I have a soft spot for bugs that turns into humanoids and
vice versa—note my affection for the aranea.
But I think I like spooky “humanoids” that were bugs all along even better. Enter
the xenopterid, a nicely creepy new monster from the Bestiary 4. The first time
the mute barkeep in that run-down inn unfurls his wings and begins to munch on
your character’s face, look up to see the grin on your GM’s.
There’s that famous example of peppered moth varieties being
naturally selected for based on pollution levels. So it makes since that in a fantasy world a big
enough moth would camouflage itself as a human.
Obviously, xenopterids are good side trek/at-a-stop-along-the-way
monsters—note how their hives are found in “abandoned ruins, old castles,
decrepit farmsteads, and similarly abandoned human structures,” according to
the B4. If the PCs need a dash of experience or the
dice haven’t turned up enough wandering monsters…well, let’s get creepy at that
next barn.
But I also think xenopterids are good canary-in-the-coal-mine
monsters—a first sense that things are about to go seriously wrong. In urban and dystopian settings, xenopterids
might be a symbol of the rot in the heart of a city. (Consider Tangiers in the film version of Naked Lunch.) In a steampunk or New Weird setting, they
might indicate pollution, magitechnical toxic waste, or evolution gone
haywire. And even in a strictly high
fantasy setting, they add a nice dash of dark.
Like encountering skum or a marsh giant, running into a xenopterid might
foreshadow that the next few sessions are going to be a bit darker than the
usual goblin/orc/dragon adventure arc.
Oh, right—let’s not forget that if your character is killed
by a xenopterid, your liquefied remains will be bottled in spheres for later
consumption, either by the vermin themselves or by evil creatures who ferment
the slurry for liquor. Sláinte!
Brothels are not
permitted to serve alcohol in Tannery—a provision that keeps the girls
somewhat safer, and keeps the taverners on the side of the Seamstresses’ Guild
rather than the Church. The Crook and
Tankard is the most rundown of the 14 bars squatting down the street from Madam
Stone’s. By the time most patrons reach
this far, they are so blind drunk they never notice the holes in the roof, the
silence of the bartender, or the sticky patches by every exit…
Made from xenopterid
capsules, the liquor Mothgut is popular in many evil societies. Duergar love it, but the authorities usually
clamp down on any attempt at xenopterid “farming” or wholesale
manufacture—producers are too apt to turn to slaves and indigent dark dwarves
when other food sources dry up. Derros
and hobgoblins are more enthusiastic, especially if there are plenty of
goblins, kobolds, or humans in the area.
They allow the hive to grow for a season and then use alchemical smoke
or poisoned-laced goblins to knock out the drones while they harvest the
capsules. Meanwhile, practical-minded
adventurers who survive encounters with xenopterids have used the capsules to
gain entrée into evil settlements where they might not otherwise be welcome.
An injured leucrotta
has formed a symbiotic relationship with a hive of xenopterids. He lures
victims to the vermin’s lair with his suggestive voice, then helps himself to a
limb or two, snapping off his prize with his powerful bite and dashing away
before the xenopterids can react.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 4 283
I tend to completely whiff on horror movie references and
memes, so I’ll take the Internet’s word for it that xenopterids recall the Mimic franchise. Your thoughts?
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