Some field notes on Trolls, courtesy of T.H.I.S.
This frightening creature has some rather cruel methods to torture its prey
A haunting remnant of the infernal realm, caught and exiled to suffer for eternity in the swamps of the mortal plane. Now it toys with mortals; luring them from their paths into it's light. Once in the boundaries of it's aura, the FlickerWikk will feed.
A Remake of the Will'o'the'Wisp/Jack'o'Lantern
Found, normally, deep in the swamp, the Friar's Weed's poison is something to be watched for.
a.k.a. Mosquito Man, a.k.a. Stirgili, a.k.a. Mansquito.
A strange magical plant known for it's psychosis-inducing effects, commonly used in poisons, alchemy, rituals, and illicit drugs.
Includes: Appearance, Toxin Information, Harvesting and Uses, Signs, Plot-Hooks.
A big flock can suck a cow bloodless in a few minutes, yet your doctor shows up carrying one around a small birdcage in the tip of his staff. Maybe you're better off just learning to live with the kidney stones. . .
A blue green jewel, Beta Delphini II, home of the turtle like Chelonians. The world is old, and bears many scars, the craters from orbital bombardment and high power explosions, rings of dust and debris that were once starships, habitats, and fighter craft. But the world below remains tranquil, its wounds covered with blue seas and green forests.
Hailing from the giant swamp planet of Acadia, the Leech Lords rule with a mighty will. And slimy green tentacles.
In the dank,dense areas of the world where the vigorous and the decaying are intertwined and indivisable, lives the wise bagabond. But getting him to impart his knowledge is quite a chore.
A reclusive race, the Ragori live deep in the heart of the Purvis Swamp.
A higly misunderstood flora.
The muggers cornered the little goblin against the wall, when with a hissing noise he suddenly grew to double his size. Muscles bulged out from his body and they lokked at each other, then turned and ran. The Sproggan watched them go and grinned at the thought of how well he had fooled them, and when they were gone he deflated back to his normal size and went on his way.
You hear a loud electronic buzzing, almost as if a runaway lawn mower mated to a taser gun is rampaging through the slimy cattails and weeds towards you before a swarm of huge flies erupt from the low scrub in front of you, electricity dancing between their mandibles.
The Yang to Lutazum’s Ying, the grand totem of the Maletanalu, the 5th tribe of the Hanaset.
The Broan, an enigmatic, amphibious species of unknown origin, that lives in the salt-water marshes to the east of Locastus.
Mark woke up and groaned. His breastplate felt heavy on him. When he looked at his arms and legs he began to cry. His wonderful muscles, earned through excersise, running, fights and several quests, were gone, leaving him with no more muscle power then a young girl. He had heard the tales of the Muscle Flies but had not throught they were true until it was too late. He could move, but it would take a very long time to get his muscles back into good condition again.
The frogs are thick and plentiful here. Everywhere you go, you’re almost always about to squash one of the slimy things underfoot if you’re not careful about what you tread on. And at night, the tiresome din of multitude of the amphibians croaking, fills the air and render sleep all but impossible. Worst of all, the disgusting things are prone to invading one’s hut, huddling in dark corners.
In this dank land, the Bombo hold sway. And the frogs thrive, as do their more mysterious cousins…
The rules against nighttime travel in the Sorcery Springs Geyser Basin are there for some very good reasons, not least the highly dangerous Geyser Ghosts.
These magical boots empower the wearer with several abilities at once. Wondrous leaping, water-walking, and even flying! Yet the boots possess an insidious curse upon them as well. A deep and almost unfathomable (by others) feeling of listlessness, boredom, and even apathy affects the boots' wearer at all times whenever they are donned. Magic will not dispel the effects.
And so while the wearer of the boots can perform great feats of action during combat or at other opportune times and key moments, they'll never really want to do so, complaining "Meh, what's the point of it all anyway?" or "I would fly up and save us all guys, but sigh, maybe uhm, soonish, mkay? Bit bored by this whole burning tower at the moment."
Naturally the boots wearer's fellow PCs will grow quickly frustrated with this arrangement. There have been numerous occasions when one angry PC literally tears off the boots from his companion's feet in anger, and dons them in turn, only to immediately suffer from the same effects.
The solution lies in constantly "motivating" the boots' wearer with successful rolls, involving threats, flattery, fiery speeches, or even bribery.