Cairn Linnorm

Like all linnorms, the cairn linnorm is terrifying: CR 18, a breath weapon of acidic bile and negative energy, a poisonous bite, and a particularly nasty death curse (Con damage and aging…per day).  But perhaps the most terrifying thing about the cairn linnorm is hidden in its name.  Other linnorms are creatures of the land, named after geologic features specific to the northlands.  But cairns are manmade (or at least humanoid/intelligent creature-made).  If cairn linnorms exist, it’s because we created them.  By fighting battles, spilling blood, digging fortifications, raising mottes, and tearing up the earth or erecting cairns to bury our dead, humanity changed the world…and changed linnorms along with it.

This may explain why cairn linnorms have such odd diets and psychologies, hungering for corporeal undead while fastidiously respecting the sacred threshold inherent in every tomb.  Perhaps some germ of a race memory remains in every cairn linnorm, reminding them of their genesis and insisting that the old borders between life and death are honored…

While the cairn linnorm Gloamfang slumbered beneath Goshawk Crag, fat on the carnage from the Oathbreaker War, the men of Lanark raised a massive dolmen around the beast.  For good measure they then triggered an avalanche to bury it and erected standing stones at the four compass points, marking the rubble-strewn valley as a gravesite forever more—effectively trapping the dragon.  There’s just one problem: The fourth standing stone is missing a glyph, because the man the standing stone was meant to honor was raised.  Through that loophole the linnorm could crawl, if it ever got wind of it.  When a scholar points this out in a lecture hall more than 200 leagues away, an eavesdropping quickling decides it is time to wake Gloamfang.

When the embalmed body of a saint disappears—along with the entire church and graveyard that went with it—leaving only a circle of mushrooms, the search naturally leads to the fey realms.  As mortal religions and faeries don’t mix well, all such spaces that find their way into the Ælfwood are sealed away in one place, a pearl of a necropolis presided over by a cairn linnorm.  The linnorm considers even then most newly arrived churches and gravesites to be his, and will not surrender the lost relic without a fight.

When the eccentric Bruno the Mad marched his crane-footed fortress through the Scarab Desert, watering drought-stricken oases as he went, the Priest-Kings of the Undying repaid his kindness by attempting to imprison him and steal the secrets of his famous conveyance.  He responded by gating a particularly large cairn linnorm into the midst of the mummies’ most sacred city.  The cairn linnorm has now devoured scores of lesser undead servitors, and the priest-kings themselves are essentially under house arrest…for while the cairn linnorm will not root them out of their sacred tombs, the heat-maddened beast prowls endlessly looking for a way at their rancid flesh.  After months of this humiliation, the mummies are ready to reveal magicks never before seen by outsiders to the adventurers who can drive off the dragon.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 3 182

Tor Linnorm

Okay, don’t be fooled.  The “tor” in “tor linnorm” is only accurate if you realize that particular tor is perched on the lip of a lava-spewing volcano.  That’s like calling a blue dragon a shocker lizard—it’s kinda true in the very strictest sense, but try pointing that out to the survivors.  (They should be called caldera linnorms or tephra linnorms instead.)

Tor linnorms are the most powerful of the non-unique linnorms, outmatching even tarn linnorms.  As always with linnorms, be ready for the multistage breath weapon, the poison bite, and of course, the death curse—boiling blood in this case.  If there’s one saving grace, it’s that tor linnorms are so hungry for adoration (or at least displays of fear) that you can actually keep it from killing you if you talk well enough…for a little while at least.

The tradition of hurling virgins into volcanoes had its genesis with certain tor linnorms, who liked to keep the maidens as servants and worshippers until they died of fright or succumbed to the heat.  A brijidine has made ending virgin sacrifice her bailiwick, and she seeks mortals who will slay a tor linnorm that has come out of hibernation and resumed the ancient practice.

The Annals of the Antler Champions have been stolen!  The theft is part of a pattern: Someone has been robbing libraries and abducting bards in the shadow of the Smoking Peaks.  The culprit is a slag giant matron.  Long ago she became the thrall of a tor linnorm, and now it is her whole village’s job to keep the beast entertained.  Her tribesmen etch the tales she recovers on sheets of burnished brash, which she then reads to the voracious (in more ways than one) dragon.

The conversion of Eisland to the faith of the Dove has the priests of the Northern Host up in arms.  But as both sides argue around the hearth and aboard their longships, an older faith sees the opportunity to take back the icy island.  Dark druids ally with moulder dwarves to rouse the tor linnorm Scyldrak, spurring him to attack the Althing in the hopes of wiping out Eisland’s leadership in one fell swoop, pantheists and monotheists alike.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 3 185

Dark Ages/medieval Iceland is crazy interesting, and its late conversion to Christianity means we have a lot of records from that time, as well as great surviving sagas.  Njal’s Saga was assigned in my ninth grade history class, and I highly recommend it for anyone interested in a Norse-style campaign, even if the first part does read like Viking stereo instructions.  If you’re the least bit patient, it’s so worth it. (And it’s a Penguin Classic!)

Tarn Linnorm

Tarn linnorms are—wait.  Um…

tarn noun \ˈtärn\ : a small lake among mountains

Oh, right.  I knew that.

With two heads and an acidic breath weapon that is poisonous to boot, the CR 20 tarn linnorm is one of the most powerful and primordial non-unique linnorms around.  If you were a warrior in Golarion’s Land of the Linnorm Kings, bringing back both(!) heads of a tarn linnorm would see you installed on a throne for sure.  Tarn linnorms are proof that caves full of orcs and passes guarded by giants aren’t the only threats in the highlands.  The calm, placid loch that you’ve whiled away many an hour sculling across might actually be hiding a slumbering beast of tremendous power…

Speaking of which, I think the best use of a tarn linnorm might be against PCs who have never faced a linnorm before.  Imagine a campaign where defeating a certain dragon is supposed to be the climactic event.  Naturally, the party members have to build up to the deed—perhaps taking on a few smaller dragons or even one of their target dragon’s children.  Now at level 16 or 17, they’re almost ready.  But they hear of an old dragon who was an enemy of their nemesis and who may know how to kill it…or whose lair hides a powerful artifact.  Imagine their surprise when they meet this dragon, only to discover it’s like no dragon they’ve ever seen.  Imagine their surprise to discover it has not one, but two heads, and that neither head wanted to be woken up.  And should they kill it, their problems are only just beginning, because a tarn linnorm’s curse of death is potent indeed…

A beast called Grendel is supposed to live with his mother or mothers—tales differ—in the loch above Caer Tieg.  In reality the term “mother” is figurative; Grendel actually lives with his linnorm lover in a watery cave lined with cracked bones from their many, many victims.

Savarss wants to die—he is growing blind in one head and his other has nearly rotted off from gangrene—but the tarn linnorm cannot find a warrior in the highlands both mighty enough to finish the job and brave enough to risk his death curse.  He tears through village after village on his way south, aiming for the more cosmopolitan cities where there are dueling academies and magic colleges galore.  Surely he can find a dragonslayer in one of them…

The tarn linnorm Avantikatl slumbers in a lake in the cloud forest of Bolimar.  He is so old two different dynasties have built temples to honor him near his lair—temples now guarded by his couatl servants and interpreters.  Despite the differences in their alignment, the couatl’s revere him for his age and wisdom, and for his driving away a devil incursion in his youth.  By keeping him well fed and undisturbed, they are able to quell or divert his more murderous rampages.  Meanwhile, the cornugon he drove away wants revenge…

—Pathfinder Bestiary 192

Hey, music peoples!  This Saturday involved a great show, great music, and I was on time.  So naturally, the feed decided to cut off my first song (the Mountain Goats’ “The Best Ever Death metal Band in Denton” from the recently re-released All Hail West Texas) for no reason I can figure out.  Sigh.

But you should download and enjoy, because it’s 80 minutes of new music and 40 minutes of awesome music.  Speaking of which, I’m loving Haley Bonar and I’ve even belatedly boarded the HAIM train…  But remember, the link is only good till Friday…

Taiga Linnorm

Linnorms love out-of-the-way places, and the boreal forests near the crown of the world are more out of the way than most. 

I especially like taiga linnorms for their sheer spikiness, which seems to both reflect their pine forest habitats and be a throwback to dragonkind’s wilder, less regimented days.  Of course some dragons should be so riddled with spines that it’s dangerous to even thrust a sword at one. Why not have a breath weapon of electrified vapor?  In the heart of the endless northern forests, who’s going to hear your PCs if they complain?

The Mammoth Hearts, a clan of taiga giants, have been enslaved by a taiga dragon.  Already their elephantine steeds have been devoured, and they fear worse fates for themselves.  Spurred on by a skull-faced alchemist whispering tales of glory in his earholes, the linnorm has used his electric breath to spark the machinery of an ancient city to life—machinery that could be used to turn the taiga giants into rune giants.

When meteors fall in the taiga, no man sees…but a dragon does.  The taiga linnorm Nebuchar has a passion for skymetal.  He gathers fallen meteorite fragments to ornament his lair and supplement his diet (making his spiny hide even harder in the process).  He also consumes or enslaves any creatures that might have ridden the falling stars to earth.  In particular, his lair (a nest of shattered pine trunks as large as a village) is riddled with akata cocoons that hatch when disturbed by treasure hunters.  He also has far more powerful beasts penned up near his hoard, including several mind-stealing yithians.

The bogatyr Pyter Ironhand scoffed at a taiga linnorm’s death curse—until the moment an upstart lightning-spewing sorcerer nearly laid him low in the market square.  Now feeling his mortality and his manhood is at stake, Ironhand demands to slay another such linnorm. His liege, less sanguine about his chances, strong-arms a party of adventurers to aid the knight-errant.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 3 184

Paizo has been running sneak peeks of the Bestiary 4 over on their blog, and these guys look like they’ll be fun.  Speaking of which, my copy is ordered and should be in my hands soon.  I’ll begin adding Bestiary 4 monsters into the roster starting with the letter U.  And yes, don’t worry, I do plan to circle back and cover the missing monsters from Bestiary 3 (letters A–D), 4 (A–T) and the Inner Sea Bestiary (A–M) once we’ve made it once through the alphabet the first time.

Ice Linnorm

“Treacherous primeval dragons of the northern regions of the world” says the Bestiary 3 of linnorms, and ice linnorms double down on the northern aspect.  Thanks to its breath weapon, freezing bite, and death curse, an ice linnorm is cold personified, with a cruel streak to match.

The herders of Mindar speak of the lentävää poroa—the reindeer pegasi that dot Mindar’s shimmering boreal skies.  They also speak of Glacierbite, the ice linnorm who delights in blasting the magical beasts from the sky with his frigid breath, cackling as they shatter on the rocks below.

Where the tundra and the taiga meets, so too do the territories of ice linnorms and taiga linnorms.  Should these titanic beasts encounter each other, the result can range from cold condescension to cutting insults to all-out bloodbaths.  The exception is when the full moon and the winter solstice coincide.  Then, according to a few scattered reports, ice and taiga linnorms engage in sinuous, strangely beautiful dances that conclude in the ritual exchange of treasure.  The reports are unreliable because of another strange custom: the linnorms do not mind witnesses to the dance, but they vigorously hunt down and kill anyone who speaks of what they saw, or who attempts to help him or herself to the proffered piles of gold.

That linnorms speak Draconic and Sylvan makes sense—these are creatures with ties to both so-called “true dragons” and the lands of the fey.  That they speak Aklo, though, is surprising—while linnorms do lair in caverns, they rarely haunt the deep reaches where the aberrant tongue is favored.  But linnorms as a race remember previous ages and even other realities, when the dragons and fey had only just inherited the world from aboleths, ropers, and worse.  And ice linnorms in particular dwell in mountaintop and polar regions where the air is thin and the boundaries between dimensions even thinner.  An ice linnorm may be able to tell you more about Leng or the Realm of Dreams than any dragon has a right to know—if it doesn’t kill you for disturbing its already fitful, nightmare-wracked slumber.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 191

Forgive me if you’re from Finland and I’ve butchered your language; I used FreeTranslation.com to make my best guess.

Fjord Linnorm

The Norsemen have given us some great watery threats, including the kraken and the maelstrom.  Add to that list the fjord linnorm.  Fjord linnorms are excellent threats for higher-level parties because fighting underwater uses up precious spell slots and magical resources…and the linnorm’s death curse might finish off the rare attacker mighty enough to kill it.  And because they haunt fjords, one of these linnorms can easily bottle up shipping, cutting off whole inlets from aid.

Merfolk are beaching themselves on the rocky shoals of Kallgard, refusing to return to the water but unable to exist on land.  A monstrosity of an aboleth has found a way to spread a fjord linnorm’s curse of drowning without killing the dragon (though it does take substantial Constitution damage).

A seaside town sits at the base of craggy alpine cliffs.  It also sits at the border of two linnorms’ domains, paying tributes of fish, seal meat, carvings, and the occasional southern visitor to each.  The dragons were heretofore unaware of each other—the fjord linnorm typically migrated east to warmer waters just as the ice linnorm grew active with the arrival of winter—but this year the fjord linnorm tarried and scented his rival.  Now both dragons want to kill each other and blame the town for the other’s presence.

A shipbuilder wants to test a new kind of studded hull, meant to defeat kraken and sea serpents.  But fjord linnorms don’t entrap or capsize ships; they just breathe on and smash them…

—Pathfinder Bestiary 3 183

Apparently over the weekend Paizo’s own Todd Stewart caught my review of Horsemen of the Apocalypse and was nice enough to reply.  I’d thank him for taking the time, but I’m too busy fanboy-squeeing over here to do so with any dignity.

Squeeeeeeeeeee!

Crag Linnorm

Linnorms are the primordial dragons, creatures out of myth, out of time, out of the fey realms, out of the jaws of angry Nature.  For GMs who remember when a dragon’s breath and claws were more feared than its spells, linnorms are a return to the classics.  For GMs who like to create a strong sense of place, linnorms signal the far North and the end of civilization.  And for GMs who like grand stories, linnorms’ death curses force PCs to reckon with the consequences of their actions, reminding them that sagas demand sacrifices.

Like something out of the tale of Sigeert, a talking magpie tells adventurers of a place of ambush from which they can strike a crag linnorm a mortal blow.  The magpie is actually the familiar of a green hag who wants the linnorm’s wealth and territory for her own.  She is counting on the dragon’s death curse to finish off the meddling heroes.

Two bronze dragons accompanying a party north halt at a certain defile, beyond which they say no dragon but the blizzard-loving whites may go.  North is the Lair of the Linnorms, and the bronzes must negotiate safe passage or be hunted down by the hungry, jealous crag linnorms.

A dying dryad queen’s curse splits her great oak tree with a bolt of lightning.  From it pour quicklings, gray renders, and crag linnorm destined to seek out those who felled the queen.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 190