I don’t have particularly strong vegepygmy feels, but
old-school players love these
guys. (Clearly they’ve been to the
Barrier Peaks and I haven’t.)
Originally vegepygmies were the products of a crashed alien spaceship,
according to the world’s oldest role-playing game (the same spaceship that gave
us the froghemoth and the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing). In Paizo’s Into the
Darklands, they got an amusing retcon as the product of drow sporecrafting
gone wrong—so wrong in fact, that the drow had to summon demons just to drive the
fungal creatures away.
Whether your vegepygmies are alien, manmade, or natural,
they remain frightening because of their ability to turn victims into plant
creatures like themselves…and because of the generous, voiceless manner they go
about it. To vegepygmies, the
conversion is a gift, and that’s almost creepier than if they were menacing
about it (the way their cousins the myceloids are). Also, their reverence for (and willingness to use and
repurpose) bits of their former corpses is nicely gross and unsettling. Like Star Trek’s the Borg, they are after assimilation and procreation,
and they don’t see why everyone shouldn’t embrace their fungal existence.
Since the Clockwork
Murders, there have been bounties out for free-willed constructs—and the
bounty on Oakson of the Fourth, a wyrwood criminal, is higher than most. Following his trail leads adventurers
deep below the sewers to a tribe of vegepygmies. There they find the vegepygmies have a new chieftain:
Oakson. When the wyrwood failed to
succumb to their spores, the awed vegepygmies accepted the wooden construct as
one of their own. He has been
busy, too: May of the newer vegepygmies show signs of having been birthed from
the magistrates that condemned Oakson for his may crimes.
A party of
adventurers escorts a Terran-speaking sage to a trox settlement to broker a
deal over nearby land and water rights, only to find themselves netted from
above by half-orc sky raiders. Aboard
ship, the trox begin to panic—not because of their predicament, but because the
ship shows signs of a corruption that is almost, but not quite, rust. The slavers picked up russet mold at
their last port of call, and soon the first half-orcs begin to fall ill…
Vegepygmy
religion—when it exists—is an odd affair. They have a superstitious fondness for their host bodies and
work to protect the russet mold that is omnipresent in their communities. But well-established colonies with
exceptional leaders may turn to the worship of other intelligent plants or
fungi, outsiders, or even actual deities.
In the later case, their pantheons are largely topsy-turvy affairs,
where powers of fungi, decay, death, darkness, and water are venerated, while
deities of healing, light, and alcohol are seen as adversaries. (This is not because vegepygmies are
evil per se, it’s just that their
values are alien to the mammalian experience.) Captured adventurers openly displaying holy symbols of these
powers may find themselves used as props in crude morality plays set to
percussion, where pantomime bringers of water, darkness, and glorious decay
ward off the hated brightness and its medicinal servants.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 273
Remember my call for more Core +1 books? (That is, single books that, when added
to the Core Rulebook and the Bestiaries, served up
rules/setting/monsters combos that could be the basis of an entire campaign, in
the vein of Ghostwalk or Oriental Adventures?) Well, I put my money where my mouth
was.
To get my mind off my plumbing woes—and to give myself a
reward for submitting some important documents to my insurer—I just ordered Razor Coast from Frog God Games. FGG is the next best thing to Paizo, Nicolas
Logue is a known quantity, the reviews were good, and it has a Wayne Reynolds
cover. So I went for it. (And yes, I ponied up for the
print. I hate reading PDFs.)
Speaking of which, I told myself I wouldn’t look at the bundled
PDF and would wait till the book arrived, but not three hours later I peeked
anyway. It’s a hair different than
I was expecting (more like the mother of all sandbox adventures than a setting
sourcebook), but so far it looks very cool, is well designed, and I love the
little asides and sidebars.
All in all, I’m psyched. I’m all about books like this—hell, one day I’d love to see
my name in one—and after my tirade two weeks ago, I wanted to support the creators who are making them (and best of all, printing them). I can’t wait for more.
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