TTRPG creations: 30/365: The Unluckiest Cat

The Unluckiest Cat

 Darting from shadow to shadow, slinking from cover to cover. A thief in the night, the eclipse's perpetual twilight brings endless opportunities. Twisting and turning like ribbon caught in the wind, no normal spine could stand the odd angles and pressure brought on by this. Scurrying up drainage pipes, working through open grates exploiting  any weakness. Like your favourite contortionist's contortionist it loops, folds and flattens finding ways into anywhere. 

Once it finds the sleeping target it begins its work. Slowly, gently it wraps them in its feline centipede form. Like a maggot in a wound it injects misfortune into its prey. A wound that starts to cause ill luck in small doses. Dropping plates, tripping on a crack, dropping a silver down a hole. The target only becomes even more unlucky over time.  The wound festers and the effects increase spreading out to everyone around them. 

With time communities will remove these living omens believing them to be cursed. They board them up and shut them off taking drastic measures lest the curse fall upon others. With no hope and only misery left, at the bleakest possible moment the cat comes to feast. It swirls around the victim like a furred anaconda, each paw caressing curves. It slowly squeezes the misery and hopelessness out of them, wringing them dry.

TTRPG creations: 29/365: The Monarch Crow

The Monarch Crow

 Midnight black circling murder, a thousand glinting beady doll eyes watch from up high. A titanic nest running upwards in spinning spirals, pockets house nests every few feet. The floor is packed thick with feathers and stool creating a living, breathing, rotting carpet. Every nest is filled with baubles and trinkets, they glitter in the dying eclipse light, from afar the tower lights up as if on golden fire. At the very top of the tower sits the oldest of all his kind. 

His nest is a collection of the truly grand. Scraps of holy writ paper, the skin of wizards, long dead kings crowns, dragons membranes, the wrung out ink from krakens, the head of Oto'sh the last lord of the giants, devils tears and angels rage. The monarch crow has personally collected them all, his gallery spans the entire tower, he knows all, he sees all, every secret word whispered. Only the mad or madly desperate seek an audience to acquire a part of the collection. The monarch crow will have what you need, but the price paid is usually far steeper.

The size of a castle he slowly pulls himself upright. His wings unfurl and snap open like the sails on a ship. His entire frame is like a vantablack jet, light itself revolts against his touch, recoiling away from his inky appendages. The defiled king drips the darkness leaving behind a permanent leak into another world. His eye surveys all below him, watching and waiting, planning and plotting and always on the lookout for beings to use, manipulate and violate.

TTRPG creations: 28/365: The Aware Wolf

 Slavering jaws snap down, scarlet laced spittle slides along canines. A ten foot terror stalks the lands baying for blood under an eclipse. The muzzle twitches, nostrils flare as gums retract back, a long devilish tongue unfurls itself. Under the bewitching eclipse light hundreds of eyes observe all directions, pupils rolling around while others jitter and zigzag. A panorama for spotting prey, a three hundred and sixty kill vision.

The Aware Wolf forces mass evolution, pushing its body beyond the breaking point to remain constantly aware of its surroundings. Growing additional eyes along the body, having nostril slits grow out of hands, taste buds along its feet. Mandatory growth to become the lands top predator. 

Molding the body to fit every situation, every tactic, every weapon and every prey, The Aware Wolf.

TTRPG creations: 27/365: The Galant Ghoul

The Galant Ghoul

 Sparkling silver edged plate armour, gleams gallantly for all. A closed full visor, hawk beak like protruding with predatory birds feathers running behind. A thrice polished shield that beams when even a slight amount of light touches it. And a magnificent long sword wrapped in a brilliant blood red scabbard. Truly the epitome of a majestic knight, the very textbook example of one.

Then the smell hits your nose.

A sickly sweet rot, of corpse bloom and carrion. Of high iron and claret. You notice the flock of flies that buzz around the champion. The slight liquid leak that comes from the bottom of sabatons. Somethings off, from a distance he looks ever the part of the knight. But up close something is hideously off. A plated hand lifts up the vizor and behind lurks a predatory face. White and feral, a stark contrast to the polished protection, like a horror hermit crab you realise late you have fallen into a trap.

Nothing happens, the ghoul merely nods his head, snaps the guard back down and continues on his journey.

TTRPG creations: 26/365: The Gibbering Bastard

The Gibbering Bastard

 Little bastard, cowardly ass, cancer wretch, nonsense screecher, filth monger, target practice, thieving prick, the gods sense of humour. Hated by all, loved by noone the disgusting little snot green gremlin. 

With an comically large mouth filled with razor sharp needle teeth. A long hooked nose tipped with a bulbous wart. Knobbly long strangler hands ill fitting for one so small. Yellow beady watery eyes, like two half cracked eggs yolks. And a voice of sandpaper dragged over a salt block. Tinny and high-pitched, so grating even saints start to wrap hands around neck. 

And what a voice, screeching every hate filled idea that pops into its head. Every syllable pregnant with venom. Anything it can use as ammunition in its verbal assault. And when it has thoroughly annoyed the hell out of a target it draws them in further. Those hands are brilliant at tinkering, every nasty little creation to be tested.

Inflated bladders of excrement, dropped jars of centipedes, compacted cobwebs of fishing line and hooks, mind altering fungi bombs, thrown frozen vomit, flocks of foul fowl unleashed down corridors. A genius mind unfortunately fascinated with causing pain. The disgusting emerald wretch, the gibbering bastard. 

TTRPG creations: 25/365: The myth witch

The Myth Witch

 Ogre snot and basilisk eye. Ghost shroud and Ghoul fang. Spiders legs and goblins nose. Skeleton marrow and merman gills. Trolls vomit and man guts. All placed in the cold cast iron cauldron by gnarled hands. More ingredients are needed for the myth brew. 

The snap of fingers and the pot lumbers to life. Pivoting on four squat legs, turning sideways and marching alongside its master like a metal crab. The horrid concoction spilling out at times, the ground sizzling as the oil slick sheen neon green goop hits the ground. Further and further the two walk, the crone often stopping to add in a found bug or the odd mushroom. 

On and on, up and up they go. This ritual can't be rushed, everything must be in place. Reaching the summit, between the three mentors the pot stops, planking itself down on a mound of ancient ash. The full moon beams down, the stars click into place and it begins. Old elven oak is placed below and lit, fiery Fey fire burns furiously. The witch climbs within and waits.

As the moon passes overhead the pot glows, brighter and brighter until putting the stars around to shame. Smoke and steam violently splutter, a sharp whistles sets teeth on edge and the ground is scorched anew. With a deafening crack the pot splits and out spews every myth and nightmare unto the world. 

The witch born anew collects the pieces of pot. Much work to be done before the next myth ritual is ready.

TTRPG creations: 24/365: The Eternal addict

The Eternal addict

Seconds of sanguine. Minutes of madness. Hours of horror. Days of desire. Months of mutilation. Years of yearning. Decades of decent. Centuries of chaos. Waking up to the same calling, the same craving. The need for sustenance. Being unable to say no to it, the crawling demon on your back. Finger biting, hand shaking, toe tapping, fist clenching need. 

At first you could fight it off for days, taking your time until you needed to go out for another hit. As time stretched out your time between lessened. You needed more, bodies piled on. The random adventurer became whole parties which in turn became whole villages. You have tried every type and colour under the cursed sun. 

Your once marvelous appearance reduced to a wretch. Eyes sunken and ancient, skin like yellow parchment, teeth long, black and chipped. Blue veins like a city roadmap across your alabaster skin. You have lost everything, descended to nothing, a hopeless addict forever linked to that sanguine source.

TTRPG creations: 23/365: The Coral Empire

The Coral Empire

 Sunlight bounces off the sea waves, calm blue salt ocean. Fishing ships bob along like flotsam in a pond, drawling across the endless azure. Life finds a way under the surface, fields of rainbow hue coral, houses hundreds. Entire ecosystem survive and thrive throughout the emerald and sapphire.

Deeper and deeper we go, in places in which the sun cannot. It's piercing burning gaze holds no power down here. Total blackness amongst the deepest currents. Further down that any lung could hold air a pinprick of life exists.

The pinprick grows the closer one gets, larger and larger until a full fake sun blazes into the underwater world. Amongst the sea of colour stand colossal buildings. Statues to long best forgotten gods, hundred armed, multi faceted square heads. Ruby coral eyes enchanted to float along side statue skulls. 

Amongst the building ancient roads run rampart in spiderwebs through a sprawling city. Teams of slaves use kelp rope to pull blocks of cut coral, rail road thin humans with gills gruesomely grafted to flesh. As one of the slaves goes limp they float up. Far above the city schools of sharks circle waiting for fresh meat.

With trident and whip, mutants keep a watchful eye over the operation. Order are barked out, sea weed whips crack and sodden slate tridents poke and prod. Great undersea wizard kings watch from up high in coral towers dotted with pearl and shell. Slowly bit by bit they will retake the world which damned them.

TTRPG creations: 21/365: The Horseman

The Horseman

 A titanic figure towering above all. Shining black plate with burning emerald runes. A monstrous charcoal black horse churning roads to rubble. Green fiery prints that scar the land. The rasp of a long sword that silenced every noise around. An explosion of raw green lights the country side as a soul wrenching scream tumbles down hills. The Horseman comes

A body is found head and spine stolen, hung from a tree, side of a road, out in a field it matters not. The next night he rides again a new head fixed to the armour, screeching and screaming in torment. The Horseman comes

The month long Eclipse heralds his coming. Villages once warm to all now ice cold, turning away any stranger who would bring ill or omen upon them. Holy symbols hung, hymns hummed, and the Horseman comes.

TTRPG creations: 22/365: The Toll Troll

The Toll Troll

 Lumbering, large, huge, giant, colossal, titanic, a behemoth that believes it's good at general math. Take the cut-throat nature of the markets, the suaveness of the salesmen, a dash of the shark like attitude of a money lender and a pinch of murderous intent then dull all of it. Give it a big club, a big table and a bridge and lower its intelligence to just above a plant.

With an insatiable appetite for flesh and the bullying bulk to back up any threat the Toll Troll will set up shop on any bridge, thoroughfare, road or pit stop that is out of the way but not remote. Understanding more out of primal awareness then actual business sense that extended attention can be a negative.

The Troll doesn't grasp the mechanics of a business however, while It mimics the actions of its former murdered master it doesn't understand the concept. Screaming words like "money, dividends, accounts!" While pulping people to paste with a horrible club. Demanding percentages on loot without grasping what a percentage actually is. Placing the broken ends of two bottles on the bridge of its nose while pretending to ponder deals. It would be almost adorable if not for the fact the Troll enjoys ripping animals, people, objects and yourself limb from limb. 

TTRPG creations: 20/365: Grey matter grafter

Grey matter grafter

 They thought me a fool, that I was insane. Obsessed with the secrets of life, forever figuring out what lay beyond death. To step into the realm of the gods. I will bring him back no matter the cost, I am already considered a monster for what I have done.

I have poured over pages, studied sheets and examined everything I could get my hands on. I have prepared the list of forbidden goods, all I need is the cover of night. 

A mix of grey matter from both adults and children will create a mind that will increase in volume while maintaining density. With copper stitching connecting white to grey to spine I can increase the neuron speed through the body.

The cranium will need far more room to accommodate for the additional growth. I will need to fuse several plates of bones to cover any exposed tissue. An occult cap will be put in place and steel bolts used to hold everything together.

I have the thirteen metal masts connected at the perfect height. During the lunar Eclipse storm all thirteen shall be struck sending the bolt of life into my master. He shall live again, he shall have vengeance against the peasants.