"Although she loved her child, Xicuitl the Coatl could not help but regret her one-night-stand with that gibbering mouther."
OsculusHD: 1AC (ascending): 12Saving Throw: 14Move: 18 (flies)But what makes them interesting is that where there is one, there are many—a wounded osculus will flutter off to a safe corner and begin vomiting up more (d6) of its fellows, each perfectly healthy and eager to defend their progenitor.Osculi swarm their prey, biting with great blunt teeth as they sigh and murmur to each other.
Using Swords and Wizardry...Flingenurp Swarm, HD 5, AC 15, MV 12 (Fly 24), Atk 2d8 bites per round (1d6 damage each), Special: See below, AL: Chaotic, CL/XP: whateverAcid Trip--Characters looking at, smelling, or hearing a Flingenurp Swarm must make a successful saving throw or suffer (benefit?) the effects of an acid trip as they stand paralytic from the supposed cosmic insights a Flingenurp Swarm has to offer. Meanwhile, the Flingenurp Swarm attacks and eats them.Happy New Year!
I'm thinking it's a spirit that resides in a bottle of cursed absinthe (no name on it, just a label with an leering old man wearing a crown, printed in red ink).A person can only meet/see the creature after imbibing. When it appears... all yapping mouths and flapping wings. It starts out fairly small actually, about the size of a grown man's head... but grows larger over time till it blots out the sky.It makes no direct attacks but continually whispers dreadful mocking words in the ear of its target which will drive him to kill himself in 1D4 weeks unless the target can track the thing down on the astral plane and destroy it. Its astral form appears to be a small naked old man with bright red skin, a long beard, and a paper crown. He can't put up much of a fight and dies quite easily. He carries no treasure except for his crown which let the wearer see the dreams of others sleeping nearby.
@knobgobbler - How do you tell the cursed absinthe from the regular kind?
It says, "A Product of Bulgaria" on the label.
Pack of Lies (overly-sensitive artist's rendition) "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned." William Congreve, 1670-1729.Among the great bibliophiles, Hugo Philippe L'Amor was also broadly-known as a rake-hell and philanderer. His scandalous wedding day forsaking of Emile Beauchamp-Childress, the carousing in the Antwerp Guignols, and his obsession with cartomancy are equally well known. The circumstances of his death, however, were much less-widely publicized. The lurid rumors that he was killed by a swarm of sewer rats is patently untrue, I can assure you. A first-hand accounting of his death written in Banes' diary does attest that L'Amour was bitten to death. I can say no more without offending your sensibilities.This accursed Tarot deck travels from dandy to dandy mysteriously. It is an cheap French rendition of a Michelino Molinari da Besozzo deck. With every exaggeration, omission, and outright falsehood the owner tells, the likelihood that LA MORT is the top card on the deck increases by one. If the owner draws LA MORT from the top of the deck, the pack of cards transforms into a cloud of shrieking, winged mouths that bite the convicted liar to death while repeating, with the owner's own voice, the falsehoods that brought about the owner's grisly fate.
(Use stats for Flingenurp Swarm, see page XX)