Quantum Blinker

This is a creature called a Quantum Blinker, which I've written for my upcoming point-crawl Night Land. 

Quantum Blinker

Extraplanar. Elite. Absurd. Psychedelic. 

AC 5 [14], HD 2**, hp 10, Att 1 x blood boil (1d6+2) + special, THACO 17 [+2], MV 120’ (40’), SV D12 W12 P13 B15 S11, ML 8, AL L, XP 30, NA 1d2+1 

Translucent, slug-like body, made of bubble like-spheres, colored ripples continuously play over its surface. Hovers, rarely touching the ground. Presumed to be from a parallel universe, blinks in and out of physical space, leaving a rotten smell. Appear blurred, as creature is out of sync with the physical dimension. Speaks a language that sounds like radio static.

Special: Distorts dimensions, can flip the quantum states of itself in the blink of an eye, essentially becoming a wave or a solid; after creature makes attack, it has a 1–in–6 chance of blinking away up to 30’ without foe being able to counter-attack; injects sharp needles of hardened light into victims within melee range, causing blood to catch fire, boiling inside their veins for 1d6+2 damage, save vs paralysis for half; attains nutrition from magic, players casting spells on creature must make WIS or INT save, or spell fails, adding 1d4 hp to creature; ten Sun Sprites (other creatures from Night Land) can cluster together in a swarm and attack these creatures as a suicide bomb, effectively vaporizing them both instantaneously from space and time.

Image: Stephen Fabian, illustration from William Hope Hodgson's 'The Dream of X'.

Faceless Drifter

This is a new creature called a Faceless Drifter, which I've written for my upcoming point-crawl Night Land. Amongst eight new creatures for the setting, this is most humanoid, the others being far more abstract and counter-intuitive in terms of how they're physically embodied. I'll release a few more in the coming weeks.

Faceless  Drifter

Abomination. Lurking. Heartbroken. Mindless.  

AC 6 [13], HD 1+2*, HP 6, ATT 1 x bite (1d4) or scream (special), THACO [18] +1, MV 180’ (60’), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (1), ML 7, AL Chaotic, XP 19, NA 3, TT None

Hairless humanoids, sexless, gaunt, rubbery skin. Roam in groups of three, moving incredibly fast. No facial features, other than a mouth with razor-sharp teeth. Sound like a death rattle, smell like crude oil. Speak, but limited intelligence of their own, merely able to mimic what it has heard before, mainly with a vocabulary of indecent language. 

Originally, these creatures were genetically constructed by Void Engineers, designed to be workers that could be commanded mentally. They are now mindless shells, which mysteriously reproduce with another, living in hidden colonies throughout Night Land, leaderless, without allies. Unloved, pitied remnants of a failed experiment, who now merely wander and observe, driven by a past, brief, but traumatic connection to people. 

Special: Once per 3 rounds, can unleash a frightening, soul-destroying screech as an attack with 30' range, victims must save vs paralysis or be immobilized with fear, unable to attack for 1d2 rounds; immune to mind-affecting spells.
 

Whoever Eats my Flesh

The PCs enter a damp, room with a thick fog covering the floor. The walls and ceiling are covered with plants. From the dense foliage at the furthest part of the entrance, a figure will walk forward towards the PCs. He is human in scale and is completely made of vegetation and looks to have long hair and a beard. He appears old, messianic, wise, joyous and friendly. The plant man is a former wizard that experimented with travelling between planes. Something went awry and now he is here. He will stop at least 30’ from the PCs. If the PCs speak, the plant-man will answer back. He tells them he has a gift for all journeymen entering their structure. The gift is a part of his body which needs to be ingested. He answers no questions and insists that investing his body will provide the answers the PCs need. If the PCs agree, he will move a small part from his body that looks like a yam and hand it to each PC. This vegetative matter is a hallucinogen which will cause various effects. Roll d12:

1. PC hallucinates and remembers their childhood. Begins to mindlessly sing lullabies. Is overcome by feelings of compassion and will be unable to attack another living being for 1d4+4 turns. 
2. PC falls to the ground and goes into embryonic position. Has intense hallucination which is ecstatic, with numerous profound insights into their own life. Hallucination lasts 1d4 turns. Add 1 permanent point to Intelligence. 
3. PC takes off all their clothes and begins rubbing themselves into sexual ecstasy. Add 1d3+1 temporary luck
4. PC sees time and space vibrating simultaneously. Judge can randomly determine 1d3 rooms in the dungeons which PC can have prior knowledge before entering.
5. PC develops telekinesis and can read thoughts of all living things. Lasts 1d10 + 2 turns. 
6. PC becomes disembodied and turns to spores. They regenerats in the garden and are now part plant for the next 1d10+10 hours. The plants will fall off their body after that time. Add 1 to Intelligence. 
7. Hallucinogen is poisonous to their system. Fortitude save (DC12), or 1d4 damage to HP and permanent loss of 1 to Stamina. If save is successful, then PC is so terrified and will suffer a -1d8 on all DC checks, initiative and attack rolls for the next 1d10 +2 hours.  
8. The plant man will answer 1 question in great detail the PC asks. 
9. The PC develops a third eye in the middle of their forehead. Add permanent 1d4 to Luck. 
10. The PC communicates with a greater god and switches to the opposite alignment. If they are neutral, they have a 50% chance of becoming Chaotic or Good. Effect is permanent. 
11. The PC sees such incredible and overwhelming visions. Will save (DC13) or they begin to poke one of their eyes out with either their fingers or an implement they have on them. Take 1d3+2 damage. 
12. The PC becomes ecstatic and splits into two. They now have a doppelgänger with exactly the same stats which they can control for 1d3 days, after which time the doppelgänger dies. It can be kept alive by dark sorcery. 

The plant-man will not attack the PCs. He is a wise guide. If he is attacked, whatever is cut by an implement will regenerate in 1d4 rounds. If he is burned, he will regenerate in random part of the room. If the entire room is burned, he will regenerate from a microscopic piece of vegetation in the room. He is impossible to eliminate completely and will always be friendly if he regenerates.

The World is Made of Words

The PCs enter a room where humanoid entities called Language Miners are operating some kind of free-standing machine full of knobs, dials, levels and chimneys of various widths and heights. The machine is made of an unknown material. The design looks like it could have come from the Victorian-era Industrial Age of the 19th century.

The Miners are using the machine to create language, the substance that builds the world. Letters of the alphabet rise from the chimney which initially appear solid, but slowly become a smokey, translucent substance and melt into air.

If the PCs ask the Language Miners any questions, they answer back with the following. Roll (d7):

1. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen you...we’ve been expecting you. We believe you have many questions for us”
2. “A mystery solved loses all luster...let us preserve the wonder of this event by leaving it unexplained”
3. “In this circumstance, I can think of no useful magic.”
4. “It’s creator would be proud to see such an inventive use for this device.”
5. “Your lives hang in the balance. What is your choice?”
6. “You have picked such an inconvenient time to arrive....I’m afraid we can’t attend to you at present. We are unable to take any questions at this time”
7. “We have some very, very bad news for you...what you are searching for is very far away from here. And by the way....you are all doomed.

Language Miners: (4 or more): Init +1; Atk language blast +1 ranged (60’ range, 1d8) or paralyzing scream (special); AC 16; HD 4d4+4; hp 15; MV 30’; Act 1d20; SP undead traits; immune to non-magical weapons; paralyzing scream (affects 1 target, DC 8 Fort save or immobilized for 1d4 rounds); SV Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +10; AL C.

Language Miners are about 4’ high and look like a cross between a Halfling and Dwarf. They are plump, have tangerine skin, bright green hair, wear glowing white overalls as a uniform with brown long-sleeve shirts underneath, and polished brown boots. When describing them, use the Oompa Loompa men from the 1971 film Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as a comparison. 

Stats provided are for DCC RPG.