Goblin Punch

Trade

Merfolk want metal, because you can't smelt anything underwater. In most places, it is both illegal and taboo to trade metal to merfolk. Those that do are sometimes called iron whores.

Merfolk mostly trade with vast quantities of delicious fish and/or weird artifacts from long-drowned civilizations.

Most nations of merfolk claim all the oceans, and forbid humans from sailing on them. In warmer waters, merfolk usually dominate the seas (by agreement or warfare). In some places (Abasinia, Basharna), this schism between land and sea is so strong that humans live by the oceans, but almost never eat fish. Fish is called wet food, and is considered either a delicacy or a traitorous food (depending on whether or not we're at war with the local merfolk).

Cities

Contrary to popular belief, most merfolk cities are along the coastline. (Real world fun fact: coral reefs are just as productive as rainforests, but the open ocean is about as productive as an arctic tundra.) Some of the most productive pieces of coastline are where rivers empty into the ocean.

This means that humans and merfolk are in direct competition for the same pieces of prime real estate. They both desire coastal cities.

And just as human coastal cities extend a short distance into the sea (in the form of docks, harbors, and shipyards), so do merfolk cities extend a short distance into the land.

Merfolk do this because there are certain things you can't do underwater. Metalworking, for example. Valdina, the largest merfolk city on the continent of Centerra, is often shaded by plumes of smoke from its smelters.

These industries are worked by either human slaves or human citizens. (Both exist. It's complicated.) Usually the buildings will be separated by canals or moats (to make their city more defensible). Sometimes the buildings will be on artificial islands.

Their cities usually have mazes of deep moats around them, studded with towers (emerging directly from ponds between the moats). They do not build walls.

Warfare

Merfolk rule the seaways. Every single human vs. merfolk naval war has ended with the human's defeat.

Their favorite tactic is just to swim up to a ship, grab hold of some of the barnacles on the bottom, and begin drilling holes in the bottom. They require metal tools for this.

The most common human defense to this is simply speed. A ship in full sail is much, much faster than a swimming merman.

The most common counter to this are blockades, nets, and traps. A line of buoys stretched across the water will catch a ship that blunders into it, slowing it down enough for the mermen at the nearby fort to swim over and scuttle it.

When a ship runs into a ship-catching net, a sailor is quickly dispatched into the water to cut the ship free.

Sometimes the merfolk tie sharks to these nets to discourage people from getting into the water.

The zerino have been fighting the merfolk for so long that they have developed ingenious counters. They cover their ships with spikes to keep merfolk from drilling holes. Even when their ship is ensnared and bogged down, and they are surrounded by merfolk, they are safe within their dreadnoughts. They dump poison into the water to kill the merfolk.

Stormsailing ships usually have a weather-mage on board. Merfolk know to avoid these ships if there is so much as a single cloud in the sky, because these ships have metal masts that dip down into the keel. If a weather-mage calls down a lightning bolt through the mainmast, everything in the water dies.

These are strong counters, but the merfolk counter-attack by throwing noxious sea creatures on board, releasing poisonous gases (produced in whale carcasses, which are floating alchemical laboratories), or--most rarely--with ocean mages of their own, who can summon whirlpools and giant waves. (These get the most attention in sailor's stories.) Or they simply fill your ship full of harpoons attached to parachute kites, which both slow you down and make your ship more visible to other merfolk in the area.

But the bottom line is this: if they succeed in slowing your ship down, they will eventually overwhelm you. Once your ship is swamped (surrounded by many hundreds), they will swarm on board (clumsily, and with great difficulty) and hack you to pulp with shark-tooth axes. They do this so they can capture your ship.

Ship combat versus merfolk needs to feel like Mad Max. It's a chase, not a fight--because you'll lose if they catch you. It needs to be full of weird weapons and weird counters to those same weapons. Sailors need to be strapping on jellyfish gas-masks after the merfolk explode their whale corpse-bomb.

Merships

It is a fact that the fastest way to travel through the sea is to travel atop it. If you want to be fast on the ocean, you need a ship.

The merfolk have long since learned to sail in ships, as the humans do.

Their ships are half-submerged most of the time. When they want to be stealthy, they'll lower the mast and tow the ship. When they want to be fast, they'll bail the ship out and sail it above the waves.

Sometimes they seal the ship, anchor it in a shallow place, and pull it down to the seabed so that it looks like a shipwreck. When they want to give pursuit, they cut the lines and the ship erupts from the seabed. Sometimes they are even angled so that the buoyancy forces the ship forward as it rises, so that it erupts from the water with forward momentum, at full speed. (Like holding a bodyboard underwater, angling the nose slightly up, then releasing it.)

Merships tend to be inferior to their human counterparts (inferior wood, collapsible masts are much weaker), but in merfolk-controlled areas, there will be large areas full of ship-catching nets, sandbars engineered to be invisible, and pyramids of rocks stacked just beneath the waves--the perfect height to punch a hole in the bottom of a fleeing ship.

These places are called mazes.

If you haven't already, read this first. This is basically just speculation on how a mermaid/human oceanic arms race would evolve, with the final end goal of turning ocean travel into Fury Road.

Thicker Hulls (Human Tech)

These make ships slower, but more resilient to drills. Mermaid drills are long (a couple feet) to ensure that they can drill through whatever hull they need to. Most ships either specialize in speed or defense (because you can't have both).

Shell drills only work on smaller vessels.

Urchin Ships (Human Tech)

Used near populated human coasts. This ship has a smooth hull on the bottom and a spike covered hull on the top (upside down, with a mast rising from it). When under attack by mermaids, the two hulls are closed and the ship flipped upside down. Signal smoke is released, and the heavily defensible urchin ship then endures a siege until help arrives.

They have many portholes to strike out from with spears or arrows.

Shark Escorts (Human Tech)

By dumping cow flesh and blood into the ocean, a bunch of sharks can be convinced to follow the boat. This doesn't inconvenience the crew, but the sharks can be a lot of trouble for mermaids, especially once blood starts spilling into the water.

Ships sometimes attract huge shark escorts. They are seen as good luck symbols. (Yes, they eat people. But they eat mermaids more.)

You can't train sharks. They're meat engines, nothing more.

Dolphins and Narwhals (Merfolk Tech)

Mermaids counter this with trained dolphins, tattooed with fearsome reds and blacks. Many of the domesticated dolphins have "horns" affixed to their heads to better stab sharks. On very rare occasions, you may see a narwhal, but mermaids don't tolerate cold waters well and narwhals rarely venture into warmer waters.

Propellers (Human Tech)

Cover a ship with propellers. More propellers are better at chopping mermaids into chum. (They tend to clog easily, though).

Turbo (Human Tech)

Nearly all sea-going ships can be rowed in a pinch. Often a burst of speed is all you need to outmaneuver your opponents. Not maneuverability. Not weaponry.

Tread Ships (Human Tech)

One way to keep mermaids from attaching themselves to your hull is to have a hull that is continuously moving. Tread ships are basically giant wooden tank treads that float. The crew gets inside them and then walks forward on the inside of the treads, sort of uphill. This rotates the paddle-treads which propels the boat.

They are capable of short bursts of speed, but since there is not much space inside one for cargo or beds, they far poorly on long trips or open ocean.

Tread ships are sometimes dropped from larger human juggernauts and used to disperse poisons. Big ships become manned drone carriers.

Sometimes tread ships are linked together and used to support a combat platform (it is easier to fire down into the water if you have some altitude). In this case, they may look more like wagon wheels (but are still filled with people turning the paddle-treads like hamster wheels.

Sinking Nets (Human Tech)

Its just a net with lead weights. Throw it in the ocean and it will sink to the bottom, hopefully carrying a mermaid with it. (In the open ocean, this is fatal to the merfolk. Only merfolk priests can survive the deeps, and then only with special preparations.)

Spiral Submarines (Merfolk Tech)

Similar to tread ships, these are giant spiral snail shells (turriform, the pointy kind) that have been converted into ships. Merfolk use them to defend themselves against other merfolk, but also to ram ships of all sorts.

Basically, the entire shell rotates. This drives the ship forward. Merfolk on the inside swim in circles in order to turn the propeller at the back of the spiral shell ship. They have awful maneuverability (because the rudder rotates as well, just slower than the ship does) and very short range (because they must be actively powered).

They are mostly used by merfolk to defend their cities. Ships that attack Valdina (the largest merfolk city) are sometimes impaled by these huge things. They are docked in hidden caves on the sea bed.

Suicide Drillers (Merfolk Tech)

These are also made from giant spiral shells (again, the pointy kind) but they are sized for an individual mermaid, not an entire crew. They are stored on the sea bed in silos (like missiles) where they are anchored. They are filled with an air bladder and a mermaid pilot.

When the anchor is cut, the whole vessel begins to rapidly ascend. The air in the bladder expands, making the drill more buoyant as it rises. The mermaid inside guides and accelerates it manually (or at least, caudally). And then the whole thing hopefully connects with the hull of a ship, punching a hole into it.

Honeypots (Human Tech)

These are clay pots filled with poison, bolted to the inside of the hull. The pot's mouth faces the hull and the whole thing is sealed to prevent leakage. It contains poison.

If a merfolk drill punctures the hull in that location, it spills the poison into the water, killing the adjacent merfolk and hopefully buying the ship enough time to free itself from the snares.

In some ships, honeypots compete with cargo space.

Some ships are dedicated to this singular purpose. While these honeypot ships look like a soft target (unarmored, mercantile) they are filled with poison (and cancerous sailors).

Oil Fires and Exploding Bubbles (Merfolk Tech)

Merfolk use oil fires on the surface to cut off avenues of escape and befoul the air. If they ever need to lay siege to a ship, surface fires will eventually be involved at some point.

Sailing through an oil fire is not too injurious to a ship, but if explosive gases are added to the mix, it can get hellish. Methane and hydrogen can be generated in whale carcasses alchemically and transported in compressed balloons, or simply released from the whale carcass all at once.

You think you're safe from pillars of fire just because you're on the ocean? Do you know how much petroleum is down there?

Harpooners (Merfolk Tech)

Merfolk have many, may ways of sticking a harpoon into a boat. It's really their first resort. They hunt ships with harpoons the same way that whaling boats hunt whales. Attach a line, tire them out, and keep them bleeding.

Harpooners hold an elevated position in merfolk society.

Fishing Fleets (Human Tech)

There is no such thing as a warm-water civilian fishing fleet in Centerra. While there are plenty of fishing boats, these ships are well-used to combating merfolk. In large numbers, fishing boats can scoop up merfolk with remarkable success.

This requires training and constant readiness. Warm-water fisherman train like military forces. Or more likely, they train with the military forces.

Haul-Keelers (Human Tech)

These are ships that are built to pass a net the length of the ship, from prow to stern. The ship basically keelhauls a net longitudinally, rather than transversely. The idea is that this net sweeps up all the hull drillers and hauls them onto the deck where they can be clubbed to death by scared sailors.

In practice, the systems are unwieldy and prone to breaking. They also get cut apart quite quickly--after a couple of passes, they are basically just rags. Merfolk have learned to be quick with their knives.

Chain nets work better, but have their own drawbacks.

Sea Monsters (Human Tech)

There are sea monsters, and the merfolk enslave them and use them to sink ships. Everyone knows that.

But what is less known is that many human ships travel with a sea monster locked in the hold, to be dumped overboard when the sound of drilling has driven out all other options.

Sea monsters are difficult to manage when they are locked in a tank, but they are nightmares when they are released into the water, pissed off and hungry.

Sky Nets (Merfolk Tech)

Some kelp uses gas-filled bladders to help it float. In Centerra, some kelp uses gas-filled bladders to lift it into the air (while still being anchored to a rock below the waves).

Within the Sea of Sargros, these air-kelps form the deep sargassos and sky forests. (Yes, you can sail through a forest with kelp fronds towering over you. Yes, there is wildlife.) Airkelps in the Sea of Sargros are so plentiful that the merfolk use them to make sky nets.

These are simply ship-catching nets anchored to the sea floor. When they are cut loose, they rise into the air, sometimes as high as a 100'. They're basically just nets with one side tied to the seafloor and the other side tied to balloons. Have fun with that.

New Sailoring Professions

Hull Listener. Traditionally the oldest guy on the ship. Ideally blind as well. (But honestly, all sailors sleep with their ears to the hull.)

Keel Sharpener. Most hulls to bladed to cut through snags and ropes. Some are sawtoothed, and use the rocking of the waves to their advantage.

Brine Spikers. A more intense variant of a harpooner. Jump off the yards with a heavy harpoon wrapped between their legs. The idea is to stab a mermaid even though he's pretty far down (water kills momentum pretty quickly. They might even carry a second weapon to stab a few more merfolk. After a couple of seconds, they are pulled back on the ship, either by a bungee or by other crewmen.

Tarboys. These are the crazy bastards who have to repair holes in the hull while the ship is still sailing. For large holes, this is impossible to fix from the inside (water pressure), so they must fix the holes from the outside.

How Other People Handle Merfolk

By and large, they don't bother. Humans are the only ones dumb enough to tangle with them.

Ice Giants no problem with merfolk. When they sail from pole to pole on their iceberg ships, merfolk avoid the cold water and impenetrable hulls. When you sail on a giant fucking iceberg covered with hundreds of sails, you don't fear sinking, you fear being boarded. Or melting.

Elves poison the water with terrifying efficiency. The fewer things living in the ocean, the more beautiful it is. (The prettiest ponds are the ones with the least life in it. Same concept. They would turn the ocean into a clorinated, indoor pool if they could.)

Darklanders have monsters of their own. Most of their ships are pulled by some great beast or another (otterworms, bangoos, thruxiderms, etc) and so it invariable devolves into a bloodbath. Darklanders are also quick to jump into the water and take the fight to the merfolk. They generally have a harder time dealing with merfolk than honest Centerrans do, but frequently the sharks are the only winners.

Centerra currently has a monotheism (Church of Hesaya) and it sucks so I'm rewriting all of it, except for the bit where the Church cannibalizes other religions and incorporates them into itself.

Also, I'm going to try to distance it further from Catholicism by calling it the Temple instead of the Church.

The Authority

This is the thing that is omnipotent. You can't pray to it. It is distant. It created everything.

Zulin-Who-Is-Truth

This is the god of air, and the prime deity on Centerra. He is the Demiurge, and he organized everything.

He lives in a mansion on a mountain top. You can see it from a nearby peak. Whenever you look at it, you can hear the bell of St. Dorbaine ringing in your ears. It stops as soon as you leave. You can approach the mountain, but unworthy souls are struck with weakness as they approach. The blessed become stronger as they approach the Holy Mountain.

Very noble people sometimes trek to the shrine in the valley below the peak.

You can see the mansion, and you can see the guests on the balconies. They are strange and beautiful and some are colossal. If you attract their attention, they'll send you an invitation. (Basically, name-level PCs are expected to go and dine with idle, squabbling godlings, titans, and interdimensional weirdos.)

Zulin is not at home. Zulin is at a tea party in Hell with Ashta Lon Who-Is-Falsehood. Zulin is trapped at the tea party by the conditions of politeness. If Zulin leaves the tea party, Ashta Lon is also free to leave. They've been having tea for a very long time.

Only Priests of the Upper Air are allowed to pray to Zulin, and to receive his miracles. Priests of the Lower Air must pray to a saint, a prophet, or a slave-god.

Yasu

She is the First Prophet, and as such, is an equal to Zulin. She is the intermediary between the Authority and. . . everything else, really.

Not only did Yasu first re-teach the world the teachings of Hesaya after the Time of Fire and Madness erased all history, but she also decided to reincarnate.

She's currently on her 57th reincarnation. Her current form is 17 years old, and enjoys spicy noodles, horseback riding, and small dogs. She is the leader of the entire religion.

Scalamandragos

Supposedly some giant snake locked away somewhere that will devour the sun at the end of days. Created by the Authority for this purpose.

The Eastern Patriarch

This is Yasu's second-in-command, who is in charge of the Temple within the eastern third of Centerra. His position is required for reasons that are political, ideological, and probably more than a little sexist.

There is a growing schism between the eastern and western Temple.

Spirits of the Upper Air

It is accepted that there is a whole secret ecosystem in the upper atmosphere. It is a realm of lightness and invisibility. Invisible wars are fought there, and titanic angel-fauna devour each other with magics that could rend mountains. The greatest of these sky-leviathans weighs less than a feather.

This is where angels come from. Not the false "angels" of the Dawnbringers, but creatures who are strange and translucent (which is holy, because that which is translucent cannot hide anything). Secrets and lies are the tools of Ashta Lon.

Saints

Saints become translucent, like purest ice. All you can see are their bones, but even those fade in time. The weather mirrors their moods, obeys their commands. They speak to the wind and learn it's secrets. They also become lighter. They walk on water. Then, levitate. Then, they fly.

Paladins

Paladins of Hesaya wear no armor except a pale blue tunic, each thread of which is banded with scripture (in tiny alternating blue and white bands, a fantasy analogue to Morse code). They wield long, narrow swords, and when they cut, the wind cuts for them. (50' melee range with their swords.)

Clerics/Priests

Clerics of Hesaya command air. They cannot control the weather, but they control small amounts of air nearby. They can order the air to avoid your lungs, and you will suffocate in X rounds, where X = half of your Constitution (unless you run more than 200' distant).

Monks

No longer seem as out of place.

Magic

Despite all the magic colleges on Centerra, the biggest singular magical institution is the Temple.

The Temple teaches that the naga taught humanity magic, and indeed, many temples have a resident naga as a teacher and guardian.

Symbols of the Temple

Air and Serpents. (Serpents because they are agents of the Authority, who is represented as an infinite Ouroboros most of the time. Also, the naga thing. Also, giant space snakes supposedly ended the Time and Madness but I've never typed it on the blog before this because it sounded stupid.)

Invisible Stalkers. You never know when they're hanging around.

Coatls. The most famous symbol of the Temple. It's on their coffee mugs.

Air Elementals. The tiny, pissed-off tornado kind. But honestly, if you're fighting an air elemental, everything in the area is going to be whipping around like a hurricane, and you'll have to shout to speak to anyone more than a few feet away.

The Doctrine of the Four Elements . . .

. . . is a heresy. There are many atomic elements, and air is a gas, merely one of the three states of matter. (Fire is really more of a chemical reaction.) It's just that air happens to be the most enlightened state of matter.

Modrons arise spontaneously when there is an insufficient number of modrons in the universe. In a way, they are the universe's own attempt to self-regulate the amount of disorder present in its own system.

Just as a body struggles against death, so does the universe vie against entropy. Nothing catalyzes the inevitable heat death of the universe like the use of magic.

That's what modrons say, anyway.

Modronium is like modrons: a logical extension reaching its own conclusion.

Modronium is a metal. Modrons can "vanish" part of the metal. The parts of the modronium that remain are still connected--though no metal remains between them--and will retain their weight, orientation, and rigidity.

If you make a modronium pole and vanish the middle section, you would be left with two short lengths that preserve their distance from each other and their orientation. The middle section has just been phased into a different dimension without losing any connectivity.

It's all very logical. Nothing at all to do with eldritch madness. Don't even suggest such a thing.

Examples of Modronium Objects

A modronium coin attached to a much larger, out-of-phase piece of modronium. Since the coin is attached to an extradimensional mass, the coin is very heavy.

Modronium shoes with their soles located eight feet above them. If the soles are placed on the roof of a building, a person can walk around below them, eight feet below the roof (no matter how far down the floor is.) You don't even need a floor, since you are walking below the roof, while resting your weight on it.

A modronium sword is just a grip and a sword point, that hovers three feet in front of the crossguard/basket. It still weighs the same, and handles the same, but it cannot be parried (since there is no middle part of the blade). True, you cannot slash with it, nor use it to parry a blow, but it is much easier to land a stabbing hit. [Mechanically, modronium weapons get +2 to hit, but no bonus to damage.]

Modronium has also been made into all sorts of deceptive items and tools for deception.

Modronium is not magical. It relies on a novel principle of the universe that is largely unexplored by non-modrons.

This class was born because (a) I wanted to have a concubine class, and (b) I wanted to have a pacifist class. So this is basically a fusion.

+Scrap Princess pointed me at a game called Undertale, and one of the cool things about the game is that you can complete the game without killing anyone. And while this has been possible in other games via stealth (Deus Ex, Metal Gear Solids), Undertale is unique in that you can talk your way through combat. You eventually convince your opponent to stop attacking you.

So, is my hippy whore class. There's no sex mechanics, thank god, but even then, this class isn't going to appeal to all parties.

Leading a skeleton back to his crypt after calling him by name is poetic and cool, but how many GMs name their skeletons? Or have systems in place for figuring out where a skeleton's proper resting place is? At the very worst, the concubine will be reading names off tombstones like a role call.

Actually, I'm okay with that.

And pacify is a potentially powerful skill, but I'm worried about how well it scales. It basically attacks a different HP pool, which means that it's wasted on Godzilla (who will die from HP damage first, from the other party members), but it's great for convincing lone goblins to throw down their swords and cry green tears of repentance. But that's also as it should be. Pacifists shouldn't have very many tools against Godzilla. . .

. . . except you read the text for pain split, and realize that they actually have a pretty good answer for Godzilla..

Divine Concubines in Centerra

They're basically temple prostitutes. Except you can't call them prostitutes, because prostitution is illegal in all the places that the Church oversees. They have a moral monopoly on extramarital sex.

This outrages a lot of people (justifiably), but any attempts to attack the institution of the Church's concubines is met with a lot of resistance, because the concubines are incredibly popular.

So lots of people use them to get off in a guilt-free way. So that's probably the primary use of them. But for many people, they're also their psychiatrist, their doctor, and their astrologer. They are intensely empathetic people, and they genuinely care about the men and women who walk into their boudoirs.

Because for some of those people, their concubine is their only friend.

Concubines also accompany missionaries--they are great proselytizers.

And other concubines are believed to be spies for the Church. (Or if you believe the rumors: all concubines are.)

Divine Concubine Class

As always, base this off a cleric class and just strip away the spellcasting and turn undead.

In a way, the concubine is sort of an anti-cleric or anti-paladin. While the cleric terrifies the undead, the concubine soothes them. While the paladin smites evil in the face, the concubine sits it down to talk about their feelings.

I'm going to use feminine pronouns, but divine concubines can be whatever gender you want.

Class Abilities

1 - Pacify, Beautiful
2 - First Kiss
3 - Life Share, Intimacy
4 - Immaculate
5 - Pain Split
6 - Last Massage
7 - Immunity to Disease

Pacify
The words of a divine concubine can erode a target's desire to fight, even in the midst of combat. Creatures have a pool of conviction points that function like hit points, and a morale check that functions like armor class. If a divine concubine spends their entire turn doing nothing but verbally attempting to dissuade that target from violence, the target must make a morale check. If they fail, they lose 1d6 conviction points. Once a creature has no more conviction points left, it becomes unwilling to attack the divine concubine or her allies. It sheathes its weapon and becomes receptive to talk.

A rational reason for non-combat always works, but you could also try compliments, appeals to honor, begging, etc. Each time you attempt to pacify a creature, you must provide a different justification.

If the creature is simultaneously being threatened or attacked by the concubine's allies, the pacification damage is halved.

I like to put morale on a 1-to-20 scale, so I can do a roll-under mechanic for it. Under this, the average bandit has a morale of 10, a cowardly goblin has a morale of 6, and a determined demon has a morale of 14. But feel free to use the 2d6 morale if that's your thing.

Each odd-numbered level, the conviction damage of this ability increases by 1 die size, up to 1d12 at level 7.

This ability is limited by communication (language, range of hearing, sentience, etc). You can't talk an ooze out of attacking, for example.

Beautiful
Anyone that damages a divine concubine must make a save at the beginning of their next turn. If they fail, they are unwilling to attack the divine concubine for one round. If the concubine or her allies are being aggressive, the target gets a +4 bonus on this save.

First Kiss
Your kisses function as a charm person spell.

Life Share
While touching a willing ally, you can redistribute HP, curses, diseases, or poisons as you see fit. You can only redistribute one of these per round. (This is mostly an inter-PC ability. NPCs will be very wary of using this ability, and charm person is not sufficient to get a person to accept a curse, poison, or disease.)

Immaculate
Mindless undead are not aggressive towards a divine concubine; they will not attack if merely disturbed. They will still attack if you behave aggressively or disturb something they are charged with protecting. This protection does not extend to your allies. And of course, they will attack if their necromancer gives them a direct order.

If you address them by name, they will allow themselves to be led to their proper resting place, but nowhere else.

Sentient undead know and respect divine concubines, and will usually attack them last. Or at least, give her an opportunity to flee after killing all her companions.

Pain Split
You touch an unwilling creature. If they fail a save, both your HP total and your target's HP total are set to the average of both of your totals. This cannot increase HP beyond your maximum. (Example: You have 4 HP and touch an ogre with 20 HP. After the ogre fails its save, you both have 12 HP.)

Last Massage
If you give someone the final massage, they must make a save vs heart attack 1d6 turns later. A final massage takes 10 minutes, and cannot be performed on unwilling targets. This usually takes the form of a foot massage.

Intimacy

Yes, this includes sex, but it actually includes any activity that meets the following criteria:

Peaceful. (Everyone must be non-aggressive and receptive.)
Vulnerable. Everyone must be unarmed and unarmored. (This includes magical protections.)
Willing. (You cannot coerce someone into intimacy with threats/promises to ulterior motives.)
At least one hour of talking. (Though the total activity can take longer).

Intimacy can have one of the following effects.

Target receives the results of a commune spell (once per day). Requires level 3.
Remove 1d3 Insanity Points (once per adventure). Requires level 5.
Target gets a new save against an ongoing curse. Requires level 7.
Plant a suggestion (with a -4 penalty on the save). Requires level 4.
Concubine learns a secret desire of the target. Requires level 4.
Concubine learns a secret weakness of the target. Requires level 4.
Concubine and target form a bond. Requires level 3.

The concubine can have as many bonds as they have concubine levels. Bonds confer the following effects, all of which are mutual.

charm effect. (Cannot work against each other's best interests.)
can sense direction, distance, mood, and health of the others.

Lastly, target's who have bonded with the concubine and are within 20' of her get +2 save against any negative mind-affecting effect. If they suffer from a permanent insanity, the effects are also suppressed (but not removed).

Demons are not "outsiders". How can they be, when they are part and parcel of the natural ecology of our souls? The whole concept is stupid. If anything, demons and angels are insiders--they can see us better than we can, in many ways.

Outsiders are things from beyond the universe. They might occupy matter, but they are not made of matter. Like light refracting through a prism.

There are many types of outsiders. This is one of them.

The Unspeakables

They must not be spoken of, nor described in any way.

A picture of an Unspeakable is just as dangerous as one of the Unspeakables themselves. The same is true of an appropriately accurate description.

This is because they are not creatures of flesh and blood. They are concepts--lattices of convergent memes. Although they sometimes occupy a body, they are not that body. Though they are sentient, they are not alive in any sense of the word. Even someone who conceives of them--without ever having seen one--is subject to this peril.

Skip This Section If You Already Know About Prions

There are proteins called prions. Prions are not alive. They are even less alive than viruses are (which are, at a minimum, just a string of DNA). Prions are just a single, lumpen molecule.

Prions are misfolded proteins. In your body, there is a certain type of protein. This protein floats around, doing protein stuff, and no one has to worry about it.

But occasionally this protein misfolds. It gets jammed into the wrong configuration--some hinge is bent backwards, some spiral is spinning the wrong way. The protein doesn't do the job it was built to do. Instead, it bumps into other healthy proteins (of the exact same type) and causes them to misfold, too.

It's a little bit like packing a cubic apple in a crate with other apples, so that the neighboring apples come out with flat sides. Except we need to extend the apple metaphor, so that when you unpack the crate of apples, they're all cubic. One bad apple has bent the whole bunch.

So this isn't contagion in any sense that we know it. It's a contagion of form, caused by blunt collision.

The funny thing is, the misfolded protein is more stable than the original protein, not less. Good proteins get bent into this hell-pretzel and they don't untwist. They just float around, tempting other good Catholic proteins into temptation.

This progresses.

The body notices that it is running out of healthy proteins, and so it makes some more to counter the deficit.

This progresses more.

Eventually, there are so many of these misfolded proteins that they form crystals. These crystals are so big that they start punching holes in important cellular machinery. It makes so many holes in tissue that we call it spongiform.

This all takes place in your brain, by the way.

Or a cow's brain. This is mad cow disease.

This is also Creutzfeldt-Jakobs, in humans. (The two diseases are linked.) Symptoms: memory loss, personality changes, progressive dementia, hallucinations, psychosis.

Pretty good damage for something that's not even alive.

The Unspeakables, Continued

All of this is a roundabout way of explaining that an Unspeakable is simply a mimetic prion. All Unspeakables cause insanity (usually 1 point each).

The Appearance of an Unspeakable [d6]

All Unspeakables resemble the creature that they once were. An Unspeakable that degenerated from a human (and most do) will resemble a human from a distance. They appear in groups of 1d2.

Papery layers of flesh, like a hornet's nest. Regenerates HP to full each round.
Eyes like inverted needles, impossibly deep. Piercing. Gaze attack causes you to see the world from their point of view (no save). Whenever you make an attack, there is a 25% chance that you instead attack a random target.
Balloon-like stomach spasms and roils, changes size and shape. Violently and constantly, like hundreds of blobs fighting to escape a rubber balloon. When killed, splits into two smaller versions with half HD. When these are killed, splits into two smaller versions with quarter HD. When those are killed, they split into things that resemble tarry fetuses (these are harmless). If killed, they continue splitting indefinitely, each time becoming less and less like their original creature.
Head floats through body. The face's path through the skin leaves a trail of scar tissue like a ship's wake. Acid blood shoots out whenever they take slashing or piercing damage (1d6 damage per round until you spend a round washing it off, or 1d4 rounds scraping it off. Stacks.)
Eyes and mouth glow like a furnace. Smoke billows from wounds. Shrieks like a tea kettle when injured. Explodes when killed for half original HP damage.
Unfolds body like origami into layers and layers of asymmetrical wings. Looks like blackened fruit on the inside. Can fly. Teleport 3/day.

The "Mundane" Attacks of the Unspeakable [1d6]

None. It attacks as an unarmed human, grunting softly. Whoever kills this creature must face them again the next night, in a dream. It is a repeat of this combat, except they are alone with their foe (1v1). If they lose this fight, they gain a permanent insanity. If they win, the XP is not shared with other players.
Ragged claws (1d6/1d6) and rasping tongue (1d4).
Extensible neck + bite. Is actually a hydrada.
Invisible sword that hisses like a powerline. (Counts as a +1 weapon, can be looted.)
Wounds open wherever it gazes. Save or take 2d6 damage. Can target 3 creatures at a time. If it stares at an object (armor, building, door) long enough, it will decay and fall apart.
IOUN morningstar.

The Special Attacks of the Unspeakable, Usable Every 1d4 Rounds [1d6]

Vorpal Howl. Like a cone of cold, except slashing damage. Has a 5% chance of cutting your fucking head off.
Doom Caller. Pronounces doom on someone. That person hears the voice of Fate counting down. If the Unspeakable is still alive in 3 rounds, that person dies, no save.
Half-Life. As a free action, all creatures within 10' must save or take X damage, where X = half of their remaining HP. Save for half.
Death touch. This one is usable every turn. If they touch you, one of your teeth wriggles free of your jaw and begins to burrow into your heart. (Treat it as a rot grub.)
Vomit a swarm of [d3] locusts, crabs, or biting worms.
Fragility. All creatures in a cone must save or be reduced to 1 HP. 1d4 rounds later, they regain any HP that they lost.

The Real Danger

But these are just the dangers of the meme-hosts. The real Unspeakables do not exist except as concepts. (And as something that can only prey on sentient creatures, they should probably be added to the Book of Tigers.)

The Unspeakable that can be described is not the real Unspeakable.

Anyway, for an Unspeakable, consciousness is their ecosystem. Comprehension is what shapes them and gives them form. (So a picture of an Unspeakable, buried in a vault, harms no one. It is not the falling tree that harms someone, but hearing that tree fall.)

And at the table, there is only one way to know if a character is thinking about an Unspeakable: if the players talk about them.

If the players are talking "Yeah, remember that fucked up guy who unfolded his body into wings and cut off heads with his yells? That was awesome." they have just referenced the Unspeakable. The Unspeakable that they were thinking of immediately pops back into existence. They usually emerge from a closet (that has already been searched), crawl from under a bed, or simply punch through a nearby door.

If the players talk about an Unspeakable, it reforms.
If the players step out of the room and talk about an Unspeakable, it reforms.
If the players talk about it after the game has concluded, and you're all drinking beer and arguing about time travel paradoxes, it doesn't reform (because you aren't playing the game anymore).
If the players allude, very gently, to the Unspeakable ("the time that Jimmy got his head shouted off") it has a 4-in-6 chance of reforming.
If the players talk about events surrounding the Unspeakable ("the time that we went in the moon dungeon") it has a 2-in-6 chance of reforming.
If a wizard reads the players minds, and comprehends the memory of the Unspeakable, it immediately reforms. (Actually, it's possible that the wizard has seen other Unspeakables, and that this has just reminded him of them. It's possible that multiple Unspeakables reform.)

When an Unspeakable forms, they aren't necessarily hostile immediately. But since each Unspeakable concept is a single creature, they will remember what has happened to their other forms, albeit vaguely.

When roleplaying with an Unspeakable, remember that they are all utterly mad. They babble about poisoned angles and rotten stars. They whimper as they recollect the heat death of the universe. They struggle to realize that the PCs exist only as meat.

Only meat? Where is the rest of you?

Only meat.

so I've been rewatching Full Metal Alchemist

Spell (noun)
A class of extradimensional, ethereal creatures that have been domesticated by humans (much like a cow). Each spell is a unique entity that lives in the ether, except when it is bound in a spellbook or lured into a wizard's brain (much unlike a cow). It's more like a pokemon that you fire from a gun (your brain) and not at all like a technique you can learn from scratch.

Homunculus (noun)
An artificially created human, magically sculpted from inchoate arcano-flesh. They lack bellybuttons and are sterile. Most are massively inferior to humans in one or two crucial ways. A few are vastly superior.

New Spells

Create Homunculus
Level 1 Wizard Spell

You create a humanoid body. The body can appear however you wish, but anything beyond the ken of a normal human is nonfunctional. (Extra arms will be useless, for example.)

The body lacks a soul and is completely inert. You can possess it with the magic jar spell. However, there are all sorts of opportunistic etherofauna that would also love to possess the body (1-in-6 chance per hour of possession) and will do so unless precautions are taken. (Lead coffins are fairly secure, but a circle of protection against evil is better.) The body will rot normally (like a normal corpse) and even a few hours of decay is enough to render a blank homunculus uninhabitable (truly like a normal corpse).

If animated, the body generates physical stats normally (3d6 in order).

Requires 35 liters of water, 20 kilograms of carbon, 4 liters of ammonia, 1.5 kilograms of lime, 800 grams of phosphorus, 250 grams of salt, 100 grams of niter, 80 grams of sulfur, 7.5 grams of fluorine, 5 grams of iron, 3 grams of silicon. This shopping list usually requires a major city and about 1000gp, but not always. (For example, niter is extremely common in limestone caverns.)

If the ingredients are imbalanced, or if you buy impure materials at discounted prices, you will usually create something, just not what you had intended.

Imbue Homunculus: Living Spell
Level 1 Wizard Spell

Spells are similar things to demons, spirits, and angels. This spell shoves a spell into an empty homunculus, like a hand into a glove. The spell then functions as a proxy soul.

Generate mental stats normally (3d6 in order) and roll a reaction die normally. The homunculus is an NPC with neutral loyalties and a random personality. They begin knowing language and logic and anything else a four-year-old might know. They usually begin life by demanding to be given a name.

As part of casting this spell, you must cast a second spell (the spell to be imbued) from your own brain simultaneously. The spell cannot be higher than a level 1 spell. You do not get the spell back (it doesn't return to your spellbook at midnight) until the homunculus body is destroyed.

And even then, the spell must pass a loyalty check (like a hireling) to see if it decides to ever return to your spellbook. The experience of corporeality irrevocably changes a spell, and makes them sentient (as we understand the term). From then on, the spell permanently has a memory, a personality, and a voice (when it is lured into the wizard's head).

The spellborn homunculus is functionally identical to a level 1 human, except that (a) it gets +4 to save against spells, and (b) it can cast itself 1/day.

The spellborn homunculus also gains characteristics beyond the original design, based on whatever spell it was imbued with. A homunculus imbued with flaming hands might have their skin turn bright red, or their fingers turn black. They have no special loyalty to their creator. On a failed reaction roll, they usually just walk away, determined to find their own destiny.

New PC Class: Spellborn Homunculi

Base it on a cleric, sans cleric spells and turn undead. If you "die", you return to your wizard's spellbook that night, like any other expended spell (if that's what you desire). However, if you don't return to your wizard's spellbook and instead choose to wander off, you'll never find your way back (because ethereal geography isn't).

However, if you do die, your wizard can prepare you a new body by recasting the create homunculus spell and then re-imbuing you into it. (Roll new physical stats for the body). The only downside is that each time you undergo this process, you need to save or permanently lose a point from a random mental stat (which are permanent).

This class implies that you were created by another player's wizard character. If you want to be true to theme, you should let that player decide what you look like, and what your name is. (NPC wizards are wont to create homunculi with weird features, like faceted eyes or black rubber skin.)

Level 1 - Cast Yourself, Save +4 vs spells
Level 2 - Speak With Spells
Level 3 - Cast From Scrolls
Level 5 - Reversion: Dispel Magic
Level 7 - Reversion: See Invisible, See Spells
Level 9 - Reversion: Ethereal Jaunt

mass-produced homunculi

Cast Yourself
You can cast yourself X times per day, where X is your level.

Speak With Spells
You can speak with spells imprisoned within spellbooks or scrolls. You can speak with permanent magic effects, as long as those effects were created by a spell. You can even speak to the spells stored in a wizard's brain. Spells trapped in spellbooks and scrolls usually beg to be released (but some have gone mad if the imprisonment is long enough--watch out for those).

Spells stored in a wizard's brain can sometimes be convinced to cast themselves at a target of your choice. If you attempt this, roll a d6: 1 = spell is cast on the target you desire, 6 = you piss off the spell and it casts itself on the worst possible target. If you try to coax the spell to do something it already wants to do (fire spells like to burn flammable things, for example), your chance of success increases to 2-in-6.

Cast From Scrolls
Just like a wizard. You can also identify spells in scrolls/spellbooks at a glance.

Reversion: Dispel Magic
Just like the spell. You're basically a hippy, releasing animals from the zoo. You can cast this spell as many times as you wish, but each usage costs you 1d6 Charisma.

If your Charisma is dropped to 0 by this, you "die" and your body becomes an inert homunculus again (and is subject to the same incidental demon possession, as normal). This is true for all "Revert" abilities.

Reversion: See Invisible
You can cast see invisible at will, but each use costs you 1d6 Charisma (which returns at the rate of 1 point per day). This is literally your proxy soul stretching away from it's homunculus and "sticking its head" back into the ether from whence it came.

See Spells
You can now see what spells a wizard has memorized just be looking at them.

Reversion: Ethereal Jaunt
There's no place like ether. Just like the spell of the same name. Costs 1d6 Charisma each time you use it.

Velveteens are magically animated stuffed animals. They are soft and delightful--little happy things that only dance, cuddle, and take naps on your lap. They behave in all the ways that you wish your cat would.

They are only owned by the rich, because no one else can afford to use magic in such a trivial way. Or more specifically, the children of the rich.

They are usually sold with a velveteen-slave, whose has the job of ensuring the integrity and cleanliness of the stuffed animal.

As you would expect, they are fabulously expensive. Steal a velveteen from a princess and you're set for life. Many have killed and died to get their hands on a velveteen. It is difficult to sell one, however, since they are each unique and well-known (at least among nobles, who often show their wealth off to each other).

The details of their manufacture are a closely-guarded secret, but they are produced by the Armenjero "Empire", a cliffside mecca for bards and gypsies. It is famous for it's gambling, and it was won from an archmage of Meltheria in a game of chance.

One big caveat is that velveteens are condemned by the Church, which claims that they are animated by the souls of the dead. Velveteens are sufficient to warrant a full investigation by the Church's witch hunters, who will track down the velveteen, interrogate it (fruitlessly, because all they do is wiggle and play), and torture it before burning it to death.

The proof they offer is this: velveteens can be turned by clerics, just as undead can.

How To Use Them In Your Game

Add them to your loot tables. They're a hell of a lot more interesting than another emerald the size of a baby's fist, and worth about the same.

If nothing else, they can be used to set off traps or something.

You can see it out there on the wizened flanks of the Elterspine Mountains, where it spills out of the ground. It howls like a jet engine and is you can feel the radiant heat warming your face like an angry sun. It pours into the night sky, bright enough to dim the stars by comparison. Next to your boots, pebbles clack against the black grass, vibrating in tune with the thrumming pillar.

They are other pilgrims here, all wearing their pilgrimage collars. Colored paint above their eyebrows marks their progress, unless they are wearing a penitent's mask.

The pilgrims began the Hesayan Pilgrimage in Coramont, where the prophetess first gave Truth. If they have been performing the pilgrimage along the orthodox route, this is the first Miracle that they've seen.

They are watching the Pillar of Fire, but some of them are watching the travelers moving in the opposite direction. It is said that the devil worshippers perform it backwards, and it is rumored that the Celestialist Hesayans perform the pilgrimage in a heretical order.

Up close, they can see the Pillar blowing out of the naked rock. They inhale gingerly, but curiously. This is the hot breath of hell, and they want to know what it tastes like.

A few pilgrims douse themselves in water, and then run up to touch the brass fence that surrounds the Pillar. When they sprint back (singed and smoking and half-blind) they are grabbed by paladins who beat them for their zeal. The fence is only to be touched on holy days.

All pilgrims are allowed to do is contemplate temptation, and the willpower to overcome it.

During the day, the flames die down below ground level, and the Pillar becomes a mere pit of fire. Priests come out from the shrine in their blue robes amid white smoke from their pipes. The ceremony begins; a blue bell is rung.

While suicide is considered a mortal sin according to the tenets of Hesaya, it is allowed here. For an appropriate donation, the priests of that place will wash you, annoint you, and fill your lungs with the breath of heaven. Then you jump into the pit of fire, at the end of mass. This is the only acceptable suicide. Devout and desperate people travel here from all over the Hesayan dominion to kill themselves.

If you jump into the fire pit without paying, you are commiting self-murder as well as theft.

Who's Jumping Into the Pit Today? [d6]
1 - A PC's mother, who thinks them dead.
2 - Some old woman with a dead cat.
3 - A cartload of sullen orphans.
4 - A veteran of foreign wars. His battlecries have turned to ashes in his mouth.
5 - 1d3 criminals fleeing justice.
6 - A pair of forbidden lovers.

According to legend, the Pillar of Fire marks the spot where Iasu banished the demon Jangorian back to hell. And indeed, the fields around the pillar are studded with clumps of bristly hellgrass, demonseed, and the other abyssal flora. Everyone watches for demons amid the bristling cones, but there aren't any.

During the winter solstice, the fire actually recedes completely. This actually creates a passageway to hell, if you want to skip the underdark and proceed immediately to the deepest pits. You only have a day to finish your descent though, so don't tarry.

Will paladins be chasing you the whole way down? Probably.

Are people going to be burned alive when the fire is turned back on? Probably.

Magic Item - Oathbreaker's Armor

This is platemail that you are locked into. Originally, this was something that aspiring paladins did voluntarily, in order to reinforce their vows by experiencing utter obedience. Eventually, it became a punishment for paladins (and aspirants).

Each set of Oathbreaker's Armor comes with an oath inscribed on the front. This is a single rule that the wearer must absolutely follow. It's usually something like "I will protect this group of pilgrims" or "I will allow no one to enter the Hall of Priests except priests".

Anything that changes the engraved letters on the armor also changes the terms of the wearer's new oath.

While wearing the armor, you cannot speak. The helmet is usually shaped like an alligator, a creature that is associated with lies.

this is a burning gas field in Derweze, Turkmenistan

They call it the Wilds, but they also call it Oberfel's Folly. It is their way of blaming him for what the forest has become. In Oberfel's day, it was wild and dark and tortuous, but since his death it has only grown darker, and the sunlight that reaches the dead leaf floor is little, or none.

There was no concept of ecology, then. People didn't know that a species could be made extinct. There was just a desperate king--he was not unjust or ignorant, but he behaved as if he were when the cancer began to gnaw at his heart. Why else would a man organize the Unicorn Hunts?

Years later, when the charnel yards were excavated, the unicorn bones were gone.

The Wild Clans and their Druids

There are clans of wild people there, who dwell in the leaf and the loam. They have no art, except the black beetles that grace their brows. They have no history, except the brown bones they scatter in the rocky stream beds. They have a language that they despise, and speak it only in dire situations.

They eat their dead, and sleep inside dead logs. Their teeth become stained black from the insects that they eat.

It is said that they are not true people. It is said that they procreate by squatting over the rich soil and depositing their seed. And their children grow like mushrooms, pushing up through the dirt, quietly, patiently.

This is probably not true.

It is also said that the forest itself hides them, so that they can move through its deadly environs unseen and unharmed. They bury their babies' souls in the ground, so that it becomes their true home. The twilight realm between the dirt and the treetops is an uncomfortable half-realm they endure.

This is perhaps true.

DM's Notes: Wild clan people are like berserkers with the following ability.

Mother Earth: If this clansperson dies on the soil of the Wilds, the corpse is immediately swallowed up by the soil, and entombed 10' below.

Wild clan elites have 2 HD and can burrow at 1/4 speed, but only in the top 5' of Dembraava soil.

Wild clan druids are just druids that specialize in entombment and insects. Oddly enough, they revere the mordanfey, even though the mordanfey are undead.

The Dendrognaths

These are more like traps than creatures.

The wild clans of the Wilds sometimes kill wolves and decapitate them. The wolf heads are then "planted" in an oak tree. The head continues to live in a strange half-life. The eyes move and the ears pivot, but they make no other signs of life. And as the tree grows, so does the head.

The largest oaks in the forest sometimes have dozens of these heads planted in them. These are usually planted in order to protect the dwelling caves of the wild clans.

And when the head senses a humanoid (not of the clans), it animates. And that mouldering head, more of a plant than a beast, lunges off the tree and sinks its fangs into the throat of its prey.

One lunge, perhaps two. Then the head howls and lies still. The howl is an alarm for the savage tribes. It tells them that outsiders have come to the forest, with their foul metals and perfumes and written language.

The Mordanfey

They returned from Oberfel's slaughter as leering, lurching things. Their black hooves leave wounds that never heal (treat as cursed) and their flanks are covered with ragged flaps of peeling leather. You can hear the beetles that scrabble across their bones.

Their gaunt heads are always crowned with a broken horn, or a sawed-off stump, or a ragged hole where it was dug from their forehead.

It is said that something of their old nature still resides in them. Although they are filled with hatred and disgust towards the people of the cities, they are also disgusted with themselves. As long as they are being watched, they will not attack, except in self-defense. Instead, they usually watch the combat as their druids and insects do the fighting (swarms live inside each one). Only after their beetles have blinded an opponent do they move in to kill.

Virgins are treated no differently, except that the undead unicorn will spend days trampling the remains into the dead leaves, crying out the whole time as if in pain.

Each type of hair wizard chooses a type of magic to specialize in: beard, (head) hair, mustache, or nosehair. Magic cares little for gender--a female hair wizard can have a magic mustache if she so desires.

Beard wizards tend to be earthy, affable, and fond of drinking. The most famous beard wizard of all time was Strumly Brontlegrim, who once wrestled a bear into a barrel while his beard wrestled another.

Beard wizards have an extradimensional compartment inside their beard. It can hold one small item. At level 3, it can hold one significant item.

Hair wizards tend to be attractive, mysterious, and fond of nudity. Hair wizards are especially fond of towers without ground floor access--many are also accomplished climbers. The most famous hair wizard was Ethria Casmontiya, who became the first lich-wig.

Hair wizards can extend their hair into a 50' rope, or retract it with the same amount of effort (it requires an action). At level 3, their hair can extend to 200' long.

Mustache wizards tend to be ostentatious and obsessed with their own popularity. This is okay, because most of them actually are popular. The most famous mustache wizard was Huxward Fabberton, who is now known as the inventor of the magic cigar.

Mustache wizards get +4 to save against inhaled poisons. At level 3, they become immune to inhaled poisons.

There has only ever been one nosehair wizard. He was both cruel and petty. Other hair wizards do not speak of him, except to spit when they hear his name mentioned.

Nosehair wizards can use their nosehairs as a whip. They can only perform one whip action per turn, even though they have two nosehairs (one in each nostril). At level 3, they become capable of dealing lethal damage.

Pubic hair wizards are strictly theoretical. Most hair wizards are thankful for this. It would make the conventions awkward.

Hair Wizard Perks

You no longer require a free hand to cast a spell. Your hair does all the gesticulating for you.

You can change the color and styling of your hair with a minute's concentration. However, most wizards have a preferred color and style they wear almost exclusively.

Hair Wizard Drawbacks

If your hair is bound or otherwise restrained, you cannot cast spells.

If your hair is shaved or burnt off, you cannot cast spells until it grows back. A hair wizard's follicles are of such stalwart puissance that it only takes 1d4+4 days for the hair to grow back to a minimum length.

If you fail a save against fire or acid damage, a significant portion of your hair is singed off, and you lose a prepared spell at random.

Hair Wizard Spells

brontlegrim's grip
casmontiya's pet
control hair
charm hairy thing
fabberton's lucubration
hair doll
hair growth
hair panic
loop of cutting
second impression

Brontlegrim's Grip
Level 4
As evard's black tentacles, except they are flammable, like web.

Casmontiya's Pet
Level 1
You create an animate rope from your hair. Treat it like a giant snake with 1 HD and no bite attack. It has a powerful knowledge of ropes, and can obey simple verbal commands. It dies immediately if it takes any slashing damage, but is immune to bludgeoning.

Control Hair
Level 2
When cast on your own mildly-prehensile hair, your hair grows long and powerful, effectively giving you an extra limb that has a Strength four points higher than your own. (This doesn't allow you to take any more actions/attacks in a round). If cast on someone else's hair, it lets you control that hair as if the hair had a Strength of 1. Save negates. (This spell is especially debilitating to other hair wizards.)

Charm Hairy Thing
Level 1
As charm person, except that it works on all things that have a significant amount of hair. No effect on creatures that don't have a significant amount of hair (enough hair to grab a fistful of). Creatures charmed in this way have their hair change color to match yours.

Fabberton's Lucubration
Level 2
By stroking your hair, you have an idea. Your DM reminds you of something that you've forgotten, or gives you a clue to something that you've missed.

Hair Doll
Level 3
This spell is cast on a hair doll that you've made entirely out of the hair from a singular creature. This does three things. First, holding the hair doll lets you know what direction they are in. Second, holding the hair doll gives them -4 to save against all of your spells. And lastly, if the doll is burned, they suffer 1d4 rounds of incapacitating agony and then save vs death.

Hair Growth
Level 2
A creature's hair grows to truly voluminous proportions, about triple the length of what is normally the species maximum. A shaved hair wizard can use this spell to immediately regain their spellcasting ability. If cast on an exceptionally hairy creature (yeti, mammoth), the grown hair is so encumbering that they get -2 attack and AC. A moderately hairy creature (such as a bear) merely gets -1. Save negates.

This spell can be inverted into depilation, where the target loses all of their hair. Save negates.

This spell can also be inverted into hair retraction, where exceptionally hairy creatures (yeti, mammoths) must save or die, as their hair burrows into their brain.

Hair Panic
Level 1
The wizard's hair immediately shoots out and grabs something no further than 15' away, similar to a lasso. This spell can be cast as a reaction (similar to feather fall) and can even be used to prevent a fall as long as there is something to grab nearby. Treat this as a lasso attempt with a +2 bonus. If used to pull something toward you, the pull attempt can be made in the same turn as casting.

Loop of Cutting
Level 2
By tying a loop of your hair around something, you can cut it. Doesn't work on adamantine.

Second Impression
Level 1
Your hair is magnificent. Reroll a reaction roll, this time with a 2 point bonus.

Hair Familiars

Hair familiars exist. In most cases, they live in your hair, and resemble birds, mice, spiders, or exotic ornamentation.

In some cases, the hair familiar is the hair. There are many stories of lads and lasses who returned with magical power once a hirsute symbiote grafted itself to their body. They work together and communicate telepathically, but the hair familiar is an entirely independent creature. It has its own goals, and it will leave if it feels it is being neglected.

Lich-wigs

These are immensely powerful spellcasters that have chosen to immortalize themselves in an undead wig. These wigs immediately dominate anyone who wears them, and frequently survive the death of their hosts (usually because few realize that the wig is the real monster on the scene).

They have powers similar to a lich's, including a lich's deadly touch.

When threatened, they can lift themselves up and run away like a spider, as fast as a human can run.

Scissor Blade

This legendary sword +1 is really, really sharp. On a critical hit, the target's armor is completely ruined if they fail a save. Against astral or ethereal enemies, the sword counts as a sword +3, since it is capable of attacking and severing their astral cord. In fact, that's exactly what it was made to do.

And credit to +Alasdair Cunningham, who wrote an excellent post about magical beards and inspired me to finish this class.

Remember that the most common goblin trap is just overthinking. A room with three off-color tiles that don't do anything. Levers that just make horrible creaking noises. Obviously hinged stairs that are supposed to turn into a slide, but are so rusted that they are fixed in place.

Also remember that they incorporate their feces into their traps whenever possible.

1. The Totem Pole

Made of beaten wood, and crude grotesqueries. It's central mouth has steel fangs clutching a small, metal chest, held in place only with a moderate amount of friction. With some investigation, steel hinges are discovered to the side of the totem pole's mouth. When the chest is removed, the jaw closes, and the entire upper half of the totem pole pitches forward, crushing whoever is in front of the totem pole.

That's only the first half of the trap, though. In fact, the totem pole is hollow, and will spill a powerful acid all over the ground when it falls.

2. Dead Snake Pit

This stairway collapses and dumps you into a snake pit! Except the snakes are all dead; the goblins forgot to feed them.

The real danger is the low oxygen levels at the bottom of the shaft. You can't breath down there, and torches will burn out, too.

3. Shitty Pendulums

A room with slash grooves on the floor and a darkened ceiling obscured by cobwebs. When a lever is pulled, the far door unlocks and a half-dozen bladed pendulums swing from the ceiling. You can figure out the safe spots to stand by examining the slash grooves on the floor.

Except the construction is shit, and after a couple of swings, the pendulums will collide, tangle, and the whole mechanism will fall out of the ceiling. All 4000 lbs of it. This will collapse the floor, and send the party down a level onto a bunch of bladed pendulums and broken rock.

4. Dragon Statue

A dragon statue that holds a torch in front of it's face. When the party approaches, it speaks, "What number is green?" because goblins are pretty shit at riddles. The correct answer is "one", because goblins are number one, but this answer is bullshit and most goblins will get it wrong. This opens a door to a room full of goblin bombs.

If a wrong answer is given, the dragon will breathe lamp oil over the lit torch, bathing the room in flame. The easy solution to this is just to remove the torch, but then you have a dragon statue spewing oil over everything. If you plug its mouth with something (not hard) it'll make a series of creaking noises before its crotch bursts open and spills oil all over the ground.

Either way, the next room contains a bunch of goblins with torches who bust in one round after they hear the dragon go off.

5. OSHA-Violation Spiked Pit

A quartet of obviously discolored tiles marks a spiked pit. They aren't even the same color.

The real danger is attempting to jump across the pit--the far side is unsupported dirt, and will collapse if more than 100 lbs is put on top of it. Anyone attempting to jump over the pit will collapse 3' of the far ledge, sending them into the pit and pouring loose dirt on top of them after they land on the spikes.

6. The Ol' Footy-Stabby

This is just a hallway with grated floors. As you walk along it, goblins with shit-caked spears stab you from below. They're real dicks about it. There's probably even a tripwire halfway along the path that they can yank up, too. The holes they stab through aren't too big, so they get 90% cover from it.

This one actually isn't too hard to overcome (just pour burning oil down the holes and come back later when the smoke clears). For a more challenging trap, try the Ol' Facey-Stabby, where the goblins are hidden in the ceiling.

Paladros

There is a dead city in the middle of the Dembraava Wilds. The forest killed it.

The city is a labyrinth of tortuous roots and broken stone. In the century since the city was abandoned, the trees tore it apart. We humans cannot see the violence--it happens too slowly for us to recoil from the cruel aggression. But there is pain in the fractured foundations, and although there is no blood on the ground, we can feel the wrath that fell on this place.

Walls have been thrown down. Stone buildings have been shattered and picked up by wooden claws that will crush them to dust over the next hundred years. The old maps are worthless.

The forest has fallen on this place with all the violence it can muster. Druids who see the place for the first time are shocked. They hate the cities, but this is the equivalent of an elephant trampling a child into a pulp. It's shocking because it's excessive--the druids don't feel bad for the city, they're just surprised that a forest could get so mad. Forests have emotions, and the predominant feeling in Dembraava is one of cool, calculating hatred.

The Dembraava Rangers

It is a difficult job, and many of them die to keep the road open. They do this so that merchants can continue to grow richer.

But some of them were once rangers of Paladros. This forest was their ancestors' home, and in some stubborn part of their brain, they still hope to reclaim that city-corpse.

They do not venture far from the road. Not even when one of their number is captured by the wild clans and flayed alive on some distant tree-top. Not even when the skins are hung over the road to provoke them. They are smarter than that.

it's tough to find pictures of what I want Paladros to look like
it needs to look like a city impaled by a forest
like Vlad the Impaler became an architecture critic

The Breath of Flies

There are many dangers in the Dembraava Wilds, but one is feared the most because of its subtlety.

It is called the Breath of Flies, because it is believed to be transmitted by the exhalations of carrion diptera. Others call it Towerbuilder's Madness, and in fact, it is true that some of them do build towers in the middle stages of the disease.

In the earliest stages, it expresses itself as a mild psychosis and a strong desire to be alone. People become agitated and attack their own party members or--more likely--they simply run off into the forest. (This is a problem if the afflicted person was carrying something essential.)

If the afflicted person ran off near a town or city, the afflicted needs to be found quickly, and their body burned. If left alive, they could infect the entire town.

In the middle stages, the afflicted person exhibits acrophilia and near-complete dissociation. They often ramble about "hearing their own voice talking to them" or "opening the secret sun" or their "million bright babies inside them".

They usually climb tall objects at this point. Trees, towers, cliffs. They climb them as high as they can, up where the treetop rolls in the wind like a ship at sea.

And once up there--once they are firmly gripping the treetop--they enter the final stage of the disease.

Their arms and legs become rigid, locking them to the treetop. Tetany arches their backs, tensioning their limbs and throwing their lips into a rictus. Their eyes turn to the sun and they go blind, being unable to blink.

Many claim that the person dies at this point, but it is not certain.

Then the fungus finally makes itself fully known. Spores begin to billow out from their mouths, released from their incubation in the lungs.

The limbs die, and harden into a resinous material. In fact, most of the body dies at this point. It shrivels, dessicates, and hardens into something like leather. Everything dies except the lungs, which will continue inhaling and exhaling until every last spare calorie in the body is consumed. (The heart lives on, as well.)

The fungus is capable of stimulating muscles on its own. Even if the head is removed, or if it rots off, the body will continue to breath.

An entire human being, rendered down into a bellows.

And a very effective bellows they make, too. If left unattended, a dead person clinging to a treetop will continue to breathe for weeks after their brain dies, and with each exhalation, a new spume of dusty grey spores. It falls like a ghastly snow.

This process is of interest to both healers and necromancers, who are interested in the fine graduations of death. To the layperson, there is only one death, but to the expert, there are many small ones. The end of the mind's last thought. The point at which the mind cannot be recovered or revived. The end of a functioning body. The end of a functioning organ. The death of the last cell in a corpse.

Ask a necromancer, and he will tell you that it takes a surprisingly long time for all the parts of a man to die. Remove a man's head, impale his heart, and he will grow cold. But it will take a day for his sperm to stop swimming, and three days for the last of his blood to quiet down (white blood cells). This rude persistence of life--like a guest who refuses to leave after the party has ended--is why the freshest corpses do not make the best undead, paradoxically.

But I digress.

When the afflicted person finally stops breathing, the final ascocarp grows from their lungs, up the trachea, and out their mouth, where it fans itself out into the air. The disease is capable of disseminating its spores passively, merely releasing them into the breeze. The ascocarp resembles a flabby antler of pinkish-brown chitin that emerges from the mouth.

In this half-state between fleshy corpse and resinous sculpture, the body is eaten by predators, most famously flies, which swarm over the thing. The eggs that they lay in the corpse will be entombed by resin before they hatch. These flies are believed to carry the disease. The lungs retain moisture (and therefore rotting flesh) the longest, and the sight of thousands of flies flying in and out of the mouth of a hardened corpse is what lends the disease its name.

And like the corpse, the fruiting body eventually hardens into a dry resin.

tetany is a symptom of the breath of flies
see also: the trousseau sign
see also: the chvostek sign

The Dembraava Wilds are full of these ghastly remnants. All through the forest, you can find withered corpses clutching onto treetops. After a storm, you can find them on the forest floor, looking for all the world like a wax sculpture of a crow-picked corpse in a contorted pose. Separating their limbs usually requires a chisel and hammer, but many of them shatter when they hit the ground.

In some cases, they never fall from their arboreal perch, and the tree grows around them. If their body is intact enough, it may be used as a home for squirrels or wasps, which nest in the vastly-expanded lung cavity.

The Dembraava Rangers call these corpses "watchers", and use them as landmarks. They are often given names, and colorful stories are told about them. But the rangers are always careful to avoid touching them, and fallen "watchers" are left where they fall.

The city of Paladros is full of them. They watch from every ruined rooftop, their empty eyes staring at empty streets. You can see through their enlarged ribcages into the fossilized fungal maze within.

Zhilov

If the Dembraava Wilds have a boogeyman, it is Zhilov.

A demon of fungus. An angel of healing. A spirit of fertility and growth. A slithering thing that tunnels through the earth like a vast network of tiny white worms. A woman in a green dress. A man's voice who speaks from inside trees. There is no consensus regarding Zhilov's true nature.

But the stories agree on one thing, though: when Zhilov is near, the watcher-corpses begin breathing again.

HD 4 Armor plate Bite 1d6
Move 1/4 human Int 10 Mor 7

*Imperfect Time Stop: When the tortoise uses this ability, the flow of time within 200' of the tortoise slows to a crawl (1/100th normal speed), no save. Obviously, combat is impossible when you are fighting at 1% normal speed. Even a tortoise will sidestep your arrows. The only thing that isn't affected by this is perception and thought: your thinking and senses are not slowed.

However, with enough willpower, a creature can break free from this effect and act normally. They make this decision at the start of their turn, and if they choose to take their turn normally, they take 1d6 paradox damage if they move from their location, and 1d4 paradox damage if they take an action. A character can take both types of damage; for example, if they both move and swing a sword.

This damage is reduced by 1 point for each turn you spend waiting (minimum 0 damage), and therefor reducing your temporal pressure. A character that waits for 3 turns before acting takes 1d6-3 damage from moving and 1d4-3 damage from taking an action.

The tortoises can eat time stopped meat just fine. They trundle up to you and start eating your leg while all you can do is watch. And since you are mechanically helpless, the tortoise automatically hits for maximum damage. If they could somehow reach your neck, they could coup-de-grace you. They can reach the necks of halflings. A creature can defend themselves from a tortoise bite as a reaction, but it follows the same rules as taking an action: you take 1d4 paradox damage, reduced by 1 point for each turn you've waited.

Time tortoises usually leave this aura deactivated until combat starts. No sense alerting their enemies too early.

Time tortoises are vegetarians, and do not swallow any meat that they bite off (in triangular chunks).

A Note About Paradox Damage

Paradox damage looks like thousands of wounds opening and closing on you as various potential futures collide and collapse into a stable waveform of possibility. Sort of like a strobe light of gore. You actually die and resurrect several hundred times in a turn when you suffer paradox damage. It's very painful, but it's also very instantaneous. It doesn't feel like pain as much as it feels like the memory of pain.

A character that dies of paradox damage dies as normal, but later on the party is attacked by a time-fucked version of that character as soon as it is impossible for that too happen. For example, after the wizard dies from paradox damage and the party returns to their horses, one of the horses turns into an alternate reality-version of the wizard with three eyes and a crab claw, and then attacks them. Or the barbarian bursts from the chest that the rogue was attempting to open, and begins biting him with his snake fingers.

Discussion

Yes, this is just a weird mini-game layered on top of the combat system. I like it.

I also like mechanics that give the players a choice: is it better to stand still or take damage? More interesting than just giving time stop to some shitty turtle monster. (Although I like that idea, too, for different reasons.)

Will it result in slow, slow gameplay as players spend all of their turns saying "I wait"? Hopefully not, since the time-consuming part of a turn is thinking (and rolling), and the decision making happens once ("I should wait for 3 turns") and then people get into the groove of quickly waiting while the tortoises totter around munching on kneecaps.

1. Slow Step Trigger

As the party steps on one of the stairs, the stair clicks down and a mechanism begins whirring. After a couple seconds, a ticking sound is also heard. The character who stepped on the lever can feel a tension in the trigger--it will snap back up as soon as weight is taken off it.

As the player probably suspects, the trap actually activates when weight is taken off the trigger. The player has 18 seconds before the trap activates anyway. 100 pounds of weight is sufficient to keep the lever depressed.

The trap is less interesting than the trigger, but may I suggest: a door at the top of the stairs bursts open, releasing several tons of goblin sewage. The wave is crested by what I can only describe as rusty goblin knife-boats.

2. Curiosity Tube

This is a just a hole in the wall that leads to the inside of a metal pipe--remnants of old dwarven construction. The edges of the hole are sharpened, and the metal pipe inside wobbles loosely. If the pipe is rapped on, an adventurer can hear that there is empty space outside the walls of the pipe.

The pipe is actually on a pivot. Anyone who crawls far enough into it will cause the pipe to tip over, dumping the poor adventurer into a 30' fall, where they'll land on a bunch of crocodile skeletons with daggers strapped to their backs (like a stegosaurus).

3. Box of Jumping Spiders

Just full of spiders, filled to the brim. They've been eating each other to survive. At the bottom of the chest is a donkey skull, a chunk of dragon coprolite, 188 copper coins, and 12 flat, round, brown coins that look sort of like copper coins.

4. God in the Ceiling

This is just a goblin who is hiding in a secret compartment in the ceiling. The goblin will attempt to convince the party that he is "the human god" and that they should put down all of their money on the floor and then walk away. He will not do a very good job of this.

If the goblin is challenged, he will attack the party with a faulty wand of lightning bolts. (The wand was broken in half and then repaired with a mixture of goblin dung and spiderwebs, and has a 25% chance of backfiring on the user.)

5. Falling Cage

There's a lever in the center of the room with a bunch of gold coins glued to it. Above the lever is a huge cage, hanging from a chain. It appears to be a goblin version of that falling crate trap thing.

The lever is on a hair-trigger, and the tiniest jostle will activate it. This will cause the cage to fall, hopefully trapping a foolish human inside it. Then there is a creaking from above and then 800 feet of heavy chain will crash down into the room, followed by a 4000 pound crane of dwarven construction, covered with chalk drawings of penises. The noise will attract 1d20+5 goblins. One goblin is armed with a rivet gun that fires adamantine bolts, while the rest of the goblins are armed with sharp sticks smeared with goblin poop.

Anyone inside the sturdy cage will be safe from the falling rubbish. The cage can be lifted by a combined Strength score of 28.

6. Ratty Was a Rolling Stone

Opening the door will cause a panel to open behind the party, revealing a wooden gate that rattles a couple of times. The spring that was supposed to open the door snaps off because the lock that was supposed to open didn't open.

Behind the wooden gate, a bunch of dire rats are gnawing on some elephant bones.

Behind the door is a ramp going up. A the top of the ramp are a bunch of goblins with boulders, which they will roll down the ramp once they notice the party ascending it. Aside from being your standard "goblins rolling rocks at you" scenario, the rocks will also smash open the rat cage.

There is a small hole halfway up the ramp, which could offer a hiding place from any rolling boulders (if a player wants to dash up there and jump in it). The hole is full of goblin poop and rusty knives. Also, the goblins keep a smaller boulder on hand, explicitly to roll into this hole.

7. Because Number 6 Sucked

This is a ratapult. It's a catapult that throws rats. In addition to getting hit in the face with a bag filled with rats and rocks, there's also a bunch of rats gnawing on your face.

If the goblins fumble their attack roll, their rats escape and start attacking them.

This is a continuation of my last post about homunculi.

First, look at this picture that my sister drew! It's of a couple homunculi contemplating either (a) the ineffable ennui of existence, or (b) what to have for lunch.

She has a tumblr if you want to see more pretty pictures. (And you should.)

Proxy Souls

If you were turned into a dog, it would be like something. There are sights (other dogs) and smells (doggy buttholes). There are thoughts (consciousness) and sensations (qualia). There might be parts you can't explain very well (all those weird smells) when you turn back into a human, but it's still there.

If you were turned into a stone, it would not be like anything. There are no inputs, no thoughts.

If you were turned into a calculator, it's probably the same as being a rock. It's not like anything. Same thing for a computer. And--presumably--an android.

Now imagine a perfect android--one that can duplicate a human perfectly. Imagine that it can duplicate you perfectly. If you stab it with a needle, it will say ouch (or whatever it is you say when you get stabbed by a needle). It would react exactly like you would, in all situations.

What if it had an organic brain? And flesh and blood just like you? What if it was identical to you in all ways, except that it lacks consciousness and sensations.

It's just like you, except that there's no light on inside.

They are also called philosophical zombies. This is what a proxy soul is. It imitates sentience without actually experiencing it. (Serylites are accused of the same thing.)

Proxy Homunculi

Homunculi are empty bodies, lacking souls. Proxy souls are the simplest way of creating a completely obedient homunculus. They're popular for that reason.

But proxy soul homunculi do more than just ape the human ape. They're blank spots in the web of consciousness that covers the planet. They're void zones. In the rich strata of sentience, they're negative space.

Class Abilities

Modes of Slavery

A proxy soul homunculus is a slave homunculus. They are controlled by whoever wears their slave ring (created at the same time as the proxy soul). The slave ring is worn by another PC.

Proxy souls have three modes of slavery. Their controller can order them from one mode into another with a word.

Sleep is exactly what it sounds like. Each night, they must be ordered to sleep, and each morning they must be ordered to wake up. This is the only way they can sleep (and they need to sleep like anyone else).

Automate causes the homunculi to behave like a robot. They look and act like emotionless automata. This makes them immune to emotions (both good and bad). It also strips them of all initiative. They are unable to do anything except the simplest tasks, and even then, only when directly ordered to do so by whoever is wearing their slave ring. (Think zombie-level obedience.)

Imitate causes them to behave exactly like a person. Or more importantly, exactly like a PC. They are still obedient to whoever wears the slave ring, but their obedience is more interpretive. They cannot directly disobey an order. Like a bastard genie, they are forced to obey the word of an order, but not the spirit.

Magical Void

Proxy Soul Homunculi cannot be targeted by spells, even spells that normally work on objects. They are also undetectable to all scrying and detection spells. They are a blank spot.

Memory Smudge

As an action, the homunculus can cause a sentient creature to forget the last six seconds of the homunculus' actions. Save negates. If this memory loss causes any logical inconsistencies, the attempt automatically fails.

For example, a homunculus could stick his head into a room and shout "poops!" thereby alerting a goblin. But then the homunculus would activate this ability, and the goblin would forget that he ever saw the homunculus (if the goblin failed its save).

This wouldn't work if the homunculus stabbed the goblin first, because then the goblin would create an inconsistency. Why am I bleeding if no one stabbed me? And then the attempt would automatically fail. It would also fail if the goblin saw any other party members.

Soul Trap

Proxy Soul Homunculi cannot be possessed (by ghosts, demons, etc). Any creature that attempts to possess a proxy soul homunculi must save or be trapped inside it's cage-like negabrain. (The lack of a soul where there should be one creates a spiritual "negative pressure" zone.) A homunculus can hold a number of souls equal to its level.

Talk to Soul

After collecting a few souls, the brain of the proxy soul homunculus becomes like a jar of fireflies. The homunculus can chat with these souls whenever it wants. They are usually unhelpful (-3 to reaction rolls, by default) but can sometimes be bargained with. Even dead people have wants.

And of course, you can always catch a friendly soul. But be warned: souls were meant to pass on into afterlife. Souls that remain on the material plane for too long tend to. . . destabilize.

Catcher in the Rye

The homunculus can perform a certain action on the corpse of a creature that died within the last round. The creature must then save or its soul becomes trapped in the homunculus.

Absorb Soul

As an action, a homunculus can absorb a captured soul. This heals the homunculus for 1d6 for every HD of the soul, and causes the homunculi to temporarily (or permanently) gain some elements of the absorbed soul's personality.

In theory, this is how a proxy soul can stop being a proxy soul. If it absorbs enough souls in a short enough time, it can become a gestalt soul homunculus. This is less of a class ability concern, through, and more of a plot point for the DM, if she wishes to elaborate upon it.

Soulful Face Sucky

The homunculus opens up their face like a goddamn skull puzzle and sucks in someone's soul (save or die). The soul must be within 10'. Souls without a body to tether them (e.g. ghosts) get -4 on this save.

The Proxy Homunculi Class

Honestly, just build your own from the abilities listed above. If it were up to me, though, I'd start with a cleric, strip away spellcasting and turn undead, and add this stuff:

Level 1 - Modes of Slavery, Magical Void
Level 2 - Memory Smudge 1/day
Level 3 - Soul Trap, Talk to Soul
Level 4 - Memory Smudge 2/day
Level 5 - Catcher in the Rye
Level 6 - Memory Smudge 3/day
Level 7 - Devour Soul
Level 8 - Memory Smudge at-will
Level 9 - Soulful Face Sucky 1/day

Roleplaying a Person Without a Soul

Proxy souls are able to talk candidly about the experience of having a soul. There really isn't much to say--they have no reference point of what being souled is like, and so struggle to relate the experience. Or more accurately, the non-experience.

Aside from that, they're just like normal people.

Do they want souls? What a cheesy question. They don't have any desires beyond what they were created to have. (Of course, they can start developing idiosyncrasies once they've had a few souls lodged in their vacuous headmeats for a while. It's an inherently unstable position.)

Discussion

If you don't like the modes of slavery ability, you can strip it out of there. The class works just fine without it. I think the whole master-slave thing might be an interesting thing to explore, with the right group. How much does the creator care about the homunculus? How much does the homunculus (seem to) care about the creator?

It could be a person growing out of mindlessness and into open resentment, and subversion of orders. It could be a frail old wizard who built a homunculus to look like a warrior-ideal version of his younger self, a vicarious vehicle, set to inherit the wizard's possessions. It could be a Pygmalion-Galatea relationship.

Or it could be a awkward pain-in-the-ass that makes everyone at the table uncomfortable. I don't know; playtesting is needed.

The Tao of Goblins

Before we move onto the weirder stuff, make sure that you have the basics covered.

Shitty Gear

Goblins are always armed--but they're always armed with low-quality weapons. Whenever a goblin does maximum damage with their shitty weapon, it breaks. Goblins usually then continue the fight by biting (1d4 damage, no penalty to attack roll). Goblins often smear their weapons with their poop (disease saves).

Their armor is also rubbish. In my head, the archytypal goblin is naked except for an oversized helmet. Or just wears a huge pile of sewn ratskins with the tails flopping all around, like a Lady Gaga dress. Or just wears a pair of human-size plate-mail boots and a dead bat codpiece.

Fire

Goblins love setting things on fire. They love molotovs, but struggle to get ahold of good glass bottles. More frequently, they have one goblin throw a bladder full of oil, and then another goblin throw a torch.

As a DM, this is more fun, too. Everyone is confident in the fight until half the party is doused in highly flammable oil (harvested from the goblin fish, naturally) and three more goblins join the combat bearing torches.

The other thing that goblins love is escalation. Fire spreads, and a trivial encounter with 3 goblins can quickly get out of hand if the bookshelves catch.

Fire is also great for destroying things that the PCs care about. The goblins don't care if the wizard's library burns down, but the PC's probably care a lot about the scrolls in there, and might have to split their attention between fending off goblins and saving scrolls.

Goblins also like stinkpots, smoke bombs, and bladder-balloons filled with explosive gases.

Beasties

Goblins ride lots of beasties. They're pretty bad at controlling them, though. These beasties have a 5% chance each round of combat of freaking out--carnivores will start attacking people at random, while non-carnivores will probably just run away, usually carrying its rider with it.

bats (fly)
pigs (charge)
cave lizards (climb on ceilings)
dire rats (disease)
humans (ask for rescue through their bridles)
a single dragon with like, 200 goblins strapped to it, poking it with sticks

Drugs

Goblins do a lot of shitty drugs, but the most relevant one is a fungus called badsauce. It grows in guano. This mostly makes them shoot barf out their noses and scream a lot, but sometimes it improves their initiative (+4 to initiative on a d20 initiative, +1 on a d6) and makes them immune to fear and sleep. These goblins have a 5% chance of having a seizure each round of combat (losing their turn).

You could also have druggy berserkers, who snort monstershit out of rat-bladder snuff bags. This gives them +3 to hit and damage, but then they pass the fuck out after 1d3 turns. Monstershit is made from purple worm feces.

Just treat them like methed-out hobbits and you'll do fine.

No Fair Fights

The preferred goblin strategy is just to be numerous. They'll run away and come back with reinforcements if they think they need to. Generally speaking, there are always more goblins nearby, and the noise of combat (goblins shrieking out their warsongs) will attract 1d8 reinforcements after 1d8 turns (assuming that the combat even lasts that long). This only happens once.

But goblins only charge you as one big shrieking horde when they heavily outnumber you Otherwise, they get tricksy.

From high ledges, wrapped in darkness, thew throw down rocks, spears, and rats.

They often have arrow slits carved out between rooms so that they can snipe you.

Splitting the party with falling porticullises, collapsing bridges, etc.

Against heavily armored fighters, they'll come back with nets. Six goblins will attempt to tackle and immobilize the fighter (and those +2 aid another bonuses add up fast). Or they'll just smash spider egg-clusters on the fighter's platemail, and one round later there will be thousands of baby spiders crawling around in his armor.

They run away when they are losing. (The one thing that goblins are smart about is knowing when they are losing.) Usually all in different directions, and usually to go get reinforcements. Goblins never fight to the death (unless drugs are involved).

They also build a lot of shitty traps, but I already wrote about that earlier this week.

by diomahesa

Weirder Weapons

Now that we've got that covered, we can move on to the weirder stuff.

1. Headcage

These are like buckets at the end of a short-strung fishing pole. Goblins will try to slam it down on your head (-2 to hit for awkwardness), where it will lock into place, effectively blinding you.

Frequently, there will be a starving rat trapped in there with. It'll probably try to eat your face off. You might have to kill it by banging your bucket-head on a wall until you bludgeon the rat to death with your own face.

2. Goblin Tank

This is just a solid dome of rusted armor, cooking pans, and heavy garbage. A quartet of goblins will crawl underneath it and shove it around, like a rat trapped under a cereal bowl. It weighs about 500 pounds, but goblins are really strong for their size. They're like chimps (except with way more poop-flinging).

There's a few holes in the tank so that they can stick spears through. One of them might even have a crossbow.

Because the thing is basically just a huge hunk of solid metal, the AC is really high. Like two points better than plate, or something. On the plus side, it moves about as fast as you'd expect. A drunkard could outrun it by crawling. It also doesn't do stairs very well. And once you kill 3/4 of the goblins, the last goblin is basically trapped in there--it's too heavy to shove along the ground.

3. Goblin Ball

This is just a giant hamsterball made of wood/metal and covered with spikes. A quartet of goblins runs around inside of one of these balls, which is taller than a man. It does trample damage like a warhorse, but the goblins waste a turn between each charge as they fumble over each other, barfing and cussing.

If you catch them during one of these orientations, you can roll them off a cliff or something, as long as the people doing the pushing are stronger than four goblins combined.

Actually, definitely keep a cliff nearby if you write a goblin ball encounter. Maybe in the previous room or something. Or at least, a long stairway.

4. Goblin Buzzsaw

Two goblins are required to operate this unwieldy piece of shit. One to turn the crank and the other to swing it around and cut down mushrooms (which is what it was designed for). It does a crazy amount of damage (like 2d8, when a normal goblin does 1d6).

5. Rat Flail

This is a bunch of drugged-up rats, tied together by their tails and attached to a stick, along with some sharp, heavy objects that some goblin thought belonged on a flail. In addition to doing normal flail damage, it also deposits an angry rat on the defender if the damage roll is an odd number. It usually only works for about 3 hits before all the rats die/fall apart.

The rat will latch on and begin gnawing. Use the same rules as for an attached weasel. (And don't tell me that your edition of D&D doesn't have rules for attached weasels!)

6. Goblin Bomber

This is just a goblin with a barrel of explosives strapped to his back, and a torch in his hand. Treat it like a 2d6 fireball. The goblin will be all hopped up on goblin drugs, too. The idea is to kill them before they can run up to you and detonate (this is not hard). Or just splash him with water so his torch goes out.

7. Goblin Bungees

This is when a bunch of goblins ambush the party by jumping down on them, attempt to grab one or two party members, and then abscond with them back up to some hidden ledge on the ceiling. It takes a moment for the goblins upstairs to reel in the bungee jumpers, though, so the stolen party member ascends at a more manageable rate of 10'/round.

Expect a few of the bungees (made from twisted goblin gut) to snap. So in addition to trying to rescue to rapidly ascending friends, you also have to deal with a few goblins trying to stab you in the groins. (A large and exhaustive catalog of different groin-stabbing maneuvers is as close as goblins have ever come to developing a martial art.)

8. Vermin-on-a-Stick

Sometimes goblins will catch a spider, centipede, or scorpion and tie it to the end of a stick. Not only does this become the battle standard of that goblin squad, it's also a (sort of) effective weapon. You try fighting a goblin who keeps shoving a centipede in your face. It's fully alive, and very biteful.

9. Surprisingly Potent Weapons

Between the rampant incompetence and sharp sticks covered in poop, it's easy to forget that goblins are basically just degenerate halflings. They are as intelligent as anyone else, and just as capable of mastering advanced skills (they're just hampered by short attention spans, poor risk assessment, and a complete lack of impulse control).

Powerful goblin wizards exist (possibly travelling around inside her gelatinous cube mount). So do legendary goblin swordsman (usually accompanied by a swarm of semi-competent apprentices).

And of course, goblins dig in deep places. And when they find weird shit, they aren't afraid to press all the buttons. Goblins sometimes inherit ancient superweapons, like powered armor (with two goblins crammed inside) or laser tanks (which spends a lot of time running into walls and running over allies).

(There are nine entries on this d8 table because goblins count good.)

by nraminhos

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