Dark Elves and the Second Sun

Here's another bit about elves in my campaign setting. The first is here. I'm obviously indebted to Zak S. and False Patrick, for initial inspiration. I personally see the Cult of Woe as a means to shoe horn dark elf/drow pcs into an otherwise more standard party, without resorting to endless Drizzt.

Woe is a black sun that is barely approaching Idios (Or your own campaign world, natch).

Sometimes it is invisible.  Sometimes it casts a green light at night.

Various apocalyptic cults have formed around the veneration of this foreign celestial body.  Some say it is the nemesis planet, destined to destroy the World. Some say it is the brother of Idios come at last to claim vengeance for his mutilation at the dawn of time. Others say it is the dead moon's husband, similarly inspired.

They are wrong. The Dark Elves know this. The Black Sun will take them home. Will erase the mistake they made of ever having tasted this world and its transient, mortal beauty.

(The black light and the white light fought a war when there was nothing else. The black light lost.)

Now the reversal is coming---when Woe will swallow Colossus & will burn anti-radiance across Idios.It will sweep the Dark Elves into its corona.

They came into our world because they loved the Dark. Their father was Yann, the Velvet Shroud. He broke himself up into all the Dark Elves.

But they did not know the Dark.

The Dark Elves came through to experience the Darkness, to taste its glory rather than admiring it as a concept from afar. To a god, everything is imagined, most especially the realm of flesh from which they are distinctly separate. At different times in history, gods have slipped across the Porous Borders and unless they have been very powerful, have found  themselves trapped, rendered in mortal flesh (essentially). So when those first Dark Elves truly felt the Dark...they were initially shocked. And after a time, it made them hate. They had seen the Dark from afar (aesthetically as gods experience things),  but not felt its bite, its cold, its relentless absence. And as it made their flesh, it forbade the upper worlds to them.

The majority of the undying 'elves' (as the mortals dubbed them) were forced to deal with their soulless natures (Gods, being pure spirit, are rendered pure flesh when they wander too far from the Porous Borders). Any elf that dies due to violence (they will never die of old age) will not pass into the Well of Souls. Instead its consciousness will persist in degraded, maddened form. A hateful imprint of an immortal super ego, denied both the flesh and transcendence.

The White Elves bind their dead into fetishes and tapestries woven from the spider silk mammary glands of their ancient Mother rulers. The Green Elf ghosts become one with the Witch Yews of the woods they inhabit (birthed by the great forest lord). The Moon Elves emerged only recently from moon debris (they are pieces of Her). The Dark Elves that die, are bound into bodies of lead called Cages, bodies built for war and slaughter. They wear lead pendants which will carry their essence for a short time (before the ghost escapes, stats as a Shadow). These pendants are collected for internment within Cages.

Since death for them is only the promise of one's worst aspects maintained within a hate forged shell of magic lead, most Dark Elves are content to sit and wait for the end of the 'others'. They avoid useless conflict, but utterly expunge anything that interferes with their precarious immutability. Eventually, everything else will die and they alone shall remain.

In this kind of climate, the worshippers of Woe are something akin to heretics. They believe in action. They know that the second sun is sending out a vibration to those most sensitive within the Dark. This vibration is almost information, but not quite, sitting uncomfortably upon the line demarcated 'instinct' and 'hallucination'. This vision says, that one day, Woe will arrive and it will upturn the order of Light and Dark which has existed since before there were gods; since, perhaps, before there was a multiverse. In this new light, some few Dark Elves imagine that they can reunite with their abandoned divinity or become something else entirely. 

To that end, these 'priests' of Woe have headed to the upper world to welcome the Black Sun. It must be granted purpose and power. A celebration or grand ritual, must happen upon the surface..in the hope that this will attract its attention granting the priests greater insight into its purpose, beyond the obscure glimpses unto which they have been made privy. Undoubtedly Woe is divine, since the power it grants its worshippers is inarguable. 

Ultimately, they know that Woe is coming regardless of the actions of the people of Idios and in order to placate its purpose (which will be sufficient to snuff out Colossus), certain mass scale geomantic alterations must be made to the surface. These alterations will form the nucelus of the celebration. A symbol must be shown to Woe, who will then reverse all things. Love will become hate, ice will become fire, the Dark will become a new Light.

This is how these few prophets understand the portents. The truth, is that there is very little known about Woe. Everything is interpretation. All is based upon the strong suspicion, that when Woe arrives, there will be no hiding for the Dark Elves, no outliving the perishable flesh. So these heretics have journeyed to the world above to see the Second Sun with their own eyes. To hear its song more fully. To pave the way.

In this land of old gods fallen; foreign tyrannical divinities and  the constant the threat of war and magical plague, the strange and charismatic followers of Woe seem to extend a lifeline to the people. They emerge from the wilderness, clad in black, faces goggled and hooded. They heal the sick. They feed the hungry.With these benevolent actions, their legend grows. People begin to talk.A fire is being lit in the hearts of the downtrodden. Woe promises one thing: change. And for many, that's the best deal they've heard in a long time.

Various disconnected Woe apocalypse cults wait for the picking; to be slowly organised under the aegis of the Dark Elf priests. How successful they will be, remains to be seen. One thing is for certain: hearts and minds must be won...a concept alien to many Dark Elves, whose hatred for the light dwelling mortal races is, commonly, infinite.

Woe's Domain

1st Protection From Evil/Good, Bane
3rd Continual Flame, Blindness/Deafness
5th  Daylight, Fear
7th Blight, Banishment
9th Commune (with Woe), Flame Strike

 1st Level

-Bonus proficiencies with heavy armour
-once per point of Wisdom modifier per day, you may command someone to change a given action to its exact opposite. This power may be used as a reaction. To avoid this compulsion, they are forced to make a Wis save.

2nd Level

-Once per day, per point of Wisdom bonus, you may cause any one spell cast with you or an ally as a target, to have precisely the opposite effect. Note that although this would cause a spell such as Inflict Wounds to instead Cure Wounds, if utilised against say a Fireball, it would create an anti-flame which would still cause damage,

6th Level

-You may swap HP totals (although not maximums) with any willing target. You may do this once per day, per point of Wisdom bonus. Wounds appear spontaneously, although remain bloodless for d6 rounds.

8th Level

-You may instantaneously swap locations with any one visible target. You may do this once per day, per point of Wisdom bonus. Target must make a Dexterity save. At this level, one of your senses becomes reversed. Roll randomly to see which one.

14th Level

-You may cause one environmental factor to reverse its effects upon your command. So one could now effectively hide in bright light, breathe underwater or freeze water with an open flame. This lasts no more than 10 minutes and may be performed once per day, per point of Wisdom bonus. A second sense becomes reversed.

17th Level

-You may reverse the nature and will of a mass of individuals, as many as you can see. A peaceful congregation might become an abatoir of cruelty, a market square could transform into a celebration of giving and sharing, a mass battle would produce a mass hug off and so on. This is a powerful effect and it may be utilised but once per year. Make one Wisdom save for the entire crowd. Whilst it occurs, the Second Sun burns brightly.

The Barbét Recency and the Cyclops

The rolling valleys of Barbét are choked with vineyards and orchards. Slicing through the greenery are alarmingly clear streams, white pebbles reflecting the light from Colossus, the greater sun,  which is considered holy in this land. The hills are verdant and flocks of black sheep and firey, red haired goats are driven across the pasture by hardy,  ruddy skinned shepherds. The peasants of this land have tended their flocks for generations.  They lead simple lives. They know and understand their place in the grand scheme of things: that is, to live and die upon the pasture. Their masters treat them well, watching with their great brass telescopes from their granite castles.

They are called Cyclops and they are as civil a people, as one could hope one eyed giants to ever be.

Their race is older than man and in their refinement, their gentlity, their measured calm; the surplus of years is made apparent.  They stand a full head higher than a man and their frames are broad and powerful.  Their hands are like shovels and yet their fingers are long and dexterous. They are magnificent musicians,  composing heart shudderingly beautiful scores upon their peculiar piano-harps. Their voices are peerless, rich and luxuriant of tone.

True to legend, each possesses but a single, great eye. It is right to say that their depth perception is not good. But those eyes see more than crude matter alone. If they fix upon a spot,  they can see the future of that tightly focused point in very specific terms...the holes that will form in a coat, the lines that will crease a maiden's face, the wound that will fell a soldier.  They use the chrono-scry rarely,  for it calcifies the future,  setting the most likely fate of a person or object in certain terms.  Still,  there are foreign princes who still pay great sums to know something of what a Cyclops sees.

They are not a populous race,  living many thousands of years,  but breeding perhaps once or twice in that great span. They, unlike elves,  have souls.  They are worshipers of invisible Metronon, but they are not fanatics like the men of Torquemada. Moreover,  the Torquemadan empire recognises the important allies these people represent and do not force them to burn their musical instruments or destroy their skewed, surreal paintings. Despite this seeming tolerance, it is no mere conjecture to say, that many within that base empire, where shallowness has been raised to holiness, would love to bring the  Barbét Regency to heel. But for now, they are simply too afraid.

They rule a population of men, generally serving as examples to their lessers in matters of honour and chivalry. Still, they see their human vassels more like the inhabitants of a great doll's house than as people.  Privacy is forbidden. Utilising enormous brass telescopes,  they peer into the most intimate places with complete impunity. To hide from their sight, is to invite a terrible paranoid fury. All peasant's homes have  large, round windows set into the north, east, south and west walls  . Through these  windows, every room in the house can be seen.  They call them 'The Master's Windows'.

They dress in the finest fashions. Indeed,  the salons of Barbét are widely considered to set trends across the continent. They are fond of a wide variey of smoking herbs, many of which are highly narcotic to a human partaker. They hold garden parties, upon clifftop retreats.

They are formidable warrirors, exceptional duelists and famous for their three man jezail teams, incorporating a shooter, a stabiliser and a range finder (vital with the Cyclops lack of depth perception).

They tolerate the persecuted Alephs (as they are known on Idios, You can call them Tieflings if you like. I was never a fan of that name). In fact, many Alephs have settled in the Barbet Regency; enough to be of concern to the Church of Metronon. For now, Barbet represents a great place of security for the Alephs and they do their best to find their way here. Were it not for the fact that they worship the Lord of Secrets, Murmuri , they would come in greater numbers. As it is, there are still a great many secular Aleph and these ones flourish.  The Cyclops tolerate nothing hidden.

Witches, personifying the profane 'secret' for the Cyclops, are not suffered to live. In fact,  all crimes,  even the slightest, are considered an affront to the natural order. If any are discovered,  then execution comes in the form of an iron mallet to the head. This is often carried about by enthusiastic human vassals. Every household has an execution mallet, wielded by the eldest member.

Despite this,  within the captal city of Ergo, thieves operate,  for objects d'art proliferate. The Cyclops produce nothing without idyosyncracy. Their work is not always beautiful, but it is always art. Ot at least their creations seem to unite critics in a perversely universal fashion.

Barbét Cyclops Chevalier

AC 18 (chain & shield), HP 85 Spd. 35 ft Proficiency bonus +2, To hit +8, 2d6+5 dm (massive longsword)

S+5/D+1/C+2/I+1/W+1/C+2

Disadvantage on ranged attacks.

Fated Strike: so localised and specific is the sight of the Cyclops that its power is as much of a hindrance as a boon. If the Cyclops chooses to use it (which it will do as a last resort), roll on the following table. (It takes up a bonus action) :

1 "I see you burn!" Target becomes vulnerable to fire for the next round (or some other random damage type)
2. "I am undone!" Cyclops gains disadvantage on all rolls this round.
3. "Your armour is badly maintained , my friend!" Next hit from the Cyclops reduces AC of opponent by 1.
4. "Tis not the time for battle." Cyclops compelled to do nothing but defend and spout poetry this round.
5. "We both, shall fight to the last! " Cyclops and opponent both do double damage to one another this round.
6. "Winds  of time, blow thy horns!" Cyclops gains advantage on all rolls this round.
7. "The horror! The horror!" Cyclops is nauseated.
8. "You and I may yet be brothers" Cyclops will immediately attempt to parlay. Opponent has disadvantage to strike Cyclops.
9. "Thou art mine bosom enemy!" Cyclops forever hits a critical on a 19 or 20 against this opponent.  It will fight to the death.
10.  "Stare into my eye and see thine reflection." Both Cyclops and opponent gain a level of exhaustion,  faced with a swift developing, cosmic ennui.

Fire on the Velvet Horizon, 'Geisha Spore-Glyphapillar', GEYSER LORD, ORACLE OF THE VENT, FUMEROLE LICH

Geyser Lord

OLD SCHOOL

Armour as plate and shield, Move 0' (though may disengage to vent lair), 30' when surrounded by water of home vent, 14 Hit Dice, HP 94 , 1d12 dam (Scalding Spray), Morale 10.

Immune to fire damage. Half damage from magical fire. 

Spell Use: Geyser Lord knows spells deemed appropriate for a 14th level magic user. Some are more powerful, knowing and casting spells as an 18th level magic user.

Boiling Column :  The Geyser Lord is enveloped within a poisonous, scalding, torrent of water.  Anyone attacking must save vs poison or become Ill for d6+1 days. Furthermore, d12 damage is taken automatically, due to the searing heat.

Unavoidable Fate: Given the correct offerings,  the Geyser Lord will set you forth upon a heroic path that may be tragic, glorious or both. Roll on the following tables. Replace with your own entries as they are used up.

When you...

1. See the unfurling of the carnellion sail
2. Taste the 'Seeing Bark' 
3. Smell the crushed black poppies
4. Hear three eagles at midnight
5. Receive the gift of the spider 
6. Cause the saddest one to laugh
7. Die the little death
8. Are accused of the Lord's crime. 

You will...

1. Travel to the source of the great river.
2.  Journey to the Temple of Three Errors.
3. Journey to the Tree of the Lonely God.
4. Find the pool where the women go to drown.
5. Seek the counsel of the reptile oracle.
6. Travel to frozen Joten Lodge.
7. Go before the cracked temple.
8. Find the crimson pastures.

Once there,  you will be tasked to:

1. Marry the hideous Goblin Princess 
2. Poison the paladin Regent. 
3. Destroy the sad Golem called Tashok the Grinder
4. Murder the saintly children of the Duke.
5. Find the crown of delight.
6. Sack the temple of love.
7. Ruin the great artist's masterpiece.
8. Apprentice oneself to the Lonely archangel and steal his grimoire.

Upon accomplishing this, the character will achieve a dream appropriate to his/her character. This ought to be determined at the point of asking. There exists an 80% chance that the prophecy will end in the violent death of the character.  This will be expressed in pelucid fashion thusly:

1. Nothing that breathes will ever halt your assent. 
2. Beware the friend without blame.
3. As the Sun shines, so shall the glory be yours. 
4. The bride shamed, will be your damnation.
5. There shall be no curse more terrible than love.
6. Beneath the idol with your mother's face, sorrow will find you. 
7.  One final ascent beyond the clouds and you are gone. 
8.  In your dreams,  they will find you. 

The prophecies always come true unless the Geyser Lord is destroyed. If any result should see the character die before his/her destiny is  fulfilled, pass that death onto the most important NPC in that character's life. If there are none,  it's PC time. Everybody knows that the Geyser Lord's prophecies are inevitable.  It'll serve them right. 

Funerole Lich

Becomes undead.  Can only be hurt by +2 weapons or greater.  Casts as a 20th level caster. Gains a 20' land speed.  
  

5E

Geyser Lord- AC 19, HP 125, Spd. 0ft (though may disengae to vent lair)/30 ft in water +9, 3d6 dam (scalding spray),    XP 13,000 CR15 (Geyser Lord) XP 24,000 CR 20 (Fumerole Lich)

S+1/D+1/C+3/I+5/W+5/C+1


Legendary Resistance: Geyser Lord may choose to pass a failed save; 3/day
Immunities: Immune to fire and posion damage. Half damage from magical fire.

Spell Use: Geyser Lord knows spells deemed appropriate for a 14th level sorcerer. Some are more powerful, knowing and casting spells as an 18th level sorcerer .

Boiling Column :  The Geyser Lord is enveloped within a poisonous, scalding, torrent of water.  Anyone attacking must pass a DC-18 Constitution save or become nauseous  for d6+1 days. Furthermore, 3d6 damage is taken automatically, due to the searing heat.

Unavoidable Fate: see above. 

Fumerole Lich: An undead Geyser Lord casts spells as a 20th level sorcerer. It becomes undead and gains immunity to charm, non-magical weapons, sleep, paralysis and blindness. It gains a 20ft land speed.

Legendary Actions:

Cast a cantrip: Costs 1 action. 

Vent gasses:  vents poisonous steam into the chamber. Everyone within 50 feet must make a DC-15 Constitution save to avoid nausea.  Victim can repeat save each turn to shake it off. 2 actions.

Searing Torrent: 6d6 30' cone heat/bludgeoning damage.  DC-15 Dexterity save for half damage. 2 actions

Master Sorcerer: Cast a 2nd level spell. 3 actions

Lair Actions

The actual lair of the Geyser Lord, is the boiling, underground vent. To challenge it here, one must be able to breathe water,  resist heat, resist poison  and resist extreme pressure. Needless to say,  it dwells within a hostile and alien environment. Without these precautions, expect to take 3d10 damage/round due to boiling water, make a DC-20 Constitution save to avoid gaining a level of fatigue each round due to the pressure and a further DC-15 Consitution  save/round to prevent nausea and 4d6 poison damage

Obfuscating Cloud: Geyser Lord provokes a an underwater fog of sediment.  Acts as darkness in a 100' radius sphere.  The Geyser Lord can see through this cloud normally.

Vent Thing: Geyser Lord manifests a Vent Thing, essentially a small water elemental, entirely under the Geyser Lord's control. Vent Things are toxic. Upon a successful hit,  make a DC-10 Constitution save to avoid nausea. This save may be repeated each round.

Voice of Fate: Geyser Lord marks an opponent. Target must use their best attribute save (representing their heroic potential) to beat DC-18. Failure indicates that the character suffers disadvantage on all subsequent rolls until the Geyser Lord is slain or chooses to mark another character.

Fire on the Velvet Horizon, 'Eclipse Lich to EoNian Wyrm' ECLIPSE LICH

Yeah, these are kind of long.  I think short stat blocks are cool,  but for monster manual style entries,  you'd want the whole cloth. Plus, 5e has these little kinks in the system (legendary actions, lair actions), that i really like. Anyway,  the Eclipse Lich is one of my favourites.  Two more coming later this eve and then it's time for a new, arbitrary letter.  

Black Star to get you in the mood.

Eclipse-Lich

OLD SCHOOL

Armour as plate and shield, Move 5', 19 Hit Dice, HP 121 , 1d3 dam (Feeble Appendage), Morale 12.

Corpse Rays: Save vs Magic -3, failure means imprisonment within a Corpse Ray and replacement by a superior duplicate. 100 ft range. Double has maximum HP for its level and =+2 to all ability scores. Its abilities are reversed and/or perverted. Wizards gain knowledge of all necromantic spells that their level qualifies them for. Clerics lose knowledge of all spells but necromantic ones but their Turn Undead ability (or spell), becomes Turn Living. Rogues and fighters remain unchanged, though any magic weapons wielded by a transformed character become reversed cursed weapons if picked up by anybody else.

Spell Casting:  Knows all necromantic spells available to a 20th level wizard or cleric. However, it cannot cast them, since the Captains are their means of interacting with the petty world.  Eclipse Liches are concerned only with pure death and chaos; its Corpse Rays express its fury in a concentrated, single minded fashion.

Eat Light: No matter the illumination, light in the area becomes dim until the next round.

Crimson Flare: The  Eclipse-Lich burst into a brief crimson flash of flame. Save vs Rods & Wands to avoid 1d3 rounds of blindness. 

Shattering Memories:  The  Eclipse-Lich   fixes  its  attention on one  creature  it  can  sense  within  10  feet  of  it. A sudden telepathic  influx of infinitely bitter, celestial half-truths, flood the creature's mind. The  target  must succeed  on  a  Save vs Magic magic or  become  confused (As the spell)  for  1  minute.  The  confused  target  can repeat  the  saving  throw  at  the  end  of each  of its  turns,  ending the  effect  on  itself  on  a  success.  If  a  target's  saving  throw  is successful  or  the  effect  ends  for  it,  the  target  is  immune  to the  Eclipse-Lich's ranting for  the  next  24  hours.

Vile Inferno:  Each  living  creature  within  20 feet  of  the  Eclipse-Lich  must  make  a Save vs Death, (6d6)  fire  damage  on  a failed  save,  or  half  as  much  damage  on  a  successful  one. Victim is on fire on a roll of 1-2 on a d6.

Corpse Ray Regeneration: Any previously destroyed Captain, is immediately brought back to life at full hit points.

Glimpse the Black Sun: Anything dead within 50 feet rises as an undead creature.

Empower Captain: Target Captain receives +2 on its next attack and does double damage on a hit.

5E

Eclipse Lich - AC 19, HP 185, Spd. 5ft +8, 1d4 dam (Feeble Appendage),    XP 100,000 CR 26

S+0/D-3/C+5/I+6/W+6/C-3

Corpse Rays: The Eclipse Lich is not hugely effective in and of itself. The doubles it produces from its rays, serve as its best means of interacting with the world. Any individual within 100 ft of the Eclipse Lich is subject to this power. It may use its Corpse Rays as a normal action or a reaction. Victim makes a DC-20 Int save or is imprisoned within the Corpse Ray and replaced by a superior double.
The double has maximum HP per level, +1 Proficiency bonus and +2 all of its abilities scores. It is more correctly considered a 'dark reflection' than a 'double' since the new mirror being's powers become reversed and/or perverted. Lay On Hands, for example, might do an equivalent level of harm instead of healing. This is must be considered by the DM, but some examples as guidelines:

Fighters, Rogues, Rangers: Remains largely the same. Sadism and cruelty become the primary characteristics. However, any magic weapons carried have powers reversed. Anyone picking up a reversed magic weapon will discover that it functions as an equivalent cursed item in their hands. Animal Companions are not reversed unless the Eclipse-Lich chooses to utilise a Corpse Ray...in which case, Cujo. Ranger's Chosen Enemy becomes his own friends and family.
Barbarians: Transform into implacable, slasher film style psychopaths. They do not rage. Instead they howl;  the very sound of which weakens, sickens and demoralises. DC-8+barbarian's Con bonus+ barbarian's proficiency bonus to save. Victims suffer disadvantage on Strength checks and gain vulnerability to cutting, piercing and bludgeoning attacks until the next round.
Wizards: Spell damage type becomes necrotic. Knows all necromantic spells from each spell level the original caster qualified for (the Eclipse-Lich's wisdom is embodied in its captains and in matters of undeath, it is essentially peerless). Able to manifest spell at +3 caster level. Often used as the Eclipse Lich's primary agents in the world at large.
Clerics: Are essentially conduits of the Eclipse-Lich's necromantic energy. Since they no longer possess a connection to the original victim's patron deity, they lose the ability to cast their original spells and instead become capable of casting only the listed divine necromantic spells of the qualified level. However, they are manifested at +3 to the caster level.Turn Undead ability becomes Turn Living.
Paladins: Obvious reversals such as Smite Evil becoming Smite Good and Lay On Hands inflicting wounds as mentioned above. Mount is not subject to imprisonment unless Eclipse-Lich utilises a Corpse Ray. Turn Undead as Clerics above. Horribly cruel and sadistic.

Spell Casting: Knows all necromantic spells available to a 20th level wizard or cleric. However, it cannot cast them, since the Captains are their means of interacting with the petty world.  Eclipse Liches are concerned only with pure death and chaos; its Corpse Rays express its fury in a concentrated, single minded fashion.

Legendary Actions:

Eat Light (1 Action). No matter the illumination, light in the area becomes dim until the next round.

Crimson Flare  (Costs  2  Actions).  The  Eclipse-Lich burst into a brief crimson flash of flame. DC-19 Wisdom save to avoid 1d3 rounds of blindness.

Shattering Memories  (Costs  2  Actions).  The  Eclipse-Lich   fixes  its  attention on one  creature  it  can  sense  within  10  feet  of  it. A sudden telepathic  influx of infinitely bitter, celestial half-truths, flood the creature's mind. The  target  must succeed  on  a  DC -20  Wisdom  saving  throw  against  this  magic or  become  confused (As the spell)  for  1  minute.  The  confused  target  can repeat  the  saving  throw  at  the  end  of each  of its  turns,  ending the  effect  on  itself  on  a  success.  If  a  target's  saving  throw  is successful  or  the  effect  ends  for  it,  the  target  is  immune  to the  Eclipse-Lich's ranting for  the  next  24  hours.

Vile Inferno  (Costs  3  Actions).  Each  living  creature  within  20 feet  of  the  Eclipse-Lich  must  make  a  DC -19  Dexterity  saving  throw against  this  magic,  taking  21  (6d6)  fire  damage  on  a failed  save,  or  half  as  much  damage  on  a  successful  one. Victim is on fire on a roll of 1-2 on a d6.

Lair Actions

Corpse Ray Regeneration: Any previously destroyed Captain, is immediately brought back to life at full hit points.

Glimpse the Black Sun: Anything dead within 50 feet rises as an undead creature.

Empower Captain: Captain within 50 feet gains advantage on its next roll and deals double damage on a melee hit.

Fire on the Velvet Horizon, 'Capitulator to Curselings' CURSELINGS

CURSELINGS

OLD SCHOOL

Armour as chain, Move 30', 6 Hit Dice, 33 hp, claw d6+1 damage (but will prefer other, cleverer means of murder), Morale 8.

Treasure- Curselings lair where there exists great amounts of lost treasure (of all kinds). These places are often dangerous in their own right. Decide who or what owned the hoard previous to the Curseling and generate (or place) suggested treasure types.

Invisible in the Dark - When in darkness, surprises on a 1-5 on a d6. -1 to hit the Curseling.

Sense of the Lost - As well as being able to discern the location of any lost object or person, the Curseling gains a +2 on all rolls whenever it deals with the lost or the truly alone.  Being in a Curseling lair counts as 'lost and alone'.

Tireless - Curselings never become fatigued .

Whisperer in the Darkness - Can perfectly mimic any sound it hears and throw its voice unerringly.

Curseling Shadow Thane - Armour as chain and shield, HP 60, Move 30', 8 Hit Dice, 1d8+2 (Claw, though as above. Likely to have access to some manner of magical weapon)

Abilities as above. Will have the unwavering loyalty of any number of Curselings.

5E

Curselings - AC 16, HP 60, Spd. 30ft, +6, 1d8+2 dm (Claw or by weapon, though a Curseling will rarely resort to such methods, preferring to utilise the cruelest, most cunning means of slaughter they can devise.),    XP 1,800 CR 5

S+2/D+1/C+2/I+3/W+2/C+2

Invisible in the Dark - When in darkness, gains advantage on stealth rolls. Those trying to hit it, are at disadvantage.

Sense of the Lost - As well as being able to discern the location of any lost object or person, the Curseling gains advantage on all rolls whenever it deals with the lost or the truly alone. Being in a Curseling lair counts as 'lost and alone'.

Tireless - Curselings never become exhausted.

Whisperer in the Darkness - Can perfectly mimic any sound it hears and throw its voice unerringly.

Curseling Shadow Thane - AC 17, HP 104, Spd. 30ft, +8, 1d10+3 (Claw, though as above. Likely to have access to some manner of magical weapon) XP 2,900 CR 7

S+3/D+1/C+3/I+3/W+2/C+3

Abilities as above. Will have the unwavering loyalty of any number of Curselings.

Old Man of the Womb

Old Man of the Womb

When a pregnant woman is murdered and her body buried in rude earth, sacred to the bleak god of futile gestures, Kalak Mar, predictably the results are horrific. 

The body so recently gestating within the womb, becomes a vessel of rage for both unborn infant and slain mother. For a year and a day, it remains curled within the mother corpse, festering and withering, like a beetle grub in a rotten stump. The terrible energies at play mummify both the unborn child and mother. By the end of this period, the creature within resembles nothing so much as a grotesque and wrinkled old man, a foetid grey prune for a head, its body unnaturally bent into a permanent foetal posture, rigid with hate, its face etched with a malignant loathing for a life it never had the chance to lead. 

Still attached via the umbilical cord, the thing finds egress from the cold earth and slowly, obscenely floats from its shared grave to feast upon others that remind it of what it never had (by feasting, I mean it enjoys finding its way into cribs and leaving horrifically aged infant corpses to be found by shrieking mothers, the shock enough to kill them). It remains at all times connected to the body of its mother via the umbilical cord, though this is able to stretch up to seven whole leagues in length. The cord cannot be severed unless one uses silver shears. Upon this occurrence, the Old Man drops to the earth and shrivels to dust within minutes. However, this is not the end of the monster. The cord is moved to seek out another child to replace the one destroyed. It will strangle the chosen babe and drag its poor little body back to the ghastly womb of the dead mother, where after a year and a day, it will have fully fused to the umbilical cord and birthed another Old Man. That said, during this period without a true 'Old Man', the mother host can be destroyed with flame.

The simplest (and most deadly) way to end the monster, is to track it back to the grave from whence it came. This can be done by chasing the retreating Old Man using magical means (it retreats swiftly, as fast as a bird) or by bribing local owls who are known to see all in the night (their price often involves weird geasa...some scholars speculate that Owls are the keepers of reality, but that, is of course, a different tale). Other means may work and would rely upon the ingenuity of the hunter. What is important, is that the grave is found. It is said, that if the body is dug up at this point, only moldering bones will be discovered. But if the hunters can make the creature jealous of the childhood it never had...perhaps by playing a game or reciting an account of a parent's love, then the Old Man of the Womb will not be able to contain its fury.

At this point, the host mother rises, piloted in blasphemous fashion by the wizened Man of the Womb, clearly visible through a tattered aperture in the mother's stomach. She cannot be stopped short of destroying the Old Man. This can only be accomplished with a piercing weapon of silver or magical origin. The shriveled operator must be pinned to the earth, whereby it will finally disintegrate. 

Whilst the Old Man is within the mother host, the mother's body grows taller and thinner and her eyes begin to emit a withering white beam that ages those caught within its shocking deadlight glare. 

These horrors are created by cultists of Kalak Mar whose purposes are often inscrutable and nihilistic. At the very least, they represent abominations which must be destroyed for the sake of sanity and good reason.

Old Man of the Womb sans Mother Host

Characteristics -------------Attributes ------------------------1d20 Location AP/HP

STR: (8/28 body/cord)------Action Points 3 ----------------------------------1-2 R.Leg 4

CON: (15) ---------------- Damage Modifier -1d4/+1d4-----------------------3-4 L.Leg 4

SIZ: (3) ------------------ Magic Points 14----------------------------------5-6 Abdomen 5

DEX: (16)----------------- Movement 18(Flying)-----------------------------7-8 Chest 6

INT: (10) ---------------- Strike Rank 13------------------------------------9-15 Umbilical Cord 6

POW: (14)---------------- Armour None-------------------------------------16-17 R.Arm 3

----------------------------------------------------------------------------18-19 L.Arm 3

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------20 Head 4

Abilities: Dark Sight, Immunity (None magic or silver weapons), Life Sense, Flight, Undead, Grapple

Skills: Endurance 96%, Evade 70%, Perception 80%, Willpower 90%, Brawn 60%

Combat Style: Ghastly Floating Strangler (Umbilical Cord, Toothless Kiss) 86% 

Damage: Umbilical Cord 1d8+1d4, large ,reach VL

-------- Toothless Kiss no damage, special effect only on successful grapple. Causes withering effect; Endurance check vs attack roll. Failure indicates a roll on the ageing table and the loss of 1d3 characteristic points. Critical failure indicates two rolls on the table. Ageing appears more like a kind of grey mummification...an ashen shriveling, rather than standard wrinkles and sagging skin, etc.

Notes: Silver shears can be used to sever the umbilical cord. The passage of the Old Man is marked by the hoot of owls, offended by its passage through the gloapy night air which belongs to them. Upon tracking the thing back to its grave lair, a second even more horrible fight begins...

Old Man of the Womb in Mother Host exoskeleton

Characteristics -------------Attributes ------------------------1d20 Location AP/HP

STR: (28)--------------------------Action Points 3 ----------------------------1-3 R.Leg 2/6

CON: (15) ------------------------ Damage Modifier +1d8-----------------------4-6 L.Leg 2/6

SIZ: (2d6+6/13) ------------------ Magic Points 14-----------------------------7-9 Abdomen 2/7

DEX: (16)--------------------------Movement 6--------------------------------10-12 Chest 2/8

INT: (10) ------------------------- Strike Rank 13------------------------------13-15 R.Arm 2/5

POW: (14)------------------------ Armour Mummified Flesh---------------------16-18 L.Arm 2/5

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------19-20 Head 2/6

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Abilities: Dark Sight, Immunity (None magic or silver weapons), Life Sense, Flight, Undead, Grapple, Regeneration 3HP every location/round, including lost limbs and even when apparently destroyed (Excepting abdominal blows), Terrifying, Formidable Natural Weapons

Skills: Endurance 96%, Evade 50%, Perception 80%, Willpower 90%, Brawn 80%

Combat Styles: Relentless Exo-Mother (Rending Claws) 86% 

---------------------Deadlight Beams 70%

Rending Claws 1d8+1d8 bleed/plus whatever hideous grave disease you care to infect its rank claws with. Large, Long Reach

Deadlight Beam: see below Range 50/200/300

Notes: Deadlight beams act exactly like the Toothless Kiss, only they're ranged and thus much, MUCH worse. 

In the write up above, I mention that the creature seems to stretch and grow. Personally, I make this effect cosmetic...I think I have the (possibly false) memory of a wicked queen stretching and growing; menacing some Prince Charming type: the end result being to bewilder and cause fear...hence the 'Terrifying' attribute. So not entirely cosmetic after all. 

Only by impaling the Old Man and pinning it to the earth can the creature be finally stopped. Naturally, this requires an Impale effect and enough damage to cause a serious wound.

If the body is discovered without an Old Man, then it may be safely burnt and the ashes scattered. That will be enough to end the nightmare.

Another Monster...

 Hello again. My quest to string together three words in a vaguely entertaining fashion continues with this Runequest monster. If you want to convert it to D&D, then it should be a breeze, unlike the opposite proposition (I'll probably get round to it eventually). Please enjoy. As usual, credit to the people who are good at this and whose example pushes me into ever more embarrassing arenas (Zak S, False Patrick, Noisms, Scrap Princess, etc...)


                                       Fractal Optimiser

In the far wastes of Zhar, there is a space inhabited not by men, but by information. Living fractals that are able to occupy this plane of existence , not because they belong here, but because of the horrible damage wrought to reality when the moon fell from her place in the sky.

These creatures ...they are not to be understood on our terms. The environment they inhabit is at once, arid desert and mathematical euqation. To wander there is to risk dissolution and madness...yet some do, for the fractal beings seem never less than pleased to communicate and welcome pilgrims. This welcome of theirs, might take the form of an implanted bliss; a blasting, uncommunicable truth; assimilation into their number or the discovery of the pilgrim's bleached bones upon the steps of their mother's home a thousand miles away. Somehow they know to weep for their foolish children.

And yet these beings, these anomalous guests, are not the focus of the words before you. They do not, afterall, leave the desert. Their purpose is private enough and unfathomable enough to the princes of men, that they are considered no more dangerous than a shark. A shark will never eat you in your bedroom.

Recall I told you that these beings are not to be understood on our terms? I did not lie to you. But they possess some of the qualities we might associate with life...seeming consciousness, purpose and emotional weight. There is an ecology at work. They even produce excrement... waste matter. Except this substance is not matter, for the beings that produce it are, or subsist on ideas and information. Indeed, their shit lives. Ahh, now you raise an eyebrow! It is this defecation that proves of the greatest danger to men.

Waste ideas, a violent, coruscating storm of mobile waste information, imploding into itself (the concept of 'self' having lost all meaning), a mandala that cannot find satisfaction in the undulations of its own presence, but must violently pull in other information, other data in order for it to cease to exist. Or at least this is how it seems in dully remembered, incohate dreams...memories of when these miasmic, chaos blurs/mobile, possibly living shit storms came the way of men.
Fortunately they destroy themselves after a certain amount of information has been collected, as if a balance had been re-asserted. Furthermore, though capable of moving as fast as a good horse, they rarely make it as far as civilised lands without first discovering a tribe of nomads or a cave of primitives. They are drawn to the thoughts of sentient beings in order to erase the problem of their being.

Their touch invites assimilation...one's very substance (also a kind of idea) and consciousness becomes fused with the über mass of semi-alive information. Those with a strong will can resist. likewise they can be fought with the weapons of will; certainty of purpose serving to act as surely as hapless absorption when it comes to satiating their needs. If one trusts hard enough in the steel they wield or the magics they utter, then that individual might prevail...but this is rare indeed.

After drawing a certain amount of conscious reality into their core, a critical juncture is reached and they wink out of existence. It is possible to escape from the Fractal Optimiser (as they were dubbed by the Order of the 66 Archons), requiring the consumed to face a riot of insane pre-consumed sentiences. This battle occurs purely in the realm of thought and it is a struggle of ego vs conceptual annihilation.

Curiously, adamant bottles have appeared in certain bazaars in Vornheim, Jukai, Marlinko and Syrone. Within, is contained the raging essence of a Fractal Optimiser. They change hands for thousands of silver; weapons of considerable power.



Characteristics -------------Attributes ------------------------1d20 Location AP/HP
STR: (-) ------ ------ Action Points 3 --------------------- 1–20 Incohate Form 0/11
CON: (15) ------ ----- Damage Modifier 0
SIZ: 6d6+20 (40) ------ Magic Points 18
DEX: (14)------ ----- Movement 12
INS: (15) ------ ------ Strike Rank 15
POW: (18)------ ----- Armour None
Abilities: Dark Sight, Immunity (Any attack made wthout an accompanying wilpower roll better than the attack it supports and better than the Fractal Optimiser's own Willpower resistance roll), Regeneration (1 HP/Round), Terrifying, Life Sense, Engulf, Flight
Skills: Endurance 52%, Evade 64%, Perception 75%, Willpower 70%
Combat Style: Absrobing Undulation(Fractal Pseudo Appendage) 60%

Damage: Special

Notes:

If a character is engulfed by the Fractal Optimiser, then they must roll Willpower vs Willpower. Failure indicates that they have been absorbed into the Optimiser. Within, the consumed finds themselves in a fractured, shifting dreamscape, composed from the memories of its previously absorbed victims. Here they will be forced into something resembling spirit combat with their own identity.
The affected character may choose to use either his Willpower or a Passion in an extended test against either their own Willpower stat or another Passion, GM's choice. Success leads to escape, although magic points will be drained consumate with the utimate degree of success at a rate of 3 MP per Fractal Optimiser success level (maximum loss of 12 mp) . Any degree of failiure results in the victim remaining trapped in the Fractal Optimiser with the same loss of MP. Reduction to zero MP, means the characer has been forever lost.

The Optimiser vanishes after it absorbs MP equal to its SIZ.

Its HP are an abstraction, not really representing anything material so much as its remaining reality. If its HP are reduced to zero, it transforms into a random mundane object drawn from the consumed information within its form. This could be literally anything.

Obviously there's some fluff from my own campaign mixed in with the description of the Fractal Optimiser. It's really up to you why the beings that produce these things exist. I leave that to the GM as an exercise in RPG imagination powerz.

Dream Whistler (Runequest Version)

The Dream Whistler 

Sometimes, the membrane between the realms of wakefulness and sleep grows threadbare. That untenable things of both beauty and madness sometimes find their way into the waking world, is beyond dispute. That those inhabitants of dream are violently forced to conform with the physical laws of our own bleak cosmos, is fuel enough for a thousand nightmares of horrors born afresh to a hunger, which must now feed.

One such horror is the Dream Whistler. 

Arising from the chimera of amour which most often assails youth, in slumber they are amorphous clouds of half forgotten loves and desires. In flesh, they are cruelly rendered as obscene mollusc things as big as hippos (although no bigger than mice when first conceived, upon taking a lair, they quickly and unnaturally grow in size... a process which leaves them ravenously hungry). Their heads are always different: generally idealised representations of people the Whistler's original host once dreamt of. If that love was true and reserved for one person alone, then only one head will be present and near perfect. If that host longed for more than one person, then multiple faces will develop, with imperfections in their features growing with the number present. These slack jawed, drooling countenances are all sculpted from flesh, hair included, so as to resemble awful, glistening statuary. The creature has one functioning mouth set into it's upper trunk. Beneath this horrible lamprey like orifice are arrayed row upon row of pendulous mammary sacs. 

Their means of locomotion are extremely limited, having to rely only upon long spindly arms and barely obedient cephalopodium. Ultimately they bind themselves to surfaces wherever they find themselves lairing, in a fashion akin grotesque barnacles. The lair is of particular significance to the Dream Whistler, being in a sense, a part of it's body (and hunting routine). They secrete themselves in lonely places of beauty...beneath crumbled bridges, in the dark of mossy forgotten crypts, at the bottom of crumbling wells, in the hollows of great dead oaks. Places where lovers might wander and carve their names into wood or stone and perhaps leave a little of themselves behind. 

How do they get there? Some say that they are born from the death anguish of suicidal unrequited love. The monster manifests near a place where someone has taken their own life out of despair (this is partly true). Others suggest that (and these scholars are perhaps more accurate in their assessment), the Whistler gestates within dreams and whilst still tiny, manifest physically within the cerebellum, ultimately exiting the host via the nasal cavity. This can be the result of grotesque magics, but the spectre of spontaneous creation is also postulated as viable. If this be so, could our very dreams be merely incubators for monstrosities? If so, what then of our true natures?

The Dream Whistler, once created, secretes itself in the aforementioned lair and waits. A kind of hidden antennae set within the creatures' head area, picks up electromagnetic signals from nearby psyches. These are nearly always the minds of romantics, given to wandering and contemplation in places of serenity: poets, artists and lovers--- the forlorn, the lost, the pining and the mad. Once it has detected such a mind, it makes an imprint of the brains waveform and then 'pings' this waveform on a frequency only detectable in deep sleep.

The chosen, wherever he is, receives this waveform and it alters the very fabric of his dreaming. Any loved one that appear in the dreamers' sleeping worlds, can be replaced by an illusionary puppet under the control of the Dream Whistler. This puppet looks, speaks and acts exactly as the dreamer would expect of the loved one being replaced. It then attempts to lure the dreamer back to the place of serenity. This manifests beyond mere reverie. The suggestion or 'whistle' is strong enough to induce somnambulism. The poor slumbering victim will rise from his place of rest and make his way physically to the lair of the Dream Whistler. This may take several attempts over a number of nights and/or weeks. Sometimes the whistle is lost (lead blocks it as do more exotic, magical materials) and the victim awakens to find themselves miles from civilisation in the darkness of the countryside. In terror they flee home, but the process will only repeat itself, night after night.

Upon arrival at the lair of the Dream Whistler, the victim remains asleep, perceiving the image of the dreamt loved one waiting with open arms, drawing the sleep walker to fall into their loving embrace. In reality, the Dream Whistler's physical manifestation enjoys or needs to consume a certain amount of fatty tissue and compels it's victims to suckle at it's grotesque teats. These mammary glands produce something akin to an opiate/glucose/milk. The Dream Whistler will then nurture the victim for weeks. Throughout that time the poor dreamer never awakens, sucking greedily at the things narcotic breasts, insensible to the straining of their flesh and skin, the weird milk coursing through their bodies. In a short period of time, victims are flabby, oily mockeries of their former selves and ready to be plucked like gross fruit.

The ultimate fate of the Whistler's victims is to be messily devoured, lifted with ropey arms and stuffed into the waiting maw. This process is surprisingly swift, considering the measured pace of the Dream Whistler's hunting and fattening ritual; the victim is only barely aware of their own grisly demise as their somnolent bliss is ended.

Hunting the Dream Whistler is not impossible and upon discovery, it can be destroyed with flame and steel. The fact that it is largely stationary works against it. However, it is more than capable of defending itself and is able to use it's milk gorged victims as loyal and suicidal bodyguards (for their part, they perceive attackers as monsters invading their dreaming or threatening their beloved). The creature is dangerously psionic and is capable of employing surges of brain cooking energy waves. Finally, it's long, ropey arms clutch and grasp spasmodically and unpredictably, attempting to grab and then eat brave adventurers.

The final tragedy, is that upon the Dream Whistlers death, it's former victims are never able to truly forget their experience. They pine for that long dream wherein they were glutted upon ambrosia in the arms of their beloved. Following a period wallowing in a wasteland of cakes, pastries and other fattening foods (which they crave following the cessation of the Dream Whistler's milk), they are eventually found, having taken their own lives, at or near the old lair of the Dream Whistler. But before that moment comes, there is yet a worse horror: a freshly incarnated Dream Whistler (the same one?) crawls from the victims nasal cavity to nest anew... to whistle once more into the darkness for prey.

I'm going to forego the dice roll required to get a species variant. I figure you'll only use the Dream Whistler once. Plus I'm lazy. Also...yeah, I'm lazy.

Characteristics Attributes.                         Location AP/HP

STR: (20) AP  2 (+3 for heads)------   1-6 Cephalapodium 2/13

CON: (19) Damage Modifier +2d6 -- 7– 9 Abdomen 2/13

SIZ: (44) Magic Points 17 ------------    10-12 Chest 2/14

DEX: (6) Movement Immobile ---------13-15 Right Arm 2/11

INT: (10) Strike Rank 8 ------------         16-18 Left Arm 2/11

POW: (17) Armour : 'Almost-flesh'. --19-20 Head 2/12

CHA: (9) 

Abilities: Dark Sight, Grappler, Multi-Headed (3), Terrifying, Swallow (After successful grab), Psychic Emanations

Skills: Athletics19% Brawn 90% Endurance 80% Perception 70% Sing (Whistle) 95% Willpower 88% 

Combat Style: Clutching Horror

Weapon Size/Force Reach Damage AP/HP

Bite M T 1d6+2d6 As for Head

Claw H VL 1d6+2d6 As for Arm (victims grabbed , will be moved towards the mouth for biting and swallowing)

Special Notes: 

An immature Dream Whistler has only 2hp per location and no armour, but possesses a Movement speed of 6.

The Dream Whistler's Psychic Emanations can be detected only in sleep and only if the dreamer has passed close to the lair of the Dream Whistler. The Dream Whistler first attempts a psychic 'mark' which grants it a long range connection. This attempt is imperceptible to the victim. A Resisted Willpower roll is required, with failure indicating that the Dream Whistler has established a connection. From that point on, the Whistler will enter the dreams of the victim night after night...each night requiring another Willpower roll to resist sleep walking towards its lair. Whilst the Dream Whistler is present inside the mind of the victim, normal sleep is impossible, the victim being rendered Weary for the duration of the psychic onslaught. The victim, upon arriving at the lair of the Dream Whistler, does not awake and immediately nestles into the creatures blubber to glut itself on the creatures milk.

The Dream Whistler's milk is a POT 95 toxin (resisted by Willpower) that induces blissful hallucinations and subservience to the monster. For each week of suckling, the victim gains a point of SIZ and loses a point of CON.

As mentioned above, the Whistler is capable of using its psychic power to do more than merely lure the weak to their deaths. It is capable of launching a Psychic Wrack (see Luther Arkwright p.62) which damages the body of the target. It may spend 1 MP+1MP per target and, if it succeeds in a Willpower vs target's Willpower, deals an intensity 5 psychic burn to the victim. This manifests as d8 damage right to the head, bypassing any armour unless head gear is made of lead. For the purposes of magical protection, consider the psychic wrack to possess a magnitude of 3.

Note: Obviously the Dream Whistler makes an eerie whistling sound...like a fragment of a tune. This whistling sounds quite disarming and out of place.