The Bombastic Knight
They are a in many ways, a self-parody. They are the platonic ideal of a Knight, gallant, bombastic, chivalrous, good-hearted, brave, indefatigable. They constantly struggle with some great and noble quest, and they always fight for those that need it most. Of course, the Bombastic Knight is merely human. They are somewhat flawed, yet outwardly, they match the bill, gleaming armour and band of merry men in tow. In practice, a group of adventurers is just as likely to find themselves between the Bombastic Knight and their goals as they are to find their goals aligned. This is an encounter/NPC for a bit of fun, for a slightly weird encounter of whatever type ends up happening.
And just as important as the Knight themselves, is their followers. Be sure to track the relationships of the Knight and their Lieutenants. Especially if they end up with the Starscream.
The Bombastic Knight's Quest
1 - Become King by their own Hand
2 - Avenge a great Wrong from their Past
3 - Topple the Godless Tyrant
4 - Usher in the Golden Age
5 - Recover the Ancient Relic
6 - Destroy Evil wherever they find it
And just generally save the day.
Hallmarks of the Bombastic Knight
1 - The Bombastic Knight and their followers must be fancifully and wonderfully dressed and presented at all times
2 - The Bombastic Knight bears a seriously fancy weapon, the envy of all warriors everywhere
3 - The Bombastic Knight is a big fan of One on One Duels, they can hardly deny them
4 - The Bombastic Knight has a surprisingly Respectable Name in the local area
5 - The Bombastic Knight is Famously Mercenary, and may switch sides in any given battle if it is to their advantage
6 - The Bombastic Knight has a Particular Vice, to which they may never consciously say no
7 - The Bombastic Knight has been Divinely Chosen for their quest, according to them anyway
8 - The Bombastic Knight is Chronically Unknown, and is constantly vexed by their lack of recognition regardless of whatever deeds they may attempt or do
9 - The Bombastic Knight has a Mysteriously Exotic Origin
10 - The Bombastic Knight is the rightful Heir to a Kingdom, or so they say
Traits of the Bombastic Knight
1 - Unphased: The Bombastic Knight has advantage on all strength, dexterity, and constitution saving throws they must make.
2 - Willful: The Bombastic Knight has advantage on all intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saving throws they must make.
3 - Boaster: The Bombastic Knight's to hit bonus is double what it should be, but it is reduced by 1 each time they make an attack that misses.
4 - Lucky Bastard: When the Bombastic Knight is reduced to 0 hit points, roll a d6. On a 1 to 5, they instead survive by some miraculous stroke of luck on 1 hit point. Each time this happens, reduce the range by 1 (i.e. to 1 to 4, then 1 to 3, etc.) this increases by 1 back to a maximum of 1 to 5 at the end of each month.
5 - Cowardly: The Bombastic Knight never suffers any penalties or attacks of opportunity when moving away from enemies. All the Bombastic Knight's unit's Morale scores are reduced by 1.
6 - Really Fast!: Takes two turns each round, initiative rolled separately for each. However, at the end of each turn, they have a cumulative 10% chance of collapsing from exhaustion for 1 minute.
7 - Really Rich: When hit by an attack, the Bombastic Knight spills d4 x 10 gp on the ground.
8 - Berserker: All of the Bombastic Knight's attacks have advantage on attack rolls, and add 2 to their damage rolls. However, all attacks made against the Bombastic Knight have advantage on their attack rolls too.
9 - Duelist: The Bombastic Knight has a bonus of +2 to attack rolls and armour class against a target chosen at the start of each of their turns. However, all other enemies have this same bonus against them.
10 - Unassuming: The Bombastic Knight is always severely underestimated, no matter what methods are used to assess them.
11 - Oathbound: The Bombastic Knight will never, ever break their word. Not even when magically coersed.
12 - Fair Sport: The Bombastic Knight's to hit bonus is always equal to the to hit bonus of their target.
13 - False Identity: The Bombastic Knight is also, secretly, someone else in the world as well, somehow.
14 - Magic Blade: The Bombastic Knight wields some sort of magical blade. Chose an appropriate weapon depending on your campaign.
15 - Spell Breaker: When an enemy casts a spell within attack range of the Bombastic Knight, the Bombastic Knight may make an attack against them, cancelling the casting of the spell if it hits.
16 - Tactical: The Bombastic Knight may issue an order to one of their units instead of taking any other actions other than moving on their turn. The selected unit may immediately take another turn as long as they can hear the Bombastic Knight.
17 - Inspiring: Friendly units within 30 feet of the Bombastic Knight may the Bombastic Knight's to hit bonus instead of their own, if it is higher.
18 - Prepared: The Bombastic Knight is always prepared for everything and anything. Always, and anything.
19 - Vindictive: The Bombastic Knight has a bonus of +2 on to hit rolls and damage rolls against creatures that have damaged him. The bonus increases to +4 if they have ever reduced him to 0 hit points in the past.
20 - Cutting Words: As a free action, at the end of each of their turns, the Bombastic Knight may cast vicious mockery against a target that can hear them.
Flaws of the Bombastic Knight
1 - Unobservant: Is generally easily surprised. Always fails checks/rolls to determine if they are surprised.
2 - Intimidateable: Any bonuses that they add to any rolls that they make are reduced by 1 for every 10 points of damage that they have taken.
3 - Faulty Equipment: When they roll a natural 1 on an attack roll, their weapon breaks (if it is non-magical). If a creature attacking them rolls a natural 20, then the Knight's armour breaks (if it is non-magical).
4 - Vulnerable: All attack rolls made against them score a critical hit on a range that is 1 bigger than normal (i.e. usually 19 and 20s now)
5 - Specific Phobia: Randomly select a damage type, if the Bombastic knight witnesses someone take damage of that type, they must make a save versus fear. If they personally suffer damage of that type, they must make the save with disadvantage.
6 - Disloyal Captain: One of their captains (randomly determined) is planning to stab them in the back and take their command. The Starscream will be aiding that captain if both apply, the Starscream is always subservient.
Followers of the Bombastic Knight
Roll once for every 2HD the Knight has, and a commander for each.
Followers of the Bombastic Knight (d6):
1 - (d6 + 1) Swordsmen with 2HD each
Swords men are usually equipped with chain mail, a longsword, and a shield.
2 - (Highest 2 of 3d6) Spearmen with 1HD each
Spearmen are usually equipped with a breastplate, a spear, a dagger, and a shield
3 - (d6 + 1) Archers with 1HD each
Archers are usually equipped with leather armour, a long bow, and a dagger.
4 - (Highest of 2d3) Mounted Warriors with 3HD each
Mounted Warriors are usually mounted on war-horses, and equipped with chain mail, a riding sword, a shield, and a spear.
5 - (Highest of 2d3) Tankers with 3HD each
Tankers are usually equipped with plate armour and heavy, two-handed hammers.
6 - (d6 + 1) Skirmishers with Hounds, 1 HD each
Skirmishers are usually equipped with leather armour, short bows, and short-swords.
Commanders (d4)
If you roll more than one of a type of unit, then only the first unit actually has a Commander, the others are lead by lesser captains who are identical to other members of the unit, except that they always have the maximum hit points for their hit die.
Swordsman
1 - The Starscream: The followers in this unit take no penalties or attacks of opportunity for moving away from an enemy. This Commander is watching carefully for any opportunity to take the command from the Bombastic Knight.
2 - The Diomedes: The followers in this unit have the maximum hit points for their HD. The Commander is the very picture of chivalrous, and is an all around great person.
3 - The Westley: The followers in this unit have +2 to their AC whilst in contact with one enemy and no more. The Commander of this unit kind of doesn't want to be here, but is honour-bound to see out the Knight's quest out to the end.
4 - The Slice'n'Dice: The followers in this unit wield 2 weapons. The Commander of this unit is really just a bit of a psycho and doesn't care how it happens as long as they get to spill blood at some point.
Spearmen
1 - The Vicar: The followers in this unit are galvanised by the Commander's fiery rhetoric, and double their to hit bonus while the Vicar lives, the Commander also wields a two-handed maul. The Commander of this unit is fiercely devout, and could potentially turn against the Knight if they perceive the Knight as blaspheming.
2 - The Leonidas: The followers in this unit gain +1 AC for each of their fellows that are adjacent to them as they turtle their shields together. The Commander of this unit is brave beyond brave and will never retreat, and neither will their men as long as they live.
3 - The Long-in-the-Arm: The followers in this unit are wielding pikes with a 15 foot reach rather than 10 foot. The Commander of this unit is a big fan of being alive, and will go to any lengths to preserve themselves, and as a result is an expert in receiving a charge.
4 - The Man-Catcher: The followers in this unit, when surrounding a foe, reduce the surrounded creature's to hit bonus by 1 for each follower surrounding them. The Commander of this unit was once a captain of a distant city's town watch, used to taking their targets alive. Now, they set their eyes on the prize of the Bombastic Knight's Quest.
Archers
1 - The Keen-Eyed: The followers in this unit gain advantage on their ranged attack rolls if they all fire on a target that is no more than 10 feet away from their Commander's target. The Commander is a veteran of many wars, and now the Bombastic Knight's struggle is something of a personal crusade for them.
2 - The Cranksman: The followers in this unit are actually piloting a small siege engine of appropriate size and complexity for the number of followers in the unit. The Commander of this unit is a self made man, after looting his machine from a cataclysmic siege. They have thrown their lot in with the Bombastic knight to finally make use of the pride and joy of the unit.
3 - The Studley: The followers in this unit are actually armed with crossbows, which they can fire only once every other round. The Commander of this unit is a bit of a snob who is unfortunately quite wealthy too, and has splashed out on equipping their unit with only the finest in crossbow manufacture.
4 - The Splinters: The followers in this unit are armed with short bows, and have an unusually high stealth score. The Commander of this unit is a master of guerrilla warfare, and prefers to strike suddenly and leave no chance for their foes to retaliate.
Mounted Warriors
1 - The Lancer Master: The followers in this unit are equipped with lances instead of spears, and creatures hit by their lances can't make attacks of opportunity against them that turn. The Commander of this unit is a minor noble who has spent much of their life in the saddle, and has mastered the art of the hit and run tactic. They're a dab-hand at jousting too, and will take any opportunity they can to take part.
2 - The Drogo: The followers in this unit can leap from their mounts when they attack, gaining advantage on all to hit and damage rolls they make that turn. The Commander of this unit sees their horses as merely a delivery device for them and the warriors under their command. They follow the Bombastic Knight as their quest often brings them into conflict with others, which suits the Commander just fine.
3 - The Kublai: The followers in this unit are also equipped with short bows, which they can fire once per turn in addition to moving their mount. The Commander of this unit is supposedly from a realm far, far away, of which the commander will not speak.
4 - The Theoden: The followers in this unit can as one, shout out a terrifying war-cry, and all non-friendly creatures within ear-shot must make a saving throw of be frightened of them for the rest of the turn. The Commander of this unit is from a proud line of horse-lords, and serves the Bombastic Knight to repay an old debt of their family's.
Tankers
1 - The Lump of Raw Iron: The followers in this unit are instead armed with oversized greatswords, that can attack two targets as part of one attack as long as they are adjacent to each other. The Commander of this unit is an exceptionally large specimen, and very rarely speaks.
2 - The Ajax: The followers in this unit are also armed with tower shields, which when wielded halve their movement speed and grant them double the protection of a normal shield. The Commander of this unit takes great pride in their shield, that is formed of just layers and layers of wood, iron, and animal skins, is nearly impenetrable, and is so heavy that it seems only they can wield it at all.
3 - The Trolleater: The followers in this unit roll one of their hit die at the start of each of their turns, and regain that many hit points if they are missing them. The Commander of this unit is renowned as having slain a troll with their bare hands by tearing out all of its organs with only their nails and their teeth.
4 - The Lothbrok: The followers in this unit are instead unclad in armour, are daubed in blue war-pigments, and only take half damage from all sources. The Commander of this unit is deeply attuned to the earth, and in the days before a battle comes, can be found offering sacrifices to the Earth itself for their protection.
Skirmishers
1 - The Greaser: The followers in this unit utilise poisoned arrows in battle. The Commander of this unit is a notorious criminal, however, their criminal exploits are known of only in a far off land, and the Bombastic Knight would be horrified to discover the Commander's past deeds.
2 - The Knife Boy: The followers in this unit are never, ever, not even ever without at least d4 knives hidden somewhere on their person unless literally stripped naked. Sometimes not even then. The Commander of this unit has an unhealthy obsession, and that's all that needs saying about that.
3 - The Misty: The followers in this unit will all have a vial of particularly vicious ether on them, and can throw it instead of taking an attack, forcing their target to take a saving throw or fall unconscious. The Commander of this unit is an amateur alchemist in their spare time, though the ether is the only recipe they've ever mastered, much to their annoyance.
4 - The Sapper: The followers in this unit will set d4 traps of various types each, if they have enough warning of a tussle. The Commander of this unit is a master huntsman, and serves the Bombastic Knight with only a passing regret for the opportunities they had in their previous life.
An amalgamy of unclean ideas and unshaped fuel. Burn it into your eyes that the electric pathways of your mind to settle in your head like worms to take root and overtake and flourish in fecund glory. Or maybe not. Its your call really. Also, go to Indexes on the right to get to stuff organised in a semi-logical way.
"Entourage" of the Mad Wizard
All good Mad Wizards will inevitably (sometimes indelibly) have a train of wretches and creatures bounds and dragged along behind them. Some will be fuel for the next magical ritual the Wizard attempts, some are the results of said rituals. They are inevitably terribly mistreated, but for now, have no power to fight back. They follow wearily, begging for release that shall never be granted.
Here are some lists for you to generate such unethical menageries:
To determine how many members of the entourage to generate, roll a d4 for up to 5th level Mad Wizards, d6 for up to 10th, d8 for up to 15th, d10 for up to 20th. When on the cusp of the next tier (i.e. 4th, 9th, 14th levels), roll this dice with advantage.
For each component of the entourage, roll a d10 (roll with advantage if the wizard is 10th level or higher:
1 - 3d6 Enslaved Wretches:
(d4 roll) 1 - Fish-men, 2 - Ratfolk, 3 - Goblins, 4 - Orphans
2 - 3d4 Dominated People:
(d4 roll) 1 - Men, 2 - Orcs, 3 - Dwarves, 4 - Lizard Men
3 - 2d6 Animated Objects:
(d4 roll) 1 - Domestic Items, 2 - Clothes, 3 - Suites of Armour, 4 - Corpses
4 - 3d4 Animated Scarecrows:
(d4 roll) 1 - Regular, 2 - Meaty, 3 - Rusted Iron, 4 - Vine-clad
5 - 2d4 Elementals:
(d4 roll) 1 - Earth, 2 - Air, 3 - Fire, 4 - Water
6 - 2d4 Creatures of Anthropomorhphised:
(d4 roll) 1 - Sand, 2 - Mud, 3 - Paper, 4 - Plant Matter
7 - d4 Golems:
(d4 roll) 1 - Flesh, 2 - Clay, 3 - Wood, 4 - Gravel
8 - d4 Bound Beings:
(d4 roll) 1 - Angels, 2 - Demons, 3 - Fey, 4 - Djinn
9 or 10 - Roll on the Specials List
Specials List (d12)
1 - Motes of light, potentially the souls of the departed, potentially super hot dust particles
2 - A Sentient Wind, that burns on command, and strong enough to pick up men like toys
3 - An alchemical humonculi Clone of the Mad Wizard, dormant until he dies, fawned over daily
4 - A Child made of Teeth, that the Mad Wizards dotes over, the child never seems to notice
5 - A "civilised" Ogre, wearing d4 of the following: a top hat, a cravat, a cane, a monocle
6 - A pair of pallid and docile men who vomit swarms of snakes, which are the creature's true form
7 - The animated skeleton of some prehistoric beast, hollowed out into a mobile home
8 - The embodiement of a non-standard element (i.e. 1-Surprise, 2-Secrecy, 3-Radiation, etc)
9 - A group of domestic items or appliances on dainty little naked legs, a spell-book leads the pack
10 - A statue of the Mad Wizard on wheels, dragged by a slave-team of miserable flagellants
11 - A caged... thing? Its too dark to see... it could be big, or maybe not... I don't know.
12 - The Corpse of a God, wrapped in linen, dragged by a misshapen beast whilst in its stone coffin
Here are some lists for you to generate such unethical menageries:
To determine how many members of the entourage to generate, roll a d4 for up to 5th level Mad Wizards, d6 for up to 10th, d8 for up to 15th, d10 for up to 20th. When on the cusp of the next tier (i.e. 4th, 9th, 14th levels), roll this dice with advantage.
For each component of the entourage, roll a d10 (roll with advantage if the wizard is 10th level or higher:
1 - 3d6 Enslaved Wretches:
(d4 roll) 1 - Fish-men, 2 - Ratfolk, 3 - Goblins, 4 - Orphans
2 - 3d4 Dominated People:
(d4 roll) 1 - Men, 2 - Orcs, 3 - Dwarves, 4 - Lizard Men
3 - 2d6 Animated Objects:
(d4 roll) 1 - Domestic Items, 2 - Clothes, 3 - Suites of Armour, 4 - Corpses
4 - 3d4 Animated Scarecrows:
(d4 roll) 1 - Regular, 2 - Meaty, 3 - Rusted Iron, 4 - Vine-clad
5 - 2d4 Elementals:
(d4 roll) 1 - Earth, 2 - Air, 3 - Fire, 4 - Water
6 - 2d4 Creatures of Anthropomorhphised:
(d4 roll) 1 - Sand, 2 - Mud, 3 - Paper, 4 - Plant Matter
7 - d4 Golems:
(d4 roll) 1 - Flesh, 2 - Clay, 3 - Wood, 4 - Gravel
8 - d4 Bound Beings:
(d4 roll) 1 - Angels, 2 - Demons, 3 - Fey, 4 - Djinn
9 or 10 - Roll on the Specials List
Specials List (d12)
1 - Motes of light, potentially the souls of the departed, potentially super hot dust particles
2 - A Sentient Wind, that burns on command, and strong enough to pick up men like toys
3 - An alchemical humonculi Clone of the Mad Wizard, dormant until he dies, fawned over daily
4 - A Child made of Teeth, that the Mad Wizards dotes over, the child never seems to notice
5 - A "civilised" Ogre, wearing d4 of the following: a top hat, a cravat, a cane, a monocle
6 - A pair of pallid and docile men who vomit swarms of snakes, which are the creature's true form
7 - The animated skeleton of some prehistoric beast, hollowed out into a mobile home
8 - The embodiement of a non-standard element (i.e. 1-Surprise, 2-Secrecy, 3-Radiation, etc)
9 - A group of domestic items or appliances on dainty little naked legs, a spell-book leads the pack
10 - A statue of the Mad Wizard on wheels, dragged by a slave-team of miserable flagellants
11 - A caged... thing? Its too dark to see... it could be big, or maybe not... I don't know.
12 - The Corpse of a God, wrapped in linen, dragged by a misshapen beast whilst in its stone coffin
A Map Making System?
So I accidentally stumbled across this when making an adjacency generator for the Rulers and Realms thing to work out which realms were next to which, and I think it might actually be pretty good for all sorts, dungeons most notably. Here's the system.
The Method
Start with room 1.
Roll a decaying exploding d4.
Okay, okay. That's a weird word jumble there. Here's how it works. Normal exploding dice (as I'm sure at least some of you know) when they roll the maximum, roll again and add it to the total. So if you rolled an exploding d4, and got 4, then 4, then 2, your total is 10. Simple stuff. Decaying it means that each dice you roll past the first has a cumulative -1 modifier, with the catch that the modifier only applies to its personal dice. If you roll a 2 on the fourth dice which has a -3 penalty, its really a 0. So for our earlier example, it would go 4, then 4(-1), then 2(-2) for a total of 7. Doing the rough maths gives it a sort of pleasing jaggedy curve that I kind of like, the numbers are (roughly):
Chance of:
1 - 25%
2 - 25%
3 - 25%
4 - 6.25%
5 - 6.25%
6 - 6.25%
7 - 3.125%
8 - 1.5625%
9 - 1.02...%
10 - 0.3...%
Point is, it decays much more rapidly than regular exploding dice, and lets you actually roll a 4 for example, and has a hard limit. It would be kind of really irritating if you just rolled really well and got 33 connections for one kingdom (though not without historical precedent I have no doubt). And it weights the numbers much lower than usual, which I like, and the needless complexity tickles me somewhat. So, that method then.
Once More, With Feeling
Start with room 1.
Roll a decaying exploding d4 and give it that many connections to new rooms. Try to keep the rooms spread out radially as evenly as possible. We want a sort of grid so that we can easily tell which rooms are "adjacent" to each other (ie. if you have 6 rooms spreading out from room 1, room 3 is "adjacent" to rooms 2 and 4 given they spread from room 1, I'll try to include some pictures to show you roughly what I mean).
Move on to room 2 and give it the results of a decaying exploding d4 connections, connecting the room to "adjacent" rooms before spreading out and adding new rooms.
Move on to room 3, and continue ad infinitum, until you reach a room and roll equal to or less than the number of connections it already had, and there are no other rooms you can roll for.
Note: If you roll a room's connections and roll less than the number of connections it already had attached to it, those connections become "tenuous". For example, if it is for a dungeon map, they could be secret connections, unorthodox connections, or dangerous ones. If it was for a world map they could be difficult crossings, such as an almighty river, or a desert. They could represent characters that have only heard of each other and never met before, or one way connections in an area map, or secret connections between city wards, which leads me on to the next point.
These maps could be a lot of different things. I've already listed political maps, showing geographical connectivity, or relationship webs between countries, people, or a dungeon map, or a city map, or many other things. It just depends what you decide to call each "room". It could be a country, a person, a room in a dungeon, a step in some arcane ritual, a molecule to synthesise...
I think it pretty cool, and I'll see about showing some pictures of maps I've generated this way.
Other Note: Tbh, if just normal exploding dice (or even just a d8 or whatever) work out for you, then I'd say just go with that. No need to overcomplicate the rolls beyond what you find acceptable.
The Method
Start with room 1.
Roll a decaying exploding d4.
Okay, okay. That's a weird word jumble there. Here's how it works. Normal exploding dice (as I'm sure at least some of you know) when they roll the maximum, roll again and add it to the total. So if you rolled an exploding d4, and got 4, then 4, then 2, your total is 10. Simple stuff. Decaying it means that each dice you roll past the first has a cumulative -1 modifier, with the catch that the modifier only applies to its personal dice. If you roll a 2 on the fourth dice which has a -3 penalty, its really a 0. So for our earlier example, it would go 4, then 4(-1), then 2(-2) for a total of 7. Doing the rough maths gives it a sort of pleasing jaggedy curve that I kind of like, the numbers are (roughly):
Chance of:
1 - 25%
2 - 25%
3 - 25%
4 - 6.25%
5 - 6.25%
6 - 6.25%
7 - 3.125%
8 - 1.5625%
9 - 1.02...%
10 - 0.3...%
Point is, it decays much more rapidly than regular exploding dice, and lets you actually roll a 4 for example, and has a hard limit. It would be kind of really irritating if you just rolled really well and got 33 connections for one kingdom (though not without historical precedent I have no doubt). And it weights the numbers much lower than usual, which I like, and the needless complexity tickles me somewhat. So, that method then.
Once More, With Feeling
Start with room 1.
Roll a decaying exploding d4 and give it that many connections to new rooms. Try to keep the rooms spread out radially as evenly as possible. We want a sort of grid so that we can easily tell which rooms are "adjacent" to each other (ie. if you have 6 rooms spreading out from room 1, room 3 is "adjacent" to rooms 2 and 4 given they spread from room 1, I'll try to include some pictures to show you roughly what I mean).
Move on to room 2 and give it the results of a decaying exploding d4 connections, connecting the room to "adjacent" rooms before spreading out and adding new rooms.
Move on to room 3, and continue ad infinitum, until you reach a room and roll equal to or less than the number of connections it already had, and there are no other rooms you can roll for.
Note: If you roll a room's connections and roll less than the number of connections it already had attached to it, those connections become "tenuous". For example, if it is for a dungeon map, they could be secret connections, unorthodox connections, or dangerous ones. If it was for a world map they could be difficult crossings, such as an almighty river, or a desert. They could represent characters that have only heard of each other and never met before, or one way connections in an area map, or secret connections between city wards, which leads me on to the next point.
These maps could be a lot of different things. I've already listed political maps, showing geographical connectivity, or relationship webs between countries, people, or a dungeon map, or a city map, or many other things. It just depends what you decide to call each "room". It could be a country, a person, a room in a dungeon, a step in some arcane ritual, a molecule to synthesise...
I think it pretty cool, and I'll see about showing some pictures of maps I've generated this way.
Other Note: Tbh, if just normal exploding dice (or even just a d8 or whatever) work out for you, then I'd say just go with that. No need to overcomplicate the rolls beyond what you find acceptable.
Rulers and Realms
So I've been working on this and the following post a little bit recently, this is it such as I have it so far, a series of tables for generating politics, roughly speaking. I think this is part one of three or so.
In this post I'm putting the tables (that I may add to or edit as we go) that you can use to generate the Rulers of realms, and the history of said Realms. The following post will be a method for making the maps of the realms using dice (or potentially maps of many things to be honest), and the final one as an example of how to tie it all together using said methods.
Anyway, here we go.
THE RULER
These tables are for generating the main attributes of a Ruler, what they use to enforce their rule, and how they rule. The rest you can extrapolate somewhat from there I think.
The Realm's Ruler
A d8 roll determines the primary attribute of the current ruler, that which they exercise most to maintain their power. If you wish, you can roll on the relevant secondary tables to determine further details about the Ruler's methods.
1 - Martial Might
2 - Sorcery
3 - Riches
4 - Secrets
5 - Diplomacy
6 - Despite
7 - Intrigue
8 - Divine Right
Martial Might (d4)
1 - They are a Terrifying Combatant
2 - They control an Elite Force of warriors
3 - They fight alongside Sorcery
4 - They fight using the best that Money can buy
Sorcery (d4)
1 - They have a terrifying Mastery of Magic
2 - They are apparently Immortal
3 - They have been Magically Enhanced beyond human limits.
4 - They control a force of Magical Guardians
Riches (d4)
1 - They can afford to pay Heavy Tribute for their survival
2 - They can afford a Mighty Mercenary Force
3 - They have made nearby realms Economically Dependent on them
4 - They produce a Unique Commodity
Secrets (d10)
1 - They hold the secret to controlling a Mysterious Guardian Force
2 - They have made it Magically Impossible for them to not rule
3 - They are a Doppelganger ruling for a Shadowy Power, and the real ruler is missing
4 - They have control over a Ruthless Guild of Assassins
5 - They have bound an Inhuman Deity to their command
6 - They know how to produce a Mysterious Substance found nowhere else
7 - Their rule was the result of an Ancient Prophecy
8 - Roll again, the ruler gained this ability from a Mysterious Source
9 - Everyone believes there's some secret to it, but there Really Isn't
10 - The ruler was once An Adventurer, now made ruler by their own hand
Diplomacy (d4)
1 - They have carefully cultivated a Web of Alliances
2 - They have nurtured a Longstanding Friendship with another People
3 - They utilise the terms of an old Peace Treaty
4 - They have made it in the Best Interests of a Foreign Power to keep them around
Despite (d8)
1 - They rule despite their utter lack of Might with Arms
2 - They rule despite their utter lack of Diplomatic Tact
3 - They rule despite their utter lack of Administrative Skill
4 - They rule despite their utter lack of Subtlety and Guile
5 - They rule despite their utter lack of Any Sort of Education
6 - They rule despite being the victim of a Horrifying Curse
7 - They rule despite their utter lack of Piety and Respect for the Gods
8 - They rule despite their utter lack of any of the Skills a Ruler Requires
Intrigue (d4)
1 - They have Plotted and Schemed to put themselves on the Throne
2 - All their opponents have "mysteriously" disappeared or died
3 - Their Bloodlines have been carefully Manipulated to produce them
4 - There are Secret Pacts with Mysterious Powers for the Throne
Divine Right (d4) (how true it really is though, is up to you)
1 - Their God/s literally chose them
2 - Their Ancestors literally chose them
3 - They were victorious in their Crusade, and so earned the Throne
4 - They recently converted to the Dominant Faith
The Ruler's Method
Roll a d6 to determine how strict or liberal the ruler's reign is. Perhaps consider rolling with advantage or disadvantage based on the ruler's methods, or alignment.
1 - Tyranny
2 - Authoritarian
3 - Strict
4 - Laissez Faire
5 - Fair
6 - Benevolent
THE REALM
These are further tables to determine the situation and history of the realm if you wish. Mostly I think these are as optional as you want them to be, perhaps with the exception of the Realm's situation. Certainly at this point the further through you go, the more optional it is I think.
The Realm's Situation
The minimum I would suggest that is needed for the realm, as the situation can inform a lot about each ruler's inclinations towards neighboring realms.
As simple as a d6 roll:
1 or 2: On the Rise
3 or 4: Comfortably Stable
5 or 6: In a Steady Decline
The Realm's Status Quo
A d20 roll determines how long the current Realm has stood for (or not in some cases). This does not necessarily mean that the current ruler has been reigning for the whole time, however. I would suggest it is a marker of how long the current Dynasty has been in power. If the realm is on the rise, roll with disadvantage, and if the realm is in decline, roll with advantage.
1 - Recently (d6 years)
2 - Recently (d6 years)
3 - Recently (d6 years)
4 - Recently (d6 years)
5 - In Memory (d6 x 10 years)
6 - In Memory (d6 x 10 years)
7 - In Memory (d6 x 10 years)
8 - In Memory (d6 x 10 years)
9 - In Memory (d6 x 10 years)
10 - In Memory (d6 x 10 years)
11 - For Ages (d6 x 100 years)
12 - For Ages (d6 x 100 years)
13 - For Ages (d6 x x100 years)
14 - For Aeons (d6 x 1000 years)
15 - Embroiled in a Civil War (began d6 weeks ago) - (Roll another Ruler if you wish)
16 - Embroiled in a Civil War (began d6 years ago) - (Roll another Ruler if you wish)
17 - In the Grips of Revolution (began d6 weeks ago)
18 - In the Grips of Revolution (began d6 years ago)
19 - Languishing as a Puppet State
20 - Under the Control of Outside Forces
Civil Wars (d4)
1 - Succession Crisis
2 - Upstart Nobles
3 - Religious Upheaval
4 - Rise Against the Tyrant
Puppet States (d4)
1 - Conquered by a Neighbour
2 - In a Dynastic Union
3 - Under Economic Dependence
4 - Ruled by a Shadow Government
Outside Forces (d8)
1 - Realm of the Dead
2 - The Kingdom of Heaven
3 - Hell on Earth
4 - A Primeval Forest
5 - An Impossible Devastation
6 - The Remnants of the Precursors
7 - Untamed Wilds
8 - Land of the Dark Lord
Events
Events are the Realm-Shaking activities that can often separate the rule of one Dynasty from another, and at the very least demarcate the periods of Status-Quo. I suggest using your best judgement to decide exactly when these events occurred; they may not necessarily indicate the end or start of a Rulers reign, but they can. If you go for rolling the history of the realm as well, you could spread some of these events back further.
When rolling for a Realm that has been in its current state for Aeons or Ages, roll with disadvantage. When rolling for a Realm that has been in its current state only Recently, roll with advantage.
Number of Events (d6)
1 or 2 - No Events
3 or 4 - One Event
5 - Two Events
6 - Three Events
Events (d12)
If you roll a War, Revolution, or other such struggle, roll on the Outcome stable below to see who won. Similarly, if you roll a cataclysm, roll on the cataclysm table.
1 - Civil War (d4 months)
2 - Civil War (d4 years)
3 - Revolution (Short-lived, 2d6 years)
4 - Revolution (Long-standing, has been finished for 2d6 x10 years)
5 - Golden Age (d6 years, explodes with each explosion also multiplying duration by 10)
6 - Succession Crisis (d4 months) - (Roll a deposed Ruler if you wish)
7 - Succession Crisis (d4 years) - (Roll a deposed Ruler if you wish)
8 - Minor War (2d6 months)
9 - Major War (2d6 years)
10 - Cataclysmic War (2d6 decades)
11 - Minor Cataclysm (d4% of population)
12 - Major Cataclysm (d4 x 10% of population)
War/Revolution Outcomes (d8)
1 - Utter Loss
2 - Minor Loss
3 - Tense Standstill
4 - Comfortable Standstill
5 - Minor Victory
6 - Total Victory
Cataclysms (d10)
1 - Rampaging Monster/Dark Lord
2 - Divine Apocalypse
3 - Magical Catastrophe
4 - Economic Depression
5 - Virulent Disease
6 - Genocide
7 - Noble Decadence
8 - Extra-Planar Threat
9 - Earthquake, or other Geological Devastation
10 - Unrivaled Storms, or other Extreme Weather
The Realm's History
Use this d10 table to determine what was going on before the current Ruler came to power. If you really want detail, I guess you could roll rulers and Status-Quo periods for them, but I wouldn't really recommend it, lots of detail that most wouldn't care for anyway.
When rolling for a Realm that has been in its current state for Aeons or Ages, roll with disadvantage. When rolling for a Realm that has been in its current state only Recently, roll with advantage.
1 - This realm rose up from an ever-expanding city-state
2 - A Warlord united the land's petty barons together into this realm
3 - This realm rose over time from the results of many political marriages
4 - This realm was hard won in a battle against an inhuman foe
5 - The realm has been torn apart by Internal Conflicts for as long as any can remember
6 - A series of 2d4 Dynasties ruled over this area in succession over as many decades
7 - A pair of Dynasties have been fighting over this land for d6 decades
8 - The realm was a part of another realm before earning its Independence
9 - A Dynasty ruled for d6 decades after uniting the lands
10 - A Dynasty ruled for d6 centuries after uniting the lands
Down in the Deep Dark Gulfs
Okay, look, posting this unedited list of nonsense probably wasn't the best use of any of our time, so here's an attempt to tidy it up a bit. Eventually I'll get around to taking each section and expanding my ideas on them a little bit.
Factions
Coral Men living in their Coral cities and Anemone Castles
Translucent Organ Men
Blubber Fish Farms, they aren't good to eat, but its easy to get, the fuckers never try to escape, too fat
Psychic fish what with the translucent head-dome pieces
Trilobite/Horseshoe Crab people
Ghost-Pirates of course, Flying Dutchmen, Davey Jones' Locker, Ghost fleets
Krill-Salesmen (look I don't know, I just like the sounds of it)
Lobster Boys and Crab People, Lobster Wars, and thus, Lobster Knights
White Coral is a Coral Cult
Locations
Sunken Cities from (literally) fallen empires
Whales with Cities/Coral Reefs on their Backs
Whale Graveyards
Ship-wrecks
Flotsam Cities
Geometric Volcano Temples
Coral-Tree Forests
Kelp Jungles
Deep Sea Necromancer Cities
A City Chained to the sea floor, both the top and bottom are used, chain your feet to the floor
Metal + Coral Castle, home of whirlpools and the plug of all the seas
Giant starfish castles
Atlantis
Ur
Green pulses - the lighthouse that guides the drowned dead
Underwater rivers and cliffs
Ys sunk by Dahut's foolishness
Sunken cities that are only 'shallowly' sunk, their buildings poke up from the waters
Monsters
Shark Gods, Kelp Giants
Shoal-Swarms, sometimes they might be people and they throttle you but its just razor sharp fish rushing past you, not throttling you, though they whip the water up so much they may as well be
Smoke-Stack Crabs, you know, the ones on the sea floor, they're on the backs of crabs now
A giant worm that devours the earth and leaves behind these giant trenches for you to explore
EELS SO MANY EELS THEY WRAP AROUND YOU AND THERES LOADS OF THEM HELP
Squid Demons/Flotillas
Whale-Angels
Razored Turtles
Hypnotic Fish Shoals
Axolotl Dragons
Lancer Sharks - like swordfish, but with jousting and lances
Blue Glaucus Frond Fin Dragons (seriously, look these guys up, so pretty)
Space-Bear-Sea-Pig-whatevers
Jelly Fish Collectives
Pearls that turn into Sea Urchin Death Machines like holy shit these fuckers are awful but the pearl makes up their middle so maybe its worth it? Probably not.
Sting-Rays with tentacles and altogether too many eyes
Scylla and Charybdis
Sirens
Typhon
Flameback Sea Slug
Electric Zap Eels
Crown of Thorns Starfish
Gold-Coin predator oysters
Pyrosomes
Telekenetic Brain Coral
Horseshoe Crabs
Geoducks?
Ringed Octopi
Spanish Dancers
Banded Sea Kraits
Cuttlefish are pretty cool
Pufferfish, with actual enlarge/reduce
Leafy Sea Dragons
Pacific Black Dragons
Living Fossils like cealocanths or however you spell it
Scorpion Fish that are actual scorpions
Smalltooth Sawfish
Stoplight Loosejaws (oh god those)
Two-wing flying fish
Whip-tail gulper
Archaic Leviathans
Single Celled Beasts
Corallimorpharia, the eyes of the deeps
Scotoplane sea pigs
Toxic Crabs
Sea Angels - predatory sea snails
Squid Worms urgh
Acatharians Amoeba that are apparently large so now they need to be just absolutely huge and blood-thirsty
Marrus Orthocanna, the physonect siphonophore that I swear I didn't just make up its real life science okay? made up of multiple repeating units, the bio-trains of the sea
Munnopis isopod, armoured snails
Blind furry crabs that filter their food through their furry claws, Kiwidae Crabs - named for the polynesian goddess of shellfish
Sea Spiders with stilt legs and fucking egg sacs oh god help us all
Hydromedusas - jellyfish oh fuck
Tiny Cute Amphipodes
Underwater snakes oh dear
Coral Hydras
Burrowing Sea Mice
Asphichelone, a turtle island that drowns you if you land
Characters
Octopus Oracles in Octopus Gardens
Angler Wizards who carry their lures on the ends of their staffs, covered in barnacles and kelp
Starfish Sorcerers
Crocodile Hashish Smokers
Hags: Benthic, Tentacle, Haze, Primal
Venus but shes alien and terrible to behold
Bioluminescent Gods
Underwater Gods covered in shit and stuff
Iku Turso - finnish god of disease and war
Proteus
Old man of the sea
Qalupalik
The Ancient Mariner
Hazards
Plankton Gases and Poisons
Razor-Clams, seriously, they're weird, and tentacles erupting out of the sand to attack you is cool
Sea Cucumber Tree Trap Things Oh God They're Horrible seriously have you seen them eat?
Clashing Rocks
Milky Sea phenomena
Barriers between Seas
Baltic Sea Anomaly
Brinicles
Red Tide - Deadly
Densovirus that just eats your fucking flesh
What do you get when a whale dies? Vigtorniella Worms
Venus Flytrap anemones, Plankton Clouds
Hungry Clouds
Schools of Fish hiding a horrible killer worm that's got them all strung together as cover for it
Water warps the world it isn't just an optical illusion
Events
Food falls from the sky, open mouths gape in the floor
Crab-Floods and Sting-Ray Clouds
Sea Currents as Weather-with-Consequence, which may also be sentient/underwater ley lines.
Swarms of Sea Stars
Underwater Crop Circles
Underwater sounds, the shouts of drowned gods
Things
Antikytheira Mechanisms
Acheulean, Olduvai, Lithics, bone, caves, pigments, primal weapons
Glow Boats
Squid Penis Flower Egg Sacs
Manganese Spheres
Lattice Tunnels
Other
Sea-as-Dungeon: level as depth, Shallows -> Deeps -> Floor -> Trench -> This is Eden.
Primal Chaos
I AM THE SEA
DO NOT TEST ME
The First
Antedilluvean
Random Octopus generators
Just floating and drifting
Factions
Coral Men living in their Coral cities and Anemone Castles
Translucent Organ Men
Blubber Fish Farms, they aren't good to eat, but its easy to get, the fuckers never try to escape, too fat
Psychic fish what with the translucent head-dome pieces
Trilobite/Horseshoe Crab people
Ghost-Pirates of course, Flying Dutchmen, Davey Jones' Locker, Ghost fleets
Krill-Salesmen (look I don't know, I just like the sounds of it)
Lobster Boys and Crab People, Lobster Wars, and thus, Lobster Knights
White Coral is a Coral Cult
Locations
Sunken Cities from (literally) fallen empires
Whales with Cities/Coral Reefs on their Backs
Whale Graveyards
Ship-wrecks
Flotsam Cities
Geometric Volcano Temples
Coral-Tree Forests
Kelp Jungles
Deep Sea Necromancer Cities
A City Chained to the sea floor, both the top and bottom are used, chain your feet to the floor
Metal + Coral Castle, home of whirlpools and the plug of all the seas
Giant starfish castles
Atlantis
Ur
Green pulses - the lighthouse that guides the drowned dead
Underwater rivers and cliffs
Ys sunk by Dahut's foolishness
Sunken cities that are only 'shallowly' sunk, their buildings poke up from the waters
Monsters
Shark Gods, Kelp Giants
Shoal-Swarms, sometimes they might be people and they throttle you but its just razor sharp fish rushing past you, not throttling you, though they whip the water up so much they may as well be
Smoke-Stack Crabs, you know, the ones on the sea floor, they're on the backs of crabs now
A giant worm that devours the earth and leaves behind these giant trenches for you to explore
EELS SO MANY EELS THEY WRAP AROUND YOU AND THERES LOADS OF THEM HELP
Squid Demons/Flotillas
Whale-Angels
Razored Turtles
Hypnotic Fish Shoals
Axolotl Dragons
Lancer Sharks - like swordfish, but with jousting and lances
Blue Glaucus Frond Fin Dragons (seriously, look these guys up, so pretty)
Space-Bear-Sea-Pig-whatevers
Jelly Fish Collectives
Pearls that turn into Sea Urchin Death Machines like holy shit these fuckers are awful but the pearl makes up their middle so maybe its worth it? Probably not.
Sting-Rays with tentacles and altogether too many eyes
Scylla and Charybdis
Sirens
Typhon
Flameback Sea Slug
Electric Zap Eels
Crown of Thorns Starfish
Gold-Coin predator oysters
Pyrosomes
Telekenetic Brain Coral
Horseshoe Crabs
Geoducks?
Ringed Octopi
Spanish Dancers
Banded Sea Kraits
Cuttlefish are pretty cool
Pufferfish, with actual enlarge/reduce
Leafy Sea Dragons
Pacific Black Dragons
Living Fossils like cealocanths or however you spell it
Scorpion Fish that are actual scorpions
Smalltooth Sawfish
Stoplight Loosejaws (oh god those)
Two-wing flying fish
Whip-tail gulper
Archaic Leviathans
Single Celled Beasts
Corallimorpharia, the eyes of the deeps
Scotoplane sea pigs
Toxic Crabs
Sea Angels - predatory sea snails
Squid Worms urgh
Acatharians Amoeba that are apparently large so now they need to be just absolutely huge and blood-thirsty
Marrus Orthocanna, the physonect siphonophore that I swear I didn't just make up its real life science okay? made up of multiple repeating units, the bio-trains of the sea
Munnopis isopod, armoured snails
Blind furry crabs that filter their food through their furry claws, Kiwidae Crabs - named for the polynesian goddess of shellfish
Sea Spiders with stilt legs and fucking egg sacs oh god help us all
Hydromedusas - jellyfish oh fuck
Tiny Cute Amphipodes
Underwater snakes oh dear
Coral Hydras
Burrowing Sea Mice
Asphichelone, a turtle island that drowns you if you land
Characters
Octopus Oracles in Octopus Gardens
Angler Wizards who carry their lures on the ends of their staffs, covered in barnacles and kelp
Starfish Sorcerers
Crocodile Hashish Smokers
Hags: Benthic, Tentacle, Haze, Primal
Venus but shes alien and terrible to behold
Bioluminescent Gods
Underwater Gods covered in shit and stuff
Iku Turso - finnish god of disease and war
Proteus
Old man of the sea
Qalupalik
The Ancient Mariner
Hazards
Plankton Gases and Poisons
Razor-Clams, seriously, they're weird, and tentacles erupting out of the sand to attack you is cool
Sea Cucumber Tree Trap Things Oh God They're Horrible seriously have you seen them eat?
Clashing Rocks
Milky Sea phenomena
Barriers between Seas
Baltic Sea Anomaly
Brinicles
Red Tide - Deadly
Densovirus that just eats your fucking flesh
What do you get when a whale dies? Vigtorniella Worms
Venus Flytrap anemones, Plankton Clouds
Hungry Clouds
Schools of Fish hiding a horrible killer worm that's got them all strung together as cover for it
Water warps the world it isn't just an optical illusion
Events
Food falls from the sky, open mouths gape in the floor
Crab-Floods and Sting-Ray Clouds
Sea Currents as Weather-with-Consequence, which may also be sentient/underwater ley lines.
Swarms of Sea Stars
Underwater Crop Circles
Underwater sounds, the shouts of drowned gods
Things
Antikytheira Mechanisms
Acheulean, Olduvai, Lithics, bone, caves, pigments, primal weapons
Glow Boats
Squid Penis Flower Egg Sacs
Manganese Spheres
Lattice Tunnels
Other
Sea-as-Dungeon: level as depth, Shallows -> Deeps -> Floor -> Trench -> This is Eden.
Primal Chaos
I AM THE SEA
DO NOT TEST ME
The First
Antedilluvean
Random Octopus generators
Just floating and drifting
Demon Lords - Part 1
Demon Lords are fertile ground for all kinds of wretched villains who by their very existence demand smiting righteously and vigorously. This is the first of five posts on Demon Lords, twenty lords in total, and a special set of Six Arch-Fiends to Lord it over the rest of them. Here we go then...
Throgmaw, the Gutworm
Unlike most demons, who dwell in Hell, Throgmaw churns and writhes through the belly of the earth, tearing through rock and dirt in its ceaseless quest to consume and digest.
Throgmaw in appearance is a large, segmented worm, perhaps the size of a small train. Each segment of its long, pallid body seems to sprout from the previous part, a ring of sore, bulging teeth surrounding the squeezing flesh of the joins; each section of the worm vomiting forth the next. The mouth at the front end is terrible indeed to behold. Rings of tusk-fangs, pulsing, bulbous flesh, and a raw sphincter of flesh in the deepest part of its gaping jaws.
Perhaps by its appearance you might consider it a simple animal, or at least simple in its desires to consume and devour; and you would be horribly, tortuously wrong.
For most, admittedly, the worst fate they can expect from the Gutworm is that struck down by his weight, they will feel him descend from above and tear open their bellies and abdomens, having their meats and offal drained from them, and the ragged remains discarded like so much useless cloth. For those worthy enough to actually acquire some sort of measure of attention from the worm, a far worse fate remains.
Some special few, chosen according to principles known only to the Grand Maggot itself, will disappear in one end, and reappear at the other, imperceptibly changed, in half of cases at least. Half of the time the victim will emerge apparently unscathed by their ordeal, though eventually it will become clear that any shred of humanity they may once have possessed is gone, wholly and utterly. They are now monsters in the flesh-garb of the victim. The same is true of the other half of those special victims of the Worm, who emerge again, seemingly unscathed. However, it will only take a minute or two before they spasm and collapse, shrieking and howling as their flesh warps and contorts, never holding a solid form for more than a moment, never settling, always changing. These horrible, ever-shifting beasts quickly descend into a madness that ends only with its death, and involves the destruction of everything that isn't stone or earth as long as it continues.
Throgmaw will also sometimes leave behind tiny, wriggling grubs in his wake. Do not touch them; they can burrow through flesh and skin in an instant. This isn't even the worst part, only an unlucky few will be slain by the maggots chewing their flesh to ribbons even as they grow to replace the lost meat until the worm is all that is left inside the skin-suit. Most will survive well into the time when the maggot eats its well up into the skull and gobbles up all the delicious pinkish, folded brain-meat, leaving the Maggot in control of the now vacant corpse. Such controlled bodies never quite seem to have much of a purpose, they stumble about unable to speak or really move with much grace at all, appearing to most as more mundane undead servants. But, they seem to be acting beyond simple random impulses; they have a cruel and despicable mind and will, eager to inflict pain and death where-ever they can.
Solomon, the Gilded King
Of all Demons, Solomon is the most vile in his excess. Even in the realms of mortals his form is know; a pallid wretchedly wizened man, skin like leather, eyes shrunken down to pin-pricks. His nails are like tree roots, and his bald head creaks beneath the cold dry skin that stretches over it, his spine pokes out of his back in ragged tears.
And yet, he is always bedecked in sickening amounts of gold. His robes are lacquered in it, his staff shod in exquisite and intricate lucred murals, his hands weighed down with wicked rings. He sits hunched over in his vast, high throne atop a vast mountain of riches of all kinds. Other than he, his vast court is empty; he could tolerate not even the possibility of theft.
What demon-servants he does have cower and shake beyond the doors of his bright-shining sanctum, waiting anxiously for his bellowed commands. They respond immediately and hurriedly; those showing their "disloyalty" are entombed in gold.
In ancient stories, there are, or maybe were, ways for men to become demons. Solomon was the first and greatest of them. Born a slave, he eventually found consort with the emissaries of Hell, and bought himself a throne and eternal life at the easily paid price of all he knew to be destroyed by fire. The city he was chained in burned as he transcended mortal life, gleefully watching as that which he despised was reduced to cinders, even as his mortal form failed. Others say that it only cost a single life, unwillingly given, but given all the same.
Either way, now he rules as a king among demons, rich beyond any conceivable imaginings, powerful beyond the dreams of men. And yet, still he hungers, still he craves, still he desires. His courtly visits (he never allows any entrance to his domain) to other demon lords are lavish and extravagant, but they are never enough. The gifts and tributes he receives from the more servile lords are accepted through gritted teeth and fierce disappointment. He is never grateful.
Unlike almost all other demon lords, there are no tales of him in battle, none of iron-clad heroes kicking in the doors of his courts, none of wise and sagely mages blasting him to smithereens with powerful magics. Only of their victories, of their boasts that they and they alone could defeat Gold-Crazed Solomon, and steal his treasure. Their towers are indeed luxurious and their hordes vast, but vaster still are the vaults of Solomon, and he has never had to raise even a finger in his own defense...
Throgmaw, the Gutworm
Unlike most demons, who dwell in Hell, Throgmaw churns and writhes through the belly of the earth, tearing through rock and dirt in its ceaseless quest to consume and digest.
Throgmaw in appearance is a large, segmented worm, perhaps the size of a small train. Each segment of its long, pallid body seems to sprout from the previous part, a ring of sore, bulging teeth surrounding the squeezing flesh of the joins; each section of the worm vomiting forth the next. The mouth at the front end is terrible indeed to behold. Rings of tusk-fangs, pulsing, bulbous flesh, and a raw sphincter of flesh in the deepest part of its gaping jaws.
Perhaps by its appearance you might consider it a simple animal, or at least simple in its desires to consume and devour; and you would be horribly, tortuously wrong.
For most, admittedly, the worst fate they can expect from the Gutworm is that struck down by his weight, they will feel him descend from above and tear open their bellies and abdomens, having their meats and offal drained from them, and the ragged remains discarded like so much useless cloth. For those worthy enough to actually acquire some sort of measure of attention from the worm, a far worse fate remains.
Some special few, chosen according to principles known only to the Grand Maggot itself, will disappear in one end, and reappear at the other, imperceptibly changed, in half of cases at least. Half of the time the victim will emerge apparently unscathed by their ordeal, though eventually it will become clear that any shred of humanity they may once have possessed is gone, wholly and utterly. They are now monsters in the flesh-garb of the victim. The same is true of the other half of those special victims of the Worm, who emerge again, seemingly unscathed. However, it will only take a minute or two before they spasm and collapse, shrieking and howling as their flesh warps and contorts, never holding a solid form for more than a moment, never settling, always changing. These horrible, ever-shifting beasts quickly descend into a madness that ends only with its death, and involves the destruction of everything that isn't stone or earth as long as it continues.
Throgmaw will also sometimes leave behind tiny, wriggling grubs in his wake. Do not touch them; they can burrow through flesh and skin in an instant. This isn't even the worst part, only an unlucky few will be slain by the maggots chewing their flesh to ribbons even as they grow to replace the lost meat until the worm is all that is left inside the skin-suit. Most will survive well into the time when the maggot eats its well up into the skull and gobbles up all the delicious pinkish, folded brain-meat, leaving the Maggot in control of the now vacant corpse. Such controlled bodies never quite seem to have much of a purpose, they stumble about unable to speak or really move with much grace at all, appearing to most as more mundane undead servants. But, they seem to be acting beyond simple random impulses; they have a cruel and despicable mind and will, eager to inflict pain and death where-ever they can.
Solomon, the Gilded King
Of all Demons, Solomon is the most vile in his excess. Even in the realms of mortals his form is know; a pallid wretchedly wizened man, skin like leather, eyes shrunken down to pin-pricks. His nails are like tree roots, and his bald head creaks beneath the cold dry skin that stretches over it, his spine pokes out of his back in ragged tears.
And yet, he is always bedecked in sickening amounts of gold. His robes are lacquered in it, his staff shod in exquisite and intricate lucred murals, his hands weighed down with wicked rings. He sits hunched over in his vast, high throne atop a vast mountain of riches of all kinds. Other than he, his vast court is empty; he could tolerate not even the possibility of theft.
What demon-servants he does have cower and shake beyond the doors of his bright-shining sanctum, waiting anxiously for his bellowed commands. They respond immediately and hurriedly; those showing their "disloyalty" are entombed in gold.
In ancient stories, there are, or maybe were, ways for men to become demons. Solomon was the first and greatest of them. Born a slave, he eventually found consort with the emissaries of Hell, and bought himself a throne and eternal life at the easily paid price of all he knew to be destroyed by fire. The city he was chained in burned as he transcended mortal life, gleefully watching as that which he despised was reduced to cinders, even as his mortal form failed. Others say that it only cost a single life, unwillingly given, but given all the same.
Either way, now he rules as a king among demons, rich beyond any conceivable imaginings, powerful beyond the dreams of men. And yet, still he hungers, still he craves, still he desires. His courtly visits (he never allows any entrance to his domain) to other demon lords are lavish and extravagant, but they are never enough. The gifts and tributes he receives from the more servile lords are accepted through gritted teeth and fierce disappointment. He is never grateful.
Unlike almost all other demon lords, there are no tales of him in battle, none of iron-clad heroes kicking in the doors of his courts, none of wise and sagely mages blasting him to smithereens with powerful magics. Only of their victories, of their boasts that they and they alone could defeat Gold-Crazed Solomon, and steal his treasure. Their towers are indeed luxurious and their hordes vast, but vaster still are the vaults of Solomon, and he has never had to raise even a finger in his own defense...
Quorus, of the Many Tongues
Should you attempt to speak in Quorus' presence, you will slowly find your voice stolen away, only your throat, tongue, and mind are fine; it is the words themselves that are taken by Quorus. Each of it's tongues bind a word, and it has many, many tongues. The many mouths of its chest and belly chewing up the noises you make, leaving nothing left in your mouth. Not an infinite number (yet) but enough to mean that you would never be able to fill them all before the end. The more you speak, the more words are stolen from your mouth. Eventually, all that is left is silence. You cannot speak, and your words are turned against you, you cannot even think the words. Though it can use them against you, of course. And for god's sakes, don't say your own name, that would give you over to it utterly, and your thoughts would become his.
Quorus is a bloated beast of a demon, a great engorged sac hanging obscenely from a insectile body, fibrile wings beating furiously to keep the whole wretched mass afloat. The sac hanging beneath the body, fully the size of a horse, is covered in altogether too many mouths, some gnashing slowly, others hanging, drooling, screaming, thrashing. The body of the creature bears a ever-shifting set of round, glistening insect-eyes, endlessly peering at you.
A ring of thin, segmented legs crowns the area above the mouth-sac, but they're too short and pathetic to actually achieve anything.
Strangely enough for a demon of Quorus' potency, the majority of its servants are non-demonic, idiot-slaves foolish enough to say their own names within hearing distance of Quorus. The lot of the Name-Slaves of Quorus is to tend to the sore and wretched mouths of the Demon, to carefully and diligently copy down the mad ravings of the more independent mouths, and to lay down their lives for the Demon Lord if needs be. There are a few demons amongst its ranks, but most are wily enough to avoid it; not even demon lords are immune to Quorus' dominion should their names be spoken. Demonic Name-Slaves rarely do anything of worth, Quorus is content to force them to demean themselves for its pleasure.
In desperation, Quorus can bite off its own tongues. They wriggle and spasm with frightful purpose, and can even leap a good distance. Each tongue bitten of in this way releases the word that was bound to it, constantly for a good few minutes, effectively deafening anyone in the area and totally disrupting communication and magical incantations. The tongues can sting those they pounce at like a wasp, and causes further tongues to sprout from the wound. They flap uselessly and occasionally dribble. Should a tongue manage to get inside someone's throat, that person will almost certainly suffocate, and return as demon-spawn of Quorus.
Quorus is a bloated beast of a demon, a great engorged sac hanging obscenely from a insectile body, fibrile wings beating furiously to keep the whole wretched mass afloat. The sac hanging beneath the body, fully the size of a horse, is covered in altogether too many mouths, some gnashing slowly, others hanging, drooling, screaming, thrashing. The body of the creature bears a ever-shifting set of round, glistening insect-eyes, endlessly peering at you.
A ring of thin, segmented legs crowns the area above the mouth-sac, but they're too short and pathetic to actually achieve anything.
Strangely enough for a demon of Quorus' potency, the majority of its servants are non-demonic, idiot-slaves foolish enough to say their own names within hearing distance of Quorus. The lot of the Name-Slaves of Quorus is to tend to the sore and wretched mouths of the Demon, to carefully and diligently copy down the mad ravings of the more independent mouths, and to lay down their lives for the Demon Lord if needs be. There are a few demons amongst its ranks, but most are wily enough to avoid it; not even demon lords are immune to Quorus' dominion should their names be spoken. Demonic Name-Slaves rarely do anything of worth, Quorus is content to force them to demean themselves for its pleasure.
In desperation, Quorus can bite off its own tongues. They wriggle and spasm with frightful purpose, and can even leap a good distance. Each tongue bitten of in this way releases the word that was bound to it, constantly for a good few minutes, effectively deafening anyone in the area and totally disrupting communication and magical incantations. The tongues can sting those they pounce at like a wasp, and causes further tongues to sprout from the wound. They flap uselessly and occasionally dribble. Should a tongue manage to get inside someone's throat, that person will almost certainly suffocate, and return as demon-spawn of Quorus.
Buboskos, of the Bloated Throat
Most of the time Buboskos sits serenely in its pit of filth and tar, for all the world appearing as a great, obscene toad. Large bony crests like antlers sprout from above its eyes, and its skin is covered, just covered, in putrid, bloated boils. Some of them even have tiny swimming things squirming beneath the surface.
When it croaks, it is deep like the groan of splintering wood, or grinding tectonics. And as the throat sac stresses and bulges with the croak, so do the Demon's boils.
In the vast circles of hell, Buboskos' court is something of a meeting ground. Many weaker demons feel safe(r) in the stale-pits beneath Buboskos' filth-throne, which rises up like a heap of phlegm and bile. Beneath his stern and unwavering gaze, nothing goes unnoticed. Every scale and fiber and fleck of skin is noted and taken, in case the visiting being earns the ire of Buboskos.
Should you anger him, his gaze will not change, he will not react, but one of his servitor-demons will slink into action, pick up the leavings that inevitably remain. These will be fed to Buboskos, and he will breed a copy of the perpetrator. It is loyal to him, and is created for a purpose; usually the destruction of its originator if Buboskos created it. When the boil-simulacra has completed its task, or is slain, it dissolves slowly, over the course of hours into the thin yellowish ichor that birthed it. It is possible to convince Buboskos to create a boil-simulacra for you if you can provide both something of the creature or item you want copied and something of value to the Toad-Beast. Demons never do anything for free of course.
Buboskos' demon thralls are for the most part as pestilent as he is, covered in boils and weeping sores. They are hunched, and lope more than walk; they are still somewhat human-shaped unlike their patron, but they are somewhere in between. They record who visits when, and will pick up anything that a visitor leaves behind with delicate pincers, just in case. Their grins are altogether too wide, and their tongues just a little too prehensile. Its more than a little bit uncomfortable when they shake their hand with it. Mostly however, they are somewhat hospitable to the visiting demon and mortal traveller alike, though should violence break out, they swarm like flies around their master, defending him with sheer body mass.
If anyone should try to attack the Bloated Beast, or commit some foul treachery so unforgivable its perpetrator should be immediately extinguished, it will remain as inscrutably calm as it ever does until suddenly like a bolt of lightning its mouth will rupture, spraying caustic slime over a goodly area before it, and a tongue like a dragons head will leap forward at impossible speeds. Before the profligate can even move the tongue will open, its moray-maw vast and ringed with a thousand thousand teeth set in the tongues sickly pink flesh, and in an instant, the victim is gone, and so is the tongue, and a new boil will blossom on the Bloated Lord's hide.
Yggdrisalia, the Lady of Roots
The fair Lady of Roots barely counts as sentient most of the time. She is about a mile tall, and a half mile wide at her highest, more than seven wide at her base, and possibly bigger beneath the basalt soils of Hell. Her trunk is like flesh left to calcify over uncountable millennia, and indeed, the higher you climb, the softer and more porous it is. The branches are positively soggy and limp, drooping down like willow branches after arcing lazily through the air above. Her roots are like insect limbs, segmented and thin, compared to her trunk that is. They stab down into the earth and wind through it like cancer, arching above the surface sometimes. They bleed if cut, a thick blue lava that flows in the way that rock doesn't.
She has flowers too, and fruit, but they appear only rarely. Some say it is with the birth of a new Demon Lord that her flowers bloom, and with each mortal transcended to Demon-State that her fruits ripen and grow heavy on the branch. Some say that to drink the tea of her petals is to life eternal, and that to gorge on her fruits is instant death, or perhaps lingering death. Planting the seeds from her fruit causes devil-infantry to spring from the ground, or perhaps a temple dedicated to the infernal pantheon, or even a further flower with tongues of flame for head and leaves.
They say it is she that will end the world, her tendrils encompassing all, spread all throughout beneath the feet of men where none can see their end coming, then squeezing, splitting the earth open like a ripe peach. Others murmur that instead she will merely drink the earth dry, shriveling the mud and muck of the world into dust and sand, and that she will be
It is also said, in strangled whispers in gloomy corners that she was the first of the Demons, that all others sprouted from her fruits and roots, that the earth about her is scattered with corpses of demons who could not survive their ante-natal plummets. That the Seed of the End of the World was planted when the first murder was born, as flint dug deep into the skull of a friend, where the first scraps of brain matter ever spilled from malice fell.
Other tales tell of how her branches actually reach upwards to try and throttle the sun; how every wicked soul claimed by demons is brought to her to nourish her roots; how it was really the first women scorned by men that fled the world of mortals and forsook her flesh to become the Demon-Tree and that is why it is a she; but these are all tales. None have been to Hell and returned to find out, and presumably if they had, how could a tree speak, and why say any of these things? All these can be nothing more than rumour.
When it croaks, it is deep like the groan of splintering wood, or grinding tectonics. And as the throat sac stresses and bulges with the croak, so do the Demon's boils.
In the vast circles of hell, Buboskos' court is something of a meeting ground. Many weaker demons feel safe(r) in the stale-pits beneath Buboskos' filth-throne, which rises up like a heap of phlegm and bile. Beneath his stern and unwavering gaze, nothing goes unnoticed. Every scale and fiber and fleck of skin is noted and taken, in case the visiting being earns the ire of Buboskos.
Should you anger him, his gaze will not change, he will not react, but one of his servitor-demons will slink into action, pick up the leavings that inevitably remain. These will be fed to Buboskos, and he will breed a copy of the perpetrator. It is loyal to him, and is created for a purpose; usually the destruction of its originator if Buboskos created it. When the boil-simulacra has completed its task, or is slain, it dissolves slowly, over the course of hours into the thin yellowish ichor that birthed it. It is possible to convince Buboskos to create a boil-simulacra for you if you can provide both something of the creature or item you want copied and something of value to the Toad-Beast. Demons never do anything for free of course.
Buboskos' demon thralls are for the most part as pestilent as he is, covered in boils and weeping sores. They are hunched, and lope more than walk; they are still somewhat human-shaped unlike their patron, but they are somewhere in between. They record who visits when, and will pick up anything that a visitor leaves behind with delicate pincers, just in case. Their grins are altogether too wide, and their tongues just a little too prehensile. Its more than a little bit uncomfortable when they shake their hand with it. Mostly however, they are somewhat hospitable to the visiting demon and mortal traveller alike, though should violence break out, they swarm like flies around their master, defending him with sheer body mass.
If anyone should try to attack the Bloated Beast, or commit some foul treachery so unforgivable its perpetrator should be immediately extinguished, it will remain as inscrutably calm as it ever does until suddenly like a bolt of lightning its mouth will rupture, spraying caustic slime over a goodly area before it, and a tongue like a dragons head will leap forward at impossible speeds. Before the profligate can even move the tongue will open, its moray-maw vast and ringed with a thousand thousand teeth set in the tongues sickly pink flesh, and in an instant, the victim is gone, and so is the tongue, and a new boil will blossom on the Bloated Lord's hide.
Yggdrisalia, the Lady of Roots
The fair Lady of Roots barely counts as sentient most of the time. She is about a mile tall, and a half mile wide at her highest, more than seven wide at her base, and possibly bigger beneath the basalt soils of Hell. Her trunk is like flesh left to calcify over uncountable millennia, and indeed, the higher you climb, the softer and more porous it is. The branches are positively soggy and limp, drooping down like willow branches after arcing lazily through the air above. Her roots are like insect limbs, segmented and thin, compared to her trunk that is. They stab down into the earth and wind through it like cancer, arching above the surface sometimes. They bleed if cut, a thick blue lava that flows in the way that rock doesn't.
She has flowers too, and fruit, but they appear only rarely. Some say it is with the birth of a new Demon Lord that her flowers bloom, and with each mortal transcended to Demon-State that her fruits ripen and grow heavy on the branch. Some say that to drink the tea of her petals is to life eternal, and that to gorge on her fruits is instant death, or perhaps lingering death. Planting the seeds from her fruit causes devil-infantry to spring from the ground, or perhaps a temple dedicated to the infernal pantheon, or even a further flower with tongues of flame for head and leaves.
They say it is she that will end the world, her tendrils encompassing all, spread all throughout beneath the feet of men where none can see their end coming, then squeezing, splitting the earth open like a ripe peach. Others murmur that instead she will merely drink the earth dry, shriveling the mud and muck of the world into dust and sand, and that she will be
It is also said, in strangled whispers in gloomy corners that she was the first of the Demons, that all others sprouted from her fruits and roots, that the earth about her is scattered with corpses of demons who could not survive their ante-natal plummets. That the Seed of the End of the World was planted when the first murder was born, as flint dug deep into the skull of a friend, where the first scraps of brain matter ever spilled from malice fell.
Other tales tell of how her branches actually reach upwards to try and throttle the sun; how every wicked soul claimed by demons is brought to her to nourish her roots; how it was really the first women scorned by men that fled the world of mortals and forsook her flesh to become the Demon-Tree and that is why it is a she; but these are all tales. None have been to Hell and returned to find out, and presumably if they had, how could a tree speak, and why say any of these things? All these can be nothing more than rumour.
Curse Imps - A different kind of way to inconvenience your players
Most Demons are far too important and powerful to bother with you. Their uncountable eternities are far too precious to be taken up with the likes of pesky little mortals who killed a cult of theirs in one of the inscrutable infinities of the creations Demons watch over. However, they would still get pissed off by it, and as long as it wasn't a particularly big or important cult, they would probably send a Curse-Imp or two to make your life just that bit more unpleasant.
Curse-Imps are invisible, dwelling in the ethereal mists between atoms and energies, much like ghosts, only altogether more petty and malicious. Their lot is to crouch on your shoulder, hang off your back, and mess with you. There are many types of Curse-Imp, and each will harass you in their own special way. They can't literally hurt you, but they can make your time in this world just a touch more miserable.
Getting rid of them is as simple as a small exorcism by a reasonably proficient cleric. Actually realising that it is a Curse-Imp is altogether less easy.
Here are a few:
Headsplitter Imps - That pain in your head, that feels like nails being driven into your temples that just started with no discernable source? Probably ethereal nails being driven into your ethereal temples. These ones perch on your head like a bird, a clutch of crooked nails in one hand, a hooked hammer in the other. Once their nails are in, they might also scratch at your brain with their long nails, digging in to the lobes and folds of your head.
[This would probably give a small penalty to intelligence checks for things that require concentrating, like rituals, reading, translating, etc.]
Schizo Imps - Schizo Imps love nothing more than just talking crazy shit into your ears. The darker and more tasteless, the better. Of course, because they are ethereal, and you are not, you only hear parts of it, and only as a thought in your own head, your brain interpreting signals that you cannot really hear or place. You may never even really hear them at all, but you still feel some sort of deep, intuitive discomfort, that things are never actually quite alright, that your sense of reality is beginning to slip...
[I'd occasionally just give the player a small scrap of paper with some sort of dark yet inane shit on it, not a whole sentence, just part of a clause, enough to make the player wonder what's up, what it could mean. It would of course, mean nothing.]
Ice-Finger Imps - These Curse-Imps cling to your back, and drive their nails into your back, both when danger is near, and when it is totally safe. You would feel only a cold shiver run down your back, the type to set your teeth on edge. The Curse-Imp cackles in glee once the response is learned, when you feel the chill, you can never be calm, if you feel it, danger must be close! ...right?
[I'd probably just do this as written, except it would happen as determined by a die roll. When there's actual danger close, happens on a 3+, if there isn't, on a 5+. Just enough that there is an identifiable pattern, but there also isn't, to keep the players always guessing.]
Poltergeist Imps - Much like the ghosts of tales and story, these imps are tricksters and pranksters. Of course, being on the ethereal, they struggle to clutch much of anything in reality, and at most can only lift the lightest objects. But very occasionally they can pick something of yours up and ruin it, or throw it around. They particularly like to do this to things you really like, or while you're trying to be nice an quiet.
[Again, fairly self-explanatory I think. Each long rest, roll a d6. On a 1, a precious but fragile object is broken and ruined. If you're trying to stealth, roll a d6. On a 1, a small but noisy object clatters to the floor, giving you disadvantage on the resulting stealth check.]
Boiler Imps - These Curse-Imps are practitioners of the ancient arts of Flame-Magicks, not very good ones of course (they are only Imps after all), but they can manifest ethereal flames in their hands, which they use to heat you up. It is only slight, but enough that over time, the heat sets in, and sweat begins to seep up and drip down your face. An uncomfortable stickiness sets in, and no amount of cool rags can seem to shake it. And then, just like that, it is gone.
[Possibly a similar effect to the Headsplitter imp to be honest, though maybe this affects your physical skills rather than intellectual ones (for the sake of having distinct rules if not realistic effects).]
Poxule Imps - Sometimes, a Curse-Imp will consider itself an artist, and will cling to your neck with its thighs and paint tiny red spots on your face. These don't quite make it through to the material world, but they do enough to irritate the skin, to bother your pores enough to sprout you up in a mess of acne and teenage angst all over again. It itches occasionally, but not that much. It does make you look a little bit silly though.
[The best part of this is that I think many players would hate the occasional slip-ins about how their spots blemish their character's faces. Some might embrace it of course, but for those that do hate it, they will hate it. Also, I'd probably give them a -1 or so to many charisma checks. Sometimes, we can't help but take the pimply adult a bit less seriously than we should.]
Malady Imps - If Poxule Imps are artists, Malady Imps are cooks, and they whip up all sorts inside your belly. Most your body can fight off, but occasionally it will seep through you and sicken you. Only a tiny bit though, just enough to make you barf during the night or wake up feeling like a donkey shat on your head in the night.
[Each rest, roll a d6. On a roll of 1, you lose a hit dice, or your HP max is 1 or 2 lower. Nothing serious, but a small annoyance that doesn't cripple you in any way. The main point of the Curse-Imps is to annoy, to psychologically attack the player in a small but noticeable way. Let the real effects come from the players rather than the Imps.]
Drosophilic Imps - These Curse-Imps like to be carried around in your pack. They're never heavy enough for you to ever notice or be inconvenienced by them, but they play with your food, and their fingers are yucky indeed. When you settle down for a meal, you might notice that one of those rations that really should have lasted a couple more days at least, has gone soft and runny. Nothing to do but ditch it.
[Each time they eat a ration, roll a d4. On a 1, they must cross off an additional ration. Nothing too complex in this one.]
Doubt-Sower Imps - These ones are similar to Schizo Imps. They whisper to you like a vulture on your shoulder, telling you over and over that you aren't good enough, there's no possible way for you to succeed, that you'll never be good enough. You never really hear enough of it to make any sense of it, but still, the troubling weight in your belly makes you feel like something is wrong, and you have no idea why...
[These are subtly different, in that these Imps are out to convince you that you're not good enough, rather than convince you that you're mad. When a character with a Doubt-Sower Imp rolls a check they are proficient in, they lose their proficiency bonus if you roll a 1 on a d6.]
Limbclamper Imps - These Curse-Imps like to work by hanging off of your limbs, clutching as tightly to you as they can. Sometimes this will bleed into your material limbs, and a deep cold cramp sets in to your muscels and bones, siezing up your joints and tensing your muscles so that, just for a moment, you can't move. The Imps are experts at timing this for the worst outcomes for you.
[Once per rest or so, when a character tries to use some sort of physical skill, they must do it at disadvantage. Try to keep it from those times that it could lead to outright death, just for when it would have some sort of consequence.]
Skittersight Imps - You could be anywhere, doing anything, when all of a sudden you'll catch just a glimpse of movement. You go to investigate, you run, certain you saw something, but in the end, nothing will be revealed. You will pause, sure there was something there, like the other times. You will wonder when it will come back, if you can catch it next time. The Curse-Imp clinging to your face will cackle that you might never realise it is right there, always with you.
[Save this for those times where the players least expect it, or when they most expect it. Really convince them something is there, and they need to get it. Never let them.]
Beast-Botherer - This one barks like a goat's dying scream, loudly, but ethereally. It barks all day long, and never stops. Now, this is never enough to actually bother a person, animals have much sharper senses than mortals, and they will pick up the wretched grating screams on the edge of their hearing while you are around. They hear the noise coming from you, and the longer you remain, the more and more the beast hate you. The Imp would laugh if its throat hadn't been torn ragged from the constant screaming.
[Something simple like, disadvantage on all charisma checks against animals for you and everyone within 10 feet of you.]
Glass-Eye Imps - Glass-Eye Imps are right bastards. Evil, horrible little fuckers. They clamp onto your head for most of the day, but over time, at night, while you sleep, they sit on your face and scratch and claw at your eyes. They don't do any real damage in any individual night, but they are determined and nothing if not single-minded. They scratch and scratch and scratch, night after night after night, until your eyes are glassy and misted, until you can't see anything at all.
[On a long rest, take a con save that determines how long until the next save. When you would take the seventh save, you go blind, permanently. Maybe have something about a mounting penalty to sight based rolls based on how many saves you've had to take.]
Bleakspeak Imps - Another type of Curse-Imp that sits on your shoulder and talks to you, only, these ones are grim and dour; they lack the sadistic glee of the others. They speak less, but are heard all the more clearly for it. And when they speak, it is dark, dark words they say, the most cruel and awful things are suggested to their hosts, the things we all occasionally think and are disgusted by. The constant assault doesn't always turn the host into a terrible vessel of these black thoughts, but maybe just sometimes...
[Run them like Schizo Imps, only offer them a small XP bonus for going through with it. Never enough to actually make them do it, but enough that its worth thinking "maybe I should", if only for a moment. Its the considering of the act thats important here, they never have to do it, and given the nature of the Imp, its probably for the best if they don't.]
Rope-Biter Imps - Rope-Biter Imps have very specific tastes; rope. Rope of all kinds and makes and materials. It doesn't matter whose rope either, as long as its close enough to the Curse-Imps host. They cling to you and gnaw on ropes that get close enough to their mouths, full of sharp and crooked teeth. They are rather adept climbers themselves, so pretty much any rope you could touch, they can get into their disgusting maws.
[Very simple, when this character uses a rope, it breaks halfway through use on the d6 roll of a 1.]
Sceptic Imps - These Curse-Imps have improbably (and uncomfortably) long and prehensile tongues, which drip and slop with foul ichors and slimes. So proud are they of their tongues they really, really want to share them with you, all the time, as deep as they can. So be careful when you fight, any hurt of yours is destined for an ethereal bath in Curse-Imp drool. Its as gross as it sounds.
[At the end of each combat or encounter in which the character took damage, have them roll a con save. Their HP max is reduced by 1 for each failed save, which comes back at the rate of 1 + con modifier (minimum of 0) at the end of each long rest.]
Chill-Wind Imps - Have you ever been deep underground, where no touch of the sun has ever dared venture, where the rocks are cold and pallid with the lack of stellar caress? Have you then been relying on your trusty tourch, that beacon of light and hope that you might actually be able to emerge from this dank and dark hell alive, only for it to suddenly, and inopportunely, go out? Its possible you have Chill-Wind Imps. Their whole thing is blowing out candles and flames, you see.
[At the most inopportune moment, roll a d6. On the roll of a 1, all non-magical flames go out.]
True-Colours Imps - These Curse-Imps hide inside your flesh, and have the most intuitive control over their ethereal presence, and they turn it to making it really hard for you to lie. Some of them are loud and bombastic Imps, and have your skin change colour depending on your mood, others are more subtle, and use your smell to give away your thoughts. Some simply grip your tongue in their cruel, grubby little hands such that you physically cannot lie. All of them, take great delight in when the lies are discovered, and the truth apppears, to the detriment of all involved.
[All characters and NPCs and such have advantage on discerning this character's true intentions/feelings.]
Malapropist Imps - Much like True-Colours Imps, Malapropist Imps hide inside your head, and enjoy playing with your tongue. They try to hold off for as long as possible, waiting for the chance to really, really mess up your speech. Sometimes they just can't help themselves, and scrabble at your tongue and kick at your brain, so that the words come out wrong, warped, and misshapen.
[When this character undertakes a speech based activity, roll a d6. On a 1, they have disadvantage on any rolls they need to make, or the effects of the ability are somehow diminished.]
Fumble Imps - These are the laziest of the Curse-Imps. They merely sit glumly on your head, casting tiny little curses on you, bad luck charms, tiny inconveniences. Most get lost in the infinite and infinitesimal gaps between the material and the ethereal, but a few will make it through to make your day just that little bit worse.
[This character now fumbles an attack roll on the roll of a 1 or a 2, and similarly any other d20 roll is fumbled range in a 1 bigger than normal (since not everyone uses skill check fumbles, thought it would be safer to do it this way).]
Curse-Imps are invisible, dwelling in the ethereal mists between atoms and energies, much like ghosts, only altogether more petty and malicious. Their lot is to crouch on your shoulder, hang off your back, and mess with you. There are many types of Curse-Imp, and each will harass you in their own special way. They can't literally hurt you, but they can make your time in this world just a touch more miserable.
Getting rid of them is as simple as a small exorcism by a reasonably proficient cleric. Actually realising that it is a Curse-Imp is altogether less easy.
Here are a few:
Headsplitter Imps - That pain in your head, that feels like nails being driven into your temples that just started with no discernable source? Probably ethereal nails being driven into your ethereal temples. These ones perch on your head like a bird, a clutch of crooked nails in one hand, a hooked hammer in the other. Once their nails are in, they might also scratch at your brain with their long nails, digging in to the lobes and folds of your head.
[This would probably give a small penalty to intelligence checks for things that require concentrating, like rituals, reading, translating, etc.]
Schizo Imps - Schizo Imps love nothing more than just talking crazy shit into your ears. The darker and more tasteless, the better. Of course, because they are ethereal, and you are not, you only hear parts of it, and only as a thought in your own head, your brain interpreting signals that you cannot really hear or place. You may never even really hear them at all, but you still feel some sort of deep, intuitive discomfort, that things are never actually quite alright, that your sense of reality is beginning to slip...
[I'd occasionally just give the player a small scrap of paper with some sort of dark yet inane shit on it, not a whole sentence, just part of a clause, enough to make the player wonder what's up, what it could mean. It would of course, mean nothing.]
Ice-Finger Imps - These Curse-Imps cling to your back, and drive their nails into your back, both when danger is near, and when it is totally safe. You would feel only a cold shiver run down your back, the type to set your teeth on edge. The Curse-Imp cackles in glee once the response is learned, when you feel the chill, you can never be calm, if you feel it, danger must be close! ...right?
[I'd probably just do this as written, except it would happen as determined by a die roll. When there's actual danger close, happens on a 3+, if there isn't, on a 5+. Just enough that there is an identifiable pattern, but there also isn't, to keep the players always guessing.]
Poltergeist Imps - Much like the ghosts of tales and story, these imps are tricksters and pranksters. Of course, being on the ethereal, they struggle to clutch much of anything in reality, and at most can only lift the lightest objects. But very occasionally they can pick something of yours up and ruin it, or throw it around. They particularly like to do this to things you really like, or while you're trying to be nice an quiet.
[Again, fairly self-explanatory I think. Each long rest, roll a d6. On a 1, a precious but fragile object is broken and ruined. If you're trying to stealth, roll a d6. On a 1, a small but noisy object clatters to the floor, giving you disadvantage on the resulting stealth check.]
Boiler Imps - These Curse-Imps are practitioners of the ancient arts of Flame-Magicks, not very good ones of course (they are only Imps after all), but they can manifest ethereal flames in their hands, which they use to heat you up. It is only slight, but enough that over time, the heat sets in, and sweat begins to seep up and drip down your face. An uncomfortable stickiness sets in, and no amount of cool rags can seem to shake it. And then, just like that, it is gone.
[Possibly a similar effect to the Headsplitter imp to be honest, though maybe this affects your physical skills rather than intellectual ones (for the sake of having distinct rules if not realistic effects).]
Poxule Imps - Sometimes, a Curse-Imp will consider itself an artist, and will cling to your neck with its thighs and paint tiny red spots on your face. These don't quite make it through to the material world, but they do enough to irritate the skin, to bother your pores enough to sprout you up in a mess of acne and teenage angst all over again. It itches occasionally, but not that much. It does make you look a little bit silly though.
[The best part of this is that I think many players would hate the occasional slip-ins about how their spots blemish their character's faces. Some might embrace it of course, but for those that do hate it, they will hate it. Also, I'd probably give them a -1 or so to many charisma checks. Sometimes, we can't help but take the pimply adult a bit less seriously than we should.]
Malady Imps - If Poxule Imps are artists, Malady Imps are cooks, and they whip up all sorts inside your belly. Most your body can fight off, but occasionally it will seep through you and sicken you. Only a tiny bit though, just enough to make you barf during the night or wake up feeling like a donkey shat on your head in the night.
[Each rest, roll a d6. On a roll of 1, you lose a hit dice, or your HP max is 1 or 2 lower. Nothing serious, but a small annoyance that doesn't cripple you in any way. The main point of the Curse-Imps is to annoy, to psychologically attack the player in a small but noticeable way. Let the real effects come from the players rather than the Imps.]
Drosophilic Imps - These Curse-Imps like to be carried around in your pack. They're never heavy enough for you to ever notice or be inconvenienced by them, but they play with your food, and their fingers are yucky indeed. When you settle down for a meal, you might notice that one of those rations that really should have lasted a couple more days at least, has gone soft and runny. Nothing to do but ditch it.
[Each time they eat a ration, roll a d4. On a 1, they must cross off an additional ration. Nothing too complex in this one.]
Doubt-Sower Imps - These ones are similar to Schizo Imps. They whisper to you like a vulture on your shoulder, telling you over and over that you aren't good enough, there's no possible way for you to succeed, that you'll never be good enough. You never really hear enough of it to make any sense of it, but still, the troubling weight in your belly makes you feel like something is wrong, and you have no idea why...
[These are subtly different, in that these Imps are out to convince you that you're not good enough, rather than convince you that you're mad. When a character with a Doubt-Sower Imp rolls a check they are proficient in, they lose their proficiency bonus if you roll a 1 on a d6.]
Limbclamper Imps - These Curse-Imps like to work by hanging off of your limbs, clutching as tightly to you as they can. Sometimes this will bleed into your material limbs, and a deep cold cramp sets in to your muscels and bones, siezing up your joints and tensing your muscles so that, just for a moment, you can't move. The Imps are experts at timing this for the worst outcomes for you.
[Once per rest or so, when a character tries to use some sort of physical skill, they must do it at disadvantage. Try to keep it from those times that it could lead to outright death, just for when it would have some sort of consequence.]
Skittersight Imps - You could be anywhere, doing anything, when all of a sudden you'll catch just a glimpse of movement. You go to investigate, you run, certain you saw something, but in the end, nothing will be revealed. You will pause, sure there was something there, like the other times. You will wonder when it will come back, if you can catch it next time. The Curse-Imp clinging to your face will cackle that you might never realise it is right there, always with you.
[Save this for those times where the players least expect it, or when they most expect it. Really convince them something is there, and they need to get it. Never let them.]
Beast-Botherer - This one barks like a goat's dying scream, loudly, but ethereally. It barks all day long, and never stops. Now, this is never enough to actually bother a person, animals have much sharper senses than mortals, and they will pick up the wretched grating screams on the edge of their hearing while you are around. They hear the noise coming from you, and the longer you remain, the more and more the beast hate you. The Imp would laugh if its throat hadn't been torn ragged from the constant screaming.
[Something simple like, disadvantage on all charisma checks against animals for you and everyone within 10 feet of you.]
Glass-Eye Imps - Glass-Eye Imps are right bastards. Evil, horrible little fuckers. They clamp onto your head for most of the day, but over time, at night, while you sleep, they sit on your face and scratch and claw at your eyes. They don't do any real damage in any individual night, but they are determined and nothing if not single-minded. They scratch and scratch and scratch, night after night after night, until your eyes are glassy and misted, until you can't see anything at all.
[On a long rest, take a con save that determines how long until the next save. When you would take the seventh save, you go blind, permanently. Maybe have something about a mounting penalty to sight based rolls based on how many saves you've had to take.]
Bleakspeak Imps - Another type of Curse-Imp that sits on your shoulder and talks to you, only, these ones are grim and dour; they lack the sadistic glee of the others. They speak less, but are heard all the more clearly for it. And when they speak, it is dark, dark words they say, the most cruel and awful things are suggested to their hosts, the things we all occasionally think and are disgusted by. The constant assault doesn't always turn the host into a terrible vessel of these black thoughts, but maybe just sometimes...
[Run them like Schizo Imps, only offer them a small XP bonus for going through with it. Never enough to actually make them do it, but enough that its worth thinking "maybe I should", if only for a moment. Its the considering of the act thats important here, they never have to do it, and given the nature of the Imp, its probably for the best if they don't.]
Rope-Biter Imps - Rope-Biter Imps have very specific tastes; rope. Rope of all kinds and makes and materials. It doesn't matter whose rope either, as long as its close enough to the Curse-Imps host. They cling to you and gnaw on ropes that get close enough to their mouths, full of sharp and crooked teeth. They are rather adept climbers themselves, so pretty much any rope you could touch, they can get into their disgusting maws.
[Very simple, when this character uses a rope, it breaks halfway through use on the d6 roll of a 1.]
Sceptic Imps - These Curse-Imps have improbably (and uncomfortably) long and prehensile tongues, which drip and slop with foul ichors and slimes. So proud are they of their tongues they really, really want to share them with you, all the time, as deep as they can. So be careful when you fight, any hurt of yours is destined for an ethereal bath in Curse-Imp drool. Its as gross as it sounds.
[At the end of each combat or encounter in which the character took damage, have them roll a con save. Their HP max is reduced by 1 for each failed save, which comes back at the rate of 1 + con modifier (minimum of 0) at the end of each long rest.]
Chill-Wind Imps - Have you ever been deep underground, where no touch of the sun has ever dared venture, where the rocks are cold and pallid with the lack of stellar caress? Have you then been relying on your trusty tourch, that beacon of light and hope that you might actually be able to emerge from this dank and dark hell alive, only for it to suddenly, and inopportunely, go out? Its possible you have Chill-Wind Imps. Their whole thing is blowing out candles and flames, you see.
[At the most inopportune moment, roll a d6. On the roll of a 1, all non-magical flames go out.]
True-Colours Imps - These Curse-Imps hide inside your flesh, and have the most intuitive control over their ethereal presence, and they turn it to making it really hard for you to lie. Some of them are loud and bombastic Imps, and have your skin change colour depending on your mood, others are more subtle, and use your smell to give away your thoughts. Some simply grip your tongue in their cruel, grubby little hands such that you physically cannot lie. All of them, take great delight in when the lies are discovered, and the truth apppears, to the detriment of all involved.
[All characters and NPCs and such have advantage on discerning this character's true intentions/feelings.]
Malapropist Imps - Much like True-Colours Imps, Malapropist Imps hide inside your head, and enjoy playing with your tongue. They try to hold off for as long as possible, waiting for the chance to really, really mess up your speech. Sometimes they just can't help themselves, and scrabble at your tongue and kick at your brain, so that the words come out wrong, warped, and misshapen.
[When this character undertakes a speech based activity, roll a d6. On a 1, they have disadvantage on any rolls they need to make, or the effects of the ability are somehow diminished.]
Fumble Imps - These are the laziest of the Curse-Imps. They merely sit glumly on your head, casting tiny little curses on you, bad luck charms, tiny inconveniences. Most get lost in the infinite and infinitesimal gaps between the material and the ethereal, but a few will make it through to make your day just that little bit worse.
[This character now fumbles an attack roll on the roll of a 1 or a 2, and similarly any other d20 roll is fumbled range in a 1 bigger than normal (since not everyone uses skill check fumbles, thought it would be safer to do it this way).]
The Surgeon-Necromancers of Scapula
On the fat-blackened isle of Scapula, the Surgeon-Necromancers reign supreme. Not as tyrants though, as oligarchs, who's subjects depend on them willingly and utterly. Without their services, half the magic-users within 300 miles would die. Horribly.
For a price, the Surgeon-Necromancers will put new organs into your body and mold them into your flesh, or perhaps subtley alter your biology. They might tamper with your vital energies, or tweak your metabolic functions. Their proddings and scratchings and manipulations will grant you extraordinary powers, attributes, tolerances. They can grant you powers over flame, lightning, disease; they can provide you beastial attributes, the ability to fly, to raise the dead, to heal with a touch. If the ability can be found in nature, or can be reproduced with a biological basis, they can transpose it into you. Each piece of work is also unique, and never quite manifests in the same way, nor is contained in the same form.
This is not with cost of course. First it requires a small fortune (though only a small one); not just for the surgery, but also over the course of years in the ever-mounting costs of the thick black liquid that maintains your new biology. Of course, the it is the Surgeon-Necromancers and only the Surgeon-Necromancers that supply it. This is the source of their dominance; if you have their arts performed upon you, and do not regularly consume the liquid, your body will rot and die around you. It will be long and painful, but it can easily be held in check for as long as you like... as long as you pay.
The other complication involved is that by the technicalities of the universes fundamental workings, you are for all intents and purposes, undead. You are still wholly alive and functioning of course, magic affects you as if you were alive, you heal at the normal rate, you still need the basic metabolic requirements of all living animals (assuming the Necromancers didn't remove them from you), but magic will also treat you as if you were undead, and the words of priests and paladins will repel you and burn you. Its something of a grey area.
There are four colleges of the Surgeon-Necromancers, each with their own specialties and services; Xanthic, Mavric, Elaic, and Vyssinic.
The Xanthic College is the colour of old bile, and acne. Grand brass vats seethe and boil on the fringes while other pots, pans, furnaces, and presses are put to furious work all about. The knives of the Xanthic Surgeons are red-hot during the processes, the better to cauterise the wounds they must inevitably inflict. The ministrations of the Xanthic Surgeons are, clearly, the most painful.
The abilities they can grant you are mastery over fire, pheromones to instill vigour and strength into those around you, and the mental strength to dominate minds. Fiery strength, liquid rage, and dominance pheromones are produced in the cinder-glands of the Xanthic college. They can transpose all such attributes that belong to creatures possessed of excess rage and vitriolic temperament. They do tend to increase the irritability of the wielder, but that is surely a small price to pay for such powers.
The Mavric College is a deep black, like the night sky unspoiled by the pathetic sparks of stars. Deep pools of oils and unguents are brewed in vast halls that reek of fat and dirt. Smoke and fumes play large roles in the Mavric Surgeon's works, and their suction masks for the protection of the surgeon and the patient have yet to actually kill anyone. The tall tales of ragged, lipless faces are surely just the poor ravings of dissatisfied customers.
Mavric Surgeons bestow abilities that protect, that give authority over flesh and over the earth itself. Their grit-sacs can project darkness, fear, and hallucinations. Creatures that lurk in the dark and seldom brave the light are fair game to the Mavric Surgeon; though such melancholy can cling to the organ's new bearer. The Black Elixir will hold the worst effects at bay of course...
The emerald cathedral-theatre is the Eliac College. Vast pipes of viscous teal and jade tar flow all about the space, only leaking sizzling drips into the corners that no-one cares about. Syringes and Injectors are the preferred tools of the Eliac Surgeons, and very few ever complain about air being injected into them...
Powers over fluids, of healing, and fetching or summoning are the specialties of the Eliac College. The glassy fibres they bestow can calm and equalize, or inflict inequalities in the humours of those they touch. Sometimes they can even be impelled to act as secondary limbs, though only the very highest quality surgeons can accomplish such a feat.
And finally, the blood-red Vyssinic College. Pay no attention to the wasp-hives that dapple the walls in grist-comb, it would only raise more questions than we have time for answers. Satisfy yourself with the knowledge that the honey they produce ensures the Vyssinic Surgeon's success in their procedures. Neither should you give any mind to the grand bellows they cart around to each Surgeon's practicing area. They merely require them to achieve the proper 'atmosphere'.
Either way, the Vyssinic College is proud to bequeath to their customers the powers of unshakable resolve, command of lightning, and irresistible charm. Flight is beyond most Surgeon-Necromancers, but the most skilled of the Vyssinic College are whispered to have mastered the arts necessary to confer the freedom of the skies to their patients.
The process of becoming a patient of a College involves a staggering amount of patience and paper-work, staggering amounts of money, and finally, staggering amounts of pain. Then and only then will they accept you as a patient to go under the knives and implements of the Surgeon-Necromancers. They first must ensure that your humours and levels are within their acceptable ranges, and that you are fit and healthy (roughly speaking) before they strip you, clean you, bathe you in a kind of thick, syrupy goo, and then finally sedate you. Unfortunately, their sedation methods aren't quite as refined as some would like, and there are a few horror stories here and there of patients awakening to find the many limbs of a Surgeon rummaging about inside their flesh.
The methods and techniques of their work are closely guarded as to be worth the weight of the College buildings in gold, and the formula of the dark elixir is unquestionably priceless. So far, the Surgeon-Necromancers remain unique in all the worlds, though not for the lack of trying from their would-be competitors; though they often end up being hung and burnt by lynch mobs for their unspeakable acts in the name of imitation.
The other complication involved is that by the technicalities of the universes fundamental workings, you are for all intents and purposes, undead. You are still wholly alive and functioning of course, magic affects you as if you were alive, you heal at the normal rate, you still need the basic metabolic requirements of all living animals (assuming the Necromancers didn't remove them from you), but magic will also treat you as if you were undead, and the words of priests and paladins will repel you and burn you. Its something of a grey area.
There are four colleges of the Surgeon-Necromancers, each with their own specialties and services; Xanthic, Mavric, Elaic, and Vyssinic.
The Xanthic College is the colour of old bile, and acne. Grand brass vats seethe and boil on the fringes while other pots, pans, furnaces, and presses are put to furious work all about. The knives of the Xanthic Surgeons are red-hot during the processes, the better to cauterise the wounds they must inevitably inflict. The ministrations of the Xanthic Surgeons are, clearly, the most painful.
The abilities they can grant you are mastery over fire, pheromones to instill vigour and strength into those around you, and the mental strength to dominate minds. Fiery strength, liquid rage, and dominance pheromones are produced in the cinder-glands of the Xanthic college. They can transpose all such attributes that belong to creatures possessed of excess rage and vitriolic temperament. They do tend to increase the irritability of the wielder, but that is surely a small price to pay for such powers.
The Mavric College is a deep black, like the night sky unspoiled by the pathetic sparks of stars. Deep pools of oils and unguents are brewed in vast halls that reek of fat and dirt. Smoke and fumes play large roles in the Mavric Surgeon's works, and their suction masks for the protection of the surgeon and the patient have yet to actually kill anyone. The tall tales of ragged, lipless faces are surely just the poor ravings of dissatisfied customers.
Mavric Surgeons bestow abilities that protect, that give authority over flesh and over the earth itself. Their grit-sacs can project darkness, fear, and hallucinations. Creatures that lurk in the dark and seldom brave the light are fair game to the Mavric Surgeon; though such melancholy can cling to the organ's new bearer. The Black Elixir will hold the worst effects at bay of course...
The emerald cathedral-theatre is the Eliac College. Vast pipes of viscous teal and jade tar flow all about the space, only leaking sizzling drips into the corners that no-one cares about. Syringes and Injectors are the preferred tools of the Eliac Surgeons, and very few ever complain about air being injected into them...
Powers over fluids, of healing, and fetching or summoning are the specialties of the Eliac College. The glassy fibres they bestow can calm and equalize, or inflict inequalities in the humours of those they touch. Sometimes they can even be impelled to act as secondary limbs, though only the very highest quality surgeons can accomplish such a feat.
And finally, the blood-red Vyssinic College. Pay no attention to the wasp-hives that dapple the walls in grist-comb, it would only raise more questions than we have time for answers. Satisfy yourself with the knowledge that the honey they produce ensures the Vyssinic Surgeon's success in their procedures. Neither should you give any mind to the grand bellows they cart around to each Surgeon's practicing area. They merely require them to achieve the proper 'atmosphere'.
Either way, the Vyssinic College is proud to bequeath to their customers the powers of unshakable resolve, command of lightning, and irresistible charm. Flight is beyond most Surgeon-Necromancers, but the most skilled of the Vyssinic College are whispered to have mastered the arts necessary to confer the freedom of the skies to their patients.
The process of becoming a patient of a College involves a staggering amount of patience and paper-work, staggering amounts of money, and finally, staggering amounts of pain. Then and only then will they accept you as a patient to go under the knives and implements of the Surgeon-Necromancers. They first must ensure that your humours and levels are within their acceptable ranges, and that you are fit and healthy (roughly speaking) before they strip you, clean you, bathe you in a kind of thick, syrupy goo, and then finally sedate you. Unfortunately, their sedation methods aren't quite as refined as some would like, and there are a few horror stories here and there of patients awakening to find the many limbs of a Surgeon rummaging about inside their flesh.
The methods and techniques of their work are closely guarded as to be worth the weight of the College buildings in gold, and the formula of the dark elixir is unquestionably priceless. So far, the Surgeon-Necromancers remain unique in all the worlds, though not for the lack of trying from their would-be competitors; though they often end up being hung and burnt by lynch mobs for their unspeakable acts in the name of imitation.
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