You may have noticed leprechauns in a number of my
entries. This isn’t an accident,
and not just because I’m partial to the Fey monster type. It’s that leprechauns are easily among
the most accessible faeries as well.
Back in 1e and 2e of the world’s oldest role-playing game,
almost all the fey (quicklings aside) were relatively benign. After the 3.0 Monster Manual clear-cut its way through their ranks—(much love to
Skip Williams & co., but seriously, it was butchery)—the new fey introduced
in subsequent books tended to be wild, malevolent spirits of nature—wicked
tooth faeries that claimed their ivory booty by ripping the molars out right of your skull BWAHAHAHAHA!!! And even now most fey tend to
teeter-totter between these two extremes.
Not leprechauns.
They’re—as the gossip magazines put it—just like us. They like gold…probably a little too
much. They like drink…enough that
they have a whole subrace, the clurichauns, who are spirits of the
brewery. They like pranks and a
good tale…and one is often the start of the other. And rather than lurking exclusively in the deep woods,
they’re quite suburban fey who like the finer things in life and are happy to
sneak a pint at the local pub before scurrying back to the woods.
In other words, they’re not particularly good or evil,
friendly or foreign. Frankly,
they’re little d--ks…just like us.
A leprechaun does, in
fact, have a pot of gold hidden at the end of the rainbow—the mists over
the Selkie River rapids cause a rainbow to manifest on most sunny days, and Killian
Silvertongue has hidden his stash in a cave on the far shore. Unfortunately, a minotaur has claimed
both the cave and the gold. Killian
needs to convince a party of adventurers to help him recover his treasure
without costing himself one shiny yellow piece.
Female leprechauns
are rarely seen and are treasured by their kin. When Róisín (ROSH-een) O’Dell falls in love with the
halfling river pirate Finbar Half-Ear, it’s a scandal. Half-Ear gets a party of adventurers to
help her elope, and from there it’s a race back to his boat, where a cleric
stands ready to marry them. But
even staying on the handkerchief-marked path is no simple matter when up
against a family capable of casting fabricate
and major creation, not to mention
any number of illusions.
Tricksters they may
be, but leprechauns love their homeland. When a pair of dandasuka rakshasas begins doing their bloody
work in the ports of Mhaonaigh, the mayor hopes to enlist the devious and
magical aid of the leprechaun clan that hides in the nearby hills. The young adventurers he sends must
first contact a leprechaun (saving the one who lives under Cobbler Lane from
thugs from the catfolk thieves’ guild is a good start), then convince him to
lead them under the earth, where (while reduced),
they will have to fight mite pests, harvest mushrooms from the back of a giant
caterpillar, and beat the leprechaun chief at darts or a shillelagh duel.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 2
177
Hurricane Sandy.
It’s on 4 realz, yo.
But what about the leopard? Did that.
In Golarion, gnomes and leprechauns might be closely related,
with the leprechauns very studiously avoiding whatever sin cost gnomes their
fey natures.
Finally, I’ve mentioned before the amazing—seriously, get
yourself a copy—PC1 Tall Tales of the Wee
Folk by John Nephew, which did a good job of integrating Greek and fantasy
woodland beings with Elizabethan faeries.
One of the neat elements from folklore he incorporated was that
leprechauns, like most faeries, could turn invisible
at will…but only if they weren’t being watched. As long as an enemy had line of sight on a leprechaun, it
was stuck visible…but if it could duck around the corner or slip behind a
thistle, poof. I think that’s the
perfect kind of detail to aid to Pathfinder’s incarnation—it makes them have to
be that much more talkative, conniving, and tricky until they can find a reason
to—hey, look behind you! *poof*
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