TTRPG creations: 111/365: Underworld End and Rebirth

Underworld End and Rebirth.

 The caves inhabitants all feel this time of year. Something within the deeps stirs. The blood quickens within them. A build up over the year for the oncoming final release. Predators become frenzied, conserved energy ready to be burst forward. Others prepare festivals and prayers, hoping for a positive and fruitful coming new year.

Even the caves themselves feel it. The chambers seem to flex with the coming energy renewal. Old creaking splintered doors spring back to life. Lichen recedes into the wall shrinking away. Fungi and fauna brilliantly bloom throughout. 

The dungeons renews itself. It becomes alive, grows and spreads.

TTRPG creations: 110/365: Protein Cave Mantis

 Strip back flesh and consume muscle. The ultimate cave cuisine connoisseurs cutting up cowards into consumables. Generations have studied the higher races watching them pick the best ingredients from the ground. Forelimbs become formidable flatware as they hack apart hearts. Lacerate limbs and mutilate muscle. 

Watching from the shadows as the other cave dwellers swelled on protein packed provisions. They super focused on that aspect and drove themselves mad with desire. Bags are burgled for cooking supplies rations are run off with. The mantis will always look to improve the next meal in any way it can. Any length is worth it if they can elevate the craft.

Sturdy solid muscle bound adventurers are the most sought after prize. Sweat covered, slick sword masters are pulled away from packs. Beefy and brawny barbarians are the best. Weak, scrawny wizards are the worst. A different kind of protein packed provision is needed for the Cave Mantis.

TTRPG creations: 109/365: Cave Grotto Witch

Cave Grotto Witch

 Hairless hag hops through stone carved still caverns. Skin pale, spiderweb cracked alabaster slithering along walls. Fingers grope, tease and caress the halls. Poking and prodding into every nook and cranny the which slowly moves through re picturing the surfaces within her head.

Her eyes long since shriveled and dried, sunken back into empty husk sockets. Eye tongue having grown fat and bloated from lack of water like a giant purple maggot it writhes and flexes towards moisture. Hair having grown stale and stiff, what remains is small semi clumps of rot. Finger and toe nails cracked, joints hardened and stiffened they shriek in protest as she moves.

Her ears are gone, ripped off and damaged beyond repair from self mutilation. Her sense of smell though has evolved beyond any animal found deep down. Fingers having developed beyond senses allow this horrible hag to track prey through touch. She registers smells within her catalogue numbering each one.

 Her horrid snuffling can be heard through the caverns as she slowly snorts the air.

TTRPG creations: 108/365: Bismuth Goblins

Bismuth Goblins

 Long dangling arms with whip cable muscles. Long knobbly knuckles ending in deadly digits. Overgrown ears eagerly erect twitching at slight sounds. Rainbow hued humanoids run rampart throughout the stone halls.

Flecks of flexible coloured fibers split and snap off as they sprint. Sharpened geode feet stab into the ground digging deep holes. The body is covered in colorful constellations of collected colours. They giggle and cavort, cartwheeling and dancing. Mouths wide open, long needle teeth grinding. colour prism eyes twitching, roaming and seeking. 

The teeth grind all down. Brittle and hard they chew and chew ripping everything apart. They screech and holler as they run, bodies not made for the hunt destroying themselves as they seek out prey. Short lived gems frantically racing deep beneath the ground.

TTRPG creations: 107/365: Deep time

Deep time

 The cords of old energy twist and flow throughout the pathways. They know every dip, bend, curve, rise and fall within the old mine shafts. Before humans pierced the gloom. Before the dwarfs took pick to loam. Before the elves looked for the ancient ley lines within the rock. Before the Troglobilis tribes made the deep their home.

This lump of mana roamed the grey and black under halls. It sought out other bits of floating bio data. Tucked away under rocks or just forming in lost ponds. Small sentient scum found on the bottom of sludge ponds.

Collecting them over time and turning them. Decade after decade. Century after century. It harvested and collected an elemental from the very dawn of creation. Slowly collecting and building like a pre life snowball. 

It wanders through the walkways of old looking to add anything to its bodily collection.

TTRPG creations: 106/365: The Fifth Kings

The Fifth Kings

 Somewhere deep down in the darkness it was locked away. Either discarded, forgotten or put away for all time. In places the suns light has never touched. The darkest pits, all torch light turned a shade of slate grey. The adventuring group The Fifth Kings found something down within the depths. 

As they marveled at the riches found within the locked away part of another world a silent seed of corruption took up within all. A curious idol consisting of a claw and a large opal set within silver, small enough to be worn around the neck.

With time the idol warped the members of the fifth kings. The adventuring group turned to savage marauders. Bold brass shot boots stomped through the deep caverns halls. The axes and picks once used to clear debris found new homes within others heads. Horrific alien visages shaped the helmets of the once men. 

The fifth kings are set to stay down deep within the earth. Adventurers beware the horrible howling that pierces the caverns walls.

TTRPG creations: 105/365: Chelokoz

Chelokoz

 Large thick body shuffling along the walk ways. The caverns boom and echo with its passing. Hoof footprints half a foot depressed into the stone floor. Large cracks split along the ground to the roof. Something stalks the caverns. Something older than time. Greater than gods. Equal to death.

Its long shadow reaches underneath doors. Slips into deep cracks. Pull open locks. Like black liquid shadow it moved into every place within the underground. 

Bandit camps wake up pillaged. Villages are suddenly vacant of life. Cities full of people are stolen. It moved from spot to spot, place to place. The goat hoofed horror, the people stealer. It opens the bag again and the hideous wailing starts up. Hands reach out of the rucksacks opening, clawing for freedom.

The brutal god shoves another victim in, pushing them deep within the darkness. Yanking the bag shut it heaves it over the shoulder. More houses to visit. More for the bag.

TTRPG creations: 104/365: Crystal Ronin

Crystal Ronin

 White light blue sword slash downwards. The bewitching armour decked figure strides into the underground battlefield. The arena his home, the crowd his family, the clash of steel his song. Shards of crystal grow within his wake, his boots slam down splintering slate coloured sand.

The gates open and the horde erupts towards him. His moon song blade rises and falls in the throng. Severed limbs lay around. Crimson erupts, showering all around. He raises his katana high to the heavens. His armour reflected billions of times over in the torchlight. 

His yoroi is layered crystal, beauty folded and pushed into itself. His blade an eternal piece of the ground. He is the cores champion risen to defend her from all.

TTRPG creations: 103/365: Ul'go Wizard of the odd and depths.

Ul'go, Wizard of the odd and depths

 Long slate and charcoal grey robes snap as the tall skeletal figure stomps into the study. The bald, white dome gleams in the crystal light. Long willow thin fingers quickly jot down the latest foray into the depths. Quill scratching fills the room, selected movements trimmed of excess.

The room is slight in size spartan in style. A bed, table and chair fill the small room. A collection of crystal hung on high illuminates the room. A flower in a glass jar sits upon the desk, the only piece of colour in the otherwise deep rock room. A well kept, tidy room belies what lies underneath.

Deep below in similar crystal lit chambers the experiments await. Hundreds of rooms filled with every conceivable creature, flourishing flower and multicolored minerals. Every instrument and device for extracting, slicing, cutting pulling, prodding and peeling. Every surface wiped down, every bottle collected and catalogued.

 

 He walks the long hallways, fingertips brushing the numbers etched into the doors. So many additions added throughout the years that the mountain has become a horror honey comb. Ul'go Wizard of the odd and depths must always have more.

TTRPG creations: 102/365: Öl-Terror, spawn of the depths

Öl-Terror, spawn of the depths

 Long liquid like body slowly slithers forward. Oil slicked scaled body surges upwards. The great muzzle opens unleashing gouts of putrid petroleum. furious fueled flames flick ever inwards, the titanic terror of the under. Coins clink as they run down golden piles live amber streams. Gems tumble red, blue, green purple and white. Great mounds of greed dedicated to the lizard lord.

His claws secrete blackened sludge. His scales stained with soot. His breath belches out like a horrible smog. Eyes like two giant coal ovens blazing within the dark. Teeth like rusted iron, infected gums spit puss from sagging sacs. A great gurgling rumbles up from his innards, his voice a deep metallic booming.

Öl-Terror has lived within the under for centuries, his knowledge is vast. He knows every entry and exit. His reach is eternal.

TTRPG creations: 101/365: Heinzdraft, King of Kobolds and his old under empire.

Heinzdraft, King of Kobolds and his old under empire.

 Blackened blue light washes over the kobold king. The Blue cap Baron squats on his blood red ruby throne. A towering elderly gentleman, long of nose and large of moustache. His hair large and bushy, frayed grey wires zigzagging like ash lightning bolts. Long fingers draped themselves over the arms of the royal seat. His long legs ended in twin red curled boots.  His beady black eyes pierce the gloom, glittering with a mischievous inner light. 

Under him the under folk toiled. Green caps ran to and fro carrying this and that, backs curved and weighed down under the mineral riches. The goblins argued and bickered preparing tricks and traps for the surface dwellers. A committee of them preparing to present the latest gadget to the king. Wistful sprites dance around the room throwing flickering shades of light in every direction.

Heinzdraft sits above all else. His kingdom spanning the deep, his eyes and ears everywhere.

TTRPG creations: 100/365: Hundred Head Cracker

Hundred Head Cracker

 Brutal obsession, skilled savagery. A tribe of colossal hunters. Scaled scabbed skin runs rampant with scars. Claws, teeth, blades, shot, suckers and beaks all show across the hide. A tribal tradition from days of old carried from lush jungles to the deep loam.

As a deep troll reaches adulthood they take on the rite of the hundred head cracker. Sent off into the depths they must take a trophy from a hundred different specimens. This can be through any means. Use of stealth, trickery or violence are allowed as it creates the more rounded hunter.

The trial is the reason behind the various mutations found within the Deep Troll tribes.While regeneration is commonplace amongst trollkind the Deep Troll benefits from an aggressive form of it. Organic material can easily fuse and mesh with the existing troll body.

The trolls make use of the enhanced regeneration of their kind. Fusing the materiel to themselves allows them to take on the aspect of the creatures. Long claws, hardened beaks, gripping tentacles, secondary heads, luminous eyes all possibilities exist for the deep troll during the Hundred head cracker.

TTRPG creations: 99/365: Man Melter

Man Melter

 Long twist arms entwine those caught. Hooked barbs bury in flesh folding themselves into the cracks and crevices of the skin. Straight supple strands slowly and sensually syringe themselves into the pink rind. Muscles bulge and swell with the toxin, flexible fibers fuse together. Organs become mash losing all form and function.

Miners meld together. Hand in hand takes on a far more dreadful tone. The fat white foot long grubs wriggle within the workman. Acid reaps through the men turning them to paste. They sift within the souls of the men before slurping the slurry down.

Man Melter attacks leave polished bone and not much else behind.

TTRPG creations: 98/365: Postal PsuedoScorpion

Postal PsuedoScorpion

 Scorpion like cave arachnids scuttle through the long mountain highways. Tarsus tap along the tight, closed in caverns. Powerful twin pincers hold precious cargo. The spiders back bedecked in buildings, tents and structures. A makeshift shanty town runs rampart throughout the ruins of previous cave dwelling people. Merchants merrily trade to mushroom men as grottoes zip by.

Villages, cities, towns, market places and taverns all exist within the cavernous hallways on the back of these carapaces caravans. 

Pseudoscorpions have been bred throughout the years within the caves. Many different races, tribes and factions will either hire, steal or host these powerful living cargo trains. Once a rare species the giant Psuedoscorpion is now one of the most common members of the caves almost to the point of being a pest.

TTRPG creations: 97/365: Last Of Slaves

Last Of Slaves

 The whip crack across the back. Muscles screams out in distress as skin splits and peels. Red welts writhe into being as the leather carefully curves around the body. The arm raises and falls again and again. Teeth grind together like the stone being milled. Jaws flex and clench, throats screech out in the blackened silence. Coal blackened bodies dropped one after the other the life wrung out of them.

The masters work us to the end of our life. Born and bred within the darkness, all we have known is the dark under life. Most would talk of a god that would save them. That would take pity on them and lead them to salvation. 

I knew better.

Nothing was coming to take us away. Nothing cared enough about us deep, down beneath the loam and soil. If we were to survive we will have to take salvation in our hands. Bit by bit I have stockpiled and squirreled away. Gun powder, make shift weapons and tools. We will take ourselves back from these brutal beings who look down on us.

We will thrive within these cavernous walls. Slaves no more.

TTRPG creations: 96/365: Horror Sun Centipede

Horror Sun Centipede

 It buries itself deep down into the skull debris. Clawing, biting, gnashing, chewing, slurping, scratching. A jet black centipede dark demon. Twitching and writhing into the ear of sleeping adventurers, passing along passageways of the mind. Squeezing into the smallest of places. Popping into grey matter putty. 

Its clawing clacking chitin hates the eternal sunlight. It flees from the golden rays. Screeches within the sun. Dies within the day. The perfect adaption to survive and thrive is to live within the meal. Affecting the neuron pathways of the host. Guiding them away from sunlight, sharing the same aversion to the golden sky beast.

It rebuilds and reprograms the brain. Snipping and snapping while stitching and swapping. Creating the perfect feeding environment and host.

TTRPG creations: 95/365: Deep Drunkard

Deep Drunkard

 Staggering through stark naked stripped of possessions. Head pounding hard like hammers harassing stone. Blood bubbling and boiling to the surface, berserk fury barely held in check. Hulking hatred starts to heave within the body. Muscles twitch and flex, arms ache, knees knock together. Reaching around for an advantage. A stone. Clanging against walls, chipping off excess.

Thoughts of revenge seethe within the mind. Sourness stews deep under the mossy loam. Drawing in twin lungfuls the berserk lets out a drunken roar that rumbles through the caves. Bounces off slate boundaries and clangs through crumbling chasms. 

The drunkard will get to the top even if the journey is a blurry, bloody mess.

TTRPG creations: 94/365: Fractured Time Ooze

Fractured Time Ooze

 Cracks in the loam crust reveal entrance ways to long lost caverns. River ways trickle down within the ground, slowly but surely sliding along slate and stone. Inch by inch the droplets roll along snowballing ever downwards. Swamps drip miasma drops, fetid and filthy they run rivets through the caves. Frog spawn, moss and mold all collect within the bogs waters. The sea runs saline slivers, they pool, collects and push forward.

As all of the different channels combine they mix and mash. Flowing over and within each other. They swell, flex and pulse together. Finally flowing into the very bottom of the cave complex.

Into ancient forgotten water ways forgotten by mortal kind. Odd bizarre life lives down here, natures law much like the water channels bends to an older will. Neon coloured mushrooms that slowly stomp fuzz. Boneless reptiles with the consistency of soup slide sideways. Blind, transparent fish all mouth and gums.

As the waters amalgamate the weird ways spark them into life. An ooze is born into being, an older sentience takes shape. Both new born and elderly with pudding skin consistency. Having the thoughts of every being to ever touch the aqua ancestors this thickened gel squirms into a life.

TTRPG creations: 93/365: Copper Flayed Miner

Copper Flayed Miner

 The crusty copper rod stands erect on the crown of the tallest hill. Like a jade jewel atop the lofty heights the rod taunts the skies. Black storm clouds roll over the country side pregnant with blasting bolts. The rod beckons them, taunting the very sky. The sky gods anger hurtles down blinding fast smiting the mound. 

The rod takes it all in, every inch of white hot energy flows through it. The thunder strokes zeal passes from the tip to the bottom. This isn't the end of the journey however, attached to the bottom of the rod are copper wires. The energy sizzles through zigzagging eye blink quick along the passage. 

Deep underground it goes, back and forth, looping and folding before reaching the end of the destination.  A series of wires once used to power the mines lights have become tangled around some poor soul. The storms boon creating a never ending feedback loop of screeching immortality.

The miners body, fried, frayed, crisp and horribly burnt snaps to life as organs are blasted back to life. A ear splitting whistle scream of pure sorrow erupts from the throat of the once mortal. Shrieking upwards once lank hair now bolt on end. Blue and white spiderweb like lines snapping between follicles. The once husk full of vim and vigor and it bounds down the mine shafts.

TTRPG creations: 92/365: Mana Bone Bats

Mana Bone Bats

 Far different animals dwell deep within water collecting caves. The hot humidity creates a hive for animals that thrive within the dank area. The walls slick with precipitation, the air moist and thick enough to hack at. With some greenery barely clinging to life near the entrances, sunlight is just able to invade into the surrounding darkness. One such creature is a nightmare for the necromancer, a living evil for the enchanter and a mammalian madness for the mage.

The Mana Bone Bat is a mutated offshoot of the vampire bat. Years of evolution and feeding off wandering adventurers has driven the bat to seek the wizards blood as a primary food source. The Mana Bone Bat infrared-sensors have become so dialed in these winged magic addicts will surge and swarm any would be wizard. Latching on and leeching the very blood and bone marrow the magician will find themselves lethargic, slowed and often unable to cast any spells for an extended duration.

Adventuring parties beware when trekking through tropical caves.

TTRPG creations: 91/365: Single Repeating Salamander

Single Repeating Salamander

 Deep beneath the loam, in dank dark under places in which man fears to tred. Far away from sunlight, from fresh, crisp mountain air. In rank, disgusting holds within the earths belly a great scaled locust horror devours all within its wake. Even the most fearsome of under tribes, the most brutal of monsters, the most unknown of horrors fears this seemingly immortal end. Tumbling and stumbling over one another in a sunburst orange and black neon wave.

The wriggling mass writhes though every crack and crevice, every nook and cranny you will find them. A seas worth of potent poison dripping from every gland. Sharp fanged mouths make short work of anything within the waves wake. Injuries do nothing, as one is cut down two grow back. As a limb is removed another salamander bursts into existence. The same salamander. Every single being within the mass shares the same pattern, same desire and same thought. Everything within the ground before them is a meal. Is a valuable resource that gives energy, protein and fat. The salamander will always exist as long as the earth exists. 

TTRPG creations: 90/365: Lost Safari

Lost Safari

 The ultimate thrill seekers. The self proclaimed masters of land sea and air. With a slew of slaves and a forge of firearms at the ready. First the Salt lands to track the saline drake Bur'gost. His hide a pristine alabaster cloak. Onward to the mass of pine forests far east of Salthime, the flesh beasts within grow troublesome. The skull of the thousand eye horror added to the collection. Fresh from the coral conquest with skins draped, a mermen lords scaled become boots.

Our games man finds himself within the belly of the land. Down deep with the dank dark. Torchlight glinting off polished steel. Exalted wheel lock rifle ready and waiting. Pack boys following heaving heavy equipment. This hellish under land is the final hunting frontier. The last and greatest adventure. With a spring in his step and a manic glint in his eye he sets off into the unknown. The most dangerous prey of all on his mind.

TTRPG creations: 89/365: Shred Pack

Shred Pack

 Closed off caves created horror pack carnivorous creatures. Generations of interbreeding and lack of light has shed the fur and eyes. Skin whipcord tight and leathery bounds forwards, barks bouncing off walls stop fast collisions. Larger nostrils twitch excitedly, directions snap in seconds. Ears become batlike, all large, leathery and layered. Great chests heaving as carefully conserved energy is spent for the kill. 

All have slowly spread and bred amongst the gloom of the caves. 

TTRPG creations: 88/365: Melted Crust Cracker

Melted Crust Cracker

 A tonne of tombstone teeth turn boulders to pebbles. It slowly stutter steps lizard like throughout the tunnels. Squat quadruped body horrendously thick scaled. Scrapes, gouges, cuts and blades stick out of its front. A crisscross puzzle patch of scars and scabs. The scaled underside now slick and smooth. The blind greed and titanic man eater mouth make everything on the menu.

Bones, swords, staffs and armour stick out between the gums. The teeth are coated in precious mashed melted minerals. An organic slurry coats the mouth spreading a potent concoction of known and unknown diseases. The stomach acid bubbles down anything that enters the maw. Shovel sized clawed pads power through all within the way. It's carapace melting, reshaping and hardening as it pulls through the loam.

Mountains melted slowly down. Mile by mile, tunnel by tunnel and inch by inch.

TTRPG creations: 87/365: Sulfur Stackers

Sulfur Stackers 

Deep below in sulfur stained caverns they carve out yellow canopies. Golden skinned wretches smash, hack and pick away in noxious tunnels. Pushed down here for and locked away for the ancestors running. Everything stained a sickly sweet yellow. Not the sunshine yellow nor the yellow found within the kinder parts of nature. The off yellow, the tinged with green yellow, the nauseating disgusting yellow. Every part of life down in the tunnels is that shade, they know nothing else. Thrown off amber, gold, blonde, flaxen and lemon. Every horrid shade of it lances permeates within the sulfur hell.

Our ancestors ran from war they had no part of. Desperate to escape the slaughter from both sides they ran to the nearby caves praying for safe salvation. Regardless of the winning side our forefathers lives were forfeit. The king found it fitting that as they lived life as yellow cowards so would the sons and daughters. Pushing us deep, deep down into the mines. 

Generations have been birthed and have died down here. Over flows and titanic rumblings rip apart hundreds of us. Our skin ruptures and bleeds yellow, we survive on naught but the dream of escape. The surface dwellers do not care, we are nothing more than a yellow resource to them the same as the sulfur they rip from our hands. We and sulfur are one and the same.

TTRPG creations: 86/365: Troglobilis

Troglobilis

 Yelps and long yawps bounce from the walls behind. The screaming, hooting and hollering a primal pack call. Hands tear throughout the darkness blindly groping alone black passageways. A long frustrated scream pierces the air, ringing out and distorting on distant tunnels. A quick pause followed by frantic searching, anything to gain ground. Rough hands run the circumference of a ragged hole within the wall. Diving head first down, bumping and bouncing along. The horror shriek grows smaller as the makeshift slide slips down.

After seconds of sliding the chute ends depositing contents like bags of sand. A quick feel finds no broken bones only bruises. Save for scrapes the pack is mostly undamaged, fishing around finds a branch, fabric strips, an oil pouch and flint and tinder. After quick construction and the constant clicks, blessed fire. 

A monstrous sized cavern. The torches light barely a blip within the room. Stalagmites cast curious shaped shadows amongst the oppressive darkness. Carved nooks and crannies reveal carnivorous caveman creations. The living grooves run high and higher until the torches pitiful light loses supremacy. Bald, white, translucent domes poke up at the noise. Nostrils enlarge snorting the air, heads turns to better catch noises. The simian like chatter starts again, the horrible clicks and warbles become bellows and screams.

TTRPG creations: 85/365: Alien Grotto

Alien Grotto

Mine shafts run riot through the crust. Long pillars cut deep, deep into the turf. Ropes rapidly rappel miners down. The constant sound of clinking and cutting as picks plunge far into the ground. Cries run up and down, bouncing around as workers keep constant updates. From loam to dirt to clay to stone the workers work together never alone. Towards the bottom of the mile long shafts the picks attempt to pierce rougher and tougher rocks. Long forgotten alien ores and deep ancient rocks. Odd oil slick sheen and salt lick formations that spiral out in off patterns. Geodes that rapidly grow towards warmth and shrink from the cold. Glass thin gem fractals that require teams to carry. 

As a miner cracks through forgotten crust a dread air escapes. Like a plague victims death rattle, a long, wet, moist movement within the air. With a horrified curiosity his hands peel back pebble and rock, the small opening begins to open. His eyes adjust to the darkness of the lost grotto, a shaking hand brings the lantern in closer. Nestled within the long best forgotten place is a grave. A horrible monument to some master species or visitor from beyond the stars. A gaunt giants body rests on a spherical dome. Horrible oil slick skin, large dominating hands, horrendous deep cavernous eyes and a slit of a mouth.

The miner in shock drops the lantern, a deep clang echoes through the room followed by the twinkling shatter of the glass. The room plunged deep into darkness. The miner in blind panic feels around for the emergency torch in hit kit. His breathing fast and rapid, his body going into overdrive in the horrible fight or flight. Mind overwhelming with possibilities of what is around him within the darkness. Striking the sulfur strip against the rock wall the light flares into life. The being is blessedly in the same spot not having moved. Calling up to his fellow workers the miner signals the discovery. His hand covers his mouth as he lets out a ragged cough. Excitement brushes any feeling of concern away.

TTRPG creations: 84/365: Blinding Bastard

Blinding Bastard

 Stuttering stealthy steps on stone sneaking silently. Hulking hefty armour abandoned for layered leather. Lanterns and torches stamped out, narrow uneven rock corridors close in. Blackened daggers quickly drawn, adventurers in place preparing the ambush. Beads of sweat bud on scalps, fingers fidget and flex. A slight scurrying at waist height brings confused glances.

A brutally loud rip runs through the air accompanied by a beyond blinding beaming light. Men quickly cover eyes at the sudden sulfur supernova. Thrashing about in confusion the adventures are set upon, the hunter becomes the hunted. The caverns erupt in a brutal scrum with man fighting beast, red rivets run.

In a spot far further down the hall nestled in between twin pillars, a child like form squats. Quickly stuffing the now dark lantern back into a sack, knobbly hands count the coins, gems and curious stolen from the men. A coarse chuckle comes from the darkness accompanied by scurrying, shuffling shoes.

TTRPG creations: 83/365: Corpsebloom

Corpsebloom

 Fleshy fungus pods flex glowing gills. Monstrous mushroom caps collide with cavern roofs. The air damp, water pearls slide off moist mold. Toadstools of every colour and shape. Rust browns and velvet reds. Deep sea blues and forest greens. Cross combinations of wicked acid radioactive greens and lightning whites. A mycologist paradise if not for the incredible amount of danger deep below the ground.

Within the rotted roots a mutation has taken hold. A disgusting ungodly way of survival, a collective dependence on the hungry and foolish. Preying on the desperate to become the grounds keepers. Animal and man become lost down in the dirt womb. The need to survive overrides common sense, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Once consumed the mushrooms take effect. Penetrative spores run through veins, body temperature soars. Full lock and shut down, death rattle spasms jerk the body. Violent wrenching as vomit suffocates the victim. The bodies lie still, times takes its toll and rot replaces all. Lost limb becomes mushroom muscle the corpse hijacked.

TTRPG creations: 82/365: Under hermit

Under hermit

 Caves cracked and crumbled, cast aside in cold caverns. Apprentice like panic sets in,a feeling not felt for many moons. Chance of getting out alive is unlikely. Severe modifications are needed if survival is to be guaranteed. The body can be melded like clay, every organ and digit reshaped and reformatted for new purpose. Mutations are welcome.

A brief bark of power snaps the fingers and a second sees them lengthen and writhe like snakes. The better to cast the following forsaken spells. Serpentine digits flow over each other creating once impossible motions. The tongue grows a sickly acid black and lengthens. Needed to speak the lost ways. Working in unison both tentacle digit and black tongue mutter out filth speech which cracks the very ground.

Old eyes once unaccustomed to such darkness grow catlike. Corneas and pupils expanding and shrinking, adjusting to the new space. As more scum slinks from the mouth the lungs expand air. Ancient airways grow formidable filters, the stale dusty air easier to consume. More power must be drawn to modify. Curse runes are written upon the floor and walls. Shriveled, dried goats stomach swallowed, it melds with the old and becomes the new. Atrophied legs grow anew, goats hoofs take form to allow for easier access. 

The old hermit forces the surrounding environment to accept him, at any cost.

TTRPG creations: 81/365: Cave Crusher

Cave Crusher

 Deep breaths before the big squeeze. Slight manic panic settles and is kicked down. The cave is pitch black and tight. Leather armour scrapes against rough salt licked walls. Groping through the tunnel on all fours, fingers probing and prodding until the slight entrance is found. A deep breath in and out then the crawl through the narrow crack. Inch by painful inch with arms on sides the crawl begins.

Toes propelling the body forward the scrape and struggle. A sharp yank stops the progress, the body stops moving. The surrounding wall ever so slightly crawls inwards. Panic sets in, fear pulses though. The rocks close in ripping off sheets of skin. Limbs grind against the course cavern. It continues to tighten and tighten. Oxygen runs out, organs fail and the walls wait. 

Flesh, muscle and bone are absorbed, the walls take another victim.