Nightripper

It’s our first Inner Sea Bestiary monster!  And already it presents us with a problem: Because the ISB is so Golarion-focused—to the point that many of the monsters come from the authors’ home campaigns—a number of the monsters are very specific to the setting or downright unique.

So the Nightripper is not just a monster—he’s an NPC (courtesy of author James Jacobs).  But that doesn’t mean we can’t find ways to repurpose his stats for use in your home campaign…

Dwelling in terrible charnel cities on the Plane of Shadow, kytons pursue a never-ending quest for self-perfection through pain, mutilation, and surgical improvements.  Most of their mortal victims are rendered down for useful body parts, but a few select examples are elevated to kyton status themselves.  One such candidate was a sadomasochistic murderer of such mental stamina that his mind (and his alignment) resisted the kyton metamorphosis even as his body transformed.  Reveling in his new power, he cut a swath through mortals and outsider victims alike until his power rivaled the kyton eremites.  Determined to end his insolence, several kyton overlords banded together to eliminate their rival once and for all.  But the murderer escaped and made his way to the Abyss, where the chaotic evil plane recognized him as a long-lost son and elevated him to nascent demon lord status.  Now christened the Nightripper, he is attracting a coterie of bloodthirsty demons (mostly babaus and mariliths) and his fellow nascent demon lords (and his still furious kyton former masters) ponder their next moves in response.

Worshipping a war god is a fraught endeavor, even—in fact, especially—when one is winning.  When adventurers help the cavaliers of the Falcon Crusade seize the magical armory at Don Loch, they put the army in a position to potentially end the Century War.  But the crusaders are not paladins—they worship Villam the Lightning, not Shem the True—and their god values strife over security.  When the warpriests attempt to summon angel allies for the final battle, Lord Villam instead sends a demonic beast known as the Nightripper against his own worshippers to even the odds and prevent the peace.  If the adventurers cannot save the knights, the Century War will devour another generation.

The drow city of Xensherise is in an uproar.  Having demolished an entire nation of troglodytes, their genocide is rewarded when the Scorpion Queen sends the demonic entity the Nightripper to aid them in their quest for the surface.  But the Nightripper’s clearly human origin appalls some of the more chauvinist matrons.  If adventurers can provoke these matrons into a schism—or rally the forces of one of the lesser drow deities, like the Sorcerer Eunuch Bal—they can thwart the drow invasion before it starts.

—Inner Sea Bestiary 34–35

Looking for the nightmare?  Try in the letter C, thanks to its more powerful cousin.

Also, we’re closing in on two hundred Tumblr followers.  Now would be a great time to recommend TDB to a friend!

Night Hag

There was a bone with 28 marks on it that was considered Man’s first attempt at a calendar.  Until a woman said, “What man needs to mark 28 days?”

For years, scholars have assumed the complicated hairstyles worn by vestal virgins and other Classical women were wigs.  A Baltimore hair stylist just proved the looks could be achieved with a needle and thread.

And let’s not forget Cain and Abel—just where did their wives come from anyway?

For every system Man constructs, there is a woman outside of it. 

Archon vs. demon, agathion vs. daemon, azata vs. devil, genies holding the elements in balance…and then there are the night hags.

And if hags represent a fear of the feminine other, night hags are that fear engorged with fears of nightmares, the dark, and the fate of souls.

Night hags ride the backs of dreaming creatures, sapping their vitality and strength.  Night hags haunt the Ethereal Plane like foul hunched shepherdesses, harvesting souls for sale.  If there is a deal to be brokered or a market to be exploited in the multiverse, a night hag will be there.

Every warrior has to sleep.  Every room can’t be warded against ethereal creatures.  After you die, your soul may not be your own.  Everyone sometimes lets his or her guard down…and that’s when a night hag strikes.

Young men in the village keep dying in their sleep after debilitating nightmares and exhaustion.  All made the mistake of paying attention to the same girl, a changeling who has no idea that her night hag mother watches her from beyond the Veil of Mist.

An animate dream flees a night hag’s service and takes the shape of a noted adventurer.  Soon the adventurer finds herself the subject of rumor and whisper as this monstrous version of her invades both the dreams and real lives of her neighbors and friends.  Meanwhile, the night hag begins riding the adventurer in a dream haunting, trying to piece together why the dream should have taken this particular woman’s shape.

When an adventurer falls in battle and loses his soul to a night hag, his friends vow to rescue him.  Determined to avoid her pursuers and get the highest price, the night hag eschews the Hag Market and the Dis Exchange in favor of a new bazaar run by asuras, where moon-beasts and caulborn rub shoulders with nues and half-constructs (see the Advanced Race Guide).  It is soon clear to both the night hag and the adventurers that they are in over their heads, and that new players with strange motives have entered the soul racket.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 215

Nightcrawler

Normally when a “basic” D&D/Known World/Mystara monster comes up in the rotation, I’m all excitement: “Hey it’s the brain collector!  From way back when!  Let me tell you stories about elementary school!”

Not so with the nightshades.  I’ve been dreading this.

Nightshades: They are big.  They are shadowy.  They are evil.  They want to crush all life.  End of story.  That is the proverbial it.  And there are three of them.  (Wait, scratch that—four.  Counting Undead Revisited, five.  As my Yiddish peeps would say: Oy.  

I’d rather write about ascomoids.

Even worse, while I don’t have personal experience with nightshades (most campaigns I’ve played in end in the tweens), it seems to me they always show up in published adventures as the penultimate monster—the last big baddie to soak up your spells and buffs before you hit the main man.  So all in all, they’re a giant pain (and a one-note one at that).

The good news is, Pathfinder has at least made their origin story interesting: the transfigured remnants of fiends who wandered too far into the umbral wastes of the Plane of Shadow and the Negative Energy Plane.  (Let that serve as a cautionary tale for those trying to use these planes to cross dimensions or reach other planets.)  And Todd Stewart has done his best in Undead Revisited to breathe some (un)life into these creatures.  I’m most interested in his reminder that nightshades often live in the shadow versions of Material Plane cities—so shadowdancers and plane-hopping parties that blithely try to visit these dark mirror cities may be surprised by these terrible foes.  And there is always an evil spellcaster, lich, or devourer powerful enough—or foolish enough—to attempt to call one of these dark creatures.

So for more details on nightshades (and stats for the nightskitter), see Undead Revisited.  Meanwhile, enter the nightcrawler:

A cabal of horrified vampires enlists adventurers for help.  The vampires were aiding a cult of Kieron the Death Eater foment an undead takeover of the city.  But when they realized the dark priests intended to summon a nightcrawler, the bloodsuckers rebelled—they want cattle, not corpses.

The duergar city of Delverest is a ghost town—literally.  A nightcrawler slithered up through its inky sewers from the Plane of Shadow and annihilated the inhabitants, leaving only shadows, wraiths, dread wraiths, and moaning allips in its wake.  For now the nightcrawler is content—the city is empty of life.  But it struck during the spring, when flourishing fungi and deadly spores cut off Delverest from all trade.  Once the summer caravans unwittingly disturb the nightcrawler’s peace, it will attempt to track the interruptions back to their sources…

Shadow Vienz features all the playhouses of its bright cousin, with masked shae playing the leads instead of human actors.  Fetchlings and half-sane derro run the caravan routes of shadow Sember.  And fascist kytons rule the imperial streets of shadow Remus, preaching strength and unity through pain.  But there is no life in shadow Amberhome, nor any shadow gnomes to mine the seams of jet.  Instead a pair of nightcrawlers endlessly circle the tunnels, which are rimed with frost from the undeads’ quickened cones of cold.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 2 200

Eagle-eyed readers will note we covered the Nessian hell hound/warhound way back here.

And speaking of eagle eyes, Todd Stewart must have felt his ears burning—he literally just this minute dropped us off a note about the lurker in light.  Check it here.

Nereid

Nereids were originally relatively benign sea nymphs from Greek mythology.  Role-playing’snereids have a decidedly darker tone.  Likely the name has been misapplied to a mash-up of watery fey from other traditions—RPG nereids combine the murderousness of a rusalka with the vulnerable attachments of a wiła (to her feathers) or selkie (to her sealskin).  For players used to pleasant nixies and aloof but manageable merfolk, the deadliness of a CR 10 poison-spraying nereid might be quite a shock!  (But at least it’s an excuse to bust out the sunder/disarm rules for stealing shawls…  Speaking of which, knowledge of said shawls should be a reward for any PCs who have put plenty of ranks in the appropriate Knowledge and related skill slots.)

One element of Greek nereids worth exporting to the RPG nereid is that of family connections—nereids of legend almost always have dozens of sisters and a river god father or other watery patron.  So even if killing a nereid is justified, one may have to contend with any number of upset relatives…

A nereid is surprised when a female paladin surrenders to her beguiling aura.  Amused and intrigued by the novelty of the experience, the nereid eventually releases the knight without her usual drowning kiss…but the fey keeps her victim’s enchanted blade.  Now the paladin is in desperate straits: While lesbianism is not against the strictures of her order, surrendering her sword to one of the Faithless is, even under magical compulsion.  She must get it back before her order next summons her or lose her sacred status, and her desperation is already tempting her to larcenous and murderous thoughts of which her superiors would not approve.

An adventuring party’s ally (or perhaps even one of the adventurers herself) needs help finding her cousin.  This turns out to be more complicated than simply tracking a missing person: the ally is actually an undine, and her cousin is a full-blooded nereid who does not want to be found.

A village elder is assaulted by a tupilaq.  If the scrimshaw construct fails the elder is nevertheless visibly shaken and soon refuses to leave the lodge.  If it succeeds, a search of the headman’s hope chest reveals the reason: a carefully preserved nereid shawl wrapped in oilskin.  Either way, random attacks by sea beasts and magical assassins continue—clearly someone wants the shawl back.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 2 198

I seem to recall a nereid causing trouble for the heroes of the novel Tantras.

Meanwhile, if you’re considering travel to Unther syringesin has volunteered to be your travel agent.

Nephilim

What if gods walked among men?  What if there was regular traffic to and from Olympus (or, more accurately, Canaan)?  The demigod-sired nephilim would be the result.  And while I love the idea of a nearly divine race, nephilim might serve for extraordinary individuals as well: Hercules.  Gilgamesh.  Cú Chulain.  Sometimes you need a hero—or a villain (Goliath)—who’s larger than life.

A nephilim warrior labors under a curse of forgetfulness: no deed of his, however great, will be remembered.  Despite carrying this burden for centuries, the injustice still rankles the proud champion.  After saving a town from a flood, he is outraged when a party of mortal heroes is credited with the deed, and he challenges them to battle on the spot.

A climb up the Daggertooth Escarpment leads to Ehurab, a literally larger-than-life nation of where aasimars, intelligent ogres, and half-giants mingle with men.  Nephilim noble families rule this ancient kingdom.  By tradition the rival families are served by the red, blue, brass, and copper dragons that are their steeds and symbols of office.

In Tappanon, nephilim ronin wander ceaselessly with their foo dog or foo lion companions.  In the pyramid-studded region of Djewaret, the nephilim there need no animal followers—they have the falcon, crocodile, cat, ox, hippo, and scarab heads of their divine forbears.  And in the City of Steel nephilim duel religiously, trading the customary longsword and spear for far more exotic weapon combinations.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 3 200

Interestingly, I don’t see a Languages section for the nephilim in print or online.

I’m ashamed to say pretty much everything I know about Gilgamesh comes from one issue of Avengers Spotlight I got in middle school—but that’s where the forgetfulness curse came from.

For Forgotten Realms fans, Unther seems like the ideal place to stash nephilim.

And thanks to syringesin and uwtartarus for weighing in with comments yesterday!

Neothelid

Neothelids are Pathfinder’s heirs to the throne vacated by the world’s oldest role-playing game’s mind flayer elder brains.  (And I mean “heir” literally—the name has been used in D&D for part of the illithid family tree.) 

So let’s review: Psychic abilities turned up to 11 (or, more accurately, 15d10).  Gargantuan bodies.  A range of useful spell-like abilities, including constant fly.  They’ve also got a Lovecraftian heritage—they worship the usual array of Dark Things Beyond the Stars—and their seugathi servants act as their proxies in the cities of the Realms Below.

All in all you have the makings of proper campaign-spanning villainy that will take players to the deepest ends of the earth…or blackness between the stars.

But here’s what your players need to worry about: Neothelids can trace teleports and they can teleport at will.  So if they do happen to rouse one…good luck running.

The worm-king Del Havroth Mem has lost control of its seugathi minions, who seem to have been corrupted by their time in the Naga District of the derro city of Kartoul.  It seeks proxies to retrieve them, so it can crush its errant spawn personally.

A cult leader wants to take his flock down the Underworld’s twisting tunnels.  He and his worshippers are answering the summons to prayer from the Caller from the Stars—never mind the illogic of finding a celestial being below the earth—and he needs guides and guards.  The local magistrates want him stopped but also fear reprisals from zealots if they prevent the pilgrimage.  A nomadic tribe of urdefhan reavers also frequents the planed route, and will surely seek to slay innocents and harvest souls.  And there is the little matter of the Caller itself—a neothelid tended by seugathi spawn and legions of slaves in its toxic hive city home.

Inside the world’s core is a lost world: The World Within.  It is populated by extinct tribes and species from throughout the planet’s history, as if locked in time.  This seems like a gift of the gods, but it is actually the work of neothelids—they hide the existence of the World Within, limit the various civilizations’ technological progress, and subtly experiment on its peoples.  At first glance, it appears they treat the World Within as some kind of lab experiment or big game park…but the presence of certain dark temples and manufactured portents indicate that they are trying to recreate certain conditions…and perhaps even retroactively change the history of the world.

—Into the Darkness 48–49 & Pathfinder Bestiary 214

Note the Hollow World homage above, but given a Lovecraftian twist.  Speaking of which, I’m really enjoying Anthony Horowitz’s The Gatekeepers series on audiobook. The last book better come out soon…

Also, regarding the Super Bowl: GO RIDDLEPORT DIRE CORBIES!!!

The Super Bowl was not the only event this weekend plagued with technical difficulties. Crossed wires and jacked-up slider volumes in the studio sabotaged the opening of my show. Nevertheless, can you really say no to new Tegan and Sara and “The Super Bowl Shuffle”?

(For best results—the feed skips on some computers—let load in Firefox or Chrome, Save As an mp3, and enjoy in iTunes.  Link good till Friday, 2/8, at midnight.)

Neh-Thalggu

Ah, the brain collector.  Apparently it first showed up in the “basic” D&D module X2 Castle Amber (which my brother got me for Christmas! #soexcited #haven’topenedityet).  My first encounter with it was in the AC9 Creature Catalogue—the first D&D accessory I ever purchased.  A very chatty and urbane example popped up in “The Voyage of the Princess Ark” (I don’t have the exact issue in front of me, but I believe it was Dragon Magazine #185; Prince Haldemar defeats it by getting it to access the schizoid brain of a Herathian aranea wizard).  Then in migrated to AD&D in the Mystara Monstrous Compendium Appendix, and in 3.0 it got a giant power bump in the Epic Level Handbook.

Paizo’s entry cuts it back to approximately its original size (but hints at much more powerful versions in distant realms).  Why it’s awesome: You can see the lumps of the brains it has collected moving under the skin.  Oh, and it needs those brains to fuel its sorcerous power.  And I did mention it’s called a “brain collector,” right?

The original neh-thalggus came from the Dimension of Nightmares along with the diaboli (see The Dragon Compendium, Volume 1 or treat as magic-resistant, blue-skinned chaotic good tieflings).  3.0/3.5’s came from the mad Far Realm.  And Pathfinder’s come from space.  How about yours?

A party of adventurers discovers a subterranean town that appears to be a haven where humanoids of all races live in peace.  An invisible secret agent working via telepathy or through a message-bearing unseen servant alerts them that the inhabitants are actually thralls to intellect devourers.  Thankfully, the party’s ally gives them the guidance they need to defeat the aberrations.  But in reality, the agent is a neh-thalggu who wants the succulent brains for itself—and if the adventurers have demonstrated singular magical might or were sorely weakened by the devourers, the alien might reveal itself and sup from their skulls as well.

A goat-footed, blue-skinned man is about to be burned for being a devilspawn. He begs for help, claiming to be a lost traveler from another world.  If rescued, the diabolus rewards his helpers with strange but useful minor magical items and tries to recruit them to help him hunt down a criminal from his reality, a “collector of brains.”

A lashunta warship and a disturbing biomechanical vessel fall to earth from space, still locked together from the collision that crippled them.  The wounded humanoids need medical attention; meanwhile the other vessel begins to dissolve almost immediately, with no sign of the pilot.  By the time the creature is revealed to be a brain collector, its trail has vanished deep underground.  There it allies with an umbral dragon, and the two begin to collect slaves to serve as servants, soldiers, and meals.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 2 197

In case you couldn’t tell from the above, I like the term brain collector, no matter what the neh-thalggu call themselves (ditto mind flayer vs. illithid).  I vaguely remember reading Skip Williams say that one of the things 3.0 tried to do was cut out the number of monster names that were just strings of syllables.  But clearly that effort must have collapsed almost immediately, judging by every subsequent D&D product WotC put out ever. 

For a real master class in naming monsters, check out Sword & Sorcery’s Creature Collections, which did a phenomenal job of creating scary beasties out of real words.

Also, last chance to download last week’s show.  It vanishes in just over an hour…