Hitting a hydra

This is a mechanic for determining which head of a hydra gets hit. I swear this is simpler than it looks. If the logic doesn't immediately make sense from the chart, read on rather than scratching your head over it.

Heads	Dice rolled
1	-
2	-
3	2d2-1
4	1d2+1d3-1
5	2d3-1
6	1d3+1d4-1
7	2d4-1
8	1d4+1d5-1
9	2d5-1

In some games (e.g. DCC) you are already tracking the HP of each head of a hydra. In some (e.g. 5e) you are not, instead tracking only a, HP total and the number of heads. If you're already keeping track, this isn't a ton of extra overhead.

If a player chooses to strike at the hydra without aiming, roll the listed dice to determine which head is hit. The dice are simply a pair of dice whose maximums add up to the number of heads, plus one. For instance, 9 heads, plus 1 is 10, half of that is 5 so you roll two d5s. The reason you need to subtract 1 is because you can't roll a 1 on two dice, so you end up with as many possibilities as heads.

If there is only 1 head to hit there's obviously no need to roll, and if there's only 2 then just let the player hit whichever one they want. I considered a 3-in-4 roll to hit the desired head but it's getting too complex at that point.

Optional extension: Aiming

If the player aims for a specific head, treat that head as the "center" roll: the most likely roll on the pair of dice (the smaller die total plus one (yes, with different die sizes there will be two equal results, that won't matter)). Lower numbers go down the line, higher numbers go up the line, and the ends wrap around (aiming for the first head and rolling low can hit the last head).

This lets players be strategic if certain heads have certain abilities, rather than the center ones probably dying first. It also allows for players to try to kill the heads all at the same time.

Alternate version

Roll the two dice together. The leftmost die represents left, the rightmost die represents right. Literally just use where they land on the table relative to you. The difference between the two dice determines how many heads the player misses by, and which one is highest determines the direction.

This version came from a hexcrawl "lost" mechanic where two dice determined how far left or right travelers drifted.

Blog Graveyard vol X: Appendix M

I was inspired by this post to write my own entry to the Blog Graveyard.

The subject of today's eulogy is Appendix M, whose last sighting was the 28th of January, 2020. Appendix M was started by bygrinstow as a way to get back into drawing by publicizing their practice. Art being a worthwhile endeavour on its own, this had the very respectable side effect of providing us all with a ton of creative creatures to steal for our own purposes. Thanks from the future, bygrinstow.

Bygrinstow, by the way, also brought us the brilliant Monster Extractor series, which has inspired me before.

What does Appendix M offer us? Monsters! More than you can swing your sword at! You could choose an article at random from this blog and be almost guaranteed to land on a post containing a monster you'll want to throw at your players. If you didn't, it's because you happened to land on one of the few posts that doesn't contain a monster.

Testing this theory myself, I got the Dirt Diver, the House Beetle, the Forgotten Soldier, and Nearly People. Surely one of those names makes you want to go check it out for yourself. In amongst these original creations are well-trodden monsters such as Kobolds, Mermaids, and rival adventuring parties, but these sit between the more unusual beasts like whatever a "SCARLSNIPE" is, and gelatinous shapes that aren't cubes.

The absolute highlight for me personally is DRYAD, TRUE, which helped me to ease my players (and myself, as a new Judge) from module content to homebrew sandbox-style content by being the subject of the hook at the end of Portal Under the Stars. According to Appendix M, the dryad is like the forest's immune system. She comes into existence to protect it from evil, and attacks intruders with the remembered mental anguish of victims of evil. The sister monster to this is the DRYAD, FALSE - something the locals might think is a dryad but truly is just a monster.

If it's not monsters you're looking for though, there is a handful of other content such as the MURDER HOBO class - a class that manages to capture the flavour of the murderhobo concept while actually being something I'd potentially allow at my table. It might even be fun to run a whole party of these guys as a chaotic one-shot or campaign.

Whether you're looking for stats for a monster so you don't have to do them yourself, an interesting twist on a known monster, or something entirely new and bizarre to throw at your players, it's worth casting Consult Spirit to commune with this dead blog and retrieve some of its wisdom.

The Vacuum Swamp

A while back I was talking about meaningful choices and referred to uninformed decisions as vacuum swamps, in that they are the perfect habitat for a quantum ogre. Here is that idea made manifest.

Vacuum Swamp

The vacuum swamp exists along whichever path the players choose. Their choice never mattered, you were always going to use this. You spent all that time preparing it and your players will love it.

When your players pick a path to travel or a door to enter, there is a 1% chance that it leads to the vacuum swamp instead of its natural destination. The vacuum swamp is a small demiplane consisting of an oozy swamp with a rickety wooden shack. If you entered the swamp through a door, you exit from the shack and the door is your only way back. If you entered along a path, this shack's door can lead to any other door (Judge's choice).

The ooze is green and bubbling. The bubbles float a few feet up into the air before imploding with a loud crack. Will o' wisps and other creatures which lead travelers off the path are common here. Straying too far from the path will lead to the edge of the demiplanar boundary - whether this leads to an empty space, a magical barrier, or the astral plane depends on established cosmology and is up to the Judge's discretion. The Judge may always roll a d3 to decide: (1) vacuum, (2) magical barrier, (3) astral plane.

If the players enter a vacuum swamp, they are guaranteed to encounter a quantum ogre.

Quantum Ogre

The quantum ogre occupies any number of spaces in the world at once, becoming tangible and real the moment it is observed. Until such a time, it is impossible to determine the true state or position of the quantum ogre.

Its natural habitat is the vacuum swamp. In a vacuum swamp, quantum ogres can materialize spontaneously.

Initiative: +2;
Attack: slam +5 melee (1d6+6) or great mace +5 melee (1d8+6);
AC: 17; HD: 6d8+4 (32 HP);
Movement: 20', Action Dice: 1d20 per duplicate (see quantum superposition);
Special: quantum entanglement, quantum superposition;
Alignment: Chaotic;

Saves: Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +1;

Quantum superposition: There is one duplicate ogre for each creature the quantum ogre is fighting, all sharing the same HP pool. They make their moves on the same initiative rank in any order they choose but no two can attack the same target in the same round. If any duplicate ogre successfully lands an attack or performs some other interaction with the world, the waveform collapses and that ogre becomes real while other duplicates become unreal. The real ogre is the one that must be attacked in order for the quantum ogre to take damage.

Attacks and spells against an unreal ogre are ineffective but make it become the real ogre.

Quantum entanglement: If the quantum ogre deals damage to a creature, it can automatically deal the same amount of damage to another creature that one of its duplicates is within striking range of. This duplicate does not become the real ogre.

Types of Undead and How they Work - [blog100] pt. 7, q. 23

This post is part of a series where I put forth a challenge for bloggers to answer all 100 questions on this table by d4 Caltrops. This week I rolled a 23.

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23. How are Skeletons Made? Ghouls? Why haven't Wraiths/Vampires taken over?

Skeletons are not just one thing. There are a variety of different undead which look like a skeleton and play the xylophone like a skeleton. Some of these are no more than a pile of bones which has been animated to look like a humanoid again. Some are the remains of a corpse with a soul still attached - either through usual ghostly means or being bound by a wizard. This variety may even be sentient or able to speak (despite the lack of requisite mouthflaps). Some are simply summoned out of the earth and nobody knows where they came from or who they were. And finally, some skeletons simply exist because of the unexplainable and magickal way the mythic underworld works. Skeletons are simply a fact of life (or death).

A variant of skeleton which does have a specific method of creation is Fleshbones, which happens when a wizard gets too big for his britches and uses spells in ways they weren't intended. It arguably isn't a skeleton?

Ghouls are cursed while they are still alive. The curse makes them unnaturally resistant to death, and they become ghouls when they are injured enough that a normal man should be killed (or simply by age). Death refusing to arrive when it should drives the curse-bearer insane. They lose most of their mental faculties, sometimes to the point of no longer feeling pain or fear. They haven't taken over because of two factors: they don't wander much and they eat most of their kills, so the curse doesn't spread far. They are ravenously hungry and will eat to the point of physically distending themselves to injury. They don't care, they are basically dead anyway.

The aforementioned ghoul-by-old-age is the most common cause of ghoul plagues - a curse-bearer surviving to insanity and then mauling their neighbours and loved ones is a sinister threat from within that is hard to predict or prevent. Towns have fallen and districts have been quarantined to ghoul plagues.

My world's vampires are based on Into the Wyrd and Wild's Vampylfs and Archade's DCC Vampires. In short, vampirism is a bastardization of a curse spread by an immortal bat-like beast, and each strain of the curse comes with unique advantages and disadvantages. A logical conclusion of this is that different vampire clans are not compatible with each other, so there is competition between them. This drives them into hiding and limits the population, as other vampire clans would surely collaborate to drive them out if one power become too great a threat. The larger a clan becomes, the harder it is to hide their secrets, including their weaknesses. In extreme cases vampire clans might rat out larger vampire clans to humanity, and they cannot win that fight on all fronts - this is the vampire's equivalent of the nuclear option.

Wraiths haven't been touched upon in my games yet, but I imagine them as spirits of decay. Decay is something with which the universe is in eternal struggle. Wraiths are a ghost that is an agent of chaos, looking to drag you down with it. One might think of them as the ghouls of the Ethereal world, with their soul damaged and unable to pass over.

Undeath is a complicated thing. I wrote a little about ghosts in a previous part of this series: What happens when you die?

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This week, Scrolls from the Toaster talked about snacks at the table and ended up with a very different, more meaningful post than my own on that topic.

The Lantern Tree - [blog100] pt. 6, q. 95

This post is part of a series where I put forth a challenge for bloggers to answer all 100 questions on this table by d4 Caltrops. This week I rolled a 95.

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95. Where does Lamp Oil come from/how is it made?

Now that is an interesting question. I've never thought about it for my setting so it just comes from the general store for 2 silvers. Let's come up with something more interesting - where does it really come from? I mean, the stuff doesn't just grow on trees...

Lantern Tree

The Lantern Tree is one of many sources of the myth of will-o'-the-wisps. It is a willow tree found in swamps and marshes, usually just far enough from a rowable river to be barely visible to travelers. From its leaves hang transparent ghostly lanterns, though approaching during the day you'd find but a regular tree.

These lanterns are what remains of those who strayed too close during the night.

Initiative: -2;
Attack: branch +5 melee (2d8), throw lantern +2 missile fire (1d6 plus fire, range 50');
AC: 18; HD: 5d10 (27 HP);
Movement: 0', Action Dice: 1d20, additional 1d20 to throw lantern;
Special: embrace, throw lantern, oil-sap;
Alignment: Neutral;

Saves: Fort +6, Ref -2, Will +0;

Embrace: Standing too close to the trunk of the tree will cause its roots to come up from the ground behind you and attempt to entangle you. Noticing this in the dark is nigh impossible with the distracting light of the lanterns, though someone behind you has ample time to give warning. Dodging the roots' grasp requires a DC 5 Ref save and escaping it requires a contested strength check against the tree's strength of 20 (+5). Once grasped, the tree will take three rounds to open a maw in its trunk and engulf you. Inside the tree, you suffocate and are digested.

The roots can be attacked (same AC and HP pool as tree) and dealing damage will lower their strength check -1d.

AI generated, I am not an artist.

Throw lantern: The tree will only throw its lanterns if it is desperate to drive off an attacker, as doing so costs valuable souls. When the lanterns hit their target, they spill oil and set fire to any creature in a 5' radius (1d6 damage each round until DC 10 Fort save). If they miss their target, the lantern lands randomly just outside this radius. The ghostly flames do not harm the tree.

On death it will throw lanterns at the 1d4 lowest-Luck targets within range.

Oil-sap: Takes double damage from fire, though killing the tree this way destroys any of the valuable oil that could be collected.

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When I began writing this, I didn't expect the answer to be "the corpses of other adventurers who've had their souls trapped in a swamp" but there you go. Presumably, there are many potential sources of oil in the world and this is just one of them. Whaling is another sufficiently gruesome answer.

Next time you light a lantern or toss a flask of oil to burn, ask yourself this: where did this oil come from, and has anyone tested whether or not it's still sentient?

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Here is where I'll link your blog if you join me on this 100-post journey through 100 questions.

Colorful Orcs

Human skin tone varies a lot. It's not just one-dimensional, from light to dark. There's shades and there's undertones, making it a little more accurate to map skin tone two-dimensionally (though that's still not perfect). Fantasy races should be at least as varied, if not more - why should all Orcs be green? This can be used as part of DCC's philosophy around keeping things mysterious - skin color is even a part of the table on p. 380. Players will know the big buff green dude is an Orc, but they might not be so sure about a blue or yellow dude.

There are environmental factors that appear to affect the skin tone of a population. We know, for instance, that darker skin protects from the sun and lighter skin helps to produce vitamin D. Humans are adaptable and awesome. Below is a map that uses environmental factors to predict the distribution of skin colors of native populations across the globe - it's not always accurate when you start zooming in to specific places, but the general trend is close enough to actual data be interesting.

The obvious conclusion to draw is that skin tone tends darker near the equator and tends lighter near the poles. In Orcs, we are going to represent this as a gradient from green to red. Orcs in the cooler climates away from the equator will tend toward green, and Orcs in the warmer climates will tend toward red. Humans who are ignorant of biology (i.e. nearly everybody in a pseudo-medieval fantasy setting) will call these populations things like "Woods Orcs", "Plains Orcs" and "Desert Orcs".

As the chart tends downward, we see the Orcish equivalent to undertone. This is a bit more complex in humans than the overtones but it has something to do with the structure of our skin and blood vessels - we don't need to get too noodly with that here. What I'm going to roughly correlate this axis to is altitude, which lets us have populations in mountain ranges and mesa that vary from blue "Snow Orcs", to grey "Stone Orcs", to light reddish "Clay Orcs".

These colors often match relatively well with the colors of their biomes (some exceptions), so we can say that camouflage is an additional environmental pressure that could contribute to these colorings. Orcs are hunters, so camouflage is a useful tool.

While humans (and indeed, players) may assume these different varieties of Orc come with special abilities, any difference between populations is more significantly a cultural one than a biological one. This is up to and including their magic, which would come from different Patrons. The environment a population is found in should absolutely be considered when developing their culture, which will likely fuel stereotypes about the differences between Snow Orcs and Sands Orcs. Travelling bands of Orcs should have one or two that stand out from the rest, maybe with an item of cultural significance on them, hinting at faraway lands.

Similar charts can be built for species like Elves which often have variations (High Elves, Dark Elves, Wood Elves) rather than putting each Elf into a clear, discrete category. Goblins, however, don't have this kind of variation due to their less naturalistic origins.

Goblins Can't Die

Goblins are gross little weirdos. They're known for being quick to violence, even among themselves. Some say they're cowardly fighters. That's not entirely accurate. They're just smart enough to know when they can't beat someone in a fair fight - not that they have much concern for your idea of fair. When they can't win fairly, they win unfairly instead. This might come across as cowardly, but wanting to win doesn't mean they're afraid to die. Why should they be? Goblins can't die.

Goblin Death

Many a Warrior has slain a goblin or five, many a man-at-arms has helped to ward off a raid at the skirts of their village. Any experienced fighter can tell you that a goblin goes down easier than a man. It's laughable to suggest they cannot die. They seem to die quite easily, in fact.

When a goblin is rent in twain by the Warrior's blade, its body ceases to live. The jury is still out on whether these unsavoury little bastards have souls, but something remains. We know this because the goblin comes back. Goblins who have been slain have occasionally been known to recognize the person who slew them, and to be extra clever, extra sneaky, extra cruel the next time they encounter their would-be murderer. They'll still often make the same mistake twice, and they'll be even angrier about it the third time.

This easily explains their lack of fear in the face of certain death, quickness to violence, and even goes some way to explaining why they have no apparent sanitary standards. Illness isn't exactly going to kill them, is it?

Goblin Birth

Goblins are born from a fleshy orifice, much like the rest of us. Motherhood is something usually associated with nice words like "nurturing" and "beautiful". A goblin mother is much less nurturing and a whole lot more fleshy and orificey. They tend to be associated with words like "mound", "heap", or if the goblins are on the move, "ball".

It appears that when a goblin is slain, its body and mind return to its mother as it decomposes. The mechanism through which this occurs is unknown, though many have noted that a goblin corpse decays at an alarmingly rapid rate. If this process were understood, it might be possible to prevent goblin reincarnation; a useful tactic for pushing back against their oppressive horde. There may be some magic ritual, some binding seal, or a particular method of slaughter which makes them stay dead. There are certainly a lot of superstitions about this.

Perhaps the bane of the goblin varies from brood to brood, which has contributed to any consistent method remaining undiscovered.

Goblin Mothers

The green-skinned, hairy-moled mass of flesh the goblins call "mom" usually has only one orifice. It often (though not always) resembles a humanoid orifice, along with any related foul secretions. Goblins are born from it.

A mother can be anywhere from the size of a workhorse to the size of a castle's keep, depending on the numbers of its brood. Small goblin crews will roll their mother around, with a handful of scouts ahead, clearing a path through violent means if necessary. The goblins are more protective of their mother than themselves. They seek a permanent home for their mother, for once she grows beyond a certain size she will be effectively impossible to move any more, first becoming unreasonably heavy and then physically attaching herself to the inside of a cavern wall.

Below table is intentionally unpleasant.

d12 disgusting orifices:

1. A weeping, yellowed, bloodshot eye
2. A waxy ear
3. A drooling mouth, tongue hanging out
4. A vomiting mouth
5. A snorting, sneezing, crooked goblin nose
6. A smooth fleshy tube that you can't see the end of, pulsating
7. A gaping wound
8. A pustule
9. Skin pores, like the suriname toad
10. No orifice - the goblins just burst out Alien-style, and feeding is a mystery
11. A birth canal
12. An anus

Hobgoblins and Bugbears

Hobgoblins and bugbears are commonly known to be a variety of goblin, though their true nature is known by few. Hobgoblins have been noted to be slightly more human-like - they stand straighter, fight smarter, and seem to sit higher in the goblin hierarchy than your garden-variety goblin. Bugbears have been noted to be more animal-like - they are bulky, hairy, stupid, and can only exert dominance over the other goblins by bullying them into submission.

These observations are no coincidence.

Unlucky victims of a goblin gang are sometimes ritualistically fed to the goblin mother as a celebration of the clan's growth. Human and demihuman victims of these rituals lead to the creation of a hobgoblin, sometimes sharing traits of the original person but never retaining memories or personality. If there is anything remaining of the individual after the metamorphosis, it is hidden deep beneath the goblin savagery that displaces it.

Similarly, bugbears appear to form when the mother is fed a large animal. Bears may be the origin of the name, though bugbears have been identified in bovine, equine, and crocodilian varieties. No such creatures form when the mother is fed its usual diet of small animals such as rats - it is uncertain whether mass is a critical factor or the goblins simply don't perform the necessary rituals with small creatures.

The Goblin Grandmother

It was noted by goblinographers and goblinologists that goblins don't seem to have nearly the regard for their mothers that they ought to. This isn't just a moral criticism; it makes sense that goblins do not fear death when death is not permanent, but what if their mother were destroyed? The goblins try to protect her, but not like their life depends on it. More like it would be a huge pain in the ass to have to roll her all the way back out there again.

This observation led to the discovery of the Goblin Grandmother at the site where the paths of travelling goblin squads converge. A great pit of goblin flesh exists hidden in a valley, far from civilization. You'd notice the odor long before you reached it. You'd be ambushed by goblins soon after that. It is hypothesized that the Grandmother is a large enough creature to physically enter and explore the innards of, and that to stop the goblin menace once and for all, one would have to destroy its heart from within.

The Great Gran̵d̷m̴o̸̱͑t̸͉̍h̶̝̒e̶͙͎͗r

Don't be ridiculous. There is no Great Grandmother, and you'll do well to put that thought away for good. Don't go looking for her now, will you?

Charger

A creature inspired by the Monster Extractor I.

Charger

The Charger is a large, shaggy-furred black goat. Its great horns are known to contain a powerful energy. They are mischievous and tend to live in large herds. Chargers are farmed not only for their meat, milk, and furs, but their horns are also believed to have medicinal properties. This is largely false - their horns have uses, though this is well beyond the ken of your average goat farmer.

AI generated, I am not an artist.

Initiative: +0;
Attack: ram +1 melee (1d6);
AC: 20; HD: 2d8+2 (12 HP);
Movement: 30', Action Dice: 1d20;
Special: quantum, recharge, electrodes;
Alignment: Chaotic;

Saves: Fort +2, Ref +1, Will +0;

Quantum: Can seemingly teleport when nobody is looking (as can all goats, they just choose not to).

Recharge: Electrical damage to the Charger is nullified and instead charges its Electrodes ability.

Electrodes: Its horns channel electricity, which violently discharges if the Charger can connect both its horns with a conductor. They seem to get enjoyment out of this, and will mischievously headbutt the sword at a traveler's hip simply for the sake of setting off a loud bang. This knocks the target prone, knocks the weapon to the ground (5' away), deals 1d6 electrical damage, and if the damage roll is a 6, lights the target's clothing on fire (if applicable). They must use an action smothering the fire or disrobing, else they begin taking fire damage the next Round.

The Charger can do this once, then must spend a few minutes rubbing its hooves on the ground to build up static charge (as one can with shoes on a carpet) before it can discharge again. If the Charger has charged horns and lands a critical hit, it will always have this effect, directly shocking the person if they aren't carrying anything conductive. If they aren't charged, they roll on the critical table as usual.

Chargers are not particularly aggressive if unprovoked, and indeed do not usually intend to seriously harm their victim. It is rare that anyone is killed by their shock, though it is still inadvisable to carry a sword or wear armor near a herd. If there are multiple targets with conductive items, Chargers will choose the toughest-looking one to harass (prioritize high-HP PC's). If someone drops their sword due to a Charger's jolt, the rest of the herd might work together to keep it away from its owner, launching it up to 30' at a time using their discharge.

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Encounter suggestions:

• A herd of Chargers on a farm, where the players can't simply kill the livestock without getting into trouble. Getting their sword back is kind of a puzzle, but more of a prank than a dangerous encounter. I'm sure your players will love being outsmarted by a bunch of goats.
• As a familiar to an electromancer, who can recharge it.
• Being used as a warbeast by some goblins. It will take the Warrior out of action at the start of battle.
• Ne'er-do-wells making them fight each other with metal collars attached to see which one can shock the other first. Very cruel, will probably make the players start a fight to protect the animals.

Aussie Monsters: The Bunyip

A version of the bunyip for D&D has existed since the Fiend Folio was published in 1981. This is not that bunyip. If you want that bunyip, Daniel J Bishop did a fantastic job of converting it for DCC.

Instead, I went seeking inspiration in fairytales of old and early accounts of bunyips.

As depicted in Andrew Lang's (problematically-titled) The Brown Fairy Book (1904).

In Australian Folklore

Accounts vary wildly, and it seems that the only thing people can agree on is that it's some kind of water-dwelling monster and it'll get you if you're not careful. It's commonly described as seal-like, but it has also been described as like a great starfish, an immense platypus, and many now believe it may have been a diprotodon (prehistoric giant wombats - we have fossils of these!).

I personally believe that the deep, growling mating call of the koala helped inspire these stories of swamp monsters. Go listen to it and tell me that doesn't sound like a lurking beast!

One account I found particularly interesting was this description from an article published in 1845:

The Bunyip, then, is represented as uniting the characteristics of a bird and of an alligator. It has a head resembling an emu, with a long bill, at the extremity of which is a transverse projection on each side, with serrated edges like the bone of the stingray. Its body and legs partake of the nature of the alligator. The hind legs are remarkably thick and strong, and the fore legs are much longer, but still of great strength.

Along with the account of this particular bunyip having killed a woman and the man claiming his scars were from a bunyip, this one kind of sounds like a cassowary... Well, until you count the number of legs, I guess. And indeed, some believe that "bunyip" may have been an ancient word for the cassowary bird, infamous for its powerful kicks and aggressive nature.

We may never know what a bunyip looks like, though every Australian has heard of them. Many of us have even seen Bertha down by the Murray River, but as it happens, she might actually be a mulyewonk.

The mulyewonk might also be a kind of bunyip, but the origins of both are murky as the waters they lurk.

The bunyip from the tale in The Brown Fairy Book sets a curse upon a tribe after their hunters catch its cub while fishing and refuse to return it. The "mother bear" trope is something I previously hadn't ever ascribed to the bunyip, so I found it quite interesting to see here. I decided to lean into that. Everything contained within the stat blocks below is inspired by this particular tale.

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Bunyip

The bunyip is a swamp-dwelling beast resembling a gigantic hairy seal with a wide bill. It walks upon four stout legs but rarely leaves the water, where it is fastest and can hide easily. They are most often found solitary, potentially with 1-3 cubs, but in rare cases have been known to travel in mating pairs. Its cubs are the size of a large dog and can grow as large as a hippopotamus. They are of low intelligence but are able to curse those who threaten their young.

They are ambush predators and wait in the shallows for unsuspecting mammals to come close. They do not usually attack humans, though male bunyips they have been known to target those carrying valuable treasures. It is unclear why they want these treasures, though collected hoards can be found in the underwater den of the mother bunyip.

Bunyip, adult

Initiative: +4
Attack: bite +6 melee (2d6) or kick +4 melee (1d6, knocks prone)
AC: 17; HD: 5d8 (22 HP);
Movement: 20', swim 90'; Action Dice: 2d20;
Special: curse of the bunyip, camouflage, inedible
Alignment: Neutral;
Saves: Fort +8, Ref +2, Will +6;

Curse of the Bunyip: A mother bunyip can issue a curse as an attack action, and will only do so toward those she believes have threatened or harmed her offspring. The target receives a DC 16 Will save to resist the curse. The curse is detailed below.

Camouflage: All bunyips receive +10 to attempts to hide in water or mud.

Inedible: Their meat is too tough to physically eat, and too foul to even try.

Bunyip, cub

Initiative: +0

Attack: bite +0 melee (1d6)

AC: 13; HD: 2d8 (10 HP);

Movement: 20', swim 60'; Action Dice: 1d20;

Special: easily lured, mama bunyip, camouflage, inedible

Alignment: Neutral;

Saves: Fort +4, Ref -1, Will -1;

Easily lured: The bunyip cub is naive and can easily be attracted with a piece of meat. It will not suspect danger. A successful strength contest against a STR of 16 (+2) can reel it in with a fishing line.

Mama bunyip: The cub never strays far from its mother. When encountering a cub, a fully grown bunyip is always nearby and ready to protect her offspring. The cub will, where possible, try to simply hide behind its mother.

Camouflage: All bunyips receive +10 to attempts to hide in water or mud.

Inedible: Their meat is too tough to physically eat, and too foul to even try.

Curse of the Bunyip

The curse of the bunyip is invoked by the harrowing wails of a mother who fears for her child.

This curse carries a -2 Luck penalty and causes black feathers to sprout all over the target's body over the course of a few hours. Their new strange appearance is off-putting to anyone they interact with - either express this through roleplay or apply a -1d penalty if social checks are used. Someone afflicted by this curse finds muddy water seeping up from the soil around them, enough to wet the ground or form small puddles if they stand in a ditch. The water is clearly not safe to drink and prevents getting a good night's sleep while camping.

The curse can be remedied by reuniting a mother and child, or by removing the most beautiful treasure from the bunyip's submerged lair.

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The bunyip and inland seal archive of Australia | ABC Pool

Fleshbones

Flesh to Stone's reversed counterpart, Stone to Flesh, is well known for being the cure to a Medusa attack. It's a very intelligent spell. It can look at the structures present in stone and infer that it used to be a creature, recreating that creature and all its organs, even preserving the mind and soul. This all seems to be mostly taken for granted but it's very impressive when you think about it.

Of course, any apprentice learning this spell begins to wonder about the effects of casting Stone to Flesh on actual stone - rocks that were never alive to begin with, inanimate objects and castle walls. The results are almost universally unpleasant as the spell attempts to reconstruct tissue, organs, and other functional structures where there were none to begin with. If it manages to create something alive then it won't live long, though there are some notable exceptions such as the Necrolith and Mortimer's Throbbing Castle.

The more material you give the spell to work with, the more it can achieve. On the flip side, the spell can also make good use of high levels of detail. A few talented gastronomancers have carved beautifully marbled steaks out of actual marble. Some particularly foolish mages have attempted to use the spell on carved statues to create an artificial human; the results of that are far worse than "unpleasant".

Bone really muddies the waters (don't get me started on Stone to Mud) when it comes to being made of stone or flesh, which I'm sure you can imagine is very confusing if you are a spell and your goal is to turn one into the other. Bones are made up of stuff you can find in rocks and crystals but they have a cellular structure like living flesh. Sometimes there's even a little bit of residual soul-stuff. And yet, there isn't the macro-structure a spell would usually study to recreate a functioning organism - no sinews, no muscles, no blood vessels, no nerves, no organs.

Flesh to Stone has the expected effect on skeletal remains: it turns them to stone. Stone to Flesh usually fails, but under the right circumstances - when all other organic matter is decomposed or removed and the bones are dry - the spell can mistake bone for stone. If a detectable amount of soul essence lingers, the spell might even take that as a sign that this was once a living organism that turned to stone. And to be fair, it isn't entirely wrong.

The way it tries to "reconstruct" this creature, however, is absolutely wrong.

Not finding any structures from which to reform muscles and organs, the spell can sometimes set to work on creating its own. The spell cannot add any matter, only convert what is there. The end result is a monstrosity that is superficially similar to the common necromantic skeleton found in tombs, in that it walks mindlessly and attacks intruders - yet this skeleton is entirely made of soft flesh, coated with skin and filled with blood as you'd expect from any fleshy creature. It can barely hold up its own weight.

The residual soul essence occupies the new body, so for all intents and purposes this is a true undead like any wight or ghoul.

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AI-generated, I am not an artist.

Fleshbones

Initiative: +0

Attack: punch +0 melee (1d3) or by weapon +0 melee

AC: 8; HD: 2d4 (5 HP);

Movement: 20'; Action Dice: 1d20;

Special: undead, half damage from blunt weapons, horrific, confused biology

Alignment: Chaotic

Saves: Fort +0, Ref +0, Will +0;

Horrific: When injured, the gory reveal of the monster's composition causes psychological trauma to anyone who was not expecting the bones to be fleshy. Bring your own sanity system, here's a good one.

Confused Biology: When killed, there is a 50% chance it is cut/broken where it is hit and the separate parts survive independently due to unusual organ arrangements (treat as two new Fleshbones). Once these parts are killed, they stay dead. All broken parts have 5' speed, except a complete pair of legs which has 30'. d4: (1) decapitated, (2) arm severed, (3) legs separated from torso, (4) leg severed.

6 more Kinds of Dark

Read part 1. The same general rules from Goblin Punch apply: dark must surround a light source before snuffing it and takes at least one Round per light source to do so (more for larger sources like campfires).  Fires aren't extinguished, just darkened. Lights can be "healed" by another light. Being swallowed by the dark deals damage per Round and escalating odds of random table effects occurring.

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Seven

Description: This dark feels like a faint, prickly, stinging sensation on your skin. While you are in it, you can smell blood.

Properties: This dark deals only 1 point of damage per Round, but standing in it attracts nearby carnivores.

Eight

Description: As this dark enters a room, the floors, walls and objects it touches are coated by a thin, black film. The film peels and flakes easily if disturbed. The film persists after the dark is gone.

Properties: You must have a hand free to frequently scrub the thin layer of dark forming over your eyes, nose, and mouth, or you lose sight and the ability to breathe. If you let the film cover your nose and mouth, use drowning rules to determine how long you can hold your breath. The film preserves things it coats as if they are vacuum-sealed.

Nine

Description: The dark extends as a thick black cloud that pools toward the ceiling like smoke in a burning building. It stings the eyes and scratches the throat.

Properties: It deals 1d6 Stamina damage per Round while you are in it. Getting close to the ground makes it take twice as long to snuff your lights, and instead deals only 1d3 Stamina damage.

Ten

Description: This dark appears coarse and powdery, and crunches uncomfortably underneath your feet. It sounds like softly falling sand as it fills the room. Some might recognise the smell of brimstone as it approaches.

Properties: It can be difficult to make a flame touch the dark directly, as darkness has a habit of rushing away from flames. If you light a spark while you are within the dark, however, it will rapidly ignite in a flash. A Reflex save is required to avoid catching fire, but the darkness will burn away almost instantly. An explosive or Fireball will also do the trick.

Eleven

Description: The shadows cast by your compatriots are pitch black - not just on the floor on which the shadow is cast, but the full volume and length of the shadow. Passing an object by the torch casts a pure black wall of shadow which cannot be seen through. Even an upright pole is enough to cast a black curtain across a room. It could be mistaken for an actual black wall.

Properties: Easier to draw than describe.

Because of the shadow cast by the Red Adventurer, the Blue Adventurer cannot see the goblin and vice versa. The Green Adventurer is totally blinded and cannot be seen.

If there are multiple light sources in the room, the shadows are cast based on the brightest light source. If there are multiple contenders for brightest light, the dark gets to choose which light it is cast by and can move once during a Round.

Twelve

Description: The torch in your hand appears small and distant, so far away that it no longer illuminates your body. Your torch-bearing compatriot is now at the other end of the hall. You shout at him to wait for you, but as you jog to catch up you don't seem to get any closer, despite the fact that he is panickedly running toward you too.

Properties: Attempting to move toward a light source causes the world to distort such that, despite moving, you never get closer - like a dream where a hallway stretches out forever in front of you. Closing and covering your eyes is enough to prevent this - if you close your eyes, the light that penetrates your eyelids is enough for the dark to find you. 

6 Kinds of Dark

I recently came across this post about a dark entity on Goblin Punch and the post that inspired it on False Machine. I think they're brilliant. The idea of the darkness itself as a living, breathing, existential threat is a compelling one, and the idea that there are different species of it that I can catalogue for myself while my players might not even figure out they are two different things gives me a unique kind of joy.

The False Machine descriptions are evocative and inspiring, but emotion and metaphor doesn't leave much to actually use at the table. Its descriptions of darkness are often vague and amorphous as shadows themselves. I don't know how to present my players an encounter with a "contemptible dark" or one that "appreciates glass".

The Goblin Punch rules are generally quite good for darkness as a monster - dark must surround a light source before snuffing it and takes at least one Round per light source to do so (more for larger sources like campfires).  Fires aren't extinguished, just darkened. Lights can be "healed" by another light. Being swallowed by the dark deals damage per Round and escalating odds of random table effects occurring.

So here's a bunch of darks that look, feel, and smell different. Any of them can be:

• A monster you can't stab
• A puzzle in a room
• Just how the shadows work in this dungeon, nobody knows why
• What exists below the Underearth, the fragile foundation on which The Mundane World rests
• A spell for a particularly edgy caster

Hey...

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One

Description: This dark is thick and oily. It fills the cracks in the floor first as it encroaches on the light. The thinner parts at its edges have a rainbow sheen like slicked water. It is cool (but not cold) to the touch. Once it has surrounded you and your torch, it will submerge you from the bottom up. It makes you feel like you need to hold your breath, as if you just dived into a pool.

Properties: This dark cannot mix with water. Spilling water will slow it down, a misty spray or fog will halt it until the mist dissipates. Holy water will cause it to recede and can be used to create a path through the dark.

Two

Description: A misty black fog that smells like a putrid, deathly miasma. You feel a sense of impending doom in your chest when you breathe it in. It gets thicker, reducing your range of vision until you can no longer see the torch you're holding.

Properties: This dark has a chance of infecting you with a disease, and can be dispelled by magic which cures disease.

Three

Description: Your shadow dances as the torchlight flickers but something is wrong. You almost didn't notice. Instead of stretching outward across the floor and against the walls like your compatriots' shadows, yours reaches toward the torchbearer. You feel as though your own shadow is mocking you. It grasps with a dim hand to smother the flame.

Properties: Though this shadow defies your control, it is still your shadow. It cannot stretch out longer than a few times your own height, so keeping distance from your party's torchbearer will thwart its plans to grasp the torch. You can also crouch or go prone to shorten the shadow. Moving another light source to the opposite side of the light it's attempting to reach will turn it into a regular shadow of that opposing light - the dark can then attempt to possess a different person's or object's shadow.

Four

Description: Dark emanates as if from a black sun, leaving lit un-shadows where people and objects block its path. The source of the un-light is visible as a deep darkness that hurts the eye as your pupils dilate to take it in.

Properties: Standing in direct un-light for too long can cause searing-cold burns to the skin. You can simply block the un-light, but much as throwing a cloth on a fire would cause it to burn, attempting to cover the source with a cloth would freeze it to the point of brittleness.

Five

Description: A dark, flickering flame emits the warmth of a hearth, but does not consume the matter on which it burns. Those lit by the flame will feel no pain - instead they will feel at home and no longer be compelled to move. They will stand comfortably in place until they can stand no longer, slipping into a comfortable sleep. The flame burns until their body rots. The flame is predatory - it burns a person's soul and keeps the soul from passing over until there is no physical body left to hold the flame.

Properties: The black flame spreads across organic (living or dead) matter but does not burn it. Water will not put this flame out, but a regular flame will. Yes, this means setting your friend on fire. Each round the black flame deals damage to a character's Personality (in DCC; in other games, use the nearest thing to "willpower") and when it reaches zero that character loses all will. Instead of a DC 10 Reflex save, a DC 15 Willpower save is required to "stop drop and roll" the flame out.

It doesn't take much imagination to see how this flame might be useful to necromancers and disastrous to forests.

Six

Description: When you light your torch to stave off the shadows, you notice it takes longer than normal. Not to light the torch or feel the heat of the flame. It takes longer for the light. The flame burns for a few seconds before the light hits the walls and floor. Your shadow struggles to catch up to you. Curious, you snuff out your torch. This time it takes a moment for the light to leave. As you attempt to relight your torch, a sense of dread enters you. It's taking much longer this time. Let's not test it further. 

Properties: Any changes in lighting conditions take 1 Round to take effect. Each round, there is a 1-in-6 chance a torch inside this dark goes out and must be relit. For each light that goes out within or near this dark, both the number of Rounds delay and the chance in 6 go up by 1.

The maximum speed you can move through this dark without overtaking your own light is 30' initially and goes down by 5' with each light it consumes.

Note: The math almost certainly doesn't check out on the movement speed and it gets squirrely when considering different radii of light and move speeds. It's just intended to be usable and feel "wrong" - let's not start calculating redshift at the gaming table.

More in part 2.

Primal Servants of Neutrality

DCC's Monsters chapter suggests that 1% of Chaotic or Lawful creatures should be Primal Servants, selected to be stronger, smarter, more magical, and more important to the cosmic struggle than their peers. This article provides a variety of Neutral types of Primal Servant. These are merely examples that fit my views on Neutrality and - as with the Law and Chaos Primes given in the book - creativity is encouraged.

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It is widely believed that agents of Law and Chaos hide in plain sight, enacting the wills of those too great to directly involve themselves. This is, of course, entirely true. What is lesser known is that the forces between spawn agents of their own. The disparate nature of the Neutral Alignment necessitates that its Servants are just as varied. Balance, Nature, and servants of indifferent or incomprehensible motivations should be considered similar but different types of entities.

As with Lawful and Chaotic Primes, Neutral Primes have 50% more hit dice and are typically stronger and more intelligent than their normal counterparts. Their magical features depend on which kind of Neutrality they manifest from.

Primal Servants of Balance

There is a 1% chance that any Neutral soldier, lawman, or more rarely a commoner or construct, is a paladin of Balance. These Primes are designated by the Gods for a certain role. They are typically rebels and renegades, fighting against the status quo for what they believe is right. This does not mean they oppose Lawful society - they might oppose the "might makes right" of a Chaotic tyranny. Constructs who are Prime can be in latent opposition to the cause they were created to serve. Paladins of Balance have Luck on their side, which may manifest spontaneously or be willfully manifested through sheer drive. High level paladins of Balance can have an intelligent magic weapon and can use it to step between the mundane world and a Neutral plane from which the weapon originates.

Primal Servants of Nature

There is a 1% chance that any Neutral animal, plant- or fungus-based monster, beastman or wildling is a warden of Nature. These Primes typically have a connection with the landscape around their home, and may affect the weather with their emotional state, sense water in the desert, command animals and manipulate plants, or sense distress among the trees in a forest. Often, they manifest these abilities unconsciously and may even be unaware of their power. They actively endeavour to hold back the encroachment of civilization onto the wildlands, and hunt down Chaotic invaders looking to exploit natural resources. They can step between the mundane world and whichever of the infinite para-elemental planes their ancestry is tied to.

Primal Servants of the Old Ones

There is a 1% chance that any Neutral aberration, outsider, extraplanar entity, or worshiper of an Old One is a priest of the Old Ones. Priests of the Old Ones receive deranged visions from far beyond the astral seas, pushing them to act out the will of their God. They appear insane to anyone who is not a follower of the Old Ones. They typically have psychic powers that can alter the mind of others, such as enthralling them, driving them insane, locking them in a nightmarish dream, or forcing them to joyfully rush to their own annihilation - though they do not necessarily choose to use these on everyone. They can step between the mundane world and the outer realm of an Old One, and can even temporarily drag another being with them (Will save 10+HD to resist). Even brief exposure to these realms is sure to have permanent psychological effects.

Unaligned Primal Servants

There is a 1% chance that any Neutral monstrosity, goblinoid, ghost, ooze, elemental, or other Neutral being is a Primal Servant of other allegiance (or no allegiance). The allegiance may be known (for instance, a Prime Air Elemental would likely be a Servant of Ithha, Prince of Elemental Wind, and the PCs may know of the Prince) or unknown and need not be made clear. They are leaders of their race or exemplars of their type - for instance a goblinoid Prime will have underlings, a Prime hybrid monstrosity may have extra body parts, a Prime ooze may have extra or more powerful ooze special properties. They can usually extradimensionally step to their lair and back again, as long as they haven't strayed beyond adjacent planes.