gulbavian

These yellow-furred, gaunt baboons have chalk-white muzzles and their lambent eyes show a disturbed intellect.  Capable of using tools (including simple weapons) and tactics, they understand language but speak in barks, grunts and screams interspersed with ancient phrases and nonsensical babbling.

Number: 2d4 (3d6+2)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement:120' (30')
Armour Class:8
Hit Dice: 1+1
Attack: 1 bite and 1 weapon
Damage:1d4 and by weapon
Save: C1
Morale: 9
Hoard Class: VI

The gulbavian is slightly taller than a normal baboon, though wasted and gaunt.  Their muzzles and rears are chalk-white and not used for signaling.  They can eat anything but show a preference for rotten or sour foods, including carrion.  They may bite with sharpened fangs or use simple weapons like axes, clubs and maces. A band of gulbavians are led by a randomly selected leader, who if morale breaks is as likely to be turned on as nursed back to health.  It is whispered they originated from a chaotic priesthood cursed by their patron.  Their increasing numbers and fecundity suggests a malevolent purpose.

inns & taverns: aulog's garden

An underworld grotto filled with giant toadstools hides Aulog's Garden.  Underworlders come to drink and deal on neutral ground.  A cairn marks where the river can be safely forded but ghost pike attacks are known.  Traders bear news of Aulog's Garden far and wide.  This unexpected oasis is protected by it's distance from aggressive slavers, mystical tyrants and hungry undead.  Yet those using the Garden take care.  Treasures left unguarded are always taken.

Woven between the boles of the toadstools are ropes and canvas to form a canopy.  This shelters guests from bat guano, spiders and toadstool spores.  Stone benches showing dwarven craft and the skill of a dozen other races provide seating for twenty guests.  A pair of verdigrised braziers with perforated covers cast diffuse light and shadows.  Drinks are served from a makeshift bar of wooden planks balanced on empty casks.  If the bar is moved, the braziers scuttle to follow them.  Lighting is kept minimal, many patrons have sensitive eyes.

Many patrons drink a thick, bitter-edged gruit called skard.  Lizard-hide sacks dusted with toadstool spores ferment a mix of water, yeast, fungus and bat. Those refusing skard have alternatives.  Those of delicate palate favour deepwine, a cloudy white wine made from lichen and insects.  Those seeking potency are often pleased by a black clay jug.  This appears to be a clear, earthy fungal spirit.  For food, baked shelf fungus and stuffed bats are the usual fare.  The house speciality is a fish stew using the giant ghost pike but catching these makes these a rare occurence.

Drinks are served by a cowled woman called Old Meg.  Appearing neither old or hag-like, mystical auras of transformation cling like a ghost.  Assisted by three pallid ogre-sized sexless humanoids who fetch and carry, she welcomes paying customers.  Her tolerance for evil ends if the Garden's peace is threatened, she can call on eerie magics and the humanoids whose flailing fists rival a golem's strength.  It's whispered she offers trade for mysterious travellers and sells fungal-based poisons to the discreet.  Old Meg is greatly amused by these whispers.  

There is no accommodation available.  Old Meg becomes territorial if prospective guests attempt to ask about beds or even baths.  She does know of nearby caves suitable as basecamps.  She also knows those caves are used by other groups.  If she likes a group, she'll warn them.  Attempts to inveigle Old Meg into staying with her will result in a shifting appearance to something more hag-like.  Those who have seen this transformation rarely survive the experience.  Those who do often decide not to stay in the grotto.

It's whispered that Old Meg has a cache where her coins are hidden.  The pale humanoids that serve her are said to come from the toadstools of Aulog's Garden. As news of the Garden spreads, the threat of raiders will increase.  A share of the profits is used to lay false trails.  However, gold can only buy so much.

why roll your own?

This month's RPG Blog Carnival is courtesy of Evil Machinations and deals with worldbuilding's whys and wherefores. The work involved in creating a world appears daunting, especially to inexperienced game masters or someone unfamiliar with a new system.  So why go and create a world of your own?

1. You can start differently.  You don't have to explore the Old Corbitt Place, meet Bargle the Infamous or play Skull-Skull.  Metagaming is something game masters work around if they use the quickstart every player downloaded or the module that came with their boxed set. 
   
2. You are the final authority.  One of the tenets of most tabletop RPGs. To create your own world is the ultimate expression of that. Encouraging input from other players is admirable, yet for some this is a part of the game they love for it's own sake.  
3. You can ask interesting questons.  By creating your own setting you can go beyond obvious tropes.  Some of the most inspiring gaming has come from settings that challenge tropes, remix or extrapolate on them to unexpected conclusions.
4. You learn more about your game.  Not just the system elements but also the playstyle, some games may suit sandbox play better, others favour a more structured approach.  Also learning about the system aids you in asking interesting questions.
5. No metaplot baggage. You don't need to incorporate shifting metaplots.  The Time of Troubles need not be and Gehenna can wait.  With a ready, steady diet of splatbook, re-imagined classics or updated setting, incorporating the new shiny even if it just hurdled Megalodon is tempting.
6. Here Be... Dragons?  The wonder of exploring terra incognito is at it's greatest when dealing with a new world.  New settings aren't commonplace so if the paths to the Caves of Chaos look like ruts, there's always the option to go... offroad.

cannibal crabs

Number: 5d10 (2d10)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 60'(20')
        Swim: 30' (10')
Armour Class: 8
Hit Dice: 1 hit point
Attack: 1 (claw per 10 individuals)
Damage: 1d6, bleeding, swarm. 
Save: 0th lvl human
Morale: 7
Hoard Class:XX

These brightly-coloured red and purple crabs are a foot across.  When alone, they will flee from larger creatures unless cornered.  In a swarm, they turn vicious, willing to attack anything living of Medium-size or smaller.  Swarms attack with multitudes of ripping pincers that get one attack per 10 individuals to do 1d6 damage.  Each round that the crabs attack, there is a 5% chance that their pincers open a vein, causing 1d3 damage each round to living creatures until injuries are treated or curative magic is used. If a character is swarmed by a whole pack, they must successed in a saving throw vs. death or be  knocked prone and unable to attack under the scuttling mass.  They may stand up next round if successful but must make a new saving throw each round they stand in the swarm.
 
If a swarm is reduced to nine or fewer crabs, they will seek to flee.  The cannibal crabs are known to feed on those creatures they kill.  Though they prefer to feed on land, they will do so in water though their tendency to bleed victims will attract sharks.