Author Archives: yacker666

Eyeball Beholderkin

Eyeball Beholderkin

Eyeballs are the lowest of all beholderkind, with dim intellect and personality. It is said that in some stable portions of the Far Realm, beholderkin spawn from the chaotic essence producing all manner of monsters. The bubbles of flesh which drift off and land within the prime material become these creatures, beings of chaos and a ever-present madness.

Eyeballs are little more than that, a floating eyeball with a lip of rough mottled skin as an eyelid. Small dots cover its skin, eyespots that in a greater beholderkin would be the source for eyestalks. The eyeball however has non, largely round and devoid of even things such as a mouth or any place to hold a brain or other organs. In spite of its impossible biology, it seems to perform well enough, slowly sipping ambient magical energy from the air to power it.

Eyeballs have little personality, but in the wild they are as mad as their higher kin. They seem to have a hate for non-round objects, blasting them until they have been eroded into an ideal shape or destroyed. Ironically their love of things round means they are capable of tolerating the presence of other beholderkin, and are sometimes used by true beholders as minions and scouts.

Eyeballs do not speak, and are lighter than air. They do not need to eat or breath, but they must still sleep.

Eyeballs can be bound as familiars, in which case it has the alignment of its owner, and a significantly improved self-control not to blast everything into a round shape (though it might still try).

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Thulgant Qlippoth

Thulgant Qlippoth

Before the Abyss was taught how to process and transform larvae into demons—indeed, before larvae even existed or the idea of mortal life had been conceived—it was rife with foul life. These creatures exist still, yet in drastically reduced numbers and often only in the deepest pits of the plane. Known as the qlippoth (the singular and plural are identical), these fiends may well be the oldest form of life in the Great Beyond—certainly, they were already in existence before the proteans discovered them. Some believe that the qlippoth come from an unknowable realm on what might be described as the “outside shell” of the Outer Sphere, but if the qlippoth are to be taken as indicative of what order of existence rules in such a realm, it is a good thing indeed that this outer realm is so impossibly distant.

The qlippoth do not possess in their forms anything approximating the human shape except by cosmic fluke or sinister mockery. In their twitching, squirming visages, the mad might make comparisons to life’s most primeval shapes—spiders and cephalopods, insects and worms, and even baser forms of life. What this might imply about these lower forms of life has disturbed philosophers for ages, and is not a train of thought that many enjoy lingering upon.

Since the rise of mortal sin, the rule of the Abyss has passed from the qlippoth to the much more fecund demons. When the Abyss first “learned” how to transform mortal souls into demons, the resulting explosion of demonic life culminated in a violent and destructive war with the then-rulers of the Abyss—the qlippoth. For unguessed millennia this war raged across the countless layers of the Abyss. The qlippoth had the advantage of knowing their ancient realm and, as a general rule, were individually more powerful than most demons, but the demons had numbers on their side. And as the demons continued to win battle after battle, new powers among their kind rose—balors, balor lords, nascent demon lords, and eventually demon lords themselves. Over time, the qlippoth were hunted nearly to extinction on the upper layers of the Abyss, and were forced to retreat deep into that realm’s darkest and most remote realms, to places even the demons feared to tread.

Here, the qlippoth have festered and lurked for ages. None can say how many qlippoth survived that ancient war, for none can know how deep the Abyss goes. The qlippoth dwell in these darkest pits, periodically emerging to do battle against their hated demonic foes, yet their wrath is not limited to the demonic host. The qlippoth know that daemons played a role in “teaching” the Abyss how to birth demonic life, and their war with the denizens of Abaddon is one fueled more by a driving need to punish than any need for survival. Yet as the eons have worn on, the qlippoth have come to realize that the true enemy is not a fiendish race—it is mortal life itself. For as long as mortal life continues to sin and die, the Abyss can continue to birth demons into its pits and rifts. The destruction of sin, by changing the way mortals live, would halt demonic growth, yet the qlippoth have no concept of how this goal might be achieved—to the qlippoth, only the murder of all mortality can suffice.

As a result, all qlippoth possess within their minds a burning hatred of mortal life, particularly humanoids, whom they know to be the primary seeds of sin. When a qlippoth is conjured to the Material Plane, it seeks any way to escape control in order to maul and destroy humans—they have a particular hatred of children and pregnant women, and if given a choice between harming someone already dying or close to death and someone with a full life ahead of them, they always choose to attack the latter, save for the rare case where the death of an elder or a dying loved one might result in a chain reaction of death among the young.

The dreaded thulgant is among the most dangerous of the qlippoth, for it supports an array of deadly and painful physical attacks with a wide range of potent magical powers. Born from the cannibalistic orgies of augnagar qlippoth, each thulgant exists for one purpose only—the eradication of all demons from the Abyss. This monster has ten spidery legs, a head writhing with dripping tentacles above a clutch of red eyes, and three whipping stingers.

Yet thulgants do not spend all of their lives hunting and destroying demons. They rule horrific hives deep in the Abyss populated by all manner of hideous minions, many of which are bound into servitude via binding spells. These qlippoth are fond of decorating their lairs with petrified or enstasised victims of great power—the more powerful the victims, the greater the prestige held by the thulgant.

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Nyogoth Qlippoth

Nyogoth Qlippoth

Before the Abyss was taught how to process and transform larvae into demons—indeed, before larvae even existed or the idea of mortal life had been conceived—it was rife with foul life. These creatures exist still, yet in drastically reduced numbers and often only in the deepest pits of the plane. Known as the qlippoth (the singular and plural are identical), these fiends may well be the oldest form of life in the Great Beyond—certainly, they were already in existence before the proteans discovered them. Some believe that the qlippoth come from an unknowable realm on what might be described as the “outside shell” of the Outer Sphere, but if the qlippoth are to be taken as indicative of what order of existence rules in such a realm, it is a good thing indeed that this outer realm is so impossibly distant.

The qlippoth do not possess in their forms anything approximating the human shape except by cosmic fluke or sinister mockery. In their twitching, squirming visages, the mad might make comparisons to life’s most primeval shapes—spiders and cephalopods, insects and worms, and even baser forms of life. What this might imply about these lower forms of life has disturbed philosophers for ages, and is not a train of thought that many enjoy lingering upon.

Since the rise of mortal sin, the rule of the Abyss has passed from the qlippoth to the much more fecund demons. When the Abyss first “learned” how to transform mortal souls into demons, the resulting explosion of demonic life culminated in a violent and destructive war with the then-rulers of the Abyss—the qlippoth. For unguessed millennia this war raged across the countless layers of the Abyss. The qlippoth had the advantage of knowing their ancient realm and, as a general rule, were individually more powerful than most demons, but the demons had numbers on their side. And as the demons continued to win battle after battle, new powers among their kind rose—balors, balor lords, nascent demon lords, and eventually demon lords themselves. Over time, the qlippoth were hunted nearly to extinction on the upper layers of the Abyss, and were forced to retreat deep into that realm’s darkest and most remote realms, to places even the demons feared to tread.

Here, the qlippoth have festered and lurked for ages. None can say how many qlippoth survived that ancient war, for none can know how deep the Abyss goes. The qlippoth dwell in these darkest pits, periodically emerging to do battle against their hated demonic foes, yet their wrath is not limited to the demonic host. The qlippoth know that daemons played a role in “teaching” the Abyss how to birth demonic life, and their war with the denizens of Abaddon is one fueled more by a driving need to punish than any need for survival. Yet as the eons have worn on, the qlippoth have come to realize that the true enemy is not a fiendish race—it is mortal life itself. For as long as mortal life continues to sin and die, the Abyss can continue to birth demons into its pits and rifts. The destruction of sin, by changing the way mortals live, would halt demonic growth, yet the qlippoth have no concept of how this goal might be achieved—to the qlippoth, only the murder of all mortality can suffice.

As a result, all qlippoth possess within their minds a burning hatred of mortal life, particularly humanoids, whom they know to be the primary seeds of sin. When a qlippoth is conjured to the Material Plane, it seeks any way to escape control in order to maul and destroy humans—they have a particular hatred of children and pregnant women, and if given a choice between harming someone already dying or close to death and someone with a full life ahead of them, they always choose to attack the latter, save for the rare case where the death of an elder or a dying loved one might result in a chain reaction of death among the young.

The nyogoth’s role on the Abyss is that of a scavenger. Essentially mobile clumps of buoyant intestines, these writhing creatures squirt through the air in convulsive movements like an octopus gliding through water, and are constantly on the search for anything smaller than one of their many mouths (either the relatively small ones that pinch and gasp at the tips of their intestinal limbs or the larger gaping one at their cores). They can subsist on the waste and filth left behind by other denizens of the Abyss, but particularly enjoy feeding on still-living creatures.

Despite their seemingly lowly role in Abyssal ecosystems, the nyogoths are far from stupid beasts. Most are nearly as intelligent as the average human, and are capable of solving relatively complex problems when it comes to securing the next meal. As outsiders, nyogoths do not need to eat to survive, yet this does not exempt them from hunger—a nyogoth that goes for longer than 12 hours without a meal becomes increasingly violent and erratic. Such a “starving” nyogoth typically fights to the death when the prospect of food is available, and may even resort to self-cannibalism, drinking its own spurting digestive juices from its wounds in a nauseating display.

A typical nyogoth is 5 feet in diameter and weighs 260 pounds, although they are known to grow much larger.

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Chernobue Qlippoth

Chernobue Qlippoth

Before the Abyss was taught how to process and transform larvae into demons—indeed, before larvae even existed or the idea of mortal life had been conceived—it was rife with foul life. These creatures exist still, yet in drastically reduced numbers and often only in the deepest pits of the plane. Known as the qlippoth (the singular and plural are identical), these fiends may well be the oldest form of life in the Great Beyond—certainly, they were already in existence before the proteans discovered them. Some believe that the qlippoth come from an unknowable realm on what might be described as the “outside shell” of the Outer Sphere, but if the qlippoth are to be taken as indicative of what order of existence rules in such a realm, it is a good thing indeed that this outer realm is so impossibly distant.

The qlippoth do not possess in their forms anything approximating the human shape except by cosmic fluke or sinister mockery. In their twitching, squirming visages, the mad might make comparisons to life’s most primeval shapes—spiders and cephalopods, insects and worms, and even baser forms of life. What this might imply about these lower forms of life has disturbed philosophers for ages, and is not a train of thought that many enjoy lingering upon.

Since the rise of mortal sin, the rule of the Abyss has passed from the qlippoth to the much more fecund demons. When the Abyss first “learned” how to transform mortal souls into demons, the resulting explosion of demonic life culminated in a violent and destructive war with the then-rulers of the Abyss—the qlippoth. For unguessed millennia this war raged across the countless layers of the Abyss. The qlippoth had the advantage of knowing their ancient realm and, as a general rule, were individually more powerful than most demons, but the demons had numbers on their side. And as the demons continued to win battle after battle, new powers among their kind rose—balors, balor lords, nascent demon lords, and eventually demon lords themselves. Over time, the qlippoth were hunted nearly to extinction on the upper layers of the Abyss, and were forced to retreat deep into that realm’s darkest and most remote realms, to places even the demons feared to tread.

Here, the qlippoth have festered and lurked for ages. None can say how many qlippoth survived that ancient war, for none can know how deep the Abyss goes. The qlippoth dwell in these darkest pits, periodically emerging to do battle against their hated demonic foes, yet their wrath is not limited to the demonic host. The qlippoth know that daemons played a role in “teaching” the Abyss how to birth demonic life, and their war with the denizens of Abaddon is one fueled more by a driving need to punish than any need for survival. Yet as the eons have worn on, the qlippoth have come to realize that the true enemy is not a fiendish race—it is mortal life itself. For as long as mortal life continues to sin and die, the Abyss can continue to birth demons into its pits and rifts. The destruction of sin, by changing the way mortals live, would halt demonic growth, yet the qlippoth have no concept of how this goal might be achieved—to the qlippoth, only the murder of all mortality can suffice.

As a result, all qlippoth possess within their minds a burning hatred of mortal life, particularly humanoids, whom they know to be the primary seeds of sin. When a qlippoth is conjured to the Material Plane, it seeks any way to escape control in order to maul and destroy humans—they have a particular hatred of children and pregnant women, and if given a choice between harming someone already dying or close to death and someone with a full life ahead of them, they always choose to attack the latter, save for the rare case where the death of an elder or a dying loved one might result in a chain reaction of death among the young.

The chernobue is a living manifestation of the vile fecundity of the Abyss—a monstrous, alien pregnancy made flesh. By infecting creatures with the Abyssal taint they carry, they spread pain and misfortune wherever they flop and writhe—and with their plane shiftability, they are ready to spread their filth throughout the multiverse. A chernobue is 13 feet long and weighs 500 pounds, writhing mass of tentacles and stalked mouths has one huge hideous eye and a fanged maw for a belly.

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Morlock

Morlock

Degenerate humans long lost from the world of light, morlocks have regressed through years of subterranean dwelling into ravenous, barely thinking beasts of the endless night. They no longer remember the civilized lives their ancestors led, although many morlock tribes still dwell in the shattered ruins of their ancient homes. Ironically, in many cases morlocks worship the statues left behind by these ancestors as their gods. Morlock priests of such ancestor worship have access to the domains of Darkness, Earth, Madness, and Strength. A typical morlock stands just over 5 feet tall and weighs roughly 150 pounds.

Morlocks move about on two legs at times, but often drop down to a creepy four-limbed shuffle when speed or stealth is necessary. Their wiry, often emaciated frames mask the strength of their limbs and their swift reactions.

Morlocks typically give birth to broods of three to four babies at a time, ravenous creatures born with a full set of teeth and a cannibalistic predisposition. The first few weeks of a brood’s life must be carefully mothered to prevent attrition—it usually takes that long for the morlock young to overcome their natural inclination to feed on whatever is closest. Morlocks mature quickly, achieving adulthood after only 5 years of life. A typical morlock can live to a ripe old age of 60—although the majority of their kind die far sooner than that due to violence.

Morlocks worship Tharizdun the god of madness.

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Hollow Serpent

Hollow Serpent

Crafted from the shed skins of great snakes by serpentfolk necromancers and other foul spellcasters, hollow serpents are plagued by an eternal hunger they can never sate. The act of draining energy from living creatures blunts these supernatural pangs, driving the hollow serpent to constantly seek new prey.

A hollow serpent is a difficult undead to create—most of them were crafted by a long-forgotten god of the serpentfolk and not by mortal spellcasters at all. The exact methods by which a mortal might create a hollow serpent are obscure, but most scholars have come to the conclusion that the use of powerful artifacts or the aid of a demigod may be required for such a feat.

A hollow serpent is 15 feet long and weighs 500 pounds.

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Sabosan

Sabosan

The sabosan are a race of humanoid bat-folk who live in the Underdark and southern jungles of Esperia. They are nocturnal carnivores, and are often mistaken for vampires by the region’s other races. Hated and feared, they have been hunted nearly to extinction.

Sabosan are vicious predators, combining human intelligence with a bat’s natural adaptations for hunting. They favor warm climates, preferring to make their lairs in places that are inaccessible to most intruders, such as mountaintop crags, abandoned ruins, subterranean caverns near hidden hot springs, and dense canopies of jungle trees. With wingspans almost three times their height, sabosan are agile and graceful fliers, capable of traveling miles on a single current of air in their dauntless search for prey.

Although they can see as well as any human in daylight, sabosan hunt at twilight or after dark when their echolocation-based blindsense ability gives them a great advantage. Sabosan can also use their voices offensively, funneling their screeches into blasts of high- pitched sound capable of deafening other creatures. When hunting en masse or attacking foes, a sabosan employs its fell shriek on adversaries while other sabosan use their massive wings to churn up great clouds of dust and debris, rendering foes deaf and blind.

A sabosan’s emaciated frame belies its strength and agility, which are not apparent from its gaunt appearance. Its giant, leathery wings can reach a span of almost 20 feet. Both males and females have red or dark brown fur on their heads, necks, chests, and backs. Sabosan stand just under 6 feet tall and weigh only 150 pounds.

Sabosan’s worship Shar as they love the dark and love sorrow.

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Cave Tyrannosaurus

Cave Tyrannosaurus

This 9-foot-tall reptilelike predator has a mouth full of gnashing teeth. It stands on two powerful legs and has only vestigial forelimbs. This ravenous creature is the most fearsome of all cave dinosaurs. It is more than 13 feet long from nose to tail and weighs about 600 pounds. The cave tyrannosaurus is a swift runner with a voracious appetite. It is both a hunter and a scavenger, seeking carrion slain by other creatures.

 

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Death Dog

Death Dog

Death Dogs are black-furred, two-headed dog is as large as a horse and has midnight-black eyes.

Death dogs are disease-ridden nocturnal pack hunters. Said to be the risen corpses of dogs or hyenas animated by monster-worshiping cultists, they are actually living creatures infested with symbiotic worms. Capable of tracking their prey for miles across barren terrain, death dogs surround stronger creatures, attacking and retreating, allowing their infected bites to wear down an opponent until it is too weak to fight. A pack’s territory may overlap with others of its kind without competition, though in lean times packs may skirmish over live prey or carrion.

A death dog’s saliva contains hundreds of tiny eggs that grow into flesh-devouring worms. The worms don’t harm the death dog, but consume any creatures they come into contact with. A death dog’s corpse is contagious for several days after its demise and may infect creatures that touch or eat it. Remove disease can kill a death dog’s worms and remove its disease ability, but if allowed to associate with others of its kind, its quickly becomes reinfected.

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Dust Digger

Dust Digger

The Dust Digger is a tremendous starfish-like creature emerges from the sand, its five long arms surrounding a circular toothy maw.

Dust diggers most resemble mammoth starfish, with thick sandy-colored exoskeletons covered with rough, burr-like spines. Its five arms are long and thin, and covered with hundreds of barbed, tubular cilia that the creature uses to move as well at grab and grapple prey. At the fleshy center of the creature’s body gapes a circular maw lined with large sharp teeth.

As ambush predators, dust diggers spend the majority of their lives buried beneath the sand, waiting patiently for prey to stumble over their ambush site.

Dust diggers are asexual. They reproduce by budding, splitting off young three to four times over the course of their 10-year lives—smaller versions of themselves that must immediately move away from the parent to avoid being snatched up and eaten. Dust digger young are just over 4 feet across, and can move relatively quickly through sand (their burrow speed is 40 feet). Usually, a young dust digger travels at least a mile from its parent before it settles down to create its first ambush—the amount of life in the region it has chosen as its new lair often determines whether the new dust digger thrives or starves to death, for once it digs its first ambush, it rarely moves more than a few hundred feet away over the course of its life.

 

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