star-shaped head orbited by tiny flames.

20. A composite creature with the head of an owl, the torso of an emaciated woman, and the lower body of a praying mantis. Carries a flail and a cup of sweet wine.

Epilepsy? Have You Tried Drinking Gladiator Blood? [Weird Rome]

I read a post the other day at the always-fascinating rogueclassicism blog that should be of interest to anyone gaming in a Weird Roman setting, or looking for a new twist on vampirism. No sparkling, hair gel, or abstinence, I promise. I recommend reading the full original article, but here's what I thought was most interesting:

Here's Pliny the Elder (trans. John Bostock)

Epileptic patients are in the habit of drinking the blood even of gladiators, draughts teeming with life, as it were; a thing that, when we see it done by the wild beasts even, upon the same arena, inspires us with horror at the spectacle! And yet these persons, forsooth, consider it a most effectual cure for their disease, to quaff the warm, breathing, blood from man himself, and, as they apply their mouth to the wound, to draw forth his very life; and this, though it is regarded as an act of impiety to apply the human lips to the wound even of a wild beast! Others there are, again, who make the marrow of the leg-bones, and the brains of infants, the objects of their research!

And Celsus:

Some have freed themselves from such a disease by drinking the hot blood from the cut throat of a gladiator: a miserable aid made tolerable by a malady still most miserable …

The post's author goes on to hint playfully at a connection between Julius Caesar's interest in gladiatorial games and his purported epilepsy, but any GM running a horror-tinged campaign can surely see the potential in this. Here, we have a form of vampirism still tied to superstition, but without any overt supernatural elements. It's one thing to locate and destroy vampires when you're dealing with immortal undead monsters with relatively well-known powers and weaknesses, but quite another when the monster you're looking for is an ordinary person who casts a reflection, can walk freely in the sunlight, has no fear of holy symbols, etc.

Your range of potential "vampires" includes everyone from family members pushed to extremes to find a cure for a stricken child to the sorts of unscrupulous persons hinted at in the end of the Pliny passage -- physicians and sorcerers conducting vile experiments in secret. The efficacy of any of these cures is up to the GM, of course. Rumor and superstition are powerful motivators all by themselves, and an unsuccessful "vampire" might simply be convinced that there's a flaw in their methods, or that they haven't found just the right victim.

Fishing for God-Spawn [Hill Cantons Contest Entry]

Here's my entry for the contest ckutalik put up at Hill Cantons.

Galbaruc, Yash-Kunag, and the Great Culling

Every year, the port town of Galbaruc holds the Feast of the Great Culling, and the town's population swells to over four times its normal size. Innkeepers, hoteliers, and any citizen with so much as a spare broom closet raise their rates to an astonishing degree, but seasoned travelers have learned by now not to haggle, grateful for even the most modest accommodation for the 12 days of the Feast. Galbaruc looks out on the Bay of Maidens, and it is in these waters that Yash-Kunag the Many-Toothed makes her annual trek to birth her young. This enormous, immeasurably ancient sea-creature, whose massive form has never been reliably set down, is worshiped as a goddess by the inhabitants of much of the surrounding coasts.

She is seen as the living embodiment of the sea, in all its bounty, danger, and pitilessness. Local artisans most commonly depict her as a humanoid female, with generously- proportioned hips, pendulous breasts over which hang garlands of seaweed and coral, with a skirt made from the lashed-together bodies of dead men, and topped with a monstrous shark's head.

In all, she will birth many thousands of young over the next ten days, though a tiny fraction of that number survive to adulthood. The larger, faster, and stronger spawn will devour their brothers and sisters in a frenzy of hunger. Others will be picked off, in turn, by other sea creatures, which are always at hand in the waters surrounding the bay to pounce on any godling foolish enough to stray out into the greater depths. The rest are taken in the Great Culling, where mariners, fisherman, and enthusiastic amateurs from every corner of the world converge to hunt this precious bounty. It is believed by the devout, and allowed by the skeptical, that Yash-Kunag herself tacitly approves of the Culling, as a way of weeding out the weak and slow from her progeny, and to reduce the number of rival claimants for her power, which she must battle and devour ever season in turn.

Spawn of Yash-Kunag the Many-Toothed (Stats are for B/X D&D)

Armor Class: 6
Hit Dice: 6
Move: 90'
Attacks: Bite/Tail + Special
Damage: 3-24/2-16
No. Appearing: 0 (1-8)
Save As: Fighter 6
Morale: 7
Treasure Type: Nil
Alignment: Neutral

Each Spawn, from birth to the first two weeks of growth, measures some 8-12' in length. Their tails are ridged with long, flexible spines, and their mouths filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth, which are constantly replaced throughout their lifetimes. At this stage, Spawn are creatures of pure instinct, though they will develop a formidable intelligence in later life- cycles. They are drawn to sources of food and devotion. Thanks to their heritage, they have an uncanny ability to inspire religious awe in humanoids. Every two rounds, all humanoids within 20' of a conscious Spawn must Save vs. Spells to avoid being the victim of hold person, unable to do anything save falling to their knees and chanting unintelligible syllables. If removed from the water for more than three rounds, a Spawn will enter a helpless comatose state, losing 1d4 hit dice every subsequent round until death. If returned to the water before death, consciousness returns instantly and it regains hit dice at a rate of 1d8/round. As their natural armor has yet to fully develop, they do take damage from non-magical weapons, but all such damage is halved.

The Spawn of Yash-Kunag the Many-Toothed are highly prized for their carcasses, which have many and varied uses. The meat is tender, rich, and flavorful, and is often grilled or fried in butter and garlic, and sprinkled with salt and herbs. The shimmering, reflective skin, multi-hued like mother-of-pearl, when dried, makes an attractive, water-resistant leather, and some artists and poets attest to the strange, seductive visions half-glimpsed in its surface. Its oil burns brighter and longer than conventional lamp oil, and exudes a pleasing aroma. This oil is also used in cosmetics, and imparts a youthful glow to the skin and a lustrous sheen to the hair. The flexible tail spines find use as surgical tools and writing implements. The teeth are often made into small daggers with delicately serrated edges. These never lose their sharpness. The bones are both strong and flexible, and used in everything from garment foundations to ornaments for the hair. Many of the most daring hairstyles displayed by gentlemen and ladies of fashion in the Northern Cities would be impossible without strategically-placed supports of Spawn-bone.

Spawn-Fishing Boats, and Techniques of Capture

A bewildering array of craft ply the waters of the bay during the Great Culling, from the swift, fragile catamarans of the Broken Knife Islanders to the lateen-sailed dhows of the Western Khanate. The merchant house of Pinfeather and Brassbolt have lately had much success with their unique design, as well as their methods of capture. The ship itself is a two-hulled catamaran, but built significantly larger and higher than those of the Islanders, sacrificing speed for size, cargo-space, and more solid construction. A net is lowered into the sea in the space between the hulls. Designated members of the crew stand near the edge, armed with incense censers, prayer rattles, and flutes, all of which serve to attract Spawn and bring them swimming in the path of the net. When 1-3 spawn are so positioned, the net is hauled up, leaving the spawn struggling in midair and mitigating much of the danger from teeth and tail.

At this point, the Ship's Atheist, recruited for the season from one of the Northern universities, takes position, loudly denouncing as irrational, primitive and servile the worship of large sea-creatures, however impressive in size and power they might be. It is believed that this serves to discourage the Spawn and act as a buffer against its natural powers of instilling awe. This power is justly feared, as it often results in death, failure, and numerous small cults spontaneously developing among fishing crews. Harpoons may also be employed, though this is frowned upon in many modern operations, as they are not always effective, and may damage the skin. Once the Spawn is comatose, it is hauled aboard and flung into special lead-lined compartments built into the side of the ship.