Dire Polar & Polar Bears

Even bigger and more powerful than the mighty grizzlies, polar bears are the undisputed lords of the Arctic Circle.  That crown is a little harder to hold onto in a fantasy setting (blame those frost worms), but the CR 8 dire polar bear can certainly hold its own against a remorhaz or even a young white dragon (particularly if they were, say, tussling over lairing rights in a cave that prevented the dragon from going aloft).  All in all, polar bears prove you don’t need a lick of magic to be mighty.

Some puffin sprites (treat as bird-bodied grigs with a swim speed that matches their fly speed; they play tautiruts instead of fiddles) are being preyed upon by a polar bear.  Adventurers who aid them will make lifelong friends skilled in navigating the arctic.

Bear-baiting is still a popular sport in Monkrot.  The half-orc fixer Ferston Two-Shames wants adventurers to capture him a polar bear to spice up fight night.

Some of the arctic’s most carefully kept secrets are the ley line refineries that mine and process raw magical power, driving factories that churn out enchanted weapons, metal ships, and even ritual firearms.  Magical pollution is rampant as well—for instance, the purple-black Aurora Eldrena is no true aurora at all, but a result of eldritch venting.  Said pollution has also caused warped creatures to be born, including dire polar bears of sizes not seen since primordial times.  The beasts lurk in the trash heaps and slag pits in the shadow of the refineries, scavenging for food and careless factory workers.

—Pathfinder Adventure Path #67 82–83 & Pathfinder Bestiary 5 41

One of the first issues of Dragon Magazine I ever bought, #141, featured Mickey Zucker Reichert’s “The Ulfjarl’s Stone,” a great story about a son trying to live up to his father’s deathbed demands—and in doing so, having to face a polar bear alone in the wilderness.  Worth the read.

I feel like I’ve talked about this issue before, but if I have my Google-fu is failing me.  So to make sure I’ve covered my bases, let me officially say that this issue is very worth checking out even beyond the fiction, especially for a 27-year-old magazine.  (Not all 1e Dragons fare so well.)  Focused on humanoids and giants, it serves up a number of subspecies and new species that might inspire your own monster creation, as well as an article on tactics that might still be useful even today, and an encyclopedic article on the worship habits of humanoid and giant shamans and witch doctors.  (Given how demanding evil humanoid deities were back then, it’s no surprise humanoid spellcasters were so rare.)  History buffs will also be into “Hey, Wanna Be a Kobold?”, an early attempt at humanoid PC generation in AD&D.  (…Though D&D’s GAZ 10 The Orcs of Thar had already beaten them to it, because Bruce Heard is the bomb.)  So yeah, like I said, worth the read.

No radio show last night, as you may have noticed.  Lots of life stuff going on.  That’s also the reason this entry is a week late.  …Offfff course, it’s also late because I spent an entire evening searching for an entry on dire polar bears (along with some great lumpy dire polar bear art) that I swore was in the pages of Pathfinder Adventure Path…only to discover it was really in the 3.5 D&D tome Frostburn all along.  D’oh!  (PS: If you’re new to this blog, check out my thoughts on FB and so many other 3.5 books—why they're good on their own, and how they might fit in your Pathfinder game—right here.)

Dire & Giant Weasels

I feel like giant weasels were a big deal in D&D 3.0/3.5—they basically made halfling paladins possible (and awesome!).  So I’m surprised it took till the Reign of Winter Adventure Path for them to make it into Pathfinder.  They’re here now, though, and ready for animal companion duty!  (Or even mount duty, if your GM looks kindly upon halflings, as all saintly GMs do.)

Meanwhile, dire weasels are even bigger and more aggressive than their smaller giant kin (…which I admit is a confusing sentence).  Pathfinder Adventure Path #67: The Snows of Summer points out that weasels must consume 40% of their body weight a day—which makes the Large dire weasels truly terrifying, both for the amount of food they need to consume and for how efficient they are in getting it (with abilities like compression, grab, and blood drain).  And should you hit one?  You now have a very angry (thanks to blood rage) dire beast on your hands.  Good luck!

Looking for their first adventure, a band of novice warriors finds it: in the trees.  A grippli town needs help defending itself from giant pine martens, who happen to find the frogfolk delicious.  The adventurers’ job is made more difficult by a wayang rogue with shadow magic who takes advantage of the confusion to rob the gripplis’ homes while the villagers are out keeping watch for the martens.

Adventurers hole up in a keep as hobgoblins surround them.  If they can hold out for four days, help will find them.  (Alternately, they can find the secret door leading to the caves beneath the keep.)  After spending the first night trying unsuccessfully to batter down the doors or scale the walls, the hobgoblins try a new tactic: They send ravenous dire weasels to flush the party out.  If there is a hidden hole into the fortress, the dire weasels will find it.

A pipefox becomes curious about a young traveling spellcaster…and even more curious about the books he’s carrying.  Seeking to test the abilities of the spellcaster and his friends, the pipefox lures giant weasels into their campsite. The magical beast watches eagerly to see what magic the adventurers use and whether or not the spellcaster leaves his books unattended (in which case the pipefox will try to make off with one of the slimmer volumes).  If the books ever appear to be in danger from the weasels, the pipefox will intervene to save them.

—Pathfinder Adventure Path #67 82–83 & Pathfinder Bestiary 4 275

Wayne Reynolds’s halfling on a giant weasel cover for Dragon #292 is one of my favorites from that era.  (Also check out this blog post for thoughts that cover inspired.)

Speaking of which, that issue might be worth checking out if you see it lying around (and the PDF is easy to find online). It’s wilderness-themed, with barbarian multiclass combinations, four saurial PC races (the Forgotten Realms’ dinosaur-men) tweaked for 3.0, druid spells and PC archetypes, a decent elf hunter prestige class, and evil plant monsters.  It also has a fantasy RPG write-up of Edo (medieval Tokyo) for you historical fantasy fans. 

If you’re a comic book fan or a podcast fan, be sure to tune in tomorrow—something bizarre happened to me on the Internet that I’ll be throwing up a link to.  Also, David Fanany asked me a Mystara question that has an easy answer and a complicated answer, so naturally I’ll be serving up at least one or the other.

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving!

In conclusion: Take me to the weasels!

Dire Wolverine & Wolverine

Raging wolverines and dire wolverines are the barbarians of the animal kingdom.  Their musk is also almost as bad as a skunk’s, a fact that has no in-game impact but can add some disagreeable flavor.

Gnomes’ fondness for badger companions is well known.  The gnomes who opt for their larger cousins tend to be loners—often trappers, rangers, or solitary barbarians—who don’t mind wolverines’ musk or their need to pick fights with wolves and panthers over meals.

Dwarf outriders steer their shaggy ponies up and down the mountain passes, keeping the roads clear and tending small shelters for travelers (the better to keep them on the path and out of dwarven lands).  They also leave emergency caches of food, but in lean years this means conflicts with dire wolverines, who dig up and devour the stores, then spray whatever’s left out of spite.

Fairy tales are told about the awful winter witches of the North.  The tales are silent about the much rarer “spring witches”—the Vernal Sisters, strange wild-eyed witches who tap fearsome powers of renewal, making plants bloom, vines grow, the wind whip, rivers burst their seams, and even the very earth to leap up and shift in its place.  Dire wolverines are their servants, stubbornly carrying messages for the Sisters to places other animals won’t go.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 279

Dire Wolf & Wolf

From Elfquest to A Game of Thrones, we fantasy fans love our wolves.  But familiarity has bred a little contempt—has any of us not had a character with a dire wolf pet?  If you want to put the wild back into the wolf, siccing a pack on the PCs while they’re vulnerable should do the trick.  (Make it a chase, perhaps, and emphasize their implacable tracking skills).  As for dire wolves, once again it’s all about the flavor text: “The size of a horse.” Have the characters wake up to that the next time their watchman falls asleep…

In some Nordmarch villages in winter it is traditional to leave one longhouse standing wide open, largely empty but for a joint of meat being roasted over the fire by a thrall.  Completely unafraid of humans, the dire wolves in this area are so brazen that if not appeased with the false longhouse, they will burst through the doors of the real one until they have devoured their fill.

An Unseelie dryad has a particularly nasty habit of charming attractive males an then, when she grows tired of them, allowing her pet wolves to dismember their pliant, unarmed forms.

There are wolf-riding halflings in the taiga.  Eschewing the female pantheon of their southern cousins, they are animists who worship totems and nature spirits.  Practically feral, the halflings regard their wolves as kin and accord them the same rights.  In fact, more than one of these tribes is actually led by an alpha wolf, rather than a chief, and the clans do not seem to suffer for it.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 278

I was nearly killed by a dire wolf my first adventure, thanks to a fourth(?)-grade GM who refused to tell me that a 1d4 club was about the worst weapon I could outfit my cleric with.  But I think I remember getting a dire wolf pup out of the experience.  (Come to think of it, I think he also said Zeus was pissed at me, and we’ve all had that happen.)

Dire Tiger & Tiger

One on one, even a lion is no match for a tiger.  And let’s just call dire tigers what they are, shall we?  Saber.  Toothed.

The governor of Sirwat Province dictates that all non-white tigers in his domain be killed.  The governor is actually a white-furred rakshasa; orange stripes offend his vanity.

A tiger has never been seen alive west of the Util Mountains.  Presenting a specimen to their queen could earn adventurers her ear.  But the overland route is barred by yetis and storm-calling, blue-headed ettins.  The journey by sea involves sneaking past a naval blockade.

Monks who emulate the smilodon specialize in camouflage, leaping from concealment, and a fighting style emphasizing double dagger thrusts.  They study the beasts in the wild, fashioning their begging bowls from the skulls of animals freshly killed by dire tigers.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 265

Dire Shark & Shark

As a bard once sang: “It’s murder out there / Murder out there / Sharks patrol these waters”…

Blue sharks often follow ships, disposing of the food scraps tossed over the side.  When the first mate finds a gnome stowaway in the hold while the captain is away in the jollyboat, he threatens to widen the definition of “scraps.”

The hammerheads of Astrology Bay guard a wealth of sunken treasure, as well as a nereid who delights in the chrysanthemum-like burst of crimson blood in blue water.

Sailors say the Jinkin’s Bounty has been cursed since the moment of its ill-favored christening.  And disaster after disaster has plagued the merchant vessel.  After a massive refit, the Jinkin’s Bounty is put to sea once more, only to be followed by a blood-red dire shark just an hour out of port.  At this point, even the famously unshakable captain thinks his reluctant crew may be on to something.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 247

Dire Rat & Rat Swarm

Dire wolves may be the paradigmatic dire animals, but dire rats are probably the ones you first saw in the dungeon.  (I seem to recall a nice illustration of one in the D&D Basic Set red box.)  And now that swarms are all the rage, regular rats are a bother, too.

A hero’s career does not have to get off to a glamorous start.  When a rampaging red dragon firebombs their town, a group of ne’er-do-wells are too young to take up arms against the monster.  But when the dragon smashes the abandoned basilica and sets it ablaze, there is much the young heroes can do, including rescuing townsfolk trapped in the rubble and exterminating the rat swarms that come pouring out of the walls.

“The Stunning Rodentia of Seamus, Adventurer” read the signboards posted all over town.  Seamus’s trained piebald dire rats are a hit until one of the stars contracts filth fever.  Soon all the rats are half-mad and sickly, and the improvident Seamus releases them rather than put himself at risk nursing them back to health.

A wererat street urchin finds he can no longer empathize with dire rats.  Perplexed, he follows his former friends deep into the sewers in rat form, where he finds them chewing on strange fungi and weeping stones.  He also finds morlocks, and both discoveries terrify him so much he is willing to risk asking for help.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 232

Dire Lion & Lion

Dire lions have a nasty habit of turning up in areas one wouldn’t expect them—like caves and northern climes.  And if players don’t think regular lions are a threat, they will once you force them to make hard decisions about wearing metal armor in the heat of the savannah. 

A common spectacle in Imperial gladiatorial arenas pits lions against a goblin and a human.  The human gets a cestus.  The goblin gets a short sword.  The lions, typically, get fed.

A wyvern that has been terrorizing badlands thorps is killed.  Unfortunately, its presence was all that kept the cave lion populations down, and a pride soon moves in, taking more livestock and lives than the wyvern did.

The head of the local thieves’ guild has a thing for exotic cats.  But his lions escape, running rampant through the streets of Hemley on Market Day.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 193

Dire Hyena & Hyena

Most GMs don’t need a crib sheet for these animals.  Hyenas mean gnolls, and vice versa.  Encounter solved.  But you can still find places for hyenas and hyaenodons in your world without their upright cousins.

On the so-called “Dark Continent” of Paliwar, certain people are considered something more and less than human.  Due to the spiritual boundaries they regularly cross, blacksmiths, gravediggers, and oracles are all considered to have one foot in another world—especially the world of the dead—and often mark their foreheads with ash to represent their separate status.  (Clerics and wizards are not considered of this caste, having rituals, vestments, and writing to protect them.)  Druids and rangers with hyena or vulture companions are also among the ash-marked, their companions being scavengers who disturb the bodies of the dead.

The wild elves of Fel Sesh are not the vegetarian pacifists of the western forests.  These elves wield sabers and ride brindle-furred hyaenodons into battle.

A magician (Advanced Player’s Guide 82) seeks to develop a more powerful hideous laughter spell to demonstrate his mastery of the bardic arts.  A core component is the tongue of a dire hyena.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 179

I think I’ll put the majority of my comments in the main body of the posts from now on, in this fetching color.  Of course, that means I have to go back and fix all my previous entries.  Yikes…

Anyway, as far as I’m concerned those things in Peter Jackson’s The Two Towers weren’t Tolkein’s wargs; they were dire hyenas. 

And apparently hyaenodons show up with Jenny Lewis in Primeval!  I’m still on Season 3, so I need to get catch up…

Also, my take on Paliwar owes a very slight something to the Dogon cosmology as portrayed (problematically, according to some) in Conversations with Ogotemmêli.  (I want to be sure to acknowledge both the debt and the controversy.)

Dire & Grizzly Bears

Players who scoff at any bear that doesn’t have an owl’s face will be stunned that a grizzly bear has the same CR and does more (slightly, but still—!) damage.  And even once PCs are dispatching owlbears with ease, a CR 7 dire bear with +19 to grapple should still give them pause.

For a barbarian of the Bear Lodge to be reckoned a true bear totem warrior (Advanced Player’s Guide 79), he must first find, then emulate, and eventually be able to single-handedly kill the grizzly bear he holds in such reverence.

Dancing bears are common entertainment in human cities.  They’re also common in hill giant steadings…but the bears are cave bears, and they aren’t chained or muzzled.  After all, their troll handlers can shrug off—quite literally—any unfortunate bites.

In particularly cold winters, the polar bears (grizzly bears with the advanced simple template) of Rime Ridge  are said to migrate beyond the borders of this world, following the aurora borealis to another land.  It is possible to follow them there, but en route they are even more likely to react to intruders violently.  The agathions who guard the ice-lined passes respect the beasts too much to interfere.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 31

Dire Ape & Gorilla

Apes and gorillas are separated from humans by an uncanny valley.  Crossing the divide may involve blood.

The palace of a rakshasa noble, slain six months past by janissary paladins, is regarded as taboo by the locals.  His zoo was the pride of the estate, and its many gorillas have grown feral now that no one comes to feed them.

The thermal springs of Shigoku are known for the snow monkeys who take the waters there.  Visitors to the springs are advised to keep their distance from the troops, for powerful guardian spirits protect the monkeys.  In truth, they are actually guarded by great white dire apes that seem to regard the monkeys as kin but react violently to humans, especially those wearing metal.

A prison breakout is sparked by an unexpected source—an orangutan (a gorilla with the young simple template) that comes to the rescue of his recently incarcerated rogue owner.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 17

Boar & Dire Boar

Anyone who’s read any medieval literature (or—spoiler alert?—seen Old Yeller) knows that, in a non-magical world, boars are lethal.  As for magical worlds, well, that’s what dire boars are for.

In the forest kingdom of Tuarth, the druids send the king to slay a boar once every seven years.  Armed only with a spear, if he returns he keeps his throne; otherwise his life is forfeit.  This year the hunt involves a dire boar.  Is it an omen from the spirits of the wood, or is a druid trying to force the issue of succession?

An antelope-like savannah satyr sends a sounder of warthogs through the camp of anyone who despoils his water hole.

The Ogre Kingdoms of Harsk are home to daeodons of monstrous proportions.  The superstitious ogres alternately farm and worship them as avatars of the Hunger Lord, or hunt them as spies for the orcish deity Hamilg the Cannibal.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 34

Bat Swarm & Dire Bat

The dire bat entry is proof positive of the value of flavor text.  The only complaint I have with the Pathfinder Bestiary’s otherwise outstanding design is that sometimes the eye just travels right over the flavor text blocks, tucked away in italics as they are above the stats.  In that case, one sees a CR 2 monster—ho-hum, a big bat, barely a threat to even a beginning party.  But the flavor text: “This giant, furry bat is nearly the size of an ox”!  That is what I want characters to experience—a monstrous beast with wings “wider than two men.”  Not “You see a dire bat.”  Meanwhile, bat swarms are likely to be one of the first challenges PCs encounter with the swarm and wounding features.

Halfling servants are disappearing from Lord Cheswick’s house.  A dire bat that has settled up a disused chimney is to blame.

The Leatherwing goblins hold the eating of gnomes to be taboo.  Instead they leave gnomish victims hanging in cages above a nearby cave mouth.  Swarms of bats pass through at dawn and dusk, feasting on any sacrifices as they go.

Bugbear rangers and druids are fond of dire bat companions.  They share a similar love of the night and are both sharp-eared predators. The fear the bats inspire also makes the bugbears’ murders that much more delicious.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 30

Badger & Dire Badger

On paper, badgers are not threats.  But no player would want to corner a badger (let alone a dire one), so that’s just what you should make his or her PCs do.

A witch’s patron has sent her a badger familiar.  She soon finds its ability to burrow handy in delivering touch spells.

For such small creatures, a band of pixies can be challenging foes.  But most pixies never need to nock their arrows.  Instead, they use dancing lights to introduce assailants to the nearest dire badger.

A trap spills caltrops across a party’s path, then drops them into a pit that is home to a clan of dire badgers.  Already feeling threatened, those badgers damaged by the rain of caltrops go into a blood rage.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 2 40