I like these foxes very much. The tag-line and description captivated me. No magical origin is a great touch as well. Wonderful little details, the skin, the oil, the eyes, the smell of decayig flowers. From the pages of National Geographic and into the world of dreams. Kudos! Go to Comment
These are cool, good job. What about their social activity among one another? If they tend to congregate in areas that become hunting grounds, do they travel in packs or are they solitary?
Another thing, why is a single skein priceless, all it does is cover the scent of a creature, I would think that something that was priceless would be very, very rare and have more uses than that of masking a scent. Could their oily secretion also allow faster healing, like a salve, or maybe prevent infections and minimize poison, something else to actually make them a bit more valuable. Most hunters and campers know something so simple as a fire or even their own noise will scare off dangerous wildlife. I just think the pungent oil should have a little more use is all. Good job overall. Go to Comment
Heh... intended to be fantasy, yes. I based it off of reality, it can indeed be bent. There are chemicals that exist that mess with the brain in strange ways, yet I don't know enough about them to inculde it in this particular species.
I'll get to editing, then. Thank you kindly for the welcome Go to Comment
Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.
He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.
His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.
His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.
Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.