Yo, I wrote up some monsters and they're both pigs. What are the chances?
Our first beast is not a mammal but a rodent. Its conical bulk tapers down to a pink, hairless head. Curved yellow incisors lead the face, and lend the animal an untrustworthy look. It has the proportions of a short-legged dog that has grown fat from stealing milk. It's paws are heavy and black-nailed. They have the features of human hands but not the proportions. It's dim eyes are those of a misanthropist, dusty and calloused. It shuffles through forests, digging up mushrooms, falling asleep in sunny glades, and casually eating baby birds. Long spines fountain from its backsides, a bristling armory of quills.
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| lookit thiis fool jumpin teh hog all gigglin an shit |
Our first beast is not a mammal but a rodent. Its conical bulk tapers down to a pink, hairless head. Curved yellow incisors lead the face, and lend the animal an untrustworthy look. It has the proportions of a short-legged dog that has grown fat from stealing milk. It's paws are heavy and black-nailed. They have the features of human hands but not the proportions. It's dim eyes are those of a misanthropist, dusty and calloused. It shuffles through forests, digging up mushrooms, falling asleep in sunny glades, and casually eating baby birds. Long spines fountain from its backsides, a bristling armory of quills.
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| something is srsly wrang wid dis pig |
Quillypig
Quills. Whenever you miss it with a (non-reach) melee weapon, you take 1d4 damage.
| HD | 2 |
| AC | 6 [13] |
| Atk | Tail Slap +2 (1d6) |
| Special | quills |
| Move | 9 |
| Save | 16 |
| Morale | 9 |
Quills. Whenever you miss it with a (non-reach) melee weapon, you take 1d4 damage.
Psycho Quillypigs are believed to be many magically weaponized animals that the alchemists of Asria have created. They have a special ability called telespike. Instead of slapping its prey, it closes its eyes and begins to tremble. This shaking intensifies, and it's quills rattle together like pens in a drawer. Finally, it squeals. A thin stream of blood trickles from its eyes, and it teleports one of its spines into its prey. It aims for the heart. Its target must save or take 1d6 damage with an exploding die (if you roll a 6, keep rolling and adding to the total). On a successful save, the target takes 1 damage.
Our next pig has ceased to be. It is an ex-pig.
Nearly every necromancer that has ever learned to raise a zombie has learned on pigs. Buying several pig corpses is not a suspicious thing. They are large enough to make the inscription of the unholy runes a simple matter, and they remain threatening because of their powerful bite and sturdy frame. In fact, most necromancers insist that zombie pigs are more valuable than zombie dogs, since the hounds' advantages of speed and keen senses are negated by its new condition.
It was inevitable that further variations on the pig zombie would arise. Once it was skinned, sewn shut, and filled with the lighter-than-air products of decay, it becomes a powerful tool for a witch to spy on others.
Noiselessly drifting up to your second story window, a dead face looks in through sewn-shut eyelids. Fat cheeks bulge to contain the noxious gases that mingle and commune inside it's body. It sweats a small amount of fluid, a yellow-black gestalt of preservative bile and the dark products of rotting meat. Black bristles stick out at right angles from a body swollen with swirling plumes of hatred and hellsbreath.
When skulking (and it is always skulking) it sticks to the corners of ceilings and cakes itself with the dirt of its environment. Its movement is so perfectly silent that often the best indication of its presence is the smell, the unmistakable fetor of decay. Its double-stitched mouth is twisted up in the corners in the smirk of a tattletale, who travels faster when carrying bad news back to its master.
Noxenswine
Noxious Gas. A noxenswine can vent the stinking miasma that fills it. If it vents it through its snout, every living thing in a 10' radius must save or become overcome by the stench, and can only vomit for 1d6 rounds, after which they get -2 to hit until they have a chance to rinse out their eyes, mouth, and sinuses. Alternatively, the noxenswine can vent through its anus, quadrupling it's movement speed for 1 turn and leaving a trail of filthy gas. Pursuers who travel through this gas are affected by the gas as normal. A noxenswine can use these abilities twice before losing the ability to fly (and cannot vent additional gas, having none).
Variant Noxenswine are known to exist. Ingenious necromancers and alchemists have devised all sorts of horrible gases to stuff the pigs with. Some are even explosive.
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| a prefucly normal an health pigamaijg |
Nearly every necromancer that has ever learned to raise a zombie has learned on pigs. Buying several pig corpses is not a suspicious thing. They are large enough to make the inscription of the unholy runes a simple matter, and they remain threatening because of their powerful bite and sturdy frame. In fact, most necromancers insist that zombie pigs are more valuable than zombie dogs, since the hounds' advantages of speed and keen senses are negated by its new condition.
It was inevitable that further variations on the pig zombie would arise. Once it was skinned, sewn shut, and filled with the lighter-than-air products of decay, it becomes a powerful tool for a witch to spy on others.
Noiselessly drifting up to your second story window, a dead face looks in through sewn-shut eyelids. Fat cheeks bulge to contain the noxious gases that mingle and commune inside it's body. It sweats a small amount of fluid, a yellow-black gestalt of preservative bile and the dark products of rotting meat. Black bristles stick out at right angles from a body swollen with swirling plumes of hatred and hellsbreath.
When skulking (and it is always skulking) it sticks to the corners of ceilings and cakes itself with the dirt of its environment. Its movement is so perfectly silent that often the best indication of its presence is the smell, the unmistakable fetor of decay. Its double-stitched mouth is twisted up in the corners in the smirk of a tattletale, who travels faster when carrying bad news back to its master.
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| wobblin w/ malefolence |
| HD | 1 |
| AC | 7 [12] |
| Atk | Kick +1 (1d3) |
| Special | noxious gas |
| Move | 6, fly 6 |
| Save | 17 |
| Morale | 11 |
Noxious Gas. A noxenswine can vent the stinking miasma that fills it. If it vents it through its snout, every living thing in a 10' radius must save or become overcome by the stench, and can only vomit for 1d6 rounds, after which they get -2 to hit until they have a chance to rinse out their eyes, mouth, and sinuses. Alternatively, the noxenswine can vent through its anus, quadrupling it's movement speed for 1 turn and leaving a trail of filthy gas. Pursuers who travel through this gas are affected by the gas as normal. A noxenswine can use these abilities twice before losing the ability to fly (and cannot vent additional gas, having none).
Variant Noxenswine are known to exist. Ingenious necromancers and alchemists have devised all sorts of horrible gases to stuff the pigs with. Some are even explosive.
Interesting and horrible. Keep 'em coming!
ReplyDeleteI just... just in case you weren't just foolin' around... wanted to mention, though, that rodents are a kind of mammal. 8^/
Necrotic flatus? Excellent.
ReplyDelete