Needle Blight - Dungeons and Dragons lore - Baldurs Gate 3 - Forgotten R...

Hello and welcome, grab yourself a tasty beverage, its time to get deeply nerdy, in todays video we are going deep into Dungeons and Dragons past, to the classic fiend folio and a rarely mentioned plant humanoid monster known as the Needleman, not an individual, but a whole species of wood-dwelling, intelligent, zombie lookin plant folks. From a distance they could easily be mistaken for well camoflaged wood elves, and as you get closer, they look and move kind of wrong, so you start to think they are undead zombie elves of some sort, but no, closer still, you realize they look like a cactus shaped like a person, covered in clusters of fine needles, about the length and shape of pine needles, but they are really quite vicious spines.

So what sort of ecology do these creatures have, why have you never heard of them and how have the changed and adapted over the long history of the Dungeons and Dragons, and Magic the Gathering?

The monsters found in the pages of the 1981 Fiend folio were collected up from fan creations sent into White Dwarf Magazine, back in the mid to late 1970's it was very much a United Kindom version of Dragon Magazine and covered a wide range of roleplaying games that were just as popular in Britain as they were in America, This was the era where D&D was spreading rapidly and found very rich ground in the UK, before Games Workshop split away from the original publishers of D&D, the company TSR, thanks to Gary Gygax basically shafting them, but that is ancient history. 

Without those events, we would never have gotten Warhammer fantasy and later Warhammer 40,000, no space marines, and so on. It is what it is. Since the fan who sent in the Needleman to White Dwarf magazine never actually signed anything other than a limited First Dibs license on the concept, and even that is a big maybe, because there are no records left either way, its quite true that TSR, and later Wizards of the Coast don't have any legal ownership of it, along with just about every single monster found in the fiend folio, including Githyanki, Norker goblins, Grell and so many other so called Iconic intellectual properties they claim to own.

Fun fact. They don't, their claim hasn't got a leg to stand on, legally speaking.

Trevor Graver, who sent in the Needleman which appeared originally in White Dwarf issue 6 in 1978, and the Galltrit monster concept, plus an article on Criminals as a character class for Traveller RPG in issue 19, optional traveller skill rules in issue 25, plus some RPG reviews in issue 34, along with more obscure fanzines at the time, such as Trollcrusher issue 27. Oh yeah Wizards of the Coast, some of us do the research and check the receipts.

Heh, I bet their lawyers throw darts at my picture on the wall in their office.

The needleman was later included in the Monstrous compendium for Greyhawk Adventures appendix in Second edition Dungeons and Dragons and the Monstrous Compendium annual volume three, and had a name and design change, appearing as the Needlefolk in Dragon Magazine issue 292 in February of 2002 and later on page 158 of the second Monster Manual for 3rd edition D&D, In fifth edition, the Needleman reappear as the needle blight and are amongst a class of similar plant creatures which include Tree, Twig, and Vine blights. 

Although there is no direct connection between needle blights and Cactus Folk from Magic the Gathering, I think they convert over particularly well, and there is a lot to draw from in the long history of these creatures in the game.

Alright, enough Sage flexing, what's the ecology of the Needlefolk?

While they do appear and move around as humanoids, including a total lack of roots, which means they have to drink water through their mouth, just like most humanoids do, they are still plants, their skin is a layer of tiny leaves which change over the seasons just like many trees do, a ruddy green in the summer months, and turning mottled brown and reds in the fall, while those in deserts where its always hot and sunny will stay green all year round, usually you find needlefolk in woodlands, where they wander around, looking as guant as a corpse, with a zombie-like shuffling walk, they don't really have any mammal sexual characteristics, hence why they get called Needle men. They really have no idea what the hell gender even is, that's just mammal stuff. To reproduce, the needlefolk just grow seedling pods which detach from them and grow in the ground until they can grow their own limbs and start to move around by themselves, so its typical to find a grove of related needlefolk, all basically identical to each other, with no real society, culture or leadership, their intelligence is not much higher than that of a turtle. However, and this is a bit of a mystery to the sages, many Needlefolk can be seen wearing tight-fitting yellow breechcloth underwear or occasionally what looks like the remains of ceremonial white robes. I do wonder if the material is made by them. I suspect the white robes are nothing more than the needle folk molting their old skin leaves, and the leaf structures also have little barbs that can be used, a kernel of an idea that the Needlefolk can grow their own gear which will blossom into a complete technology later on, as we shall see. The typical habitat of Needlefolk are woodlands usually, though there is no reason they can't exist in the desert they don't look nearly as cactus-like as they probably should, because they can hide so much more effectively in thick conifer forest, they will seek out such places to dwell if they can. They can survive winter conditions, even quite harsh winters, by dropping their leafy coating and going into a dormant state for as long as required, and normally they don't move around very quickly anyway, their movement described as Stately and graceful, but, when threatened or otherwise provoked, or they see an Elf, they become much faster, moving with the same agility and speed as a human. Needlefolk are communal and tend to gather in areas they find most suitable for their needs, so its rare to find one alone, and common to encounter anywhere from five to fifty of the things, which is a good reason they are so dangerous.

The Elves and Needlefolk have always hated each other and needlefolk will attack elven people on sight, luckily they can't see very far, the maximum effective range of their flung thorny needles is around 200 feet and outside that range, unless you happen to be making really loud noise of thumping the ground very hard or you are an elf, they won't see you as anything more than a blur, they can see quite well in the dark out to that range as well though. Elves can somehow be sensed up to 1200 feet away, nobody is quite sure how they do this, but its not supernatural, not a magical ability. Close up, their sensitivity grants them blindsight, making them difficult to sneak up on, and those finger-looking things on the ends of their arms are hooked and very sharp thorns that they can shred enemies with like a paw full of claws. If they can though, they will always rather retreat and use their ranged needle attack, as its more effective and less risky for them. Though they do attack in groups, they are not organised, have no leadership and they don't care what the rest of their group is doing or how many are being chopped down around them, they don't get scared and they don't negotiate. The one exception is elves, again, they know when they are outmatched and they will wait until a sufficient number of them are within range before they start an attack on elven people, but only if they think they are badly outnumbered. While its rare to see, they can actually speak the Sylvan language, with reedy and whistling voices that sound more like hisses and squeeks, a little bit like a dolphin who is very drunk. They speak slowly and haltingly, with a limited vocabulary, but they tend to understand sylvan well enough.

Needlefolk reproduce by seeds, which each needlefolk produces in the autumn. The seed pods are brown and covered with spiny thorns. Because they fall close to the parent plant, groves of needlefolk tend to spring up wherever one has chosen to spend a season.

Moving on to 5th edition D&D how have the needlefolk evolved and where can you find them?

The Needlefolk have now joined the class of malevolent plant creatures called the Blights, a far more evil class of monsters, now at least the elves have got a very good reason to hate them as much as the needlefolk hate the elves.

They appear in both the 2014 Monster Manual as standard one quarter challenge rating Needle Blights, then in Mordenkainen's Fiendish Folio Volume 1, on page 16 we have the challenge rating 3 Needle Lord and the challenge rating half Needle Spawn, the text tells us that Needle Spawn always mean a Needle Lord, a more powerful Fey Native version of the creatures, is somewhere in the vicinity and they are created by the Needle Lords from the seed pods it scatters around any worldly forest it enters and wanders around in, and here is the interesting new twist they provide for the spawn and a good reason for the elves to hate them, any seed pods will remain dormant, until a humanoid corpse appears close enough to them for the pod to become active and mobile, burrowing into the corpse and feeding on the decaying meat, then wrapping its rapidly sprouting tendrils tightly around the corpses skeletal remains, animating itself and lurching around looking a lot like a zombie.

One of the major changes to the creatures is that Needle blights don't have eyes anymore, they are restricted to a 60 foot Blind Sight, so, they are restricted to hearing, smelling and feeling the vibrations of movement of things fairly close to them and won't react to anything further away unless some other means exists to inform them. They also, in Forgotten Realms lore, gained a specific origin, which is a form of mutant, corrupted tree. The legend has its origin in 3.5 edition in the Libris Mortis undead sourcebook actually, where the first Gulthias tree sprouted from the stake used to slay the vampire Gulthias of Nightfang Spire, head of the cult of the red dragon Ashardalon. The stake destroyed Gulthias, but the vampire's latent magic caused the stake to sprout, growing into a sapling infused with vampiric power. A druid was said to have later discovered the sapling and transplanted it inside an underground grotto, where the druid nurtured the tree until it produced the first seeds from which blights were generated. Since then the blights can propagate themselves, but evil druids and clerics and cultists have been transporting the seeds to all sorts of places. In the Forgotten Realms Dale Recking year 1490, so, nine years before the current official date of 1499 in Faerun, the half orc anchorite of Talos named Grannoc cultivated a Gulthias tree within a ruined manor in Neverwinter Wood, northwest of Conyberry. This is from the lore in The Dragon of Icespire Peak published in September 2019, you can find it on page 44, and in Greyhawk, around 1492 DR a Gulthias tree appeared along the banks of the Stojanow River outside of Valjevo Castle in Phlan, causing the magical thicket around the castle to spill into the streets of Old Phlan and generating malevolent blights. This lore source is from February 2016 with the publication of the Reclamation of Phlan PDF for the D&D Adventurer's league, on pages 20 through to 22.

Those of you familiar with the Moonsea region of Northern Faerun and the activities of Zhentarim faction in the area will know that the Quivering forest near Phlan has a population of Dark Fey and Treants and a zone bordoring Mount Baratok that is also a misty border to one of the Domains of Dread.. the whole place is best avoided and still infested with blights to this day. Why avoid it? Well, wander too far into the mist and you may find yourself trapped within Barovia and the domain of the infamous vampire Strahd von Zarovich!

Gulthias trees are potent sources of corruption and can turn a whole forest into toxic, bramble filled deathtrap which spreads beyond its borders with supernatural speed, swallowing up areas previously the site of roads, farmsteads or even whole townships.

While the Needle Blights are now technically blind, they now have a form of alert signal in the form of a kind of pollen they release in the air that carries to any other blights who sense it in the air and immediately move toward the source of the pollen, swarming the area from all sides, a tactic we see perfectly represented in the Baldur's Gate Three video game.

In act two in the Ruined Battlefield - not too far from the Last Light Inn across the bridge and down the left-hand path- You can encounter a variant called the Shadow-cursed Needle Blight, expertly concealing themselves in the creepy vegetation, waiting to ambush your character, springing out in a sudden surprise attack unless the player passes a DC 30 perception check. Obviously, the numbers for the checks are a bit different from the tabletop version of Dungeons and Dragons, and the Shadow-Cursed Needle Blights are smaller, more fragile, and more numerous than the standard Needle Blights, though they still weigh 100 pounds or 50 kilograms, so not easy to toss around. They do have a great feature that makes them very effective when part of an encounter with a notably larger individual showing up, and charging into the midst of the player character group to release a burst of vines. These vines hamper movement while also inflicting a mild necrotic damage, but they are easy to destroy and fairly feeble, though I should warn you, the vines can't be destroyed just by using fire, which is a rare damage immunity for a plant. They don't have the standard Needle Blight claw attack instead the release bursts of needles, staying close and surrounding the player group, releasing a lot of volleys of spines that are quite strong, Larian studios does a great job representing the creatures lore accurate tactics and the fact their needle attack is a much stronger attack than their claw attacks. When killed, the blights drop wood bark and can also drop Shadowroot Sacs, which are vile smelling but alchemically valuable as an ingredient in making an elixer of viciousness, which reduces the target number for a critical hit by one point. In the game the shadow cursed needle blights will explode when killed, releasing a burse of needle, which, when chained together all at once, can be fairly devastating to a party of players all caught within a flanking circle of the monsters.

So lets take a look at the fey Needle Lord and its Spawn, then I'll introduce you to some recent lore from the Magic the Gathering multiverse and the Cactus Folk of Thunder Junction.

Needle blights, Needle Lords and Needle spawn has lost the ability to speak Sylvan and now understand the common tongue, but can't speak at all, Needle blights are still medium sized and appear humanoid, the Needle lord is larger, say, ogre sized and they have that special Raking Vine attack, though in the roleplaying game this is not an area attack but targeted at one foe within 10 feet and the needle lord can grapple up to two targets at a time, so, its like they lash out with up to two vines they can sprout, which also inflict ongoing piercing damage. Their needle volley attacks are rapid and while doing much less damage now, they have a 60 foot range and they can make up to six needle attacks per round, though no more than two of those can be against the same target in that turn, also each time a creature makes a melee attack against a needle lord, it takes 2 piercing damage. A creature can choose to make an attack with disadvantage to avoid this damage. Needle lords are known to sometimes form alliances with other malevolent species in the area, such as hobgoblins and kobolds, Black dragons, Hags and other dark fey. 

The needle spawn don't get disadvantage on ranged attacks while within 5 feet of a hostile creature and they have the same sort of needle volley attacks and claw strikes that the Needle Lords do, but not as powerful. They can be devastating against player character parties in 5th edition D&D because its a lot easier for them to get successful damaging hits in with the number of attacks they can combine as a group to shred their victims with, and it adds up very fast, so, players have to be careful to avoid being surrounded by the blights, making the combat a lot more intense and tactical. 

If your players don't get into the habit of diving for cover and trying to keep attacking the blights at a range further out than the blights can sense, they will most likely all get thoroughly murdered, and then end up just another skeleton wrapped in very naughty foliage.

In the Magic the Gathering Multiverse, a recent development after the Invasion by the forces of New Phyrexia saw a corruption and conversion of a type of Fae dimensional path network, you see this in the Feywild of the D&D Universe and in mythic outer planes entities like Ygdrassil the World Tree of Ysgard and the Norse pantheon, where the tree or sometimes a mycelial fungus network forms living connections between the different planes, demiplanes and worlds, in the Magic the Gathering multiverse, the conversion and forcing open of these portals resulted in what are now known as the Omenpaths, which, after the War of the Spark and essentially the Nerfing of all the Planeswalkers, is pretty much the only way any of them can get to different locations through the blind eternities, the vast void which is kind of like that multiverses Ethereal plane. When this event occured, on a remote, wild west style frontier world, home to a lot of folks who don't want to be found, these cactus creatures suddenly started to become sentient, essentially waking up as a new species called the Cactus Folk, they are a lot more robust than the Needlefolk, and have four arms on a humanoid shaped body, a largely featureless head, but a remarkable gift for biotechnology, growing living sidearms made from highly mutated and supercharged plant pods, growing their own protective garments and developing who knows what else in their well protected desert homelands. As I say, they are a recent arrival, not well understood, the live in a harsh environment and are quite aggressive when fully grown, a bit prickly, you could say... so I hope we shall see more about them and the residents of Thunder Junction and the outlaw town of Omenport.  So, circling back to the 5th edition D&D multiverse and the Needle blights, all we really need to adjust is give the Needle Spawn four claw attacks and alter the text and range on the needle ranged attack to represent the creature firing a plant pod sidearm. 

Easily done.

Ethereal Ooze - Dungeons and Dragons lore - Forgotten Realms

The Ethereal Plane is a realm of misty, dreamlike landscapes, where the very fabric of reality is twisted and distorted. The air is filled with a swirling mist that seems to take on a life of its own, coalescing into strange and fantastical shapes that dance and writhe in the flickering light. The mist is made up of tiny, shimmering particles that seem to be drawn to the emotions and thoughts of those who enter the plane. It's as if the mist is alive, and it's feeding off the energy of the plane's inhabitants.

As you move through the mist, you begin to notice that it's not just a random collection of particles. It's actually a complex network of interconnected threads that seem to be weaving together to create a vast, three-dimensional tapestry. Each thread is imbued with a memory, a strong emotional echo, and as you touch one thread, you can feel that echo, feel that emotional weight, the massing of ethereal mist into physical substance is not like, it manifests into wood and stone, flesh and bone, its more like, the weight of memory and emotion becomes too dense to pass through it, and that resistance mimcs the property of a solid object.

The Ethereal Plane is also home to a variety of strange and exotic phenomena. There are areas where the mist seems to take on a life of its own, swirling and eddying in patterns that defy explanation. There are also areas where the scenery seems to be shifting and flowing like a liquid, creating strange and fantastical shapes that seem to be alive.  Great storms can form in the mist and erupt in a maelstrom, hurling ethereal travelers along with it, or far from it, often throwing them into a random area of border ethereal, or even right out of the plane entirely, emerging suddenly from the border ethereal, lost and disoriented. Such great storms are a bit of a mystery, there may be many causes for them, they might be created by the emotions of godlike beings, or simply build up from the natural flows, just like weather patterns and cyclones on Earth.

he Ethereal Plane is divided into two main regions: the Border Ethereal and the Deep Ethereal. I had to laugh at the description on the D&DBeyond website, they describe the border ethereal as an empty echo of the material plane. EMPTY! I assure you, that is highly misleading. 

So settle back, grab yourself a tasty beverage, its time to get deeply nerdy.

The Border Ethereal is the region closest to the Material Plane, and is characterized by having structures and relatable distances, a sense of up and down, reflections of the objects and landscapes in the material plane it is connected to, these objects, landscapes, buildings, are often no more than manifested memory, the building may look perfectly intact in the border ethereal, only to reveal an old ruin when returning to the material plane, ghosts are very much a kind of undead which embody this aspect of the plane, they are more like persistant echoes, often repeating the behavior those spirits had in life, or repeating some great trauma, endlessly in the reflection of their former life, until one day, they fade away, or something else within the plane consumes or destroys them. That's the dangerous part of descibing the border ethereal as empty, it is a home to a great many creatures, not to mention beings with the ability to see into the border ethereal plane, via Truesight and other means. Do not forget that the Ethereal plane is where all the summoned spirits pass through on their way back to their domains and demi planes, this is an opportunity for all sorts of ambush predators, like phase spiders and Xil and all sorts of horrors to feed on unwary travelers. Much like the feywild, some zones of the border ethereal are like a story you become trapped in, much like the ghosts, apparitions, wraithes and other undead common to such zones, you may find yourself thinking you are following a logical course of action under your own free will, but in fact, to the spirits within that zone, you appear as a figure from their past, repeating the actions and walking right into a horrific scene where those spirits exact their revenge or replay the rage and torment that locks them into that zone, unable to leave. The Deep Ethereal plane is also home to entire civilisations, the Lamasu, the peoples of the Radiant Citadel, such hub locations are numerous and the populations are mind blowingly vast, but, they are simply dwarfed by the plane that represents and personifies boundless space, no matter how many locations and peoples fill the deep ethereal, they will always seem rare and scattered over vast distances within the infinite mists.

So, The Deep Ethereal, on the other hand, is a place of darker, more foreboding scenery. The mist here is even thicker, and it can be a place of twisted, nightmarish visions, where the unwary traveler can become lost in the labyrinthine tunnels of their own mind. The Ethereal Plane is a place of great power and magic, where the boundaries between reality and fantasy are blurred. This is the realm where the magical domains of powerful wizards and gods exist, Demi-planes, they can be created many different ways and their properties are often quite specific, a choice made by whatever created them, influencing any who enter them. Demiplanes don't always wink out of existence the moment the creator of force that generated them is removed from existence, they may linger for eons, slowly dwindling. Other realms are not so cut off and self contained, the domains of the Llamazu and many other ancient multiversal civilisations are massive, world sized magical structures that stagger the imagination, so, I say once more, do not believe any sage who tells you there are no permanent settlements in the deep Ethereal other than the recent addition of the Radiant Citadel, that is a flat out lie.

For example, by saying something like that, they are also removing the explanation for the fall of one of the ancient creator races on Toril, because it was a massive army of Llamasu who appeared suddenly on the planet from the their home in the Ethereal, demolishing whole cities. It's worse than lazy scholarship, its the equivalent to burning books of history and claiming they never existed!

OK, I have numerous videos on my channel detailing the ethereal plane, I could talk about it all day, but I wanted to talk about another Ooze creature, one specific to this fantastic environment, that may kill you, or possibly one day save your life.

The Ethereal Ooze is a fascinating and mysterious creature. It is a massive, amorphous entity that seems to be made of a thick, gelatinous substance that can stretch and flow like a liquid. Despite its amorphous nature, the Ethereal Ooze is a surprisingly complex and sophisticated organism, with a unique ecology that is closely tied to the Ethereal Plane itself. 

Each entrance and exit to the Border Ethereal Plane has a "plane curtain," or a layer that keeps the deep separate. These function as gateways to the multiverse and each curtain is a different color and can be identified fairly easily. Passing through these curtains has a slowdown effect, with time slowing to a tenth of what it would be normally. Of course, often a creature will be blown right through one of the curtains if send hurling through the void by an Ethereal storm, and its common for the zone around a curtain to be inhabited by such creatures as an Ethereal Ooze.

Ethereal Oozes don't track creatures in the material plane, they ambush and consume physical beings who venture into the ethereal plane, to do so they shift from an incorporeal state into a solid state and engulf their victim, transforming them into ethereal substance and then fading back into the ethereal mists again, often with a victim still being consumed by them, making escape particularly tricky. The game restricts us to calling this a form of Acid attack, but rather than breaking up solid matter and releasing gas, the solid matter eventually breaks down completely and becomes ethereal substance, part of the whole mass of the Ooze. Physical attacks are largely useless against the Ethereal oozes, magic weapons, spells or attacks that are themselves ethereal in form will work well though, but forget about trying to poison them, force them into different forms with magic or trying to stun, paralyze or otherwise knock them senseless, they just don't work that way, being mindless organisms. On the rare occasions they are manifested into the material plane, they are spooky things to deal with, they are silent as the grave, move through solid objects, including shields and armor, though magical fields of force work well at keeping them out, they don't remain in physical objects, despite mostly existing in the ethereal plane even when moving around and visible on the material plane, much like Wraiths and other intangible entities, remaining inside a solid physical object is painfully damaging if they linger within one, I mean, you can move through water just fine, but try staying there for very long and you are going to be in a world of trouble pretty fast, same thing with the Ethereal ooze, except its more immediate and a lot more painful for them. 

Now, if you just had the thought "But what about hiding in the ethereal objects within the border ethereal plane? Does that hurt them the same way?" and my hat off to you, that is a question that will save your life. No, it poses no difficulty for them to hide within ethereal objects, so, as always, keep your wits about you and never relax for a moment when in the border ethereal... empty! HA!

When an Ethereal ooze shifts to a solid form, they tend to become a more cubic shape, much like the Gelatinous cube, though a more irregular, sometimes clustered bunch of shapes, like a weird crystal formation, the facets shifting and sliding around and within each other as it moves around, not really fluid-like at all, quite unlike your regular sort of ooze. They have a few abilities you won't see in many ooze types, such as the ability to constrict their victims. The original stats can be found in the third edition Fiend Folio, but I have a full challenge rating ten stat block conversion for 5th edition on my Patreon page and in my discord server channel and patreon members section. I can discuss the features here though.

Ethereal oozes may have originated from the divine ichor spilled within the Ethereal Plane. Ichor, in Greek mythology, is the ethereal fluid that is the blood of the gods and immortals. It is said to retain the qualities of the immortals' food and drink, ambrosia and nectar. If this ichor were to be spilled within the Ethereal Plane, it could potentially give rise to creatures such as the ethereal ooze.

The ethereal ooze's ability to engulf and digest creatures on the Ethereal Plane could be seen as a manifestation of the toxic properties of ichor. The fact that an ethereal ooze can only be harmed by magical attacks and has a high resistance to damage from non-magical attacks could also be seen as a reflection of the divine properties of ichor, but then, it also reflects the difficulty of physically destroying a substance that can become intangible so easily. The jury is still out debating this topic, but its an interesting one. For those of you playing game in the Magic the Gathering Theros setting, divine ichor may be something quite important for your world building, a source of pure mana, but a dangerous and toxic substance, capable of spontaneously generating random monstrous creatures.

Can you imagine an enterprising adventurer painstakingly collecting ethereal ooze ichor, thinking it must be a highly valued material for spellcasters, alchemists and the like, only to discover the moment any of it touches soil in the material plane, it sprouts tremendously dangerous, toxic carnivorous plant monsters!

This is Dungeons and Dragons, stranger things have happened.

If divine ichor is the source of these oozes, they are very likely to be immortal unless destroyed, and may not have any form of reproduction, each merely growing and perhaps dividing into clones if a sufficiently huge mass of it gets split into parts large enough to sustain themselves. The geometric blobs of the ooze are typically flesh-colored with red and pulpy streaks within them if they have fed on living, material beings recently, the still digesting result of their acids reducing a victim to a revolting slurry.

Or Chum, if you happen to be a rather grim and jaded Githyanki adventurer describing the remains of a former team mate, well, as much of the remains she could fit into a metallic urn when she returned to the material plane and sought out a way to restore them to life. But thats a story for another time.

Oh yes, the fact the Ooze can shift between the border and material plane so easily, even with a victim engulfed within, means that, in 1378 DR two individuals, Cavatina Xarrann and Leliana Vrinn actually got transported back to the material plane by being engulfed by an Ethereal ooze, attacking it from the inside once it de-etherealized them when it crossed over to the material plane in its instinctual behavior of retreating to the border or material plane to digest its prey in peace. Something to keep in mind, but, not a method I would recommend if stranded in the ethereal plane with no other means to return.

Ethereal oozes are not sapient, not intelligent and have a neutral alignment, they exist to feed, that's about all they do, as such they are both a pest and a resource to many beings found in the ethereal plane. Ethereal slayers are very nasty looking monsters that will tend to seek out magical auras and locations where material realm entities make frequent crossings through the border of the planes and into the Ethereal. A slayer will suddenly emerge from hiding and use Dimensional anchor to prevent escape before attacking, but what's worse is the damn things will Plane Shift to actually pursue their prey into the material realm if they still manage to escape. You can find them in the second monster manual for 3rd edition.

The Ken-zai, otherwise known as Etherguants have been engaged in a vast interdimensional war for eons and while they are now considered native to the ethereal plane, this is just because they have remained there for a very long time now, but they were once material plane creatures, members of a robust and powerful civilisation that dominated a lot of the material plane. They have been returning to the material plane gradually for the last ten thousand years, reacting with violent and vicious xenophobia to all living inhabitants of the material plane. I am not sure what happened to them, or if something happened to the entire material plane when they originally departed, but to look at the unmasked face of an Etherguant is to invite gibbering madness on yourself, they find us equally horrific, and curiously, they also see all emotions as a form of madness and strive to eliminate all traces of it from themselves, resulting in a rigid and strictly regulated society that operates as a caste system, every etherguant has its role and purpose. They most certainly made use of the Ethereal oozes, not only employing the creatures in matters of warfare,  but also making use of the substanc of the ooozes to fuel their own weird technologies, much of which is unknown to material realm beings and very difficult to defend against or detect.

I once read an account in a scroll written by a Wu Gen of Kara Tur that a victim of an ethereal spirit known as a Gendruwo, a type of Memedi spirit, dragged a victim into the ethereal plane, and later, when a rescue was attempted, they say it was feeding on an ethereal mist taken from an Ooze creature that was digesting the victim, so, some sort of weird symbiosis was happening there I have not seen any other evidence of, but it was a highly credible source I am told. You can read more about the Gendruwo in the first edition Kara-tur sourcebook, or 2nd edition's Monster Compendium volume six, the Kara-tur appendix.

Oh, thinking of the Etherguants, sometimes creatures migrate from the ethereal plane to the material plane, a perfect example is the Ghosteater. Naturally incorporeal, they have evolved to spend most of their time manifested in the Material Plane. There they hunt ghosts and other ectoplasmic beings. They resemble phantom fungi made of blue or grey ectoplasm. Ghosteaters are intelligent creatures and communicate with each other, but choose not to engage with other species. They attack ghosts with enthusiasm, draining their wisdom by means of a tentacle touch attack. Once a ghost has all of its wisdom drained, the ghosteater absorbs its body into one of its fleshy sacs where it is digested over the course of a few days. They most likely see the Ethereal ooze as a pest for the most part, but, like the Gendruwo, maybe they can also feed on the ethereal substance of the ooze in a similar way, seeing it as a large bowl of jello, except the jello can fight back.

That's just a bare few examples, I assure you, the ethereal plane is not empty my friends, nor is the radiant citadel particularly noteworthy in the endless vast, there are far older, far larger and far more important locations to explore, far more species for me to detail in the pages of my journals and bring to you in these little video chats.

Green Slime - Dungeons and Dragons Lore

Oh so very long ago, back in 2015 I made a video about oozes in general, but today, I am going to focus on the Green Slime, a classic Dungeons and Dragons monster. Fifth edition players who are not familiar with the older edition versions will only know it as a hazard, a trap creature, found in the dungeon masters guide on page 105, but many are not very happy with such a bare bones treatment for such a classic icon of the game, and yes, it is an iconic monster, absolutely.

Ask any Dwarf and they will most likely begin by spitting on the ground and glaring at you for even mentioning the gods damned creature, then curse every drip of the slime in existence, and then say something like "BURN IT, BURN IT ALL!", mainly because the slimes are a common threat to mining operations and underground communities due to their tendency to seep down through the minute cracks and fissures of rock and cling to cavern and cave, mine and chamber ceilings, waiting to sense the vibrations of movement below and drip down onto unsuspecting victims. Outbreaks of green slime can become quite severe if left unchecked and its often left up to the priesthood to employ magic to deal with it.

This is one of the creatures that have been with the game since the very beginning. About the most major change to it has been with 5th edition, where it doesn't even appear in the core monster manual, perhaps in 2025, but not in 2014, in fact, there is the statement in the DMG that green slime has no ability to move... that is not entirely true. Green slime clings to the roof, but can also be found on the walls and pools or splatters of it can be found on the floor, but careful observation will show that the pools on the floor are very slowly moving toward the walls and the stringy tendrils of it are not running down the walls, they are creeping back up to rejoin the five foot wide mass of it up above. This movement is automatic, the slime is actually a colony of tiny organisms, it has no nervous system, no organs, no brain, it can't think or reason at all, it only reacts to direct stimulation and it drawn to darkness, nutrients and movement, it can also react to heat and cold in an environment, because it stimulates all the organisms in the mass, but local attacks with fire or ice will not cause it to move away, so, throwing a flaming torch on the floor will cause it to flow around the heat, it won't drive the whole mass of it away like its scared of the flame or anything. 

Green slime is very green, bright green and translucent, it has a more runny consistency than you might expect, kind of like snot, but it is sticky and not easy to cleanly scrape off a surface, so getting splashed with the stuff is a very unpleasant situation, washing yourself with water or even strong dwarven spirits is useless as only extremes of cold, heat, the touch of direct sunlight or spells create radiant damage or that cure and remove disease are very effective, ordinary weapons have no effect on it and using acid, well, that just makes the situation worse as the Green Slime dissolves organic and inorganic material alike with acid damage.

You may ask, why is cure disease so effective against this form of life? Well, its the fact that Green Slime can lie dormant for long periods of time in the form of microscopic spores, allowing them to both regrow over the course of several years after the rest of its mass has been burned away. Another good reason that dwaves hate the damned stuff, its very hard to get rid of it without divine magic, which does destroy the spores, spores which dwarves working in mines can't help but inhale, causing long term damage and lung disease. Not to mention all the other Underdark creatures that also suffer the same sort of problems and often don't have access to divine healing to prevent or cure it.

While Green slime is absolutely the poster child of the Slime sub-category of what are collectively often just called Oozes, it is in fact a form of life more closely related to plants, and its closest relative is another type of slime called the Olive Slime (you can find them in the second edition Monstrous Manual, one of my favorite monster manuals, aside from its lack of an index, so, they are on page 276, just to save you some page flipping), to quote directly from the source "more dangerous than green slime, olive slime favors moist, subterranean regions. It feeds on whatever animal, vegetable, or metallic substances happen acroos it's path. The vibrations of a creature beneath it are sufficient to cause it to release it's tendrils and drop" - so you see, tendrils both anchor and extend out from the main mass, searching for nutrients or flowing over a source of nourishment, but they are not grasping or manipulating limbs like a pseudopod sort of structure. You can float via levitation right over pool of the stuff and unless you breathe on it or otherwise disturb it, its not going to react and it certainly can't reach out and grab you like a mimic can. "Olive slime ignores armor for the purposes of determining hit probability. It also negates dexterity bonuses unless the target is aware of the presence of the slime and takes steps to avoid the stuff. Contact with Olive slime causes a numbing poison to ooze from the creature." - this is why olive slime is so much more deadly, with green slime the first sensation is a sharp itching which ramps up to a burning sensation from the acid, very quickly feeling like the area is on fire and its a natural reaction for most dungeon crawlers inexperienced in such things to try dousing themselves with a water or wine skin to try and stop it, but that has almost no effect what-so-ever. "The olive slime then spreads itself over the body of it's victim, sending out parasitic tendrils to feed upon the body fluids of the host. For humans and demihumans, the point of attachment is usually along the spinal area. The feeding process soon begins to affect the brain of the host as it changes the host's body. An unobservant victim must roll a saving throw against the poison, failure indicating that the victim has not noticed that the olive slime has dropped on them." So, its never a good idea to travel by yourself underground, keep your companions close and keep a wary eye on each other.

"Within 24 hours, the host's main concern becomes how to feed, protect, and sustain the growth of the olive slime. Naturally, this includes keeping the slime's presence a secret from any companions." - and here is where you start to send private notes to the player, informing them what is going on secretly with their character, prompting severe temptation to metagame from the other players, who suddenly get VERY curious about their fellow adventurer for no obvious, in-game reason. I recommend promising the host of the slime some special rewards the longer they can keep the other players ignorant of what is going on with them. 

"If the other characters become legitimately suspicious, or if they demonstrate any desire to destroy the olive slime, the affected character will escape at the first opportunity." - yep, they run off on their own, dividing the party, probably running right into something bloody terrible which lands everyone in a world of hurt, with one member of the group out of action. From there, the host becomes ravenously hungry and they must consume twice as much food as they normally would otherwise they start to waste away rapidly from severe starvation, a kind of damage that healing magic can do nothing about, as they lose up to 10% of their hit points per day. After seven to twelve days the host erupts in staggering agony and physically transforms into a vegetable creature, with the olive slime gradually replacing skin, muscle tissue and forms a symbiotic link to their brain. From that point, the host is no longer the person they once were, they fail to recognize their friends and have no interest in things like tools, clothing, equipment or other humanoid concerns, it exists as a new species more like a plant than another form of life and it converts to feeding via photosynthesis and converting other life forms, feeding on their fluids. In many ways, the Olive slime acts like the complete opposite of the green slime, as it can only be harmed by Acid, freezing cold, fire or disease curing magic, it is also, unlike the green slime, vulnerable to magic that withers and kills, or controls plants. If olive slime and green slime encounter each other, the attack of one completely neutralizes the attack of the other, rendering them both quite safe, however, this is no cure for a fully converted Olive slime creature, only something like a wish spell can restore them completely.

Slime creatures of all kinds have a kind of telepathic bond with each other that extends up to 200 yards or 180 meters (thats 180 regular strides by a six foot tall human, if that helps picture the distance), clearly this is not mental in nature, it's a chemical or vibration thing, probably the latter, in either case it allows the slimes to gather together for mutual assistance while feeding or for defense. Slime converted creatures that are killed will dissolve and become a pool of the living slime, so be ready to exterminate them with fire the moment they drop.

Probably the most horrific outbreak of olive slime infection, now sadly lost to history, occured in the empire of Netheril, when some immoral idiot used the spores as a component in some exfoliating salve that has a wondrously restorative effect on wrinkled and damaged skin, imparting a more and more youthful appearance, and even worse, it was quite stable and safe at first, unless exposed to sunlight for more than a six hours, at which point, it became fully active Olive Slime. You can imagine the absolute mayhem and horror that ensued, a lot of people died, the perpetrators, having sold a lot of it to quite powerful and vain magic users, were subject to extremely unpleasant forms of execution that I will not repeat here, there is a place in the Anuaroch desert, down a hidden chasm and among some very dangerous ruins, where the spirits of those criminals still linger, if you want to go ask them yourself.

I don't advise you do that, I'm just saying, they are there... what's left of them.

Green, olive and other slime creatures are generally fine with living in damp areas, underground mostly, but also dark forests, swamps and fens. The slimes are also totally comfortable living in or moving through shallow bodies of water, in which case they tend to kill off a lot of other water hazards like leeches and stonefish, coral snails and the like, but, they are very difficult to detect in the water and the numbing olive slime is far more dangeous than a bunch of leeches.

We have some slightly more accurate details on just how potent the acid of the Green slime is, in 2nd edition D&D it states that the slime can completely devour a creature within one to four rounds with no resurrection possible, it would also eat through one inch of solid oak an hour but can go through metal much faster, dissolving plate armor in three melee rounds. The horrid growth can be scraped off quickly, cut away, frozen or burned and a cure disease will kill it, but other attacks from weapons and spells have no effect. Green slime hates light and feeds on animal, vegetable and metallic substances in dark places, since it can't move around and hunt, it only grows when food comes to it. Oh, I should mention, sunlight doesn't immolate the stuff like it was a vampire, it just dries it out and eventually kills it, but will leave a lot of dormant spores behind. Its rare to find really huge collections of green slime outside of places like the slime pits of the 22nd layer of the abyss, but there is a lot of it in the haunted halls of Evenstar, a dungeon located in Cormyr in the forgotten realms, up near the border with the dangerous, goblin infested stonelands. I know Green slimes could be kept for garbage and waste disposal. In the House of the Moon in Waterdeep, a well-looked-after green slime was kept in a large stone tub in the kitchen; a senior priest stood by with a staff of curing in case it got out of control. Other green slimes were kept in the cesspits below the privies, according to the sourcebook Powers and Pantheons, written by the legendary Eric L. Boyd.

Oh yes, shoutout to MrRhexx here, What they don't tell you about Green Slime, according to Ed Greenwood in the Swords of Eveningstar, When the acidic ooze touched its next meal, it started to emit foul-smelling smoke, reminiscent of swamp, earthly decay and eels.

So, there you go.

Wanarra Dragon - Creatures of Osse - Forgotten Realms Homebrew

The Wanarra dragons of Osse are among the most ancient and powerful creatures that roam this vast, mystical continent. Unlike their chromatic, metallic, or gem dragon counterparts, these serpentine beings do not follow familiar draconic archetypes. They do not serve cosmic forces of good or evil, nor do they hoard treasure or seek dominion over mortals. Instead, the Wanarra are deeply tied to Osse’s unique geography and spiritual essence, acting as elemental and spiritual guardians of the land itself. Their very existence is a manifestation of the Dreamtime, a realm that weaves through both the physical and metaphysical aspects of life in Osse.

The Dreamtime is an intrinsic part of Osse’s identity, a vast spiritual realm where time, space, and the forces of creation mingle and interact. For the Aboriginal Ozlanders—humans and demihumans—the Dreamtime is both a mythic origin and an ongoing reality. The Wanarra dragons are considered living embodiments of this realm. Their long, sinewy bodies shimmer in the muted tones of Osse's rugged terrain, their scales a reflection of the land itself: burnt reds of the deserts, deep browns of the cliffs, and the sandy ochre of its endless plains. Unlike many other dragons, the Wanarra’s wings are not the grand, leathery appendages that dominate the skies of Faerûn but rather smaller, frilled limbs used primarily for displays of intimidation and ritual.

Though physically imposing, the Wanarra’s true power lies in their elemental and psychic abilities, which reflect their deep connection to the Dreamtime and the forces of nature. Their breath weapon is not fire or lightning, but rather a devastating superheating of the air around them. This attack rapidly raises the temperature in a vast area, incapacitating all living creatures caught within it. The heat is so intense that it overwhelms the senses, leaving enemies gasping for breath and physically unable to fight. At the same time, all flammable objects are instantly set alight, transforming dry vegetation or wooden structures into blazing infernos. This ability, while highly destructive, is used sparingly, as the Wanarra prefer to maintain balance rather than wreak unnecessary devastation upon the land they protect.

Another of the Wanarra’s formidable abilities is their mastery of psionics, a rare and powerful form of mental magic. The Wanarra can project the consciousness of their enemies out of their physical bodies, forcing them to transition into the Dreamtime. For those unfamiliar with this ethereal realm, the transition is disorienting and perilous. Stripped of their physical form, enemies must contend with the strange and often hostile spirits and creatures that dwell within the Dreamtime, making it a dangerous place to be trapped. While their bodies remain in the material world, their spirits are effectively lost unless they can find a way back—a nearly impossible task without the Wanarra’s guidance.

The Wanarra dragons are also masters of geomancy, the magic of manipulating the earth itself. This ability is not an inherent part of their nature but rather a deeply learned craft, passed down through millennia of ritual and study. Through powerful spells, the Wanarra can raise mountains, summon storms, or reshape the land itself to protect the balance of Osse. One of their most renowned spells, "Make Mountain," allows a Wanarra to physically alter the landscape, raising towering peaks from flat plains or sinking entire areas into deep chasms. These geomantic powers are not easily wielded, and most mortal spellcasters would find them impossible to perform without the blood of a Wanarra to fuel the rituals.

While the Wanarra are deeply connected to the land, they also serve as the primary guardians against an ancient and malevolent threat: the Spider Demons of the Spider Wastes. These demons are remnants of a conflict that predates even the rise of Lolth, a war between the cosmic forces of Law and Chaos known as the Rod of Seven Parts War. Long ago, the Queen of Chaos, a being so ancient and powerful that her true name has been erased from all records, waged war to dismantle the ordered structure of the multiverse. Her champion was Miska the Wolf Spider, a demon lord who served as her general, leading an army of chaotic forces in a bid to unmake the lawful gods and plunge the cosmos into chaos.

Miska’s army of Spider Demons played a pivotal role in this war, their chaotic nature reflecting the relentless, destructive will of their master. However, the forces of Law triumphed when Miska was defeated by the Rod of Law, an artifact so powerful that it shattered upon impact, breaking into the Rod of Seven Parts. The shattering of the rod incapacitated Miska, leaving him a fractured husk, imprisoned in the Abyss, and bringing an end to the Queen of Chaos’s dominion. Although Miska no longer walks the material plane, his vassals, the Spider Demons, remain, eternally devoted to the impossible task of restoring their master.

The Spider Demons of Osse, though few in number, are driven by a singular obsession: to revive Miska and overthrow Demogorgon, who now rules the Abyss. From their stronghold in the Spider Wastes—a desolate desert that no sane traveler would venture into—the Spider Demons conduct dark rituals and construct elaborate monuments to their fallen master. These demons are more than mindless agents of destruction. Their efforts are methodical, each action carefully designed to nudge the cosmic balance back in favor of chaos.

The Spider Demons’ rituals involve the use of Blood Sand Mud, a gruesome material created from the blood and ichor of their victims, mixed with the sands of the Wastes. This mud is shaped into grotesque monuments that serve as altars to Miska and the Queen of Chaos. The structures are often adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from the Rod of Seven Parts War, celebrating their victories over the forces of law and order. These monuments are not merely decorative; they act as conduits for the chaotic energies that once sustained Miska’s armies. The Spider Demons believe that by constructing these monuments and performing their rituals, they can amass enough chaotic power to break the chains that bind Miska in the Abyss.

One of the most disturbing aspects of these monuments is the way they interact with the environment. The chaotic magic woven into their construction allows them to manipulate the winds and other natural forces, creating eerie, unnatural sounds that fill the air around them. These sounds—screams, whispers, and the ghostly wails of tormented souls—haunt the areas near the Spider Demons’ strongholds, driving any who hear them mad with terror. The demons also string webs of demon slime and the entrails of their victims between the monuments, creating grotesque patterns that only they can understand. These webs serve as both physical traps and spiritual snares, binding the souls of their victims into the chaotic energy that powers their dark rituals.

The Wanarra dragons are the only true force capable of containing the Spider Demons. For centuries, they have patrolled the borders of the Spider Wastes, using their geomantic powers to ensure that the demonic forces do not spread beyond the desert. While the Wanarra cannot destroy the Spider Demons outright, their ability to manipulate the land allows them to control the demons’ movements, reshaping the terrain to prevent them from escaping their prison. The Wanarra are also able to phase between the material plane and the Dreamtime, allowing them to monitor the Spider Demons from a distance, intervening when necessary to stop particularly dangerous rituals.

Despite the Wanarra’s vigilance, the Spider Demons occasionally manage to slip past their defenses, venturing into the coastal regions of Osse to spread chaos and destruction. These excursions are often brief but devastating, leaving behind scarred landscapes and shattered minds. The Spider Demons are adept at corrupting the weak-willed, and their influence has spread to certain Lizardfolk species that live near the Spider Wastes. The Thorny Lizardfolk, Bluetongue Lizardfolk, and Goanna Lizardfolk have all been corrupted by the chaotic energy of the Spider Demons, and now serve as their loyal minions.

The Thorny Lizardfolk, with their spiked, armored scales, act as brutal enforcers for the Spider Demons, raiding neighboring tribes and taking captives to sacrifice in dark rituals. The Bluetongue Lizardfolk, known for their venomous bite, have become adept at channeling chaotic energy in both battle and sacrifice, their venom now infused with demonic magic. The Goanna Lizardfolk are the most cunning of the three, acting as spies and infiltrators, undermining the efforts of the uncorrupted Lizardfolk tribes that seek to resist the Spider Demons' influence.

The Wanarra dragons are well aware of the threat these corrupted Lizardfolk pose. While the dragons have the power to devastate entire armies with their breath weapon or psionic abilities, they often prefer to use their geomantic powers to isolate and contain the corrupted tribes. By reshaping the land around them, the Wanarra can prevent the spread of the Spider Demons' influence, cutting off their minions from reinforcements and supplies. However, the corrupted Lizardfolk remain a constant threat to the uncorrupted tribes, launching raids and ambushes in an effort to weaken the Wanarra’s control over the region.

Despite their immense power, the Wanarra cannot be everywhere at once. The Native Ozlanders and the Marsupial folk, who share the land with the Lizardfolk, are often caught in the crossfire of the battle between the Wanarra and the Spider Demons. The uncorrupted Lizardfolk tribes rely on the Wanarra for protection, but they must also defend themselves against the constant threat of raids from their corrupted kin. The presence of the Spider Demons has turned much of the central desert into a war zone, where the balance of power shifts with every battle.

The Spider Demons, for their part, remain committed to their goal of resurrecting Miska and overthrowing Demogorgon. They continue their rituals in the Spider Wastes, building new monuments and performing dark sacrifices in the hope that one day, they will amass enough power to free their master. While their ambitions are ultimately doomed to failure, their fanaticism makes them a relentless and dangerous foe. The Wanarra, knowing that the Spider Demons’ plans can never fully succeed, remain ever-vigilant, but their battle is one of attrition, a ceaseless struggle to maintain the balance between chaos and order.

Lizard Folk of Osse Homebrew Forgotten Realms Lore

Osse, often referred to as a fantastical version of Australia on the world of Toril, is a vast and untamed land teeming with reptilian species, diverse birdlife, insects, plants, and other strange creatures. Its environments range from sun-scorched deserts to humid coastal regions, fostering some of the most resilient and bizarre forms of life. Giant marsupial predators, venomous insects, and peculiar flora have all adapted to the continent’s harsh conditions, creating a world where survival is a daily struggle.

Reptilian life dominates much of Osse, particularly the many species of lizardfolk that have thrived in various habitats. The birdlife, too, is astounding, from vibrant tropical species that fill the jungle canopies with their calls to massive, flightless birds that stalk the plains. The insect population, while beautiful in its diversity, can be deadly, featuring everything from immense beetles to venomous species capable of incapacitating a human in mere moments. The flora of Osse has evolved alongside these creatures, with many plants developing toxins, spines, and other defenses to deter the continent's voracious predators. Every living thing on Osse has adapted in some way to the relentless challenges posed by its unforgiving environment.

The Komodo, towering brutes resembling humanoid Komodo dragons, are infamous for their slow and lethargic nature, though this changes drastically once they catch the scent of blood. At that moment, they enter a berserk frenzy, unleashing violent and deadly attacks with their crude yet powerful stone axes, carved from the volcanic rocks of their homeland. These creatures are not to be underestimated in combat, as their sluggish demeanor belies the sudden speed and ferocity they can display when provoked.

They inhabit remote islands off the coast of Osse, preferring rocky, forested areas where prey is plentiful. Their shelters are simple and functional, consisting of large stone slabs supported by sturdy wooden beams, providing basic cover from the elements. These structures are crude but effective, often blending into the rugged landscape of the islands.

Komodo culture is steeped in blood rituals, which are central to their identity. During these rites, a powerful member of the tribe sacrifices a captured creature, often a large boar or a fallen enemy, as an offering to the primal spirits they believe govern the world. The blood is spilled onto sacred stones, and the tribe gathers in a circle, silently watching the ritual until the frenzied eating begins. This communal feasting strengthens their bond, and the blood rites mark transitions of power, the initiation of warriors, or the forging of alliances.

The Komodo diet consists primarily of large game, including boar, deer, and even other humanoids when opportunity allows. They are voracious eaters, consuming their prey entirely, leaving nothing behind. Their powerful jaws and teeth can crush bones, and they have a particular taste for meat. However, they are also opportunistic, foraging for fruit, roots, and plants when hunting is scarce.

Their equipment is simple but effective—stone axes, spears, and the occasional club. These weapons are primitive in design but deadly in the hands of the Komodo. They also craft armor from the bones of their prey, strapping large plates to their bodies as makeshift protection in battle. Despite their brute strength, they show little interest in complex tools or weapons, preferring raw power over finesse.

The Komodo social structure is based on strength, with the strongest and fiercest warriors leading their tribes. Leadership is often contested in ritual combat, where rivals fight to the death or until one is too wounded to continue. The victor claims leadership, and their rule is respected until they are challenged once again. The tribe is composed of smaller family units, with warriors, hunters, and gatherers working together for survival. Though they are primarily solitary hunters, they band together during times of war or blood rites.

Their language is a guttural mix of clicks, growls, and hisses, difficult for outsiders to understand. However, it’s been observed that certain words carry particular significance. The word for “blood,” Grahk, is often used in rituals, while Korrak is a term used to refer to battle or combat. Diplomacy with the Komodo is dangerous, and understanding their language is key to avoiding conflict.

Avoiding violence with the Komodo requires a careful approach. They are quick to anger, and any display of weakness or fear will provoke them into action. Offering food, particularly fresh meat, can help ease tensions, as they are more likely to see a well-fed outsider as less of a threat. It is also important to avoid direct eye contact, which they perceive as a challenge. Trading with the Komodo is rare, but possible. They value weapons, particularly those made of metals they cannot craft themselves, and offering such items may ensure safe passage through their lands.

The Komodo life cycle begins with eggs, which are laid in the sandy shores of their island homes. Once hatched, the young are left to fend for themselves, and only the strongest survive. As they grow, they slowly integrate into the tribe, first as gatherers, then as hunters. By the time they reach full adulthood—around twenty years of age—they are considered warriors. The Komodo live relatively long lives compared to other reptilian humanoids, with some living well into their fifties or sixties, though many die in battle long before that.

Tribes of Komodo are generally small, ranging from a dozen to around fifty individuals. Larger tribes are rare, as their ferocious nature often leads to internal conflict and the splintering of groups. They have little contact with other races and are often hostile to outsiders. However, their reaction to humanoids from Faerûn is one of curiosity more than outright hostility. The presence of magic and advanced weaponry intrigues them, and they will often test the strength of such outsiders through combat or intimidation before deciding whether to trade or attack.

Next, I encountered the diminutive Flying Lizardfolk, who inhabit the rocky outcrops and cliffs near the Komodo’s territory. These hobbit-sized lizardfolk possess a unique evolutionary adaptation: wing membranes that stretch between their arms and legs, enabling them to glide from great heights with agility and grace. Their small, frail bodies belie their speed, allowing them to dart through the air and quickly navigate the steep cliffs and rocky crevices of their island homes. With long, flat tails and large eyes adapted for low-light vision, they are primarily nocturnal, avoiding the heat of the sun and foraging in the cool dusk and dawn.

The Flying Lizardfolk live in tight-knit, insular communities, constructing their homes high on cliff faces where they are safe from larger predators. These homes are simple in design, often made from woven vines, branches, and the occasional stone, with small caves carved into the cliffs serving as communal sleeping areas. Their communities are built vertically, with homes stacked above and below each other, accessible only by their gliding abilities. Outsiders rarely see the full extent of their villages, as they are carefully hidden in the most inaccessible regions of the islands.

Their diet consists primarily of insects, grubs, fungi, and small fruits. They cultivate small gardens of edible fungi within the damp caves they inhabit, while also gathering insects from the surrounding environment. Their preferred food source, however, is the swarms of insects that populate the islands' dense forests. They use long, delicate tools crafted from bone or wood to catch these insects in mid-flight, displaying remarkable dexterity despite their small size. In addition to this, they forage for fruits and occasionally raid the nests of other creatures for eggs.

The Flying Lizardfolk are peaceful by nature and avoid direct confrontation with the larger, more aggressive species of Osse, such as the Komodo. Instead, they rely on their speed and agility to evade predators, gliding from cliff to cliff and disappearing into narrow crevices that their bulkier enemies cannot reach. Their primary defense is to flee rather than fight, though they can defend themselves with sharp, clawed feet if absolutely necessary. When threatened, they emit a high-pitched, rapid series of chirps, both to warn their tribe and to confuse and disorient potential attackers.

Their language is a rapid, chirping dialect that echoes through the caverns they inhabit. It consists of sharp, staccato bursts of sound that reflect off the rocky surfaces of their homes, making it difficult for outsiders to locate them by sound alone. Their language is as much about timing and pitch as it is about the actual sounds, making it incredibly complex and difficult for outsiders to learn. Some of the more common words include Tchee for danger and Chika for food, both of which are used frequently as they navigate their environment.

In terms of trade, the Flying Lizardfolk are hesitant to interact with other species, but they will engage in exchanges with trusted outsiders. They trade in rare insects, fungi, and other natural resources found on the cliffs, particularly prized by alchemists or those in need of unique biological materials. Approaching them for trade requires patience and respect; presenting food, especially fruits or nuts, as a gift is a good way to establish trust. Loud or aggressive behavior, on the other hand, will send them scurrying into the cliffs, where they can easily disappear from sight.

Their social structure is highly cooperative, with leadership typically falling to the oldest and most experienced members of the tribe. These elders, though frail, are wise and often serve as guides for the younger generation, teaching them how to forage, glide, and avoid predators. The Flying Lizardfolk’s art is mostly practical, taking the form of woven patterns on their homes or intricate designs carved into their bone tools. However, they also practice a form of sky-dancing, where groups of them glide through the air in coordinated patterns, creating a beautiful display of their aerial skills. This serves both as a form of entertainment and a way to strengthen community bonds.

Their life cycle is relatively short compared to other lizardfolk species, with individuals rarely living beyond thirty years. They mature quickly, however, reaching adulthood by the age of five. The numbers within each tribe tend to be small, usually no more than twenty to thirty individuals, as their diet and habitat can only support a limited population. While they are wary of strangers, they are intensely curious about the strange humanoids from Faerûn. When first encountering such outsiders, they may silently observe from the cliffs, gliding away if approached too quickly. However, those who show patience and curiosity in return may eventually be accepted into their midst, albeit cautiously.

The Tidal Iguana Folk are a remarkable species of lizardfolk deeply connected to the ocean. These coastal dwellers make their homes along rocky shores and outcroppings, thriving in the intertidal zones where land meets sea. Their society revolves around cooperation, not only within their own tribes but also with the other sentient species of Osse, including humans and marsupial folk. Their economy centers on farming shellfish and crustaceans, and they engage in trade, exchanging goods such as shells, gemstones, and tools crafted from these materials.

Their culture is one of deep reverence for the ocean. They believe that the sea is a living entity, possessing spirits that control the tides, weather, and the bounty it provides. To honor these spirits, the Tidal Iguana Folk perform intricate rituals, offering food and valuable items to the sea in hopes of ensuring calm waters and abundant fishing seasons. These ceremonies are held during high tides, when the ocean’s energy is believed to be strongest. During the rituals, tribal elders, who are often the most experienced in matters of the sea, lead the chanting and dances while the younger members of the tribe present their offerings.

Their language is a soft, flowing dialect that mimics the sound of water lapping against rocks. It consists of gentle clicks and rhythmic hums, making it difficult for outsiders to learn. However, the Iguana Folk are not opposed to teaching their language to trusted traders and allies. Some basic words include "Saaka" for water and "Ik’ul" for trade. Diplomacy with the Tidal Iguana Folk is relatively easy compared to other lizardfolk species, as they value peaceful relationships and mutual benefit. Gifts of food from the sea or useful trade goods are appreciated, and establishing trust with them can lead to lucrative trading relationships.

In combat, the Tidal Iguana Folk are swift and agile, using their natural affinity for water to their advantage. They are experts in aquatic combat, able to move through water with ease while striking at enemies with sharp shell blades and spears carved from gemstone. Their agility allows them to outmaneuver larger and stronger opponents, darting in and out of the water to strike before retreating to safety. They also use their intimate knowledge of the coastal terrain to lure enemies into dangerous waters, where the tides and currents become their greatest allies.

The crafting skills of the Tidal Iguana Folk are highly regarded by other species. They use shells and gemstones to create not only weapons but also jewelry and ceremonial items. Their craftsmanship is precise, and the items they produce are both functional and beautiful. Their weapons, in particular, are prized for their sharpness and durability, making them highly sought after in trade.

The Iguana Folk’s territory spans the coastal regions, where they build their homes among the rocks and cliffs that provide natural protection from both the elements and predators. Their dwellings are simple but effective, built from driftwood, stone, and seaweed. These homes are clustered together in small villages, each governed by a council of elders who oversee both the spiritual and practical needs of the tribe.

Ecologically, the Tidal Iguana Folk play a crucial role in maintaining the balance of the coastal environment. Their shellfish farms prevent overpopulation in tidal pools, while their selective fishing practices ensure that fish stocks remain plentiful. They are careful stewards of the ocean, taking only what they need and always giving back to the sea in the form of offerings and care.

Historically, the Tidal Iguana Folk have maintained peaceful relations with their neighbors, though they have been known to defend their territory fiercely when necessary. Their agility in both land and sea combat makes them formidable defenders of their coastal homes, and their deep knowledge of the ocean allows them to exploit their environment to gain the upper hand against invaders.

The Frill-Necked Lizardfolk of Osse are a lanky, medium-sized species that thrive in the arid, dry lands of the continent. Their most distinctive feature is the large, colorful frills around their necks, which they flare in displays of threat or during rituals. These frills serve not only as a warning to enemies but also play a central role in their social rituals and communication. The Frill-Necked Lizardfolk are renowned for their adaptability to harsh environments and their profound understanding of the flora, fauna, and ever-shifting weather patterns of the arid regions they inhabit.

The tribes of the Frill-Necked Lizardfolk are numerous, each one marked by unique traditions and a strong sense of identity. They live in small, tight-knit communities, often located near vital water sources like oases or in the shade of rocky outcroppings. These tribes are semi-nomadic, moving with the changing seasons to ensure the survival of their people. Their knowledge of the land makes them incredibly adept at finding hidden springs, gathering edible plants, and utilizing natural materials for shelter. Their homes are typically constructed from stones, mud, and woven plant fibers, blending seamlessly into the arid landscape.

The Frill-Necked Lizardfolk are perhaps best known for their exceptional skills as wilderness guides. Their deep knowledge of the terrain, wildlife, and weather patterns make them invaluable to travelers, merchants, and adventurers seeking safe passage through Osse's arid regions. They navigate the land with a seemingly effortless grace, able to detect subtle changes in the environment that might signal an approaching storm or the presence of a hidden predator. Their skills in tracking and hunting are unparalleled, and they are able to locate game, water, and shelter where others would find nothing but barren wasteland.

One of the most fascinating aspects of their culture is their code language of placed rocks, a system of communication used to leave messages for other tribes and fellow travelers. These messages are left by arranging stones in specific patterns or formations, with each pattern corresponding to a particular meaning. For example, a triangular arrangement of rocks might indicate the presence of fresh water nearby, while a spiral formation could serve as a warning of dangerous wildlife. This code language is known only to the Frill-Necked Lizardfolk, though some of their close allies and trading partners have been taught its basic forms. It is said that a skilled Frill-Necked scout can read an entire narrative from a simple arrangement of pebbles, interpreting the movements and actions of another tribe as they traverse the land.

Their diet consists largely of small game, insects, and the various edible plants and herbs that they gather from the dry lands. The Frill-Necked Lizardfolk are excellent hunters, using traps and snares to capture their prey rather than relying on brute strength. They are known for their careful use of resources, ensuring that nothing goes to waste. Along with their hunting prowess, they are also skilled foragers, possessing an encyclopedic knowledge of the medicinal and edible plants of the region. Many of their meals include these gathered herbs, which they incorporate into stews and dried provisions, helping them survive the long journeys between settlements.

Their language is a soft, whispering dialect that blends with the wind of the dry lands, making it hard to detect unless one is trained to listen for it. It is said that they can communicate across vast distances by using subtle variations in tone and pitch, which are carried by the wind. This skill is particularly useful for their hunters, who must remain silent while communicating across the open plains. Their words for basic survival concepts are many and varied, reflecting their deep connection to the land. For instance, Heshka refers to a hidden water source, while Thrillak is a term used for a distant storm that could bring life or destruction.

The social structure of the Frill-Necked Lizardfolk is complex, with each tribe led by a council of elders who have earned their status through years of survival and wisdom. These elders are not just leaders in a political sense but also spiritual guides, responsible for interpreting the land’s omens and signs. Below them are the hunters, foragers, and guides, each fulfilling a specific role within the tribe. Children are taught from a young age how to read the land, track prey, and use plants for both food and medicine, ensuring that the tribe’s knowledge is passed down through generations.

Diplomatically, the Frill-Necked Lizardfolk are cautious but fair. They rarely engage in conflict unless their territory is threatened, preferring instead to negotiate or simply guide outsiders away from dangerous areas. When they do engage in combat, they rely on their agility, traps, and detailed knowledge of the terrain to outmaneuver their enemies. They use simple but effective weapons, such as bone-tipped spears, slings, and snares. They also make use of poisons derived from local plants and insects, which they apply to their weapons to incapacitate or kill their foes without direct confrontation.

Their crafting is practical and efficient, focusing on tools and equipment designed for survival. They fashion lightweight and durable items from bone, plant fibers, and stones. Their traps are particularly sophisticated, often using a combination of natural materials to create elaborate mechanisms that can capture prey or defend their camps from predators. They are also skilled in crafting basic clothing from the skins of the animals they hunt, which they adorn with beads and small bones to signify status or tribal affiliation.

The territory of the Frill-Necked Lizardfolk spans the arid regions of Osse, where they have adapted to survive in one of the harshest environments on the continent. They make their homes in the canyons, cliffs, and dry riverbeds, always staying close to the few reliable water sources they know so well. Each tribe maintains a map of these sources, and they guard this knowledge fiercely, sharing it only with those they trust.

Ecologically, they play a crucial role in maintaining the balance of life in the dry lands. By carefully managing the game they hunt and the plants they gather, they ensure that the land can continue to support life. Their intimate understanding of the region’s ecology allows them to predict the movements of animals and the seasonal growth of plants, which in turn informs their nomadic patterns.

Historically, the Frill-Necked Lizardfolk have been regarded as elusive but reliable allies to those who have earned their trust. They have little interest in conquest or expansion, preferring instead to preserve the delicate balance of their homeland. However, they have on occasion been drawn into conflicts, often serving as scouts or guides for other factions. Their knowledge of the land and ability to move unseen makes them valuable allies in times of war, though they are careful to choose their battles wisely.

Lastly, the species that seemed to weave itself through the social and cultural fabric of Osse was the Chameleon Lizardfolk. These highly adaptable creatures possess the remarkable ability to blend into their surroundings, making them the most elusive of the lizardfolk. Their skin can shift in color and texture, allowing them to disappear almost completely against natural backdrops, from rocky outcrops to dense forests. This natural camouflage has made them opportunistic hunters, spies, and scouts, traits that their society prizes above all else.

The Chameleon Lizardfolk’s culture revolves around cunning and strategy. Unlike the brute force tactics of the Komodo or the agility of the Flying Lizardfolk, the Chameleon Lizardfolk value subtlety, preferring to manipulate events from the shadows. Their political landscape is intricate, filled with alliances, betrayals, and feints. They are known to play tribes and species against one another, often pitting two enemies against each other for their own gain, while they sit back and watch the conflict unfold. Their mastery of deception and espionage has earned them a fearsome reputation among their fellow lizardfolk and other inhabitants of Osse.

In terms of society, they are organized in loose, decentralized clans, with no single ruler or council to oversee all of them. Instead, individual leaders rise to power through wit and cunning, holding sway over their clan as long as they can outsmart any potential rivals. Leadership changes frequently, as younger or more clever members of the clan challenge the status quo. This constant flux keeps their society sharp and adaptable, but it also creates an air of suspicion and distrust, even within their own ranks.

Diplomatically, the Chameleon Lizardfolk are shrewd negotiators. While they do not seek war outright, they are not above sabotaging relations between other tribes or manipulating events to their advantage. They prefer indirect confrontations, using spies and misinformation to weaken their enemies before engaging them directly. Those who seek to trade with or ally with the Chameleon Lizardfolk must tread carefully, as their true intentions are often hidden behind layers of deception. However, they do respect strength of mind and value those who can outwit them in negotiations, sometimes rewarding cleverness with genuine alliances or valuable information.

Their combat tactics are centered around stealth and ambushes. Chameleon Lizardfolk rarely engage in direct combat unless absolutely necessary. Instead, they set traps and use their natural camouflage to stalk their prey from the shadows. When the time is right, they strike with precision, often incapacitating their enemies before they even realize they are under attack. Their traps are renowned throughout Osse, often blending seamlessly into the environment, from snares hidden under leaves to pits covered by loose rocks and sand. These traps are not just for hunting prey but also for eliminating rival tribes or defending their territory from intruders.

Their equipment is minimalist but highly effective. They craft lightweight spears, darts, and knives, all designed for silent, precise strikes. These weapons are often made from bone, wood, and other natural materials, and are sometimes coated with venom derived from the many poisonous plants and insects of Osse. Chameleon Lizardfolk also excel at crafting intricate snares and traps, which they use to capture both animals and unwary intruders. Their craftsmanship is subtle and practical, focusing more on functionality than aesthetics, though some tools are decorated with small carvings that tell of the trap-maker's personal exploits.

The territory of the Chameleon Lizardfolk is vast and varied. They inhabit forests, rocky cliffs, and even the outskirts of desert regions, anywhere they can make use of their natural camouflage. Their settlements are difficult to find, hidden in the most remote and inaccessible parts of Osse. They construct homes within natural caves or build small, camouflaged shelters from the local environment. These dwellings are temporary, as the Chameleon Lizardfolk frequently relocate to avoid detection or potential conflict.

Ecologically, they are masterful predators and caretakers of their environment. Despite their manipulative nature, they maintain a delicate balance with the ecosystems they inhabit. They hunt only what they need and ensure that their presence remains undetected by leaving no trace of their activities. This ecological caution also extends to their use of the land—they avoid overharvesting plants or depleting animal populations, understanding that a damaged environment would make them more visible to predators and enemies alike.

Historically, the Chameleon Lizardfolk have always preferred to remain on the outskirts of Osse’s political and military conflicts, inserting themselves only when it serves their purposes. They are rarely seen on the frontlines of battle, but their influence is felt in the shifting alliances and covert skirmishes that define the power dynamics of the region. Their ability to manipulate events from behind the scenes has allowed them to survive and even thrive where more aggressive species might falter.

Finally, the Chameleon Lizardfolk are the most cunning of the bunch, using their natural camouflage to avoid detection. In combat, they rely on stealth and ambush tactics, often incapacitating their enemies before they even know they’re being hunted. Their traps and snares are notorious, and they are able to manipulate their environment in ways that leave their opponents disoriented and vulnerable.

Yowie - Homebrew Creatures of Osse - Forgotten Realms Lore

In my extensive travels across the lands of Ozzy, I encountered a creature that continues to elude both naturalists and cryptozoologists alike. The Yowie, a towering figure rooted in the folklore of the native Ozlanders, is often spoken of in hushed tones, particularly by those living closer to the wild reaches of the continent. This creature shares some traits with the cold-dwelling yeti of the north, but the Yowie is a wholly unique being adapted to the warm, temperate, and often harsh climate of Ozzy.

The Yowie makes its home in the bushlands, rainforests, and mountainous regions, far from human settlements, yet close enough to cause anxiety among the more superstitious Ozzies. While their feet are often described as pointing backwards to make them harder to track, their true nature remains a mystery. Their feet leave erratic prints, sometimes with more or fewer toes than expected, and the impressions are as varied as the tales about them. This inconsistency has led to confusion among trackers and adventurers, as the Yowie is adept at disappearing into the wilds, leaving little trace of its passing.

Unlike the cold-hearted yeti, whose aggression is well-known, the Yowie displays a far more complex range of behaviors. The creature is not always hostile. In fact, many native Ozlanders speak of the Yowie as a guardian of the land, watching over sacred spaces. However, their protective nature can also lead to violent encounters if they perceive a threat to their territory. Yowies are known to have deep emotional connections to the land and the spirits within it. This connection may explain their interactions with the spirit shamans and totemists of the Ozlanders, who have long recognized the Yowie as both a physical creature and a spirit guardian.

While the yeti of the northern tundra is a solitary, brutal creature of icy desolation, the Yowie of Ozzie has been observed living in loosely-knit family groups, particularly near ancient Dreamtime sites. Their social structure is more akin to that of the Ozzie kangaroo folk, who live in close-knit family units, helping one another survive in the bush. The Yowie’s community bonds seem to center on their shared responsibility for specific regions of the wilds, which they protect fiercely.

A key difference between the Yowie and the yeti, besides their environment, is in their behavior around different races. Ozzie humans and their humanoid kin, such as the kangaroo folk, koala folk, and the varied lizard folk (like the frill-necked lizards, goannas, and even the dangerous Komodo lizard folk), have different interactions with the Yowie. Native Ozlanders, particularly those of Aboriginal descent, are often treated with a mixture of curiosity and cautious acceptance by Yowies. They respect the native rituals and practices, especially those involving the Dreamtime, and there are countless stories of spirit shamans being guided or even protected by Yowies during their walkabouts.

The Yowie’s response to non-native adventurers, however, is much more unpredictable. An adventuring party may be stalked for days before realizing they are being watched. If they venture too close to sacred sites or display hostility toward the land, the Yowie’s response can shift quickly from silent observation to swift, brutal retaliation. Their strength is immense, and their ability to move silently through thick undergrowth is a skill that has earned them legendary status as masters of ambush.

The Yowie’s life cycle is still largely a mystery. However, from what I’ve observed and pieced together from native accounts, they give birth to live young and raise them within their familial units, much like the kangaroo folk. The young stay close to their parents until they reach maturity, at which point they often strike out on their own to claim their own territory. Yowies have long lifespans, living for several centuries by some estimates, though their exact age is difficult to determine.

In terms of diet, the Yowie is an omnivore, subsisting on a diet of native plants, roots, and meat from various creatures they hunt. Despite their imposing appearance, they are not the apex predators of their environment. Komodo lizard folk, larger and more aggressive, have been known to clash with Yowies over territory. These lizard folk, who descend from the fearsome Komodo dragons, are particularly dangerous in the north, where their predatory nature often brings them into conflict with the more peaceful creatures of the region.

A typical encounter with a Yowie, particularly for outsiders, is often fraught with tension. Adventurers trekking through the bush might find themselves surrounded by the sounds of distant movement or the occasional glimpse of something large moving just out of sight. These encounters usually end peacefully if the adventurers remain respectful of the land. However, if they unknowingly desecrate a sacred site or threaten the local wildlife, the Yowie will act with terrifying speed, often using its great strength to hurl intruders away without hesitation. For those unprepared for such encounters, the experience can be both humbling and life-threatening.

The Yowie’s interactions with the Ozzie natives are far more nuanced. For the native Ozlanders, the Yowie is a part of the land's natural order. They are treated with the same reverence as the spirits of the Dreamtime, and it is said that some of the Ozzie kangaroo folk and koala folk have even established tentative alliances with Yowies in particularly remote areas. This bond, however, is not easily won, and only the most respectful and attuned individuals can hope to earn the trust of a Yowie.

In the wild lands of Ozzy, the Yowie roams, its presence felt more than seen. Where the dense bushlands meet the edges of civilization, those who know the land speak of fleeting glimpses of this towering figure, its eyes sharp and watchful. Adventurers who pass through unfamiliar territory may never fully understand the forces surrounding them, but those who listen to the ancient songs of the Ozlanders know that every rustling leaf and distant howl has meaning. The Yowie is not a legend but a force woven into the very fabric of the land. It watches, it waits, and when the balance is threatened, it acts.

Katashaka, the mysterious continent to the far south of Maztica, is one of the least explored regions of Toril. Its dense jungles, teeming with monstrous and primal life, remain largely untouched by outsiders, save for a few ill-fated expeditions. The continent is often spoken of in myth, filled with creatures and peoples so distant from Faerûnian understanding that even the most traveled sages possess only fragmentary knowledge. However, it is said that Katashaka may hold answers to some of the oldest questions about life on Toril.

The origins of humanity on Toril are deeply intertwined with the primordial forces that shaped the world. Long before the rise of the great civilizations in Faerûn, Kara-Tur, and even Ozzie, humanity is believed to have emerged in the lands of Katashaka and nearby regions like Anchorome. These early humans were likely nomadic, spreading across the continents in waves, their movements dictated by the shifting magics of the world and the desires of gods and primordials who sought to shape the land and its peoples.

Some scholars speculate that the first humans were a creation of the gods, forged in the early days of the world to serve as caretakers of the land. Others argue that humanity evolved naturally from the life teeming on Toril, influenced and guided by the forces of nature and the Weave. The truth may lie somewhere between these ideas, blending divine intervention with the natural cycles of the world. The ancient humans of Katashaka are believed to have spread outwards, giving rise to the many distinct human cultures found across Toril today. Their legacy, though obscured by time, lives on in the bloodlines and traditions of every human nation across the globe.

The jungles of Katashaka, ancient and wild, are often said to guard the forgotten secrets of humanity’s earliest days. Whether these secrets will ever be revealed remains to be seen, as few dare to venture into the heart of that land, where ancient magics and monstrous creatures hold dominion. Yet, the continent remains a place of fascination for scholars, adventurers, and explorers alike.

Gympie gympie - Homebrew Dungeons and Dragons Lore - Creatures of Osse

I had heard many tales of the strange and deadly flora that thrived in the humid jungles and delta wetlands of Ozzie, but nothing could have prepared me for the moment I lost my trusty mule, Thistle, to the silent menace of the Gympie-Gympie nettle tree.

I had only just arrived on the continent, really, having investigated the remarkable giant marsupials that acted more like beavers, creating a lush tropical delta it took me days to cross. I was not alone, and I had quite a lot of gear with me, so I took along some pack animals, as you do.

We were journeying through the southeastern coast, where the dense canopy of towering trees loomed above, casting dark shadows across the forest floor. Thistle was a resilient creature, accustomed to harsh climates and treacherous terrain, yet it was on this day that her strength would meet its match. I had only turned away for a brief moment when I heard a sharp, guttural cry. When I looked back, my mule was thrashing violently, her eyes wide with panic as she crashed through the underbrush. I ran to her aid, but it was already too late—the leaves of the Gympie-Gympie had claimed another victim. The invisible venomous hairs embedded themselves into her skin, and within minutes, she was convulsing in agony, the torment unbearable even for a creature as sturdy as she. Before long, Thistle lay still, the pain having consumed her entirely.

I was devastated. This was not the first time I had encountered death, but never had I seen such cruelty inflicted by a mere plant. The Gympie-Gympie nettle tree had proven itself a silent killer, lying in wait among the verdant foliage.

We stopped there while I investigated, then sat quietly with Thistle. I was not sure if there were many other horses on the whole continent, and it felt like a lonely place for her to be, but, rest there she would, a good horse and brave pioneer. I was not going to see a horse that good for some time.

The Gympie-Gympie nettle tree, or Dendrocnide moroides, is native to the jungles and river deltas of Ozzie. Its large, heart-shaped leaves may look innocent, but they are covered in thousands of fine, venomous hairs, or trichomes, each capable of delivering intense, lasting pain. Once contact is made, the tiny, barbed hairs pierce the skin and inject a neurotoxin, creating a burning sensation that only intensifies over time. The hairs are nearly impossible to remove without breaking and continue to deliver venom for days, weeks, or even months.

In animals, the reaction is swift and often fatal. The initial pain causes panic, and the afflicted creature may flee blindly, leading to further injury or even death. The convulsions that follow can lead to heart failure or severe trauma, making survival nearly impossible without advanced magical healing. For humanoids, the experience is no less torturous—burning pain that has been compared to being scorched by acid while simultaneously struck by lightning. Worse still, the toxin's effects can linger for years, flaring up when exposed to cold water, as if the plant's sting remains hidden within the body, waiting to strike again. Further exposure to the plant over time is no less dangerous, with the reaction becoming more severe, so that, after a while, if not completely protected, a person can become incapacitated just from their allergic reaction to any exposure to it. Druids and shamans may offer medicines to help reduce allergic reactions such as closed airways and swollen skin, but they can't provide total immunity to this particular plant's toxins.

I once met an old sailor who had sailed the waters of Ozzie for many years. He recounted his own encounter with the Gympie-Gympie, having brushed against one during a trading expedition with the Frill Neck Lizard folk. Though he survived the initial sting, he told me that every time he submerged himself in cold water, the pain returned with ferocious intensity. "It’s like the tree never lets go," he remarked bitterly, "even after decades, it remembers."

He described one bloodthirsty pirate captain who subjected some crew who tried to murder him to a horrific ordeal where they were lashed with whips and thrown into a pile of the nettle leaves before being tossed overboard for the sharks. It makes me wonder how long a man can scream, how much can he endure before his senses just can't take it anymore?

The people of Ozzie, particularly the Frill Neck Lizard folk of the southeast delta, have long held the Gympie-Gympie in a place of caution and fear. Their myths describe the tree as a guardian of sacred sites, planted by ancient spirits to protect the land from those who would seek to defile it. According to their legends, only those who walk with respect for the land and its spirits can avoid its wrath, while the arrogant or unworthy are doomed to suffer. The tribes along the Southeastern river delta have taken to harvesting and selling the leaves of the plant, including long hardwood sticks that have preserved leaves woven around the end—something a whole lot more scary than a cattle prod. These Gympie sticks are excellent for warding off large, lumbering creatures who get too close for comfort.

Unlike many others in Osse, the Kangaroo folk do not place any spiritual significance on the Gympie-Gympie. They regard it simply as a dangerous plant to be avoided, no different from the predators that roam their lands or the harsh weather that often strikes the region. Their entire culture revolves around practicality and survival, with little room for mysticism or ceremony. Resilient and adaptable, the Kangaroo folk are perfectly suited to the rugged landscape of southeastern Osse. With their powerful hind legs and muscular tails, they are able to move swiftly through the dense jungles, covering great distances with ease. Their natural agility makes them adept hunters, but they tend to avoid conflict whenever possible, preferring to outmaneuver their foes rather than confront them directly. In battle, however, their strength and speed make them formidable opponents, able to deliver devastating blows with their legs and tails.

Their society is organized around loosely connected family groups, with leadership determined by practical achievements rather than spiritual insight or charisma. Those who can provide for their clan and navigate the dangers of the jungle earn respect and authority. Outsiders often find the Kangaroo folk to be blunt and unsentimental, though they are not unfriendly. They simply have little time for frivolity, preferring to focus on the tasks at hand—whether that means securing food, building shelters, or trading with their neighbors.

In contrast to the Kangaroo folk’s pragmatic outlook, the Koala folk of the high canopies are a dreamier, more mystical species, known for their introspective nature and an almost constant state of euphoria brought on by their diet of eucalyptus leaves. While some might mistake their slow, lethargic movements for laziness, the Koala folk are in fact deep thinkers, often pondering the mysteries of the cosmos as they lounge in the treetops. Their minds, clouded with the effects of the eucalyptus, are prone to wandering through strange visions and insights, making them the source of many mystical tales among the other peoples of Osse.

Though practical Kangaroo folk have little patience for the Koala’s musings, there is a grudging respect between the two species. The Koala folk often claim to have foresight into events yet to come, though their predictions are vague and cryptic at best, leaving the Kangaroo folk to roll their eyes at the perceived impracticality. Yet, when the Koalas speak, it’s with a calm certainty that unnerves even the most hardened of warriors. It’s said that those who listen closely may glean truths hidden within their seemingly nonsensical ramblings.

Both species, despite their differences, have been known to interact with the wider world of Osse. The Kangaroo folk are frequent traders, supplying their finely crafted tools and practical goods to nearby peoples, including the Frill Neck Lizard folk. Adventuring is not uncommon for their kind, though it is often born out of necessity—perhaps a need to secure resources for their clan, defend their territory, or investigate threats to their way of life. They are not adventurers by choice, but by circumstance. In contrast, the Koala folk rarely leave their treetop homes, though the occasional visionary may wander out into the world, driven by some mysterious dream or quest for knowledge. While Kangaroo folk make for rugged, resourceful adventurers, the Koalas are more suited to roles of guidance or mystical support, often underestimated for their slow, seemingly detached demeanor.

The marsupial folk of Osse are more than mere NPCs; their diversity and potential for adventuring roles make them excellent candidates for playable characters. Kangaroo folk, with their agility, strength, and practical mindset, could thrive as rangers, fighters, or druids, using their knowledge of the land to navigate difficult terrain and protect their people. Koala folk, on the other hand, might make interesting clerics, bards, or even wizards, drawing upon their mystical insights and deep connection to the spiritual world. Despite their slower pace, their dreamlike state could offer unique perspectives in any adventuring party, making them invaluable in roles requiring wisdom or foresight.

The balance between these two peoples reflects the broader diversity of life in Osse, where survival often depends on a mix of practicality and respect for the unknown. Whether through the no-nonsense strength of the Kangaroo folk or the quiet mysticism of the Koalas, the marsupials of Osse are key players in the ever-evolving story of this wild and untamed land.

While there are no perfect remedies for the sting of the Gympie-Gympie, the people of Ozzie have developed some treatments over the generations. The Frill Neck Lizard folk, known for their deep understanding of herbal remedies, use a combination of heat and plant-based poultices to ease the pain and help remove the barbed hairs. Even their most effective salves, however, offer only temporary relief.

Despite its dangers, the Gympie-Gympie is also a valuable resource for those who dare to harvest it. The venomous hairs can be carefully collected and used to create potent poisons, which the Lizard folk apply to their weapons for hunting or warfare. The Kangaroo tribes are known to use the plant in rituals of endurance, challenging their strongest warriors to endure its sting as a test of strength and resilience.

Despite the plant’s reputation, the Frill Neck Lizard folk, Kangaroo tribes, and Aboriginal humans all share a complex network of trade routes, stretching across the southeastern delta and coastal jungles. These paths wind through treacherous territories where the Gympie-Gympie grows in abundance, and the dangers of the plant are well known to every traveler. Yet trade continues, and the riches of the jungle—herbs, remedies, and the dangerous secrets of Ozzie’s flora—are exchanged as life carries on in this untamed land.

If this exploration of the deadly Gympie-Gympie nettle tree has intrigued you, there’s much more to come. I’ll be diving deeper into the legends of Ozzie, honoring the ancestors of these lands, past, present, and future. From ancient spirits to legendary creatures, there’s always something more to discover. Join me as we continue this journey with respect and a spirit of adventure.