Lorthact

To get the full story on Lorthact, you’re going to need the Inner Sea Bestiary—essentially he was a consigliere to several archdukes until the Whore-Queen of the erinyes caught him plotting above his station, and now he hides out in Korvosa.  It’s no question that his influence is one of the things that make Korvosa such a dark mirror of the agathion-blessed Magnimar, and in particular you can feel his stain all over the dark teaching methods of Korvosa’s magic college, the Academae.

But if your campaign’s not set in Golarion even his generic stats paint a picture of a pretty terrifying opponent.  His party piece is that he can steal spells and even school abilities from wizards.  (Not only that, but the school abilities remain stolen as long as Lorthact retains them!)  He also exists somewhat out of the time stream, making many divinations useless against him.  And time stops?  He ignores those.  (#sorryaboutit)  Add to that a host of spell-like abilities (many of them empowered or quickened), his ability to drain intelligence with every weapon strike, and the usual risks of taking on an infernal duke, and your adventurers have one hell (ouch, sorry, even I’m wincing at that one) of a devil to face.

In a standard campaign, Lorthact could make for an amazing final encounter—the devil whose behind-the-scenes influence has been making the party’s life a living hell (there’s that word again) since their very first adventure (or maybe even earlier, if any of the PCs were once wizard’s apprentices).  In a mythic campaign, he might be the third-party spoiler that robs PCs of crucial abilities at just the wrong time, when whole worlds hang in the balance.  Either way he’s the devil you can’t know…until it’s too late.

There has never been a senior mage able to “complete the Pentagram”—a term for casting gate, prismatic sphere, time stop, power word: kill, and then releasing a previously prepared wish (in other words, 20th level)—in the history of the Emerald Academy.  This is because the Chair of Shadow Magic is actually a thrall of Lorthact, and together the two ensure that no mage ever reaches that august level of power.  (Archmages are identified and eliminated even sooner.)

The Intelligent Artifice behind the inevitable race, the Mōnarch has diverted the crafteries into forming siege weapons and strange constructs instead of inevitables.  When queried, the Mouth of the Mōnarch replies that “all is progressing in accordance with the Plan.”  The author of that plan is Lorthact and the infernal consigliere is putting his new patron’s resources to good use.

A nation imprisoned in ice.  The Holy City ripped from the ground and sent into the sky.  An elven queen crucified on her own Throne of Thorns.  And the fey queen who has engineered it all promises to reverse everything in a heartbeat the instant she is handed Lorthact’s crown.  The fact that Lorthact’s crown is formed from the very horns of his head is a detail she’ll leave adventurers to wrestle with.

—Inner Sea Bestiary 26–27

Lorthact’s stats come courtesy of Jason Nelson.

Remember this photo?  The episode Mike was filming that night airs tonight at 9:00 PM Eastern on CNN.  There’s a tiny chance you might see me poolside!  But you won’t.  #iamnotphotogenic

(Also if you actually live in Baltimore, check out the front page of The Baltimore Sun where my coworker Aaron and his son Noah make an appearance.)

Lorelei

I had to memorize Die Lorelei in 8th grade—a task I hated at the time—so having surmounted that poetical obstacle I’m rather attached to Heinrich Heine’s image of the Lorelei as a bewitching maiden.  I’ve even referenced the Lorelei a few times in adventure seeds here on this blog.

Then Bestiary 4 comes out, and with it the stony, anemone-like lorelei.  Suffice it to say, this is not Die schönste Jungfrau of my imaginings, and I have real trouble imagining her combing mit goldenem Kamme through her rocky tentacles.

That said, my personal preferences don't always line up with what's best for the game.  Example: I always loved D&D’s doglike kobolds, especially as portrayed by Ken Rolston in GAZ7: The Northern Reaches, but 3.0/Pathfinder’s draconic kobolds offer up far more story and role-playing avenues.  When it comes to loreleis, we already have several beguiling fishy maidens of one sort or another; we don’t need another one.  Going back to the lorelei’s etymology to create this horrific but charming rock creature is the right move.

One other thing to call out about the Pathfinder lorelei is its power over the undead.  That’s an interesting hook to add to a creature that’s already so good at causing the kind of destruction that easily fosters undeath.  And now that we have so many aquatic undead to choose from in the game, you can stitch together pretty memorable combos with a lorelei and duppies, floodslain (see Belkzen, Hold of the Orc Hordes), or even an immature sea bonze.

The path up to a waterfall is lined with corpses crudely nailed to the rock walls so they stand like sentinels.  This is the collection of a lorelei.  She uses speak with dead to plunder the corpses’ secrets, and then ventriloquism and whispering wind to make the dead “talk” to other passersby.  Her aims in doing so, while varied, are always antagonistic, whether she is spreading rumors about a scandal in the nearby village, convincing hikers their trailmates are plotting against them, or simply shrieking to scare victims into falling down the sheer cliff face.

Not all loreleis have the upper tentacle in dealing with the undead.  The graveknight Malcus Ebonheart responded to a lorelei’s attempt to charm him by nailing her with ensorcelled spikes to the prow of his ship.  The magical spikes keep the lorelei alive despite her water dependency; the other thing that keeps her alive is her prompt use of water and fog magic at the graveknight’s command.

Loreleis produce by budding—and sometimes it goes wrong.  Rather than grow from a separate piece of flesh, the lorelei Mantua’s daughter was born from the side of Mantua’s head and remains there still as little more than a stunted growth.  Shandra seeks a way to kill her mother without losing her mother’s healthy body, and she will eagerly murmur this to anyone who will listen while Mantua is asleep.

—Pathfinder Adventure Path #60 86–87 & Pathfinder Bestiary 4 184

More on the lorelei can be found in Pathfinder Adventure Path #60: From Hell’s Heart.

Heehee.  I said “fishy maidens.”

A number of folks wrote in to remind me that AD&D had a living wall—originally from the Ravenloft setting, I believe, though it made it into the Monstrous Manual.  It’s actually a supremely nasty monster filled with trapped souls whose abilities it can use to attack.

Given that the MM is one of the few 2e books I own (and probably the only hardcover), maybe I should have remembered it…but I stand by my original assessment that Pathfinder’s living wall way more resembles the Magic: The Gathering card than it does Ravenloft’s necromantic horror.

Looking for the locust swarm?  We covered it back here.

Living Wall

When Wizards of the Coast bought TSR in 1997, I recall a lot of fears that D&D would suddenly be featuring Llanowar Elves and Scryb Sprites.  Thankfully that never came to pass, either in the world’s oldest role-playing game or Pathfinder…but when I opened my Bestiary 4 to the “Living Wall” entry, I almost wondered if it had. 

There are differences of course.  The good news for PCs is that this wall doesn't regenerate—ha, just kidding; it has fast healing 1.  And it has a number of resistances.  And it can link with its fellows to better withstand damage.  Oh, and it will still crush you into a pulp—that’s definitely happening.

Um…anyone got any Scryb Sprites handy?

The skull of the nephilim Ja’om was used in the construction of the living wall at Abendiggal—a calculated insult by Abendiggal’s goat priests, directed at Ja’om’s sire, Jashketh Shedu-Father.  The Shedu-Father may be a demigod associated with peaceful entreaties and oral contracts, but even he has a limit to what he will bear.  His factors seek adventurers who will infiltrate Abendiggal, rescue Ja’om’s skull, and ideally cast down the goat priests and their summoned schirs.

A living wall protects the entrance to a dungeon.  Luring the wall away from its post reveals the hidden trap door.  Leaving the trap door open for too long completes a mystic circuit that calls allips to attack poky investigators.

Kasatha society has been seduced into the worship of the Black Emissary.  When they die, their bodies are supposedly added to their local temple’s Wall of Remembrance.  In truth, they are hacked apart and made into a gruesome corpse concrete that is the first ingredient for a living wall.  These living walls turn kasatha temple complexes into ever-shifting deathtraps.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 4 182

I only experienced the bombshell that WotC was buying TSR belatedly and third-hand.  I was in college at the time, and my engagement in the hobby was pretty much at its lowest ebb ever—I even got lazy about regularly buying Dragon Magazine.  (I would later go back and pick up the issues I'd missed at back-issue prices, so the six months it ceased publication were actually a kindness to my wallet.)  So I was utterly flummoxed when I did find out about the merger…I think either one of my more hardcore gamer friends told me or I just discovered it when I picked up a random issue of Dragon and went, “Bwaaah?!?”

You know what I’m super pleased about?  My new reader numbers took a major hit during my surprise two-week “vacation” after my old computer got injured…but as of last week we’re reliably back to adding more than 200 folks a month.  Better yet, last Friday we hit a milestone: 3,000 followers.  I think actuallywut gets the nod for putting us over the top.  Thanks all!

Living Topiary

There are two kinds of GMs in the world: GMs who hear “living topiary” and think that’s awesome…and GMs who hear “living topiary” and think nothing at all because a bush shaped like a lion just ate them.

In all seriousness, while living topiaries may sound a little silly (like getting attacked by Disney World after lights out), their stats make them anything but.  When you combine Hedge Stride (Sp) and Move through Hedges (Ex) with the healing Assimilate (Ex) ability—especially if you do it somewhere that PCs have limited mobility, like a hedge maze or thick undergrowth—you get a combatant that can take a lot of damage and then vanish, only to return again and again until the party is ground into the dirt.

Obviously, living topiaries are easy to find in creepy greenhouses and on the grounds of arcane academies and anywhere druids hang out.  Try these options on for size as well:

The Sundered Labyrinth was never meant to be a maze—or a deathtrap.  Designed by the saint Olivia of the Green, it was intended to gently guide the walker to its heart while encouraging contemplation.  But when Olivia was murdered by fiendish leucrottas, a mysterious rift scarred the labyrinth and the serene magic of the place turned dark.  The elephant-shaped topiaries, meant to represent important philosophical thinkers, have come to life and now hunt those who try to walk the Sundered Labyrinth’s twisted path.  Assuming adventures survive the plant creatures, they may still have to contend with Olivia’s slayers.

A leanan sidhe received her comeuppance when a one of her sculptor thralls managed to trap her in one of his creations.  Now petrified inside a statue of herself, the faerie can only glare with impotent hatred upon the world.  The power of her resentment and mythic might is so strong that it has leaked out and infused her surroundings, giving form to living topiaries that stalk in cat shape around her statue.

In the genie-blasted wastes of the Anvil, life persists despite the boiling heat and magical feedback.  The few hardy plants that remain in this region are so infused with sorcery that when their oases run dry they refuse to shrivel up; instead they gather themselves into living topiaries and lope across the plains looking for fresh water…or blood, if it comes to that.

—Pathfinder Adventure Path #47 80–81 & Pathfinder Bestiary 4 181

Paizo’s ear for collective nouns strikes again: 5–7 living topiaries are a boscage.

A full ecology and customization options can be found in Pathfinder Adventure Path #47: Ashes at Dawn.

I'm pretty proud of the recent run of shows I've had, including this one. Give it a listen if you like—it's pretty summery!  Including a mini-"Dancing in the Streets" set for Baltimore and a shout-out to the Baltimore City Paper staff, as well as lots of Bowling for Soup.

(Link good till Friday, 5/8, at midnight. if the feed skips, Save As an mp3 and listen in iTunes.)

Leanan Sidhe

The leanan sidhe (literally “fairy-lover”) exemplifies the dangers inherent in faerie gifts: that they are rarely gifts.  There is always a price, an exchange.  The leanan sidhe also personifies the costs artists pay to follow their muse—sometimes sacrificing fortunes, health, and even their lives in the process.  And the leanan sidhe illustrates how narrow the line is between fey and other monster types with their almost vampiric feeding habits.

Speaking of which, where a leanan sidhe is found is likely a symptom of how aggressively she feeds on life energy.  A leanan sidhe who is a reclusive nature spirit behaves like a dryad, gathering around her the pleasing and talented thralls who happen to come her way.  Her tokens may even be bargaining chips to convince these servants to protect sites of natural beauty.  Other leanan sidhe act more like vampires, heading into urban societies—high, bohemian, or both—to from cliques, salons, or schools around themselves from which to draw ample talent for entertainment and feeding.

In a low-magic or historical campaign, facing a mythic creature like a leanan sidhe might also be a good way to introduce high-level/more magical play.  A Celtic or Anglo-Saxon party might have had a grand old time with clan politics, hewing goblins, and fighting Romans, but when they run afoul of the sidhe suddenly their world is changed forever.  And of course on some worlds a leanan sidhe might be the Leanan Sidhe, a singular entity in the vein of Jim Butcher’s Dresden Files…in which case her class levels and mythic ranks might go even higher.

To learn a masterpiece, a bard and his friends must track down a musician currently in the hands of a leanan sidhe.  Not only will they have to convince the musician to give up the fey’s tokens before her life draining kills him, but they will also have to defeat her “lapdogs”—former slaves she had infected with lycanthropy once she was done with them.

Disguised as a college chambermaid, a leanan sidhe has managed to bring the Chair of Transmutation under her sway.  Seemingly rejuvenated by her possets and tender ministrations, the man has become addicted to her various blessings and the great flexibility they give him in spell selection and recovery.  Meanwhile, she quietly stokes his rivalry with the Chair of Abjuration, coaxing him into experiments that undermine the wards protecting the college.

A leanan sidhe becomes enchanted with the masses sung at a temple famous for its chanters.  Her zeal for the music is such that she attempts to convert to worship of the faith, but she soon becomes frustrated by the dogged silence of human deities.  The mercurial fey decides that the priests have been mocking her all along, and by the time adventurers arrive at the scene the rectory is rife with factions, accusations, and bloodshed, with the leanan sidhe egging on her various charmed and blessed servants into greater and greater acts of debauchery.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 4 180

Intellectually I’ve always known I’d get a bigger response if I included pictures (something I’ve hesitated to do because of rights/permission issues).  But still…wow.

Leaf Ray

Oh, hell yeah. 

I’m breaking form and actually including a picture (gasp!) for the leaf ray because a) this seems to legitimately be from artist Dave Melvin’s DeviantArt page, so I can give credit where credit is due, and b) because this illustration just perfectly sells this monster.

It’s a plant monster.  That looks like a ray.  That looks like a leaf.  With a poison stinger.  That can implant a seed that will grow into a new leaf ray tree.  Killing the host in the process.  Oh, and the leaf ray changes color (and poison ability damage!) with the seasons.  Awesome.

Utterly plausible, yet utterly fantastic at the same time.  Best of all, it’s a CR 1 monster.  PCs can fight these on their very first adventure!  If you want to show your players that your fantasy world is not a reheated Middle-earth, leaf rays are a perfect way to go.  (I explore this thought more fully in the “Sagari” entry).  It’s also a perfect way to make tropical islands, haunted greenhouses, or far-off jungle planets all a bit scarier. 

And what’s that?  A newbie player lost her first character to goblins in a dungeon?  Well, when the rest of the wounded party comes out of the dungeon and are swarmed by leaf rays, and her newly rolled-up druid or elven archer saves the day, you’ll make her feel badass for life.

Leaf rays are a common woodland hazard in Maliar.  To combat them, Maliar’s gnomes craft thorny or spiked armor, and its druids are as much wardens of the few safe paths as they are protectors of the woodlands.  Another side effect is that other creatures that change color with nature, such as dryads, are little trusted.  Even Maliar’s elves are likely to skewer a dryad with arrows on a chance encounter, fearing she will speak with plants and send dangerous leaf rays their way.

A bitter brownie takes a dislike to the new mistress of a manor house.  His anger boils over when she hosts a party—including some adventurers—and the guests’ horses and carriages disturb the grounds he tends (even if lately his work has been sloppy).  Sneaking into the great hall, the brownie hides winter leaf rays in among the logs on the andirons.  The plant creatures rise up and attack when the guests are called in for dinner.

The pony-riding shoal halflings of Dove face numerous threats, including grindylows, bugbears, foul weather, and smugglers and rumrunners.  Life becomes even harder when conquistadors from Sevarre begin planting leaf ray trees up and down the coast—ostensibly to support the dunes, but in reality to drive out the locals so the Sevarren can hunt for gold unmolested.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 4 179

Holy crud, how did I not Google “lampad”?  I mean, I know I was a little distracted that day, but still.  Turns out they are a thing, and madness is in fact associated with them.  (I still stand by my post though, what with their crying and forlorn wails and all.)

Also earloffife writes:

Another explanation for lampads: Dryads are connected to their trees, and nixies to their rivers…when those things are harmed or polluted, the dryad or nixie suffers as well. In a tabletop RPG world, where every hole in the ground deeper than ten feet houses some unspeakable monster than wants to eat you and your entire family…a cave spirit kind of has good reason to be moody or insane.

Finally: Welp.  Hopefully this stuff will see the light of day again though.

Lava Drake

One of the most powerful drake species, lava drakes know exactly how dangerous they and their environments are.  It’s no wonder they are so arrogant in their dealings with humanoids and crave worship from beings like kobolds.  When you can bathe in lava that reduces other creatures to ash, of course you’re going to have a superiority complex.

Lava drakes should always attack from surprise, and ideally land right in the middle of the party—spewing pyroclastic vomit, shaking magma off itself like a dog after a bath, and generally causing as much damage as possible.

Lava drakes are hunting dwarves in the southwest passages of Dunatar.  They seem to be holed up in a particularly treacherous set of tunnels on the seventh level.  The only way to circle about and flush them out would be via the locked chambers used by the embalmers’ guild, but strangely they refuse entry to all, even in this time of crisis.

A lava drake “gardener” tends a collection of magma oozes in his tropical volcano home.  Once they grow to a sufficient size, he waits for a rainstorm and then lures the oozes aboveground to be petrified.  Storing their stony forms in various pools and hot springs near his lair, he releases the ravenous magma oozes to harry the flanks of anyone who he deems a threat.

Drake racing, using beasts with clipped wings, is a dangerous but intoxicating sport.  Heats are run according to size, typically featuring shadow, river, and forest drakes.  Scandal erupts when a new racing concern enters lava drakes in the forest drake class, particularly as that stable’s hands have also not been shy about throwing their weight around.

—Pathfinder Bestiary 4 78

I’m showing my Baltimore pride with a secretly Preakness-inspired adventure seed there.

By sheer coincidence Pathfinder Adventure Path #92: The Hill Giant’s Pledge showed up at work today, featuring Russ Taylor’s “Ecology of the Drake,” an overview of all the drake species. 

A small but passionate crowd of pulp fans dig the lashunta.  Filby hooked us up with their inspiration:

Quick note that the lashuntas (or at least their women) are based on the Cupians from Ralph Milne Farley’s 1948 novel, The Radio Man. The Cupians were basically humans from Venus with antennae that let them communicate telepathically via radio waves. They were also oppressed by the ant-like Formians, which were lifted wholesale into D&D and made the transition to Pathfinder relatively unchanged.

David Fanany adds:

Have you seen this Old Venus compilation, edited by George R. R. Martin and Gardner Dozois? Looks like a lot of people are giving the genre some love right now.

I have now—thanks!

Also, heads up!  I am going to have a contest!  Where you can win a free RPG hardcover!  Keep an eye on these posts over the next few days!  I’m not saying that to draw out the suspense; I just haven’t decided what the contest will be yet!  Exclamation marks are fun!