If there's magic that can detect the undead, the Whispers will register on it. It also can be detected in the early stages by those it possesses by the voice muttering broken thoughts in their mind as the Whisper's thought patterns intrude on theirs. If it was someone they knew in life, the mental voice would be recognizable as well, possibly giving a clue.
It makes for a more subtle kind of horror than usual, because you have to either have a priest devoted to a god of the mind in some way in order to exorcise it, or you have to completely wreck the brain it inhabits quickly enough that it can't escape into your own head. Even if the Whisper itself never turns up in the adventure, you might come across a village where people were trying to kill one; dead bodies, the skulls staved in, littering the area, while the Whisper has either moved on via an animal's brain or, perhaps, still resides in the last survivor, now little more than a mumbling idiot somewhere in the village, a journal near at hand depicting his slide into madness and imbecility by way of the creature's hunger. Go to Comment
If you can manage to find one that actually retains self-awareness, that could certainly make for a nasty tactic for a BBEG to use; sic a Whisper on a foe until said foe is reduced to little more than a raving madman, leaving the BBEG unopposed. That said, Whispers are really little more than a need to survive bundled up in the stray thoughts of the mind that it arose from, rather than being genuinely sapient/self-aware.
There could always be exceptions to this, of course. Go to Comment
I know vaguely of the movie you speak of; it was mentioned in the In Nomine game as a reference for how a specific kind of demon works.
I'm not sure if they grow or not; I suppose they could, since even most undead will tend to gain strength as time goes by, according to many legends and tales. It's possible that i could pass a critical threshold and recover self-awareness as an amalgamation of the minds it has eaten.
Hmm. That's a good question. Both of the ideas you present seem viable, depending on the nature of the original creature. You might even end up with a fight between the two, if the original spirit was essentially good-natured and is horrified by what the Whisper has done to the people it devoured. Go to Comment
I just about fell out of my chair laughing. This is definitely a chart that's both useful and comedic at the same time. The jab at the Knights of the Dinner Table was particularly priceless. Go to Comment
Manfred pretty much hit it; they'd deplete it somewhat, but it'd end up 'quenching' them. They'd have a hard time finding their way out of the desert, though, since their nature is tied to the desert heat. I expect that if one wandered out of the desert, you could track it by the trail of utterly sun-baked and dried-out land it leaves behind it. A pack of them could potentially be responsible for a drought, if they were captured and carted someplace more temperate.
Thank you, although the Parched have been in work for a bit; I have a handful of undead that I'm tinkering into shape. One of my pet projects is diversifying the undead so it becomes less of a 'oh, a zombie, get out the axe' situation and may require creative thinking on the part of the players.
You are correct; exposed to a sufficient amount of water, it will 'quench' them, but in the process they'll likely destroy a fair amount of it by the nature of their dessicating effect. Enough of them might well be able to destroy a large lake, although it'd naturally refill once they wandered back out of the basin.
You're correct there as well; they're tied to the desert's daytime heat, and as such you'd have to have someone deliberately bring them out of the desert. I'd expect the fringes of the desert regions might slowly grow as they wander in and out of it, but the 'outside' would seem painful to them. Go to Comment
Updated: Added habitat and destruction method; and before anyone says anything: yes, I know that deserts can get absurdly cold at night. I rather expect the Parched are somewhat dormant at night, much like a vampire during the day. Go to Comment
This is true; the concept itself isn't all that unusual - I can probably find a few variants in the various game books I own - but tinkering with the living dead is amusing. In another world I'd probably be a necromancer. Go to Comment
And, when I discover vampires in a game world, I assure you there's at least one. I don't care *how* 'kewl' people make them out to be. I *will* leave the miserable things stake out for the sun to fry. Go to Comment
These disturbing tunnels are the remains of the chiurgeon Morag Vaniswel, one of the greatest doctors and scholars of the living body known; using his powerful mind to conjure up ways of peering at ever-smaller fragments of the body, few had as deep an understanding of things organic as he did. Thus, when he was struck with sudden madness, his feverish delusions twisted and burrowed deep beneath the ground, forming a strange complex of living matter. Passages of ropy muscles and sinew wind around impossibly vast bones, threaded with dense ropes of nerve tissue that sparkle and sizzle with electrical currents. Veins and other tubes run through the walls and floors, none of which approach being level as they wind and twist chaotically through the mass. Doors are strange membranes that open and close on their own, according to some unknown will, and all manner of freak creatures, most resembling massive forms of the tiny creatures Morag found dwelling at sizes too small for the naked eye to witness, slither and tumble through the corridors on unknowable missions.
Perhaps more disturbingly is the utter lack of any trace of Morag's body; some whisper that the twisting tunnels are his remains, still alive and trapped in some horrible state by his fevered, tormented mind. Others of a more sensitive nature have often complained of a noise in their thoughts when too close to the warrens, a kind of whispering sound too vast to be understood. Perhaps the tunnels really are the mad doctor, having trapped himself somewhere between life and death... Go to Comment
*fixes the freetext on both 'Kuramn' and the Tools of the Trade* There will be more to Kuramen, yes. I currently have a 'Races of Kuramen' overview in draft, which I'll use to help me detail races beyond the Whisps. There's also the Dark Templars of Nurmel, who are an order of (un)holy warriors dedicated to the Fallen Lost God, Goge the Slaughterer, a post on the city of Tarra-Lin, which is organized around an incredibly massive series of huge waterfalls (which will no doubt get a 'WTF' from someone due to 'unbelievability'...), some more of the various deities, the nature of the divided world (True Kuramen and Far Kuramen are very different places, despite being the same world), and some of the stranger locales (such as the Flying Sea and the Citadel of Light). Anything in particular you want to learn about the world? Go to Comment
How about 'stranger than you would expect', then? Their natures are distinct, largely because the Calamity split the world along a metaphysical divide as much as shunting chunks of it between the two dimensions. True Kuramen, as the Dragons refer to it, is the 'rational' portion of the world, with the ability of logic to understand and devise solutions for most things. Far Kuramen is more twisted and irrational; where you have a forest growing on the True side of the divide, you'll likely have a forest on the Far side - but it might be a forest of glass, giant fungi, or something equally abnormal that *could* follow through as a possibility. Probability is less reigned-in with Far Kuramen; were it to be set in the D20 ruleset, it would be the world where aberrations and outsiders hail from, as possibilities that just don't happen on True Kuramen.
As for the locales, a teaser or two: the Flying Sea is a sphere of ocean suspended above the Yawning Gulf; this is due to how matter interacts between True and Far Kuramen, with the material staying where it *would* be if the world were intact. So the Flying Ocean is really a portion of the complete ocean, with the area around and below it on the other side, in Far Kuramen. Since the two sides don't interact in other ways, though, the Flying Ocean has some odd ecology as a result of being isolated...
As for the Citadel of Light, it's the result of 'old-school' thaumatechnology being applied over generations to a massive temple dedicated to the primal god of Light... A very old and sacred place, indeed. Go to Comment
I recommend looking at some of the other lifeform submissions to get an idea of what you're missing.
Questions to consider: why does it exist? Is it the progeny of some evil god, a freak result of some magic-tainted swamp that has survived, the work of some mad druid? Are they an ancient race from days of legend, seeking to quell the 'quick' races? Why do they love water so much? Do they ever approach drier lands, or are they swamp-dwelling exclusively? Are there any beneficial properties to them, such as fragments an alchemist or mage might want, or an instinct to 'tend' the lands around them? What plot hooks can you think of to be associated with them?
As you have it written right now, this is more of a stub than anything else. Also, the submission section has a button you can click to check the spelling; if you do it on every submission, you'll come across as a fair bit more articulate.
You mention 'legend busters' without providing anything of use; it seems more like a random 'hey cool name' than anything actually involved in the submission itself. Go to Comment