Microblog: The Elf's Detect Secret Doors

OD&D elves have the ability to automatically Detect Secret Doors. 

I do not like hidden information rolls and prefer my rule systems that do away with them. I would also prefer for the referee to not have to make a Detect Secret Door roll every room for every elf in the party--this also seems like needless overhead and extra rolling to keep the game going.

Instead, I propose the elf's automatic chance to Detect Secret Doors be built into the backend. Put it into the tables, mechanics, and procedures of generating a dungeon instead of the act of exploring a dungeon. Then, the referee can remember the elf's special ability and key the dungeon appropriately. 

Every secret door placed has a 2-in-6 chance of being of elf-make. It was either placed there during the long ages where elves ruled the world or placed by a previous elf ranger exploring the dungeon for the convenience of elven folk who came after them.

Note elf-made secret doors in your dungeon keying. When an elf enters a room with an elf-made secret door, they automatically notice it. They seem to glow with starlight, to their eyes. Non-elves can detect the secret door using the normal procedure.

Beholders are intellectual property, eh?

No matter what you call them, Beholders are vile servants of the coastal wizards. 

But worry not. They have monstrous cousins that can be used to populate (monsterate?) your dungeons. Less common and less popular, perhaps, but not less worthy.

Mumblers

Also called: Omniphagists, Gabblegob, Chew-Orbs

Art by Felipe Faria

This spherical monster levitates through gaseous sacs in its body. Its central cavity is a gnawing mouth of yellow teeth which leads into an extradimensional space (similar to a bag of holding). Eight tentacle protuberances each end in smaller mouths. All of the mouths can speak: each voice is lustrous and rich. The central mouth is always the voice of authority, but any mouth may offer suggestions, warning, quips, witticisms, or retorts. As it floats through dungeon corridors, you can almost always hear the mouth-stalks talking to itself; it never provokes surprise.

The mumbler's chief pleasure is in taste. It wants strange delicacies, obscure drinks, unusual taste combinations, or varieties of mouthfeel and texture. In a pinch, "raw flesh" (especially that of humans) is always welcome. 

AC 2 [17], HD 13 (58hp), Att 1 x bite (2d8) and magic mouths, THAC0 10 [+9], MV 90′ (30′), SV D4 W5 P6 B5 S8, ML 12, AL Chaotic 

Swallow whole: An attack roll of 19 or 20 on a bite attack indicates a human-sized (or smaller) victim is swallowed. Swallowed creatures are banished to an airless extradimensional space and suffer 1d6 damage per round (until the mumbler is destroyed).

Magic mouths: Each mouth-stalk has an AC of 5 [14]. A mouth-stalk can withstand 6 points of damage before it is severed. This damage is not applied to the main hit point total of the mumbler itself.

The more mouth-stalks that exist, the better spells the mumbler can cast: see table below. Each spell can be used three times per day.

1 mouth-stalk: charm person

2 mouth-stalks: sleep

3 mouth-stalks: phantasmal force

4 mouth-stalks: dispel magic

5 mouth-stalks: lightning bolt, protection from normal missiles, 

6 mouth-stalks: confusion, hallucinatory terrain

7 mouth-stalks: charm monster, feeblemind

8 mouth-stalks: cloud kill

Hearkeners

Also known as: Audio Enslavers, Omniaudient, the Listening Ones, Earbs

A giant, distinctly human ear attached to a hairy orb that moves through levitation. The long hairs covering its spherical body and growing within the ear cavity are prehensile. It has no other visible organs. It communicates through telepathy within 1000'--it sounds like it's whispering directly into your ear.

The hearing of a hearkener is obviously incredibly sensitive. It can perceive, with almost total clarity, anything that is happening on its own dungeon level. It also has excellent control over its audial processing; it is never disturbed by loud sounds. A hearkener, while not a huge threat in combat, can coordinate the defenses of monsters throughout a dungeon incredibly effectively. 

Music is the heartkener's main motivation. It despises the clumsy sounds of human and demi-human peoples. It tolerates extraplanar music, and enjoys angelic music (although angels loathe hearkeners). There is a sub-genre of efreet music that is like a narcotic to them. In a pinch, the wailing of the enslaved will suffice.

AC 1 [18], HD 5 (22 hp), Att 3 × grasping hairs (1d8) or cone of vertigo, THAC0 15 [+4], MV  90′ (30′), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16, ML 12, AL Chaotic

All-hearing: A hearkerner is immune to surprise.

Blind: Hearkeners are blind, but use their hearing to perceive the world. A silence spell blinds them.

Cone of vertigo: 3/day: 30 ft. long x 30 ft. wide cone, must save vs. paralysis or suffer vertigo. While under effects of vertigo, suffer -4 to hit and -2 AC. In addition, each time the victim moves, they roll a 1d12, treating results as a clock hand, and move in that direction. Victims of vertigo can reroll this save at the end of each turn to remove the effects.

ESP: The hearkener benefits from ESP at will, as it can hear even the thoughts of those within 1000'. 

Spell immunity: Unaffected by charm and sleep spells.

Ventriloquism: At will. Can make an audial illusion seeming to originate from anywhere within range 1000 ft.

Snuffler

Also known as: Sternutacion, Sphere of Many Smellers

Snufflers look like giant, spherical dog noses with tiny black beady eyes and wide mouths. They float using a gaseous sac a few inches above the ground. Sensitive hair-like antennae cover their orb-like bodies. 

A snuffler's world is that of smells. They perceive olfactory subtleties that paint vivid pictures of the present and the past. They tend to lead packs of weaker monsters (kobolds and goblinoids, mostly) to through secret doors towards hidden treasure caches, which they horde. Fortunately for civilization, they tend to be plagued with perpetual hay fever. They sneeze, wheeze, and sniff constantly. These humorous fluids have alchemical effects.

AC 2 [17], HD 11 (49 hp), Att 1x bite (1d8), 2 x acid snot (1d6) or alchemical snot, THAC0 11 [+8], MV 90 (30), SV D6 W7 P8 B8 S10, ML 10, AL Chaotic

Acid snot: Two globs of acid snorted within 30'. On a hit, acid deals 1d6 damage each round until the snot is washed off.

Alchemical snot: Snufflers can extrude or benefit from the following potions 2x/day. 

• Control Animal
• Control Dragon
• Control Giant
• Delusion
• Gaseous Form
• Healing
• Poison
• Treasure Finding

All-smelling: A snuffler can perfectly perceive hidden and invisible creatures.

Immunities: Unharmed by gas and poison.

Magic resistance: +2 to all saving throws versus magic effects.

Graspers

Also known as: Crawling Hands, Severed Hecatoncheires

A floating spherical orb with a single eye and wide mouth. Protruding from the sphere are five giant human-like fingers, giving the appearance of a hand with a round palm. Although the orb naturally levitates, graspers walk on their fingers like Cousin It. Graspers can walk on walls and ceilings.

Although less magically inclined then some of its cousins, graspers are as strong as giants and as fast as a horse.

AC 3 [16], HD 9 (40 hp), Att 3x flick (1d10) or grab (3d6), THAC0 12 [+7], MV 240’ (80’), SV D 8 W 9 P10 B10 S12, ML 10, AL Chaotic

Grab: A grabbed creature suffers 3d6 damage per round; a successful save vs. paralysis allows escape on subsequent rounds.

Making a Dungeon Patch - Sausage Making

Per this post last week, I have issued a challenge to start writing chunks of a dungeon as a creative exercise. The Worm community is calling this elemental, nodal building block a dungeon patch. 

This post is a stream of consciousness description of how I'm going to start putting together my first patch. I'll clean it up for publication (on the blog) in a future post.

To recap, I've argued that a dungeon patch should have five things:

1. Something that advances your dungeon checklist

2. 3-6 keyed rooms

3. An intentionally blank room that can hold a key for a lock in another section of the Underworld. I should call these spaces potential connections.

4. A gate that connects to a different section of the Underworld.

5. An evocative name

Basic brainstorming

My patch will start with just the germ of an interesting idea: "An animate wooden golem ventriloquist dummy torturing a dressed up halfling."

I want to write patches for His Majesty the Worm, so I'm going to ground my writing in one of the dungeon seeds that are included in the game. I flip through those for a little while until I find one where it seems to fit: The Castle of Crossed Destinies. One of the most vanilla dungeon seeds. 

Warren's position in the Designing Dungeons Course is that making a 30-room dungeon is essentially the act of using the elements of the B/X stocking procedure to make six-room nodes five times:

1-2: Monster (50% chance of guarded treasure)

3: Trap (~30% chance of trapped treasure)

4-5: Empty Room (~15% chance of hidden treasure)

6: Special (which are unique rooms)

I'm not writing towards this stocking procedure, but having prompts (2 monsters [1 with treasure], a trap, 2 empty/lore rooms, 1 special) is helpful for any exercise. I'll keep this ratio in the back of my mind.

Sketching out the core concept

This dungeon patch will be centered around a monster: a human-sized wooden doll controlling (horribly) a halfling as a living puppet.

This is a related concept, but not quite right

We Need to Talk About Kevin Pinocchio

I'm picturing the wood golem to look like those mannequins used for drawing references

The idea of a ventriloquist's dummy feels very modern to me, but a Punch and Judy puppet feels perfectly cromulent for a dungeon game. So the wooden golem will be a mannequin--an uncarven, unpainted blank slate--but its prisoner will be forcibly dressed like Punch, and tied up like a marionette. 

I always thought Lady Elaine from Mr. Roger's looked upsetting. Maybe this is how the halfling is dressed up.

Perhaps self evidently, Googling pictures for inspiration is part of my creative process.

The wood golem puppet a living creature both as revenge (maybe?) but also to express itself in a way that it cannot without being completed. A believable need to be understood, but escalated to an upsetting extreme. Also, perhaps the wood golem could be completed as a matter of negotiation. Perhaps an enemy-to-friend scenario? And if the players don't do a good job, the golem goes berserk?

What sort of room does this duo call their lair in the Castle of Crossed Destinies? I assume a theater? In a makeshift puppet's theater in a courtyard? In a woodcarver's workshop?

I'm inclined to say all three might exist. The empty puppet's theater in a courtyard will point towards the more adult theater inside the castle. Backstage of the theater will be the woodcarver's workshop. Perhaps the woodcarver's workshop is the wood golem's main lair.

Finalizing the stats will be come later. This idea will give me enough to flesh out a room description.

Brainstorming additional rooms

Since I want to focus my energy on a single node--a cluster of rooms--I'd tuck "outdoor puppet theater" away for later development if I was building out an entire dungeon level.

Right now I have two rooms: woodcarver's workshop and an adjoining theater.

Aiming for ~6 rooms, let me just write out some other ideas. I'll select the ones that are most compelling for development.

Box office. I know that the term "box office" comes from Shakespearean times where patrons' money was collected and kept in an office in a strong lock box. Players love picking locked boxes! Maybe a box office. [Trap + Treasure?] Although, on second thought, if this stage is part of a castle, would there be paying patrons? Perhaps not.

Backstage. If there's a theater, there should be a backstage. The empty room would have unused scenery, prop weapons, costumes, wigs, etc. ["Empty" room?]

In Disney's Pinocchio, Geppetto had lots of cuckoo clocks. Should those feature somehow? [Trap? Treasures in their own right?] 

This reminds me of the terrifying clockwork music box doll from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Can that complement the idea of cuckoo clocks? Is a finished full-sized doll what the wood golem was supposed to be, but it is still unfinished? [Special?]

Puppets were a plot point in Being John Malkovich. Maybe I should put a tiny door somewhere in here because that's just a nice dungeon feature to have. Perhaps that's the gate that connects to another dungeon level. Maybe the door is very small and requires the players to cast Shrink before using it.

Hang on. What sort of things would an olde timey theater have in them anyway? Well, wait, let's look up Renaissance theaters. The most famous one I know: The Globe.

OK cool, I found this map online.

At first glance, I thought 12 keyed locations would almost be enough to make several patches out of a theatrical section of a castle, but on closer reading, many of these would be a single room key. I think the only meaningful ideas from reading this pamphlet was that calling the dressing room "Tiring House" would be flavorful and that the stage itself should have a trap door. There's a trap for us! [Trap]

Where did the marionette-ified halfling come from? An adventurer, I assume. Perhaps some of his old companions are still lurking here as undead. [Another monster]

Final rooms to be keyed 

OK, that's enough brainstorming. Let's actually conceptualize what rooms I want to write.

This dungeon patch is part of the Castle of Crossed Destinies.

1. Theater. The stage of the theater has a trap door. Under the gallery, there is a curiously small door that leads to another section of the Underworld. [Trap, Gate]

2. Under the stage. Mechanisms that power the trap door. An undead adventurer (fallen victim to the trap) has some loot. [Monster with Treasure]

3. Backstage. Storage for stage props, including other blank but inanimate mannequins. [Empty]

4. Tiring house. The dressing room for would-be actors, filled with different stage costumes. This will be a type of treasure. [Treasure]

5. Puppeteer's workshop. The workshop of an artisan who created the puppets, the sets, and other objects of the theater--now haunted by the Rude Mechanical, an unfinished wooden golem, who puts on performances with Tom Joiner, a captive halfling dressed up as a marionette. Valuable cuckoo clocks hang on the walls. [Monster, Treasure]

6. Storage room. A storage room near the puppeteer's workshop. This room's key will be intentionally left  (mostly) blank to form a potential connection with another patch. [Potential Connection]

This area will be called the Theater of Tragedy. Because of har har, stupid joke. It contains a reason to fight, a reason to talk, and a reason to explore.

Saved ideas: I liked the idea of a cuckoo clock/music box room and an outdoor puppet theater that would connect conceptually to this patch, but don't want to lose focus. These ideas will be saved for later development.

Further reading from other big brains about this subject

Murkdice had the idea of "Patchwork Megadungeons" a while back as a way to chunk the work. Great minds!

Aryxmaraki reminds us that patches (and hexes, and points) are all just a type of node. 

The first to heed the challenge of the dungeon patch for Worm

Lusunati of the Worm Discord was the first person to accept the challenge and show off a dungeon patch for Worm. They've created a couple others in the past as well!

By the by

If you're interested in reading my process for building dungeons, I've written a course on the subject. It's free! It won a golden ENNIE this year.

The Elemental Level of Megadungeon Construction

There was a post on Facebook (cess pit that it is) that I found really inspirational. Here's a screenshot so you don't ritually defile yourself by going there.

It's a node-based megadungeon. It looks sprawling! 

They clarified that each node was 4-5 rooms large. If you have 54 nodes and 5 rooms a node, that's 270 rooms. That feels solidly megadungeon level--past the point of "Is Pluto a planet?" and "Oh yeah, that's Mars."

KJ Davies of the In My Campaign blog has been working on similar projects since 2014. A storied career, with many blog posts, ideas, and dungeon design to support their work! Check out their last nodal megadungeon! (Each level doesn't seem quite complete to me, but they're what His Majesty the Worm would call a dungeon seed - a jumping off point to be fully mapped, Meatgrindered, and filled with monsters and treasures.) 

Gus exchanged some of his own nodal megadungeon ideas with KJ Davies, and even did this cool picture of their dungeon:

[SIDEBAR] As has been said, blogs create ruins. I'm so glad that these ruins from 2014 are still around for me to crawl through! It also just goes to show you how many people want the thing you're making but can't find you. Marketing isn't efficient, but it's an attempt to connect the author with the audience. I wish I had found them sooner! [/SIDEBAR]

I said when I was writing Worm that writing a megadungeon isn't hard (I still hold by that statement): it was just making a series of atomic choices. 

Some things are atoms. (And everybody thought atoms were the smallest thing imaginable, until scientists hit them with a hammer in 1932 and a lot of like, quarks and neutrons and shit fell out.) But the more I work on megadungeon design, the more I understand that we don't want atoms. We want elements. That's what we make things out of.

In the Worm Discord, we've had this concept dungeon quilts. Not a dungeon in toto, but a patch that could be sewn into it--drag and drop it in wherever. Nodal megadungeon design is parallel development to this concept.

A dungeon node / dungeon patch of 4-5 themed rooms is an element that is usable. 

It resonates with Sean McCoy's advice to write rooms in pairs: 

You can think of these rooms as sequels and prequels to the rooms you’ve already come up with. Setups and punch lines.

Writing in pairs builds connectivity and halves the amount of work you have to do.

This gets you in the mindset inherently of connecting your spaces rather than thinking of a dungeon as like thirty different themed rooms. Once you start doing this it’s hard to stop.

It resonates with what Gus talked about in his Jaquaysing article:

By breaking down even a small dungeon into these kinds of nodes, and limiting their connections, players can better understand the space, and the designer can better imagine it, creating rational connections between the keyed locations that allow for more complex play rather than a sort of directionless ramble.  With larger dungeons shortcuts and alternate entrances become more important, either as ways to quickly get to unexplored areas or to change the direction that the party approaches certain obstacles from. Faction territories can be logically delineated by choke points or defensible areas, disrupted by secret passages.

By way of example, let me break down one of the levels from The Castle Automatic: 

Art by Guy Pradel

This is the Sanctum of Swords, one of five levels of the Castle Automatic. It's not a huge level: only 18 rooms. But you can think of it as a series of discrete nodes. 

• Purple: The Black Oil Heart (which powers the mechanisms in the level) and surrounding trapped rooms. An entrance to the level. Underground. 
• Teal: The lair of Pimple the Vampiric Torturer and surrounding rooms. A guarded exit from the underground section of the level to the above ground section.
• Honestly, the distinction between purple and teal is a little arbitrary on my part. This could also be an 8 room patch--an underground section.
• Red: Four rooms connected by a theme of a moat flowing into an underground river. 
• Yellow: The Court of Swords, including all the noble NPCs (and the boss of the level, the King of Swords).

All of the patches have at least one exit or connection to another level (not just another node in this level).

• Purple: A mirror portal connects room 201 (current level) to room 101 (entrance level).
• Teal: There's a trap door in the ceiling of room 209 that connects to room 310.
• Red: The moat leads to room 311 if you solve the riddles of the Moat Twins.
• Yellow: This node has multiple exits--doors to the Threshold Tower, doors to the Palace of Pentacles, and unlockable mirror portal in another level that teleports adventurers into room 215.

The level is cohesive, but is also chunked into discrete clusters of themed rooms. The map could be rearranged in any pattern the excellent Guy Pradel wished as long as those nodes were kept together. The Meatgrinder (overloaded encounter table) ties the level together thematically, even though many of the patches have different environmental details and dungeon construction.

Having conceptualized this more fully, I issue this challenge: Write your dungeons in 4-5 room elemental building blocks. 

1. Start with a kernel of a good idea. One of the things your dungeon needs: a reason to explore, a reason to talk, a reason to run away, etc.
2. Build out 2-3 rooms around this core idea. 
3. Connect an intentionally blank room to it. This blank will be filled by the dungeon assembler. They can either repurpose it into a lore room or make a connection to another patch using it--a lever that opens a door in another area, an idol with empty eye sockets that activates when gems from level 5 are placed into it, etc.
4. Put a gate that intentionally connects to another level (not just a door to another patch).
5. Give your patch an evocative name: The Pit of Pain, the Tomb of the Clown Prince, Lift of the Condemned, Wyrm-Hole. 

As a writing exercise, try writing a dungeon patch every week for a month. You'll have a 16-20 room dungeon at the end of it!

Post your dungeon patches on your blog so your friends can use them. Take dungeon patches from your friend's blogs. 

Make your megadungeons like a quilt. 

The gods are the gay people that live in my phone

Sometimes I kvetch about how boring I find fantasy pantheons that are just Greek gods with a bad coat of paint. Sometimes I've blogged about it.

Guys do you want to hear about my setting's unique pantheon? My god Warfrith is the god of both war AND peace isn't that interesting?

The next time you sit down to start writing a list of 10 gods and 1 evil god, stop. Don't do that. Do this instead.

Think about your RPG friends that aren't in your immediate campaigns. Maybe they live out of state. Maybe they work third shift. Select 3-6 of them. These are your setting's gods. There might be other gods elsewhere in your world, but these are the local ones that form the basis of the major religion(s). 

(Prerequisite: You must have 3-6 RPG friends. If you don't have any, come join the His Majesty the Worm Discord.) 

Think about something you know about them. What is their job? What are their hobbies? What is their user name and pfp? These are the gods' spheres of influence.

Take the letters of their name and rearrange them, spell it like Jolly Old England, or write some fantasy gibberish with similar phonetic tones. These are the gods' names.

Look at your campaign map. Put temples, fanes, and wild altars to these gods everywhere. A city has one god as a patron: put their main temple there. Put a desecrated altar to one of your gods in a dungeon (the players can cleanse it). Put a Pantheon - a Temple to All Gods - on a high mountain or remote island. 

When your players encounter a temple to a god, they may make an offering and petition the god through prayer. Write these down.

After your game session, text your friend. Tell them what the player offered them and what they prayed for. Ask them what they think would happen.

Take their suggestions and action them in your world. You don't have to tell the players that their prayers were answered. Perhaps they'll never connect the prayer to what happened on account of your friend's advice. But gods work in mysterious ways like that.

B.U.R.G.L.A.R.s Part 4: Treasures

Part 4 of my investigation into "Hobbits have a Roadside Picnic." 

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here.

Dragon gold 

We must away ere break of day

To seek the pale enchanted gold.

One of the primary reasons burglars brave the aberrations of the dungeon zone is the gold that the dragon amassed. No one has yet seen the center of Smaug's golden hoard and lived to tell the tale, but caches of gold can be throughout the Mountain. It glows softly with a pale green light. 

Art by Kattapulka

Dragon sickness

The lesser rings were only essays in the craft before it was full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but trifles – yet still to my mind dangerous for mortals.

Burglars know how dangerous the dungeon zone is: clouds of razors, underground lightning, solid rock that temporarily becomes quicksand before hardening again. But more insidious is the dragon sickness, which clings to the things they bring out of the Mountain. 

When you return to Lake-town, your dragon sickness rating is equal to the amount of slots occupied by dragon gold or magic treasures. Your dragon sickness rating lowers by 1 for every month spent not carrying any gold or treasures. 

1-2: You get winded easily. Reduce your movement by 5'. If you ever drop to 1 hp or lower, you lose a tooth. 

3-5: You get a -1 penalty to your Saving Throws. Your hair is thin. You get regular nosebleeds.

6-9: Reroll your hp. If it's lower than your current maximum hp, it becomes your new maximum. You lose your hair in chunks.

10+: Lose 1 point of Constitution and 1d4 teeth permanently. You regularly bleed from your gums and nail beds. 

Dragon sickness (as opposed to most rules in this blog series) is a player-facing rule. The players track how many items they have on their person and know enough about dragon sickness (as professionals) to have in-character knowledge of its effects.

Treasures

The Visit did take place, but it is by no means over. We’re actually in contact as we speak, we just don’t know it. The aliens are holed up in the Zones and are carefully studying us, simultaneously preparing us for the ‘time of cruel miracles.’

Dragon gold lets burglars stay in a state of inebriation long enough to forget the pains of the dragon sickness, but treasure is what the Union of the Five Armies want. They want to study them. They want to copy them. They want to break them and harvest what comes out. Burglars call treasures "swag." 

Dungeon zone treasures should be in a black box to the players. Only experimentation should reveal some of their properties. Don't tell them the full item descriptions.

Dripper

The ring market of Lake-town is flooded due to the proliferation of drippers. Drippers are rings of a gold-colored but unknown metal*. They are discovered in a variety of sizes, but most are well-sized to be worn by a human hand. Every nine days, a dripper creates eight copies of itself--identical in all ways except that the duplicates do not, themselves, produce duplicates.

*If hammered or melted, they break down into a ephemeral slime. 

Balanced Bracelet

Another piece of apparent jewelry forged by Smaug, balanced bracelets are a collection of larger rings of dull metal--too large to be worn on the finger but appropriate as a bracelet or arm ring. When set on their edge and spun, these bracelets will spin forever. 

Light Clay

This clay, when fired, becomes hard and brittle like pottery but lighter than air. The works made of this clay hover like partially-deflated helium balloons. 

Spark Beads

Black, tubular glass beads that are discovered in a variety of sizes, from about 1" to as large as a 9" long. When left in the sun for 12 hours, they glow with dim light for 6 hours (360 turns). 

Death Lantern

A bullseye lantern that emits a green light within 30'. The lantern can be completely uncovered, shedding light in all directions, or partially uncovered into a projected spotlight. The beam of light deals 1d8 damage per round to living creatures (Save to avoid), but has no effect on inanimate material. Death lanterns have 1d100 rounds of use when discovered.

Dowsing Rods

Dowsing rods are lengths of metal that come in different abstract shapes (but straight is most common). If struck against a hard surface, the resonance with which they ring is determined by their proximity to dragon gold. If within 100' of dragon gold, they warble and shake when struck. If within 30' of dragon gold, they produce a high pitched whine and tremble for several moments. If within 3' of dragon gold, they vibrate so hard that they cannot be held and produce a whine that is pitched so high that only elves and hobbits can hear it (it is outside of the register of dwarves and men). 

Drinkers

A fungus reminiscent of a shelf of fossilized coral. They are found in patches of 1d4 x 10' cubes, and can be cut to fit 1-4 slots of pack space. When exposed to liquid, it absorbs it at a rate of 10 gallons/round. A drinker can hold 100 gallons per slot of liquid. Like a sponge, drinkers can be squeezed to release their stored liquid--but the rate of release is only a trickle. 

Shrieker

A shrieker is a purple shelf fungi found in clusters of 1d12 individuals. If their conical "mouths" are stimulated, a shrieker produces a piercing, high-pitched whine.  Each creature within 500' must either take 1d4+1 damage or be stunned for 1d2 rounds. This automatically triggers an encounter check. Each shrieker can be activated once.

Spiker

Another treasure in the fungus family, a spiker looks like a sea urchin. When disturbed, they throw their spikes, which cover a 10' square area around them in porcelain-like shards.

Spikers can be harvested with care, wrapped carefully, and thrown as a weapon. They deal 1d6 damage on impact, and deal 1 damage each round thereafter until the victim spends a round to remove the shards from their flesh. Treat as caltrops once detonated in a space. 

Immovable Rod

Hey man it's a classic for a reason.

Burning Wheel

These wooden and metal wheels tend are as large as cart wheels. If placed in a fire of any size, burning wheels extinguish the flames, smothering them within a few rounds. If spun on an axel, burning wheels will alight into a continuously burning flame. 

Red Glass

Peering through this ruby-colored glass allows the viewer to see heat signatures. Even in the pitch dark, living creatures appear as glowing forms. The shape of stone and metal stands out against the ambient temperature of the air. Fungal blooms appear as a white haze. Cold-blooded creatures, such as un-dead or dragons, do not appear in the glass at all.

Prophet Dust

This glittering sand, when spread onto the surface of water, makes the surface tension of the water impermeable for 1 turn (10 minutes). The water can be walked on. Anything under the water cannot break the surface. 

Heart of the Mountain

No object looms larger in the burglars' rumours than the Heart of the Mountain. 

They say that Smaug sleeps with it under his head. 

They say it's too big to move, even if you found it when he was outside of his golden hoard. 

They say it grants your heart's dearest wish.

They say it kills one person touching it for every wish it grants.

B.U.R.G.L.A.R.s Part 3: 10 Traps

Part 3 of my investigation into "Hobbits have a Roadside Picnic." 

Part 1 is here. 

Part 2 is here.

Traps

"I don’t exactly understand your terminology. What traps?”

Noonan laughed. "That’s folklore," he explained. "Stalkers’ jargon. Bug traps—those are the areas of increased gravity."

A dungeon zone is filled with hazardous environments that arise spontaneously due to proximity with a dragon. Some are strange substances, such as the vapours and heats the Earth brews in her belly, but fouler. Others have are like beasts, or were beasts that have been changed by the dungeon. Others still have a strange will all their own - or a will that is an extension of Smaug's. 

Note: Some of these rules are tried and true OSE-esque dungeon features, but I think there's a lot of weird things here, too. This information should be GM only. Players learn how to approach these hazards through experimentation (out of character skill with player-facing information that is persistent for the table) as they try to master the dungeon.

1. Hell Slime

A green sludge found filling storerooms, wells, and cellars. It is unliving and unmoving.

Hell slime can only be contained by stone or ceramic.

When exposed to other nonliving materials (leather, wood, paper, cloth, glass, etc.), the hell slime quickly breaks it down and converts it into slime, so that the whole grows by the consumed object's mass. Hell slime can quickly get out of control in this way: as it gets bigger, it consumes more, and stretches into new regions, devouring portions of the dungeon.

When it comes into contact with a living body, it infects it. Skin, organs, and muscles are left intact, but the slime begins to painlessly eat the creature's bones. A PC who comes into contact with slime should determine where the slime touched them (roll randomly if it's not clear from the fiction). They lose 1 hp every turn. For every 4 hp lost, all bones are permanently destroyed in that segment and the slime crawls up the body.

For example, if a finger was infected, first the hand is lost - then the arm to the elbow - then the elbow to the shoulder, then the ribcage, then the spine. When the spine is consumed, the person dies (if hp loss hadn't already killed them). 

Amputation is the only way to stop the advance of hell slime on the body.

Carrying hell slime outside of the dungeon is a capital crime in every kingdom. There are always potential purchasers.

2. Moulds and Spores

The dungeon grows un-earthly fungus on the walls, columns, doors, and hallways. 

Note: The rules for moulds are from Dolmenwood. The effects of the moulds are new.

Triggering: If touched or damaged, there is a 3-in-6 chance of the mould emitting a cloud of spores in a 10′ cube area.

Effect: All in the cloud must Save or be caught in the spores. The effect depends on the type of mould.

Removing: Each type of mould is harmed by a specific type of damage. Each roughly 10′ × 10′ patch of mould can withstand 2d8 (average 9) points of damage.

1. White mould: Victim is partially petrified, gaining +1AC and losing -20 ft of movement speed. If not cured (e.g., by remove curse), victim fully petrifies within 1d4 days. White mould is harmed by fire.

2. Grey mould: Inflicts 2d6 fire damage per Round to any in the cloud, which lingers for 1d6 Rounds. Grey mould is harmed by magical cold.

3. Brown mould: Infects the victim's skin with spores, causing rainbow blotches. If not cured (e.g., by remove disease) the victim is permanently polymorphed into a random animal in 2d4 days. Brown mould patches spread in the presence of fire within 5′: a torch causes the mould to double in size, burning oil quadruple, and a fireball 8 times. Multiplication takes 1 Round. Brown mould is harmed by acid or water (1d6 damage per pint).

4. Blue mould: The victim flickers with fairy fire, takes 1 damage every 6 turns (1 hour), and suffers a -2 penalty to reaction rolls from monsters and animals until they benefit from magical healing. Blue mould is harmed by fire or by magical healing.

5. Indigo mould: The victim begins to weep uncontrollably, suffering a -2 penalty to attacks and saving throws until they benefit from magical healing. Indigo mould is harmed by fire or by magical healing.

3. Revenants 

Those who have died in the dungeon may be raised into a cursed un-death. They rise and walk the halls, half-rotten, bones protruding, moving under the power of some unseen force. 

Revenants are not aggressive by default. Mostly, they go about the tasks that they pursued in life: slowly, clumsily, sadly. Most are too rotten to talk, but they can gesture. Some can weep a fluid that is not tears.

Most revenants are dwarves who were buried in the Tombs.

This revenant is (2d6):

2. Going mad, will attack

3. Guarding the way forward; will attack if the PCs try to get past them

4. Looking for their wife, distressed

5. Trying to put together a children's toy

6. Sitting down to dine and slowly (very slowly) sipping wine from a goblet

7. Slowly (very slowly) writing a random rumor in a book; one rumor is written every 1d4 Turns until the revenant gives up and stares into space

8. Wants to trade a plump mushroom for something rare and valuable; will become angry if denied

9. Trying to figure out a song on the harp

10. Scraping at the walls with a pick, ineffectually

11. Slowly hammering on a steel tine

12.  Counting 3d6 pieces of dragon gold over and over, stacking and restacking it; will become angry if robbed

4. Weird Walls and Keys

Throughout the dungeon, walls of strange material bifurcate and cut off passage towards the dragon's lair. They were not made by the dwarves, but are products of the zone--they grow spontaneously and shift between delves. 

Concept keys: Burglars have learned that each wall can be defeated by a certain thought called a concept key. When exposed to a song, a feeling, a word, an image, these walls melt away like mist in the morning. 

Dungeon keys: The dwarves made keys for their doors, chests, manacles, cuckoo clocks, etc. Any key that was within the Mountain at the coming of the dragon is a dungeon key. Keys from outside the dungeon will not work. 

When a weird wall is touched with a dungeon key, the key disappears and the wall is destroyed. Dungeon keys are a sure-fire and fast way to get past weird walls.

However, there were only so many keys in the dungeon. Each time one is used, there is one fewer. There will never be any replacements made. And the walls are constantly growing and constantly shifting. The Union can foresee a time where there are no keys left, but the walls remain. That is why the Union prefers to open weird walls with visualization techniques and save the keys for emergencies. Burglars are here for quick riches, and so make free use of the dungeon keys.

The types of weird walls are:

1. Walls of Web: Although nobody has ever seen a spider of any size in the dungeon zone, there are walls seemingly made of black webs. They are sticky to the touch (dealing 1 hp of damage if touched with bare skin). 

Breaking: The thick cords resist the bite of most swords and axes, but they can be sliced through in 1 turn by a magical weapon--the cords reweave themselves after 1 turn, closing the gap. 

Concept key: Walls of web melt away into black motes when told secrets: a burglar must speak aloud a personal fact that no one in the company knows. A burglar alone cannot use this concept key.

2. Walls of Flesh: Some walls are made of flesh and sinew. Some are like a giant's arm twisting through the passageways: some are riddled with teratomas of hair, mouths, eyes. 

Breaking: The walls can be butchered. A 5' passage can be cut into a wall of flesh with hacking weapons and 2 turns. There is a 1-in-6 chance that the blood of a wall of flesh is hell slime. If eaten, the meat is deadly.

Concept key: Walls of flesh whisper riddles. If the riddle is guessed, the wall melts into a pink sludge.

3. Walls of Will: There are unseen walls. Some evil will (the dragon's?) prevents a company from moving forward, as if solid steel stood in their way.

Breaking: Walls of will cannot be broken. 

Concept key: A hopeful thought born of song will break the will that holds the company back. One burglar must sing a song or recite a poem that engenders hope in the company.

4. Walls of Fire: Fires rage in the dungeon that block off passage: they have no fuel, but are otherwise similar to the fires of the natural world. (Dragonfire, discussed below, is different.)

Breaking: Walls of fire cannot be broken. They have never been successfully extinguished by water. Jumping through a wall of fire deals 2d6 damage and ignites anything flammable on the character.

Concept key: Walls of fire will evaporate into choking black smoke if an item of significance is sacrificed to the flames.

5. Black Oil

Black oil is scum that sloughs off the waters under the Mountain. It moves with the speed and stimuli-based instincts of a slug.

If black oil is covered the surface of the water, the water cannot be navigated without suffering the penalties of the oil.

Terrestrially, the black oil is easy to avoid if there is ample space. However, black oil can sometimes drip down from the ceiling onto a random burglar. Each burglar passing under the resting place of a black oil has a 2-in-6 chance of triggering it. If a burglar is carrying a magical treasure, this chance increases to 5-in-6. The burglar is allowed a Save to avoid the dropping oil. 

When covered in oil, each round the victim suffers the following effects in order. They will suffer effect 1 until no longer applicable, then suffer effect 2 until no longer applicable, then suffer effect 3.

1. Eat through armour: The black oil will first eat through the victim's armour. Each round, the armour's AC bonus is reduced by 1. At 0 AC, it is destroyed beyond repair. 

2. Eat treasures: The black oil is drawn to magical treasures from the dungeon. If the victim is carrying such treasures, each round there is a 3-in-6 chance the black oil will devour it. When devoured, it explodes, dealing 1d4 damage to the victim. 

3. Eat the victim: The black oil deals 1d4 damage to the victim each round. Victims killed in this way become oil-covered skeletons (1HD). 

Removing a black oil requires fire or a gem. If burned with fire, each oil can withstand 2d8 (average 9) points of damage. The victim also takes this damage. If the black oil is fed a gem, both the gem and the oil are instantly destroyed.

The Returner faction seeks out black oils to feed treasures to, deliberately.

6. Witch Lanterns 

Certainly these are of the category of magical treasure, but are avoided as traps by burglars.

These lanterns glow with green light. Around them cluster 1d8 shadows which move jerkily, stutter-stopping along the walls and floors. Victims who are drained of their Strength rise as new shadows, bound forever to the lantern that killed them.

Extinguishing the green flame destroys all bound shadows. Most of the witch lanterns have been destroyed in the upper two levels, but some still exist in the lower deeps.

7. Shimmers

Shimmers are 10' x 10' manifestations of destructive physical forces. Difficult to see in torchlight, impossible to see in sunlight, but easily spotted in the dark: they are practically invisible, appearing only as a light glimmering in pitch black or like a heat mirage in low light. 

In a large dark room, shimmers can be spotted outside of the range of torch light automatically when moving at exploration speed. 

In a corridor, shimmers are more dangerous. The front-line burglar has a 2-in-6 chance (elves have a 3-in-6 chance) of seeing a shimmer directly ahead of them. A 10' pole is already too close for comfort: the burglar gets a +2 to their Save but might still be sucked in to the shimmer. The only reliable method of discovering them before walking into them is by throwing objects (like acorns) ahead of you as you move. Moving in this way forces the party to move at a maximum exploration rate of 20' per Turn.

Those who step close to a shimmer are allowed a Save to throw themselves backwards out of its grip. On a failure, they are instantly destroyed, their body ripped apart as if squeezed by an invisible giant.

8. Enchanted Wells

The wells that the dwarves carved into the Mountain have all been tainted by the dragon's presence. Drinking from any of them is perilous because their effects are unknown.

Delvers have mapped the effects of certain pools in the first two levels. For example, the well at the North Crossroads shrinks imbibers for 3 Turns (30 minutes) to a twelfth of their size (feet become inches). 

When drinking from an unidentified well, roll on Goblinpunch's Perfect Potions List. The result is tied to that room forever. 

Waters bottled in hermetic vials can be sold on the black market.

There is a 2-in-6 chance that any enchanted pool has a black oil haunting it each time the room is visited. 

9. Phantoms 

Revenants are not the only way the dead haunt the dungeon. Burglars may bring the ghosts of those they know, living or dead, with them under the Mountain. They manifest as phantoms. 

A phantom is a seeming, an illusion, made out of condensed smoke and light. They are physically present and can interact with their environment, but have only a Strength of 1. If they ever suffer a single point of damage, they vanish in puff of smoke.

To stock phantoms in your dungeon, ask your players questions and use the answers to build them into the random encounter table.

The phantom appears as...

1. A group of rival burglars

2. A beloved family member of a member of the company (living or dead)

3. An NPC from Lake-town that is well known to the company

4. Union guardsmen hunting burglars

The phantom is...

1. Desperate to tell a certain member of the company a random rumour: they treat this as an omen of utmost importance, no matter the subject matter

2. Spiteful to a member of the company, insulting them in a way that is uniquely painful

3. Eager to lead the company deeper into the dungeon, promising treasure

4. Quiet, following behind the company without saying anything

10. Blinding Sound

The Blinding Sound is a trap that is not tied to a location. Put it on your random encounter table.

The Sound begins as a low rumble, barely discernable. If the company is standing still and being utterly silent, they can sense it without a roll. If the company is moving at exploration speed, each burglar can roll to detect the rising pitch of the sound with a 4-in-6 chance (hobbits get a 5-in-6 chance). If the company is moving faster, they can only detect it with a 2-in-6 chance. If successfully detected before it rises, the company can take preventative measures. Burglars carry custom ear muffs as protection. 

Once noticeably audible, the Sound effects any who can hear it. Each victim is allowed a Save to plug their ears at the last minute. If successful, they are blind for 1d30 days. If unsuccessful, they are blinded permanently.

B.U.R.G.L.A.R.s Part 2: Dungeon Zones

Part 2 of my investigation into "What if the Desolation of Smaug was a Zone from Roadsic Picnic?" 

Part 1 is here. 

Maybe I should have called this series "Hobbits have a Roadside Picnic." Hmmm.

Dungeon Zones

Inns are the haunts of burglars--notorious drunks, all. All of a burglar's tall tales are told there.

"I saw the Old Wyrm making new passageways. He was digging like an earthworm, chomping at the stone. The stone was passing through his long body. The changing gasses were coming out the back."

"I heard the Golden One about a level below us. We ran. But when we came back to the Northwest Guard Chamber, there was a fourth door. I told Fatty to follow me, but he went through the wrong portal. I could hear the blinding sound start up - that's the Wyrm's roar - so I dropped to my knees and pulled my hood over my head. My eyes turned out alright, but I never saw Fatty again."

Extra Angles, New Passages

Both the union delvers and burglars agree that the dungeon's layout doesn't remain static. The current understanding is that there are three different configurations the dungeon can be in based on the phase of the moon when the dungeon is entered. 

New moon: The new moon dungeon is entirely the product of the dwarf's craftsmanship: the hall of habitation, the guard posts, the armories, the workshops, the forges, the markets. 

Waxing or waning: The dungeon's appearance when the moon is between crescent and full is similar to the new moon dungeon, but rooms with corners have expanded to add new angles: triangular rooms become square rooms, square rooms become octagonal, octagonal rooms become dodecagonal rooms, and dodecagonal rooms become icosagonal. Round rooms are unchanged. New passages, seemingly of dwarf make but unremembered by any map from before the coming of the dragon, connect these expanded rooms together.

Full moon: The full moon dungeon is the largest and most complex. The expanded rooms and passages lead to "new" rooms, halls, and chambers. These rooms appear to have dwarven architecture, but the art and symbiology found there is dreamlike and distorted. In burglar folklore, these new rooms have the deadliest concentration of traps but also the most unlooted swag.

Rumor says that special days of the year or special celestial occurrences (Durin's Day, for instance) reveal entirely new layouts.

Elf Time

"In that land, maybe, we were in a time that has elsewhere long gone by. It was not, I think, until Silverlode bore us back to Anduin that we returned to the time that flows through mortal lands to the Great Sea."

A notable feature of dungeon zones is what burglars call "elf time": a distortion of the passing of time inside the dungeon versus outside the dungeon. Burglars will emerge after burning four torches and be told that they were gone for four days, or a single hour, or an entire month. 

For good luck, burglars never call a missing burglar "dead" unless they witnessed the death first hand. They will refer to them as "lost in elf time." (You may explain missing players at your table in this way.) 

Rule: When exiting a dungeon, one player should roll a d6. On a roll of 1, elf time has occurred. Roll d20 and consult the chart:

1-4. No time has occurred outside. The burglars seemed to enter and then exit the dungeon within the same minute.

5-10. Time outside the dungeon is twice what the burglars have experienced inside the dungeon.

11-15. A number of days outside the dungeon equal to the number of turns inside the dungeon have elapsed. 

16-19. Regardless of how long the delve lasted, the burglars return one month later to the hour.

20. Regardless of how long the delve lasted, the burglars return one year and one day later, to the hour.

I was going to cover traps in this post as well but it got too long. I need to split it up.

B.U.R.G.L.A.R.s

When people give me a recommendation for a book, a show, whatever, I always say "I'll add it to the list!" And I'm not kidding: I have a list. It sits at the bottom of my To Do Google Doc, where I track my daily tasks. The list is organized by medium (book, show, whatever), but is just a comma separated list in the order the text was recommended to me. Some of the lists are hundreds of entries long.

This is all to say, people have been telling me "Roadside Picnic is really good OSR inspiration" for many years and I've said "Yeah, yeah, it's on the list."

Well, I'm reading it right now. And let me tell you something.

Roadside Picnic is really good OSR inspiration. 

If you have not yet read it (and I recommend that you do!), the essential premise is that several years ago there was "The Visit," where aliens landed at six sites on Earth (called "Zones"). They left behind changed physical laws in those Zones (weird gravity wells, mutagenic slime) and advanced technological artifacts. A class of smugglers called "stalkers" sneak past the government barricades into the Zones, braving the traps of the weird environment to recover these artifacts. 

One of the people who had been hooting about this excellent book was Anne, who posted about it on her blog. In her post, her conversation partner had the temerity to say: 

It also makes me think how it might be interesting to think about a version of The Hobbit where the desolation of Smaug was a Zone!

That is what this post is about.

The Desolation of the Dragon

"There was little grass, and before long there was neither bush nor tree, and only broken and blackened stumps to speak of ones long vanished. They were come to the Desolation of
the Dragon, and they were come at the waning of the year."

To say that dragons "create" dungeons is not entirely correct, in the same way that it's not accurate to say that the ground "creates" gravity. When a dragon settles in an area, it warps the area in the same way that a planet warps spacetime. The result is a dungeon. Newtonian physics no longer accurately describes the behavior of objects in a dragon's domain. We must switch to dungeon physics.

For most people, dungeon physics mean two things:

First, the existence of traps. This isn't to say pressure plates or poisoned needles. Traps, in this instance, mean hazardous environments that arise spontaneously in the dungeon: forcefields, walls of fire, poisonous molds, hell slimes.  

Second, the existence of magic treasure. In the presence of a dragon, once-normal mundane objects or areas may suddenly behave as enchanted: sewing pins that emit a deafening shriek, bracelets will spin forever when balanced on their edge, barrels that are invisible.

For dungeon philosophers (wizards), both are the same category of transmutation. Except you can categorize transformed objects that are hazardous to human health as traps and transformed objects that have neutral or beneficial properties as treasure. And, like medicines, sometimes the difference is in the dose.

And when you slay the dragon? That's just the start of your troubles. 

The Lonely Mountain and the Union of Five Armies

“I remember the Mountain well enough and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."  

One-hundred and seventy-one years ago, the dragon Smaug came to the Lonely Mountain and drove out the dwarves and men who lived there. A dungeon zone took root.

Today, the land around the Lonely Mountain is controlled by the Five Armies, each of whom is from a kingdom that lays some claim on the lands of the dungeon (the Dwarves, the Men of Dale) or the roads used to travel towards the dungeon (the Elves of Mirkwood, the Goblins of the Misty Mountains, and the Wolves of the Wild). This Union sends forth sanctioned delves of equal numbers to recover treasures from the dungeon and further their understanding of draconic incursions. 

Burglars 

"INTERVIEWER: You probably mean stalkers? 
DR. PILLMAN: I’m not familiar with the term.
INTERVIEWER: That’s what the residents of Harmont call the desperate young men who, despite the grave risks, sneak into the Zone and smuggle out whatever they find. It’s quite the new career."

Lake-town was founded after the coming of the dragon by the refugees of the kingdom of Esgaroth. A simple democracy, it provides something like a neutral space for the Union of the Five Armies. The residents have never seen the wealth extracted from the dungeon trickle down - the rivers have never flowed with gold, as they were promised.

Some of these residents take on the profession of burglar. A burglar avoids the guards of the union to make an unsanctioned delve in the dungeon. When they survive, they sell the swag to the highest bidder: foreign kingdoms, rich autarchs from beyond Rhun, or even clandestine representatives from member-kingdoms of the union (who each resent their rivals and think their sharing agreements unequally penalize themselves). 

But burglars do not have long lives. The traps in the dungeon are many, and only the upper levels have been partially mapped. Worse, those that handle the treasures rarely see their later years: the dragon sickness is a slow but irresistible foe.

And the less said about the sicknesses of their children, the better. 

This series continues in Part 2: Dungeon Zones.

Keying a Dungeon with Class-specific Descriptions (Microblog)

I bet you've seen notes in dungeon keys that say something like: 

The murals depict an ibis-headed god handing out the tools of writings to grateful humans. (Clerics know that this is represents Thoth, god of knowledge.)  

What if your wrote a whole dungeon with an eye towards giving out this class-specific information? It might look something like this:

A round atrium; the domed ceiling is cracked, and the sun's rays illuminate the room. In the center of the room is a fountain spraying water 15' into the air, which falls back down into a shallow basin. A plant like an enormous squash squats in the fountain's pool, long fuzzy vines spilling out onto the floor.

- Fountain: The fountain's water is equivalent to a potion of plant growth. 

- - ⛧: Magic-users can smell an enchantment in the water. 

-  Plant: The Devil's gourd will attack anything that disturbs the water, sensing its movement (stats in sidebar). 

-  †: Thieves take notice of an obscure scrawl on the west wall that's a sign in thieves cant that means "Monster."

(⚔ = fighter, † = thief, ☥ = cleric, ⛧ = magic-user)

In these examples, it's like certain classes have a special insight into the hidden/secret depths of the dungeon area.

One weakness with this method is that, in practice, the reveal would quickly stop feeling special or unique for your class if repeated throughout the dungeon. What one person at the table is told, everybody at the tables hears (same problem with perception checks). This is just another dungeon key, filtered through a little flavor.

You could go beyond just additional information by building the challenges to be toyetic for different classes, like this:

A catacomb. In the north of the room, there are several plinths, each with a cup of a different make resting on top. A suit of armor, covered in cobwebs, animates as the party enters.

-  Armored knight: An ancient guardian. He will attack anyone who approaches the plinths, stating that they must prove themselves worthy of the sangraal. He is living, not undead; kept alive for an age by his oath to protect the sangraal. Stats as a 5th level fighter.

- -  ⚔ : Fighters know they have the right to challenge the knight to a duel. A duel may be to first blood, to yield, or to the death.

- Plinths: Six separate plinths, each with a different type of cup. Taking a cup other than the stone bowl (the sangraal) from a plinth causes the dungeon entrance to collapse under two tons of rubble. 

- - Cups:  The cups are: wooden goblet, clay kintsugi cup, stone bowl, a wooden cup painted gold with fake jewels, a golden chalice, and a pewter chalice spangled with gems.

- -  ☥: Clerics know that Mythrys was carved from stone and refused gold and jewels. 

In contrast to my previous point that "everybody knows what every other person at the table knows," I have found in practice that these techniques, used sparingly, make players feel special. Saying "Only elves benefit from the magic elf water" makes the elf player feel smart for the character creation choice of choosing "elf." Everything in moderation, they say.

Another way to make class-specific details feel special is to keep them as hidden information at the table: the GM can text the player the details, pass them on hidden notes, etc. Although, the juice wouldn't be worth the squeeze unless it was the whole point of the dungeon: some sort of inter-party tournament where players could get secret advantages and access to additional loot and boons. Such a dungeon could look something like this:

A chamber dominated with a life-size chess board. On the east side of the room stand stone statues of black's pieces: pawns, knights, a king and queen, etc. On the east wall is a fresco of an ankh.

- Chess board: Stepping into the room determines what piece the PC represents based on their starting square. Afterwards, the board treats squares that would be "illegal" for them to step on as trapped, dealing 3d6 via electrical jolt.

- -  †: Thieves may move 1d6 + Dex bonus feet per turn using handholds on the wall, bypassing stepping on the chess board floor.

- Pieces: When a PC ends their movement, each adjacent piece will attack them once. Each chess piece has HD equivalent to their score in chess. 

 - - ⚔ : Fighters have heard a rumor that the person who deals the death blow to a chess piece will receive a number of electrum pieces equal to the piece's HP, deposited directly into their Centrum Bank account.

- ☥: Clerics know that whoever first touches the ankh will receive a random boon (see boon chart, page XX).  

What methods would you use to make this kind of technique sing?

A Bestiary

Herein I read the monster manual entries from OD&D in order and try to parse them into groupings and categories that let me use them at the table.

Every attempt to read OD&D is some sort of bizarre self mortification ritual. It's not the text itself, it's the grappling with it that's important.

This post is a quasi-continuation of my quickly-abandoned Domesday Book project. It is heavily inspired by Idraluna Archive's OD&D SOP and Gearing's &&Monsters. 

Normal Men

Bandits: Almost nobody, except for certain heathen kingdoms of Faraway, has a standing regular army. Rather, local kings will raise their banners and give out spears at the Weapontake, transforming Serfs and Peasants into Soldiers. When the war is over, Soldiers that have not won battle spoils (or won too many battle spoils) or who have no home to return to are transformed into Bandits. Bandit leaders carry ragged banners to kingdoms that no longer exist. 

Berserkers: Berserkers are Men troubled by dragondreams, which are sent out from sleeping dragons and shared by humans who live too close to their draconic lairs. Thoughtforms too large and too ancient enter their head. It starts as a headache, which leads to a certain irritability and belligerence. Soon, they learn that only battle will dull the sharp pain in their head. And they're good at it: when they slip into the berserk state, weapons bounce from their bodies. All berserkers have damage reduction 1-4 while berserk.

PROPER Berserkers are mighty of stature, hirsute of face and body, generously thewed and sinewed; their interest is not in war but in battle. In times of peace, therefore, they are dour and melancholy, with little occupation, save sharpening their weapons and mending their scanty battle harnesses. They are thus inclined to drink.

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Brigands: If Bandits are formerly conscripted Soldiers, Brigands are simple thieves and bullies who practice the same art without the history of war. Where a King cannot extend the power of his Knights, Brigands may take tax collection into their own hands and set themselves as petty lords over a road, keep, or township. 

Dervishes: The Prophetess declared that the world would not be remade until the True Song was sung by the four Angels that stand on the four corners of the world. The Dervishes are crusaders-cum-missionaries who pursue a solemn oath to find these Angels and convert them. They have left their home realm and, with steel and song, proselytize their religion.

Nomads: The Plains and the Steppes are strange places, magical and treacherous. The weather of that place is not like the weather of the world. It has made a strange people, both fell in battle and fey in mood. They tell of the time of Starfall, when the chariots of the gods crashed into earth and carved both Plains and Steppes in their falling. They carry the weapons of the gods in hereditary clanships. Their lances fire magical bolts stronger than crossbow bolts.

Buccaneers & Pirates: Those who sail the seas come in two varieties: those who have letters from an enemy polity saying that they're allowed to plunder your vessel and those who have no such letters. Beware them both, for the end result is the same.

Cavemen: There was a time that the Cavemen--who call themselves Morlocks--ate the Men of the surface world, cultivating them as a farmer cultivates cattle. But the gods have delivered heroes unto Men, who find treasure that enriches their lives and makes them poor prey. The Cavemen are always lurking, though, and in ancient times made tunnels that crisscross the entire world. At any point, they may emerge from an undiscovered underground portal and reveal an entire hive of them, teeming below.

Mermen: Mermen are like Berserkers--they have been changed by the dragondreams. But the dragons that sleep in the abyss of the ocean are not like the dragons of the earth and sky. Eventually, mermen follow their deep dreams and leave their families behind and walk into the water. Later, after a battle with the cursed mermen, someone might look down at a dead merman body and say, "Why, it's Damen. Damen from Two-Wells. I knew him from before. From before he was turned to this...thing."

Orc: Both Berserkers and Mermen are troubled unwittingly by nearby draconic influence. Orcs seek Dragons out and pledge themselves to them. They believe that Dragons are the engines that God uses to burn down and remake the world, and wish to aid them in this holy mission so that the new age can start, free from sin. 

Their devotion to their Dragon cult changes Orcs more overtly than those who only suffer dragondreams. As they take damage, their scars heal in strange ways. Broken nails become claws; broken teeth become fangs. 

The only thing that has saved the world thus far is that neither Dragons nor their tribes of Orcs coordinate.

[Author's note: Normal Men is given as a header at the beginning of the Monster section of OD&D, saying "There are several categories of Normal Men." But there is no demarcation for when we leave this section. I have chosen to draw the line here, after orcs.]

Fairies, Unseelie

Goblins: A child stolen by a fairy becomes a Goblin. Goblins are like children's nightmares: scary but simple. Cartoonishly evil, not really evil. Goblins reclaim tunnels and passages built by Cavemen of old, popping out from hidden pipes and stealing whatever they want. Elves regularly steal human children to use as currency in trade with the Goblin King.

Hobgoblins (Goblin Kings): A Goblin that eats other Goblins becomes a Hobgoblin. Goblin Kings are all Hobgoblins--their servants obsequiously serve them lest they get eaten. They get enormously fat on this diet and settle down for a life of sedentary rule, like Jabba the Hutt. When Goblin Kings go to war with each other, the losing king is brought back to the victor's chambers, where he is eaten. 

Ogres: A Hobgoblin who eats several other Goblin Kings eventually grows into an Ogre. With the combined strength of many Goblins roiling around their guts, Ogres are much more mobile than they were when they were Hobgoblins, and much bigger--almost a small Giant. Sometimes, bits of the devoured Hobgoblins all constitute the same Ogre, with several arguing heads or multiple quarreling limbs. 

[Author's note: The advice from Gygax that players can play monsters, but must start as a weak monster that levels up into a strong monster, implies a sort of Pokemon-esque evolutionary chain for D&D monsters. I've leaned into that implied worldbuilding here.]

Kobolds: Kobolds are evil Dwarves, warped by the Chaos auras that radiate out from magical items. The Chaos sickness makes them soft-brained, sickly. Individually, they are weak. Collectively, they operate in a strangely coordinated way--like ants. Chaos-sickness might not be a disease, but a psionic possession by some stranger force, from deeper within the Underworld. 

Gnolls: A cross between Gnomes and Trolls (created by the wicked wizard, Lord Dunsany). They have two types: Gnomish creatures the size of Trolls, and Trollish creatures the size of Gnomes. The less said about them, the better.

Trolls: Trolls lie in wait under bridges, in crevasses, at the bottom of latrines, and other such foul places in hopes of reaching up and catching prey. They will extort those they catch or eat them. Usually, Trolls will be sporting, and give those they capture a chance to match them in strength or in riddles. They are untidy with their bones.

TROLLS  are subject to sunburn, bad teeth, and warts. Assume the worst of Trolls; they are always barefoot, do not like to sit down, and their blood is black and scalding. 

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Fairies, Seelie

Unicorns: The Unicorn is sought after because there is much virtue in their horn. At a touch, it cures poisons. Alchemists can also make it into a potion of longevity and a variety of aphrodisiacs and fertility drugs. Because of this, they are universally wary and flee from hunters. They are occasionally used as mounts by Elfin dames.

Sprites: When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a thousand pieces--and that is the beginning of fairies. Sprites are Elfish ghosts. When they wish to wear flesh, they are "adopted" by an Elfish couple, who allow them to incarnate. When an Elf dies, their spirit returns to its Spritely form. A Sprite is naturally invisible but can become visible at will. Sprites come in two varieties: Nixies and Pixies. 

- Nixie: These Sprites dwell near freshwater springs, waterfalls, and pools. A Nixie-haunted pool bestows a random magical effect based on the Nixie's disposition--some are harmful, some are helpful. Being confused with Naiads enrages them, and they will attempt to drown the offender. 

- Pixie: These Sprites dwells under mounds, in flowers, or under mushrooms. When encountered, they are usually on some errand, which the players distract them from. They are excellent sources of rumors. Sometimes, a cloud of a dozen or so Pixies will decide to act as a godmother for a fortunate child. They will appear during birthdays and bestow blessings or magic items that turn them into Heroes.

FAIRIES are much more involved with Men than Elves, either setting things to rights or to wrongs. They have an unfortunate tendency to malice and mischief, and even though their original intentions are good they are woefully scatterbrained and forget their mission if the opportunity to tattle, stir up trouble, or inform on someone appears.

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Gnomes: Gnomes live hidden in woodlands. They are a bit bigger (and certainly more rotund) than Sprites, but smaller than Dwarves, who are their cousins. They concern themselves much more with birds and beasts than Men: they heal their hurts, release them from traps, and feed them in scanty winter months. Like Dwarves, they can advance their crafting skills to supernatural degrees. All Gnomes live in pairs and mate for life, giving forth a single set of twins from their coupling. 

GNOMES and Dwarves, now no more than distant cousins, originally came from a common ancestor. 

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Dwarves: Dwarves are craftsmen without parallel. Each year, a working Dwarf will produce a single masterpiece. To Men, these masterpieces appear to be magical.

Dwarves truck with Men only out of necessity, and only to learn their ways to better protect their treasures: Dwarven "adventurers" (such as they are) are usually journeymen who go into the world to further their craft then report back what they have learned.  Each Dwarf that leaves through their hidden doors makes sure he takes his Hood of Invisibility with him. They trade with Gnomes and Elves for foodstuff. They hate Cavemen, Dragons, and Goblins very much. They pity Kobolds.

DWARVES own all treasure underground and all treasure that originated underground. Dwarves do not steal; they reclaim what belonged to them in the beginning.

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Elfs: Elfs are the nobles of the Seelie Court, handling disputes and dispensing justice when such things need doing. They also call the other fairies to war and lead the Wild Hunt. They act accordingly: they are genteel, beautifully arrayed, and wonderfully literate. They are accomplished weavers, and their kite strings, fishing line, and harps are coveted. They don't get involved with Men unless their natural foresight indicates they should; negative reaction rolls indicate that the PCs must be driven away less doom befall their court, positive reaction rolls indicate that the PCs must be given aid. Rarely, a winged Elf is born--they serve a special role in Elfin society, and must found a new kingdom in a new location. 

Treants: Elfs awaken trees to serve as the guardians of their forest kingdoms. Treants are about as intelligent as sheepdogs. 

Titanomachy

Giants: In the Dawn Age, Giants were the rulers of all, but are now greatly diminished both in prestige and in height. Few Giants are under 12' in height, but may grow to any height if their long lives are uninterrupted. Giants desire to accumulate symbols of royalty to reclaim their "proper status"; they especially wish to capture and live in castles. 

As a Giant grows in height, they take on different honorifics. For example, Young Giants are "tall as hills," and are called Hill Giants. The oldest Giants have "their heads in the clouds" and are called Cloud Giants. 

Some Giants are Cyclopses. Although they have varied appearances, being stunted and malformed, they all have one eye. Cyclopses, unlike other Giants, cannot grow in height and power.

The very oldest and tallest giants are called Titans. They are all sealed away in the Underworld. 

GIANTS prefer to inhabit castles captured from Men rather than build their own; if no castles are available or suitable they will live in caves, on mountainsides, or out of doors. If they have a castle they make few improvements on it other than enlarging the dungeons for themselves and their prisoners; it is otherwise left to go to rack and ruin.

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Dryads: Dryads are minor goddesses who live inside the oldest trees of the forest. At night, they sing haunting songs and dance moon-clad through the woods. Those that join their reveries are placed under a Charm effect and induced to stay with the Dryad for a year and a day. The Dryad considers this marriage. There's 2-in-6 chance that upon being encountered, the Dryad already has one such spouse. Dryads die if their trees are ever cut down.

[Author's Note: Keeping the D&D naming convention here is personally annoying to me. Just call them "Nymphs" and have their elemental association determine a more granular name: Dryad, Naiad, Nereid, etc.]

Minotaur: The Minotaur was a bull-headed monster trapped in a labyrinth during the Dawn Age. Today, the term refers to a script-based disease that occurs when magic-users copy spells incorrectly. When a certain type of grammatical mistake is made, the magic-user is transformed and mutated: head swelling, protuberant growths, muscles swelling. The "bull-headed" appearance is poetic at best. 

Those transformed into minotaurs are compelled towards some goal under the earth, and dash into the tunnels built by Cavemen in search of it. Minotaurs do not speak, and only engage with those who try to slow their progress through the underground, though they also eat those they kill. Because of the similarity in behavior, some theorize there is still only one Minotaur--a singular logoform that possesses all those who suffer minotaurism--but these theories are untested.

The Minotaur is classically a bull-headed man (and all of us who have debated rules are well acquainted with such).

- Dungeons & Dragons, Monsters & Treasure by E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson

Centaurs: In the Dawn Age, Centaurs had a sophisticated culture--one much more advanced than human culture of today. After a failed rebellion against the gods, their race was magically lobotomized. Today, they live in small family-based herds in the wild. They are exceedingly violent. Negotiating with one is like negotiating with a polar bear that can wield a spear.

Wizards can dispel this curse on a personal basis, awakening single Centaurs to sentience, but have little reason to do so.

Hydra: In the Dawn Age, proto-dragons were common. One such was the hydra. Damnably hard to kill, if even a 1/20th of its body isn't destroyed utterly with fire, it will regenerate. That's why they're still slurking around in modern times.

Medusae: A race of cacogen from a distant star, stranded here after their ship crashed in the Barrier Peaks. They have bred (spawned? cloned?) somewhat. In appearance, they look like human women with the lower bodies of serpents. Their hairs are prehensile. From their eyes, they can fire a beam that stuns and paralyzes living creatures. They wish to return to their sphere, but the materials and craftsmen of our modern world frustrate this goal.

Pegasi: The gods keep a certain number of winged horses--the pegasi--in reserve and grant them to true Heroes in furtherance of their goodly quest. In the same way that magic swords can only be wielded by Fighters, only Lawful Fighters who undertake a worthy quest will receive a pegasus. 

Undead

Skeletons and Zombies: When a body is raised and animated by magic but the soul is not returned, an Undead Servant is created. Lacking a soul, the body lacks all self direction, and will continue to decompose and deteriorate. The Wizard (or Sorceress, Witch, or Warlock) that animated the Undead Servant must carefully and specifically direct the Undead Servant, who will follow the letter but not the spirit of their commands. Skeletons are stronger than Zombies, and smell better.

Mummies: The same spells that raise Skeletons and Zombies raise Mummies, but the target of the spell is the Wizard himself. Done as part of a death-ritual, the Wizard confines himself to his sarcophagus and breathes the last incantation with his death rattle. If done correctly, the Mummy is like the lesser undead, but is self directed since the target and the caster are one and the same.

Ghouls: Victims of a disease with no cure, Ghouls can only eat mannish carrion. Like Lepers, they become desiccated, with rotting skin and parched lips. Like Lepers, they linger outside of the city and ask for alms. They are all but blind during the day but can see at night. They are sometimes found in the employ of Vampires, since they both require frequent victims but eat different parts of the Man.

Wights: The Necromancer Lord was defeated in the last age, but his undead still trouble the earth when discovered. Sealed in tombs and barrows, Wights suck the life from those unhappy treasure hunters who dare to trespass on their burial places. They are vulnerable only to silver weapons.

Wraith: A Wraith is a Wight that has gathered enough power to walk abroad from its tomb. They make their way towards the remains of the Necromancer Lord's fortress. The Wise fear that when another Wraiths return to their master's domain, he will rise again to trouble the world.

Specters: Let us not call Specters monsters. They are just the lingering ghosts of those who once lived who have too much life left over. Animals signal their coming, first: Owls will hoot to warn you. Slowly, the Specter's presence will fill the place they dwelled in life. They usually want something. It behooves you to find out what, because they make themselves more and more known until they get it.

Vampires: Everything you've heard about Vampires is true: their ability to transform into beasts or a mist, their aversion to holy symbols and garlic, their need to rest in their coffins, their nigh invulnerability. They are savage opponents! Luckily, travel for them is difficult, so they are easy to avoid--unless you are trying to steal into their castles.

To become a Vampire, the following steps may be taken.

1. Be born of the offspring of a Witch and The Devil...

2. Lead during life a career of more than ordinary wickedness, dissolution, and sin...

3. Be a Werewolf towards the end of life, for this will give you contact with Vampires and you can ask one yourself how to proceed further.

4. Live in a Slavonic country. They possess the highest ratio of Vampires to people and odds are therefore greater that you will become one. Also, there is an excellent chance you will be bitten by a vampire and if this happens often enough you will automatically become a Vampire after death.

5. Die excommunicated from the Church, if possible by suicide.

6. See to it that you are buried with mutilated rites in desecrated ground.  

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Werewolves: Werewolves are humans brought to close to death by a Wolf but denied the chance to die. They linger near death as a Werewolf and can take a half-Man, half-Wolf form at night, during the full moon, or at certain times of the year. Duration varies depending on a number of factors. 

Werewolves are sometimes thought to be a sub-type of Vampires: a strain of the genus that lingers overlong in the wolf-form. Stories of "families" of Werewolves are Peasant superstition, told by wicked Cobblers. Stories of other types of Lycanthropes--Werehyenas and Weretigers, etc., are unfortunately true.

Werewolves are of two sorts: voluntary and involuntary. Those who have been bitten once too often by a Vampire, or have been cursed into Wewrewolfdom by a malevolent Witch, or have inadvertently placed themselves in the hands of an evil or incompetent experimenter with youth-giving elixirs and potions are all involuntary Werewolves. 

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Animals

Basilisk: A toad's egg incubated by a chicken, the Basilisk is the King of all Serpents. It's said their glance is death, but this refers to the fact that it can shoot a jet of venom from its eye. Indeed, they are so venomous, that they leave a trail of poison oozing in their wake. Merely touching it is deadly. They love to look at their own reflections (like many kings). They are opposed by the goodly King of Frogs. 

Cockatrice: A chicken's egg incubated by a toad, the Cockatrice is a less clever but not less dangerous than the Basilisk. Their venom is delivered by their spurs; it petrifies their victims. They use petrification to keep fields of statues fresh for later consumption. The Cockatrice's tears reverses the process. They are sometimes also called Cock o' the Field.

Gorgons: The "cattle of the gods," Gorgons are oxen with incredibly-hard scaled hides. They can breathe a vapor of petrification 1d4 times a day. 

In the same way that Australian possums (Phalangeriformes) were named for the Virginia possum (Didelphis virginiana) because people saw them and said "Hey, ain't you that feller from America?", the cattle-Gorgon are named after an entirely different class of petrifying monsters. See also: Medusae. 

Griffon: A species of winged Lions. Beast-masters of the lands of Faraway have been known to tame them and ride them--a right exclusively given to their shahs and sultans. Griffons are naturally hostile to Horses; even tamed Griffons will go berserk in a horse's presence and attempt to kill it. 

Manticore: A Tiger that eats a man becomes a Manticore. Like the Alzabo, it incorporates the man's personality into its own: whistling his songs, walking his roads, calling for his wife by name to come out of the house and be devoured too. The more men the Manticore eats, the stronger and cleverer it becomes. They also grow quite vain--gifts of fancy hats allow you to avoid their double rows of razor sharp teeth. Manticores sometimes form faux family groups with Harpies. 

Rocs: A breed of Eagles large enough to predate on Elephants. They speak the Common tongue. Though they hate evil monsters and the Unseelie Court, they claim a right to any walking thing under the sun as their prey, and have been known to swallow up Maidens, Hermits, and Elves. They are a proud race, refusing to be anyone's servants. Intimations that they could be used as steeds is their gravest insult. 

Horses: Everyone knows what a Horse is. All Horses count their birthdays from New Year's Day.

Dragons

There are six types of dragons that incarnate in this age: five evil dragons (manifestations of the Destroyer) and one good (manifestations of the Preserver). 

White: Manifestations of the starving winter. Their breath is like a storm of ice. They are strong against earth and water, but weak against fire and lightning.

Black: Manifestations of decay: the corruption of the body, old age, rust. Their breath is like acid. They are strong against earth but weak against water. 

Green: Manifestations of sickness, poison, and toxic plants. Their breath is a choking cloud. They are weak against air.

Blue: Manifestations of the destruction of nature: the thunderstorm, the earthquake, the tsunami. Their breath is lightning. They are weak against fire, but strong against lightning and water. 

Red: Manifestations of the coming apocalypse. Their breath is fire. They are strong against all elements except for water. 

Golden: Manifestations of God's promise to preserve Mankind. They are expert magicians. They also breathe flame. 

Draconic Abilities: For every 10 hit points a dragon has, they manifest one of the following abilities. The GM should randomly determine which abilities a particular dragon has:

1. Corrosive Spittle: Every bite attack that hits reduces the victim's armor class by 1.
2. Venomous Spittle: If a character is hit with a bite attack, they must Save vs Poison or become poisoned. If poisoned, they suffer 1 damage at the end of their turn. If a poisoned character is hit with another bite attack, a second saving throw is not allowed: the character automatically increases the damage they take by 1.
3. Forked Tongue: At the beginning of combat, all characters who can hear the dragon must Save vs Doom. On a failure, the dragon gets to make a surprise attack against each character who failed.
4. Clanging Scales: On an attack roll of 1 against the dragon, the weapon used is destroyed--blunted by the scales as they grind together.
5. Smoking Nostrils: The dragon can make an additional breath attack each combat.
6. Scalding Blood: On a successful melee attack against the dragon, the dragon deals the attacker 1/2 of the damage taken.
7. Lashing Tail: The dragon can make an additional attack every round with its tail: +[HD], 1d8 damage. 
8. Terrible Jaws: The dragon's bite attack is increased by one dice step.

Wyvern: A Wyvern is to a Dragon as a Duke is to a King. They are winged, and walk on the wings like Dragons from Game of Thrones. They are fond of songs. They have the Lashing Tail and Venomous Spittle draconic abilities. 

A Wizard Did It

Chimera: There are many known spells in a Wizard's repertoire with unknown purpose or uncertain practicality. The spell that creates a chimera is one of these. Yes, you can combine a goat, a proto-dragon, and a lion into a singular beast that acts more-or-less like a natural predator--but why would you? Why did the ancients invent this spell? Why was it passed down from generations? Why did you bother to gather these animals together and cast it?

Invisible Stalker: These spirits are called "Invisible Stalkers," but are more correctly named "Phantoms" by true scholars of magic. A Phantom is a temporary spirit, not one that pre-existed in another realm, given animation by a spell. Each spell that summons a Phantom creates one specifically for some task--like summoning a hammer for hammering or a pot for cooking. The most terrible of these are those summoned to assassinate. Once the Phantom has accomplished its task, it returns to non-being. The longer it takes for a Phantom to accomplish its task, the more the magic breaks down, and the less likely to succeed it is, which makes it break down more. Think Mr. Meeseeks. 

THERE are Spirits to whom time and space do not exist. They travel swiftly, circling and girdling the  earth in the twinkling of an eye, always to a purpose. These Spirits are sent or summoned, and they must be allowed to depart when their tasks are accomplished. 

Phantoms and Specters are the creations of magic and are not true Spirits; they are usually temporary and are intended to baffle, confuse, and distract you. 

- The Book of Weird by Barbara Nindle Byfield

Elementals: A Phantom conjured into a body of raw element--a boulder stone, a pond, a bonfire, a storm cloud, etc.--takes on a physical body and is no longer Invisible. These are called Elementals. 

Hippogriff: Because Griffons are hostile to Horses, crossbreeding them is considered impossible. Impossible, that is, without the aid of magic. The result is a Hippogriff, which is much like a Griffon in appearance but more equine. Importantly, the Hippogriff's flight is magical in nature and not bound by natural laws. A Hippogriff can fly to the moon. Those on its back are not troubled by the Chaos that fills the space between the spheres. 

Living Statues, Robots, Golems, Androids: Different names for the same concept, the fundamental principle is the same: create a Homunculus (a tiny person) through occult means, then build for him a suit of armor capable of being moved by his miniscule movements, then insert him therein. Note that they are different from Gargoyles (see below). 

Robots, Golems, Androids: Self-explanatory monsters which are totally subjective as far as characteristics are concerned. 

- Dungeons & Dragons, Monsters & Treasure by E. Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson

Ex Miscellanea 

Angels & Demons: The greatest of the Spirits are called Angels or Demons. They are of a kind, but have obvious differences in goals and temperament. Angels have their habitation in the Upper Air, from which they compose their bodies. Demons, being fallen, dwell in the Inferno, from which they make their bodies. In their "natural" shapes, both are Giant sized. Both may assume human or animal forms at will. Both categories have many divisions between Thrones, Wheels, Pits, Principalities, etc. 

In Faraway, Angels and Demons are given rather more Arabesque names (Djinn and Efreet). 

Devils seem like Demons, but are emanations or incarnations of the singular Devil. They sometimes keep company together.

Gargoyles: Despite their frightful appearance, Gargoyles are aligned with Law. They are carven by the Church as guardians, after all! A statue, after hearing so many sermons and after drinking so much holy water, eventually absorbs enough soul substance that it awakens. Gargoyles will protect the site of their birth, challenging those that approach with physical, mental, and moral tests.

Juggernaut: Of course, not all holy statues sit sedentary. Some are taken from their sanctuaries and paraded around the town on certain high holidays during the year. Some form the basis of mobile shrines, placed on temple chariots and moved from place to place. When these Gargoyles awaken, they are called Juggernauts. They move on a power all their own, dispensing justice as they move from place to place.

Purple Worm: Biochemical monsters grown by Cavemen before their degeneration for the purpose of hollowing out their caves. Left unchecked, their manipulated evolutionary processes have run amok. Purple Worms can grow to prodigious size. One is borrowing even now below the earth that is large enough to swallow cities. He is called...HIS MAJESTY THE WORM. 

Oozes, Slimes, Jellies, Puddings, Et Cetera: The same biochemical processes that created Purple Worms created a variety of gelatinous, giant, single-celled organisms that come in a variety of colors and levels of viscosity. Based on their color, expert Alchemists may deduce them being vulnerable or resistant to different elements, but these differences are mostly academic.