Cursed Fantasy RPG

 Hello, over the past few weeks, I have written and edited my own TTRPG system. Basically, the goal was to make my ideal system, taking into account all of the weird preferences and tastes that I have. It is called Cursed Fantasy RPG and it can be bought at any price (including free) at this website: https://cursed-gm.itch.io/cursed-fantasy-rpg

To go along with this, I have also compiled the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series of posts into a single document. Most of the entries have been revised and edited to justify putting them up for sale, and all of the art that was posted along with the series is included in the document. Pick it up for any price you want here: https://cursed-gm.itch.io/the-immortal-naturalists-guide-to-cryptic-creatures

For the rest of the year, I hope to focus on getting caught up on the Old Gritville Mine, both in making more rooms and posting more completed levels here, so be on the lookout for that.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: Conclusion

This is the final post in the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series, which I explain in this post. Like the introduction, the conclusion will be from the point of view of one of my self-insert characters, Z, the Immortal Naturalist. Since I have been working on this for about two months in real life, I'm pretty happy to actually write this conclusion, even if it turns out to be a little light on gameable information. Anyways, here it is:

    Well, there you have it, fifty creatures that most of the world does not believe in. While I do not imagine my words have changed many opinions, I know this book will be invaluable to someone at some point. In keeping this information brief but useful, I tried to cover the main behaviors, weapons, magical abilities, and ways to defend yourself from everything in this book. Many of these descriptions may seem outlandish, but I promise that this information is all completely true. Each of these creatures, unless they've died since the time of writing, is really out there, going about their business, living their lives. There are some who may try to exploit these incredible creatures, but I am hoping that the types who would do such a thing are too cynical and skeptical to go to the lengths required to even see any of the creatures in these pages. Either way, I suppose it is now up to whoever reads this book to make sure that the knowledge within is used for just causes, and not the exploitation of wildlife.

Anyways, that's all I'm gonna be writing for this project. If I ever decide to do more series from the point of view of the Immortal Naturalist, I expect they will have a similar style to these. 

 

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Zambambler

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post. This will be the last creature in the series, which makes 50 for anyone keeping count. I might do another set of creatures in the future, but probably not quite so many.

    The Zambambler is one of the most fearsome-looking residents of the Periwinkle River's headwater valley. Covered in a row of spikes that goes from nose to tail, this creature is assumed by most to be a terrible monster. Truthfully, I do not know how the Zambambler got this reputation. Despite standing twenty feet tall and its sharp spikes, the Zambambler is a peaceful creature which spends most of its time feeding on zambrambles, an evergreen species of brambles with poisonous thorns. This poison, which causes most animals immense pain for up to twelve hours, does not bother the Zambambler, nor does the sharpness of the thorns. The creature will sit in a field of these plants and munch all day before returning to its home in a cave behind a waterfall. When it meets another creature, the Zambambler will actually wave at it despite lacking any real intelligence. While most creatures flee, those that do not try to harm the beast will be allowed to approach and even touch it. If anything tries to take advantage of this kindness and harm the Zambambler, however, they will be on the receiving end of its magical ability.

    At any time, the Zambambler is able to launch any number of its spikes out of its body fast enough to penetrate steel. Spikes launched in this manner seem to regrow instantly, which is why I believe magic is involved. Furthermore, any part of the spikes that touches liquid will instantly dissolve, releasing a concentrated dose of zambramble poison, usually incapacitating whoever is hit for several hours. As far as my observations can tell, the Zambambler is able to magically isolate the poison from its meals and turn it into its solid spikes. While its aim does leave something to desire, these spikes are nothing to be laughed at. The only way to neutralize the poison and stop the pain is through the Zambambler's saliva, which seems to immediately end all effects of zambramble poison.

    Although I have no idea how one might convince the Zambambler to lick a wound that it caused with one of its spikes, I do know that the creature needs to periodically shed its spikes, apparently to make room for more zambramble poison in its body. This means that the creature's lair is absolutely filled with discarded spikes. With such a rare and hard to find antidote, this stash of discarded spikes could probably supply every single torturer in the world for years without much issue. The lair is even shockingly easy to find, being behind one of the relatively few waterfalls of the Periwinkle River. That is not to say that I condone the exploitation of such a resource, but it is an enticingly easy one to harvest for sure.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Winged Echidna

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Fluttering around the tree branches of the Battered Jungle is the Winged Echidna, a spikey insectivore. Local folklore claims that this housecat-sized creature spends its days flying around the jungle in search of termite nests, beehives, and any other insects it can dig out of the wood with its large talons. During the day, the creature sleeps in a nest it digs out of a living tree with its claws every morning. During the night, the Winged Echidna goes about its business searching for food. When it feels threatened, the Winged Echidna is able to roll itself up into a ball in midair, falling on its attackers and covering them with its deadly spikes. This method of defense is only a last resort, however, as the Winged Echidna is rather small and timid. Given its small size, it is no wonder the creature is so poorly-known outside of the Battered Jungle.

    While other echidnas have spikes covering their backs, the Winged Echidna has particularly deadly spikes. Aided by magic, the spikes make their effect known when they break the skin of a living creature. Once they have have made a wound, the spikes propel themselves towards the heart of whatever poor creature they are inside of. The spines will only stop moving when they puncture the heart or are pulled out of the creature, making them quite dangerous. The only method I have found to nullify this effect in the spines is to soak the entry wound in alcohol. Although painful, this will stop the movement of the spine long enough to allow for extraction. Without taking this measure, it is much more difficult grab the spine, as it will be actively moving.

    One important thing about the obscurity of this creature and its magical effect is that there are very few people outside of the Battered Jungle who know how to stop the spikes from moving. If one were to collect a large number of these spines, they would have quite the arsenal of deadly weapons. Without the knowledge of how to neutralize the spines, it is only ever a matter of time before the victim of a Winged Echidna spine succumbs to their fate. In order to collect larger numbers of these spines, one could follow the creature as it travels through the forest. Every morning, it leaves it nest behind for good, allowing for someone to get in there and collect whatever spikes feel off during the night, usually at least a half dozen. I'm not sure how often most people need to use something so deadly, so hopefully one or two nights of digging through the creature's nests should yield more than enough spines. 

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Window Tapper

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Prowling the streets of Principolis every night is the Window Tapper, a strange creature measuring fifteen feet tall and possessing extra long fingers for tapping windows. After the sun sets, the Window Tapper wanders the streets, staring into windows and tapping on them, hoping to lure someone to look into its eyes. Whoever does this will be compelled to open their window, and then stand perfectly still as the Window Tapper eats their eyes. This diet seems to cover all of the nutrition requirements of the creature, while most people don't believe it exists, making its hunting method fairly successful. While stories of the creature that taps on windows and eats the eyes of anyone who goes to investigate are well-known in Prinicipolis, most people assume they are yet another outlandish tale to explain the many noises of a city at night. When it isn't hunting, the Window Tapper is quite timid and quick to retreat to its lair in the city sewers.

    Unsanitary home ignored, the ability of the Window Tapper to stupefy its victims as it eats their eyes is incredible, and most definitely the result of magic. As far as I can tell, the light that reflects off of the beast's eyes is magically polarized to cause the hypnotic effect. As soon as the victim's second eye is removed, they exit their trance, confirming that the Window Tapper's magic requires continuous eye contact. To avoid getting your eyes eaten by the Window Tapper, there are several options. The first option is to not investigate if one hears a tapping on their window at night. Next is the option of wearing a blindfold if one ever needs to look out their window at night, although this may not be a very useful option. Finally, one can ward off the Window Tapper by hanging dried roses from their window sills. The smell of roses is distasteful to the creature and will drive it away.

    Driving the Window Tapper away may not be the best option, however. Silky fur grows on the tip of the Window Tapper's tail and elbows which can be shaved off with relative ease if the beast is captured. Window Tapper fur has the unique property of creating a hallucinogenic smoke when burned. This acrid smoke causes whoever breathes it in to see terrible images of massive disembodied eyeballs wherever they look. While these visions are distressing, they also prevent one from seeing or even really engaging with their surroundings. With giant eyeballs dominating their field of view, most foes are unable to focus on what is around them, often having their opponent obscured by one or more of the hallucinatory eyeballs. How such a specific hallucination is achieved in every single victim is unknown to me, but it all seems to be based on the creature's preferred food. Such a potent hallucinogen would be useful to many people, but as I explained, it is hard to track down the only known source for it.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: Wandering Ivy

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Wandering Ivy is one of the more well-known residents of the Platinum Valley, at least to the kobolds who live there. Descriptions of her, however, are unknown outside of the Kobold Lands and tend towards the outlandish. By all accounts, Wandering Ivy is a friendly creature, about the size of a large dog, who spends her time wandering the woods in search of her favorite food, mushrooms. Ivy seems to be completely immune to any poisons in the mushrooms, so she is able to munch on whatever fungus she finds. Without a permanent home, Ivy spends her days walking up and down the Platinum Valley, always wandering. Despite having been wandering for a long time, Wandering Ivy seems to get tangled up in the undergrowth and vines quite often. Rather than get herself free, Ivy will simply wait until someone comes along and sees her, at which point she will reveal her ability to speak so she can ask for help. Whoever helps Wandering Ivy is then granted a single wish in exchange for their kindness.

    Long ago, Wandering Ivy was cursed for eating mushrooms from the basket of a powerful mage. She can never go more than a month without getting tangled up in vines and bushes, requiring the help of a kind stranger to get free. After being freed, Ivy must grant her hero a wish, although Wandering Ivy has no control over how the wish is granted. Frequently, this results in unfortunate consequences for the wisher, as part of the curse seems to be to twist the words of wishes to have less than ideal results. The only way to avoid this is to either leave Ivy trapped, or to ask for something very simple that cannot be twisted easily. While she is quite friendly and nice to talk to, Wandering Ivy can be driven off with the sound of metal scraping on slate. This sound seems to be more than just unpleasant for the creature, causing her actual physical injuries after more than a few seconds of exposure.

    Ivy is an expert at finding mushrooms, though, and there is no reason to want to drive her off. Instead, I recommend doing what I did, which was strike a deal with her where she will lead me to high quality and rare mushrooms in exchange for half of the mushrooms gathered. Having a person around to to free her if she get stuck on the journey is quite useful, and Ivy is happy to trade half of the fungus found for this service. I was able to find many mushrooms that have powerful magical effects this way, as well as many that tasted good and which I was able to sell for large amounts of money. While I do not really think of Wandering Ivy as a good friend, she and I certainly make a lucrative team. I would recommend that anyone with an interest in mushrooms and fungi find Wandering Ivy and go foraging with her, even if she is difficult to get along with.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Volcano Mimic

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    While there are many volcanoes that have emerged from the Sea of Treasure, particularly on Pointed Crown Island, but there is exactly one that is worshiped by a tribe of lizard folk who believe it to be a living being capable of protecting them from danger. As the Volcano Tribe of lizard folk tell it, their god, the Volcano Mimic, is a massive, immobile creature that looks identical to any of the many other volcanoes on Pointed Crown Island. They say that one can see the Volcano Mimic open its eyes and blink on the darkest nights, when it thinks no one can see, and that it watches over their village at its base. Hiking up to the rim of what appears to be a volcanic crater reveals the massive teeth of the creature which guard a bright red mouth and gullet. To get its food, the Volcano Mimic is actually fed by regular sacrifice from the Volcano Tribe. These sacrifices are usually of local game such as giant bull geckos, but intelligent people have been sacrificed when hunting other animals has failed in the past.

    In exchange for these sacrifices, the Volcano Mimic is actually able to prevent volcanic eruptions in the area and keep predatory creatures away. With regular sacrifices, the creature is apparently able to generate a field which prevents eruptions and meat eaters from getting within a few miles of its body. Aware of this trait, the Volcano Tribe actually maintains a vegetarian diet to avoid being excluded by their god. Staying on the Volcano Mimic's good side is usually achieved by following the customs and norms of the Volcano Tribe village, as they are the ones who will sacrifice rule-breakers to the mimic. Avoiding such a fate really does seem as simple as staying away from the beast and the lizard folk village, which is easy enough if one has eaten meat in the past day.

    As a part of mimicking a volcano, the Volcano Mimic has a rather extensive network of tunnels in its outer layer of rock. These tunnels do not seems to bother the beast, inhabited by a wide variety of creatures which only eat plants and fungi. Within these tunnels, however, it is possible to find deposits of pure precious metals like silver and gold. Each outcrop takes on a crystalline shape and seems to be made out of a random metal. While these tunnels also give access to the Volcano Mimic's organs, the most lucrative reason to enter the tunnels is to mine and remove the precious metals. This process does not seem to harm the creature, and more crystals seem to be growing all the time, making the resource somewhat sustainable, even. The only thing to be on the lookout for, in that case, is getting trampled by the giant insects that live inside the massive mimic's tunnels, which is easier said than done.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Uncertain Creature

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    People along the Scarlet River tell tales of a bizarre beast that swims in the deepest, widest portions of the river. Despite being a nearly ubiquitous tale in Scarlet River culture, however, not a single person seems capable of giving a clear description, leading me to dub it the Uncertain Creature. Despite the fact that no one seems to know what the creature looks like, all versions of the story agree on its behavior and diet. The Uncertain Creature spends most of its time under the water in calm sections of the river. There the beast sits in wait, snapping up any animals that try to swim by. This poses a danger to any people who swim or boat by, as the Uncertain Creature is apparently quite large and has no issue dragging people under. Due to its size, the Uncertain Creature is unable to go too far upriver, but that means that its attacks, mostly attributed to accidental drownings rather than a folk tale, are concentrated on less than half of the total length of the river, which coincidentally is where more than half of the people living along the river are located. This honestly makes the fact that most people consider it to be nothing more than a legend somewhat shocking, and I suspect it is due to the fact that no one knows what it looks like.

    As it turns out, the inability to describe the Uncertain Creature is due to a natural magical effect that causes the creature to appear blurry and amorphous, certainly a useful trait for an ambush hunter. Locally, there are bushes that grow along the river with berries that look like human eyes, called eye bushes. When the berries are crushed and the pulp rubbed on one's eyelids, they grant the ability to see through illusions such as the Uncertain Creature's blurriness. Any other method of seeing through or dispelling illusions ought to work, but failing those, eye bushes are quite common and fruit throughout the year. Looking through the illusion reveals the awkward beast that is the Uncertain Creature, with flippers, a shell, horns, and prehensile whiskers for grabbing prey. Unfortunately, the Uncertain Creature seems to have an innate sense for when something sees through its illusion, triggering it to try to run away from or fight the viewer, depending on how easy each option is in the moment. 

    Having been attacked and needing to fight off the Uncertain Creature a few times during my observations, I discovered an interesting quality of the beast's blood. After the fights, in which the Uncertain Creature fled after seeing that I could hurt it, I would be splashed with the creature's blood and other people told me I looked a little blurry until I washed off the blood. My theory is that the Uncertain Creature's blood carries its magical ability, and if one were to be completely covered in its blood, they would become indescribable, like the Uncertain Creature. That being said, I believe it would be quite difficult to get useful amounts of blood from the creature without seriously harming it, and I cannot fathom how a temporary magical effect is worth killing the only known creature like this.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Terror of Farport

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    In the city of Farport, there is a statue of a terrible creature, fifteen feet tall with tusks, horns, and claws, which the locals call the Terror of Farport. The statue exists to remind people of an event that most of the world still writes off as a mass delusion. If one believes the people of Farport, and I do, a beast emerged from Bluesalt Marsh to the west of the city several decades ago and went on a rampage. This rampage wasn't very deadly or damaging, but resulted in every single piece of food in Farport being eaten by the beast. Because of this, the statue that stands in the city today is an almost perfect recreation of the beast based on many eyewitness accounts. Unfortunately, the Terror's eating spree resulted in many people starving to death as there was simply no more food around. Since the beast's trip to Farport, it has never returned and seems to show no interest in returning for some time. Apparently, the beast only eats once every hundred years, and that one meal can make an entire city go hungry. The rest of the Terror's time is spent wandering the Bluesalt Marsh collecting feathers.

    While the beast's bizarre metabolism is certainly the result of magic, so is what it does with the feathers it collects. Plucking feathers from living birds in the marsh, the Terror of Farport takes them back to its nest in the middle of the marsh where it weaves the feathers into ropes with the ability to move and attack anyone who injures the creature. While the lengths of rope do not move at all except to defend the Terror, the creature itself seems to be quite forgetful and frequently leaves all of its magical rope in its nest. While this constitutes a weakness for the beast, its biggest weakness by far is the fact that it is terrified of its own appearance. Today, Farport always has plenty of mirrors on hand at the city gates to ward off another rampage from the Terror.

    One of the bright sides of the Terror of Farport frequently being away from its lair and frequently leaving all of its magic rope behind, is that it is quite easy to go into the nest and steal as much rope as one can carry. The magical ropes change loyalties with relative ease, lending their defensive capabilities to the last person to wear a given piece of rope. Whoever injures the owner of a piece of magic rope will find the rope slithering after them, restraining them, and trying to strangle them until they die, or the owner calls off the rope. Either way, these ropes offer an interesting, beautiful, and discrete method of self defense. If the Terror of Farport happens to return home while one is robbing it, however, it will most certainly attack, using its natural weapons to their full extent. Additionally, anyone who attacks the beast, even in self defense, is going to be mobbed by all of the feather ropes in the area, making retreat the safest option if the Terror spots someone stealing its ropes.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Spire Crawler

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Climbing and scaling the golden pillars of Goldspire Island is a mysterious giant ape known as the Spire Crawler. The creature spends most of its time using its hardened fingertips to climb the pillars of the island, digging into the solid gold cylinders to cling to their surfaces. Despite its fearsome appearance, and the fact that it has a mouth, the Spire Crawler does not seem to eat anything, not even sand like the ape-like creatures who worship it. As far as I can tell, the creature is able to absorb energy through its claws from the gold of the spires themselves, and it only uses its sharp teeth in combat. The Spire Crawler spends all of its time not roaming the spires in its home, an ancient fort filled with apes from the desert on the other side of the island. These apes seem to worship the Spire Crawler, working to give it comfort in exchange for small amounts of pure gold scraped from the massive cylinders the Spire Crawler feeds on. Apparently, the apes that worship it are able to eat and digest the gold, as well as other metals and minerals, and they seem to get a lot of energy out of the gold they get from their master.

    Aside from absorbing some kind of sustenance from gold, the Spire Crawler's claws are also powerful weapons. Each claw is also able to suck the life force out of living things, something the Spire Crawler is not often able to do in its dry, barren habitat. Each claw, upon close inspection, is actually hollow, like a venomous snake's fangs, and this shape, along with some quality of the claws themselves, removes energy from whatever is impaled on the end of the claws. The one and only thing that seems to really prevent this fate from befalling those who encounter the Spire Crawler is wool. Feeling wool on its claws is very distasteful to the Spire Crawler, to the point that it will even run away if it accidentally pierces some with its claws. 

    Within the Beast's lair, one can obtain obscene amounts of pure gold by simply joining the ranks of the worshipers and doing a good job. Finding the lair is difficult and dangerous due to its remoteness and harsh climate, but anyone who wants gold without needing to dig it out of the spires themselves will be in the perfect place. As far as I can tell, the Spire Crawler wants to be fanned and have the sand moved around into comfortable shapes to lie on, and it will give each of its helpful followers about three pounds of gold to eat every day. If you do not eat gold, you can hid this from the gold-eating apes and put away three pounds of gold every day. I am sure the Spire Crawler also has a large pile of gold dust in a room of the fort somewhere, but I was unable to find it during my stay.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: Shpingus

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Shpingus is the legendary terror of the Lilac Valley, spoken of in fearful terms even by those who don't believe in her. Legends speak of a voracious hunter who can see in the dark, kill with a single blow from her claws, and disappear into the shadows. While this ostrich-sized beast is certainly dangerous, and she can in fact become a shadow, I would describe her as a scavenger over a hunter. Eating pretty much any food in sight, Shpingus uses her abilities to sneak into settlements and eat as much food as she can get her paws on. If Shpingus is discovered, she will use her fangs and claws in a flurry of death to scare off her attackers, and then melt into a shadow to make her getaway. While she certainly poses a risk to anyone who discovers her, I do not think she has any goal beyond eating as much food as she can find.

    The ability to turn into a shadow is both integral to Shpingus' escape strategy and the result of eating enchanted food a long time ago. Legends say that Shpingus stole a pie left out for the first kobold of Lilac City, meant to give him the power to become an untouchable shadow and travel as swiftly as the wind while in that form. Clearly, the creature still has this power and uses it to great effect. The one thing Shpingus seems to dislike is citrus fruit, avoiding anything that even smells like lemons or limes. While the smell does not bother her, eating even a bite of any citrus will send Shpingus into fits of hiccups for days.

    If one can manage to follow Shpingus back to her burrow under a tree, they will discover a very cozy home. Shpingus seems to take more than just food when she ventures into towns and cities, as her burrow is furnished with every color imaginable of fine cloth, pillows, and rugs. Shpingus seems to like them for their softness, ammassing a massive collection over the years. When I inspected the burrow, I discovered that Shpingus' collection constitutes a huge amount of textile wealth. While most of it is a little worn, some of the fabrics are still the softest I have ever had the pleasure to touch. I made off with a few choice pieces to have made into clothing, and I recommend anyone who is able to find Shpingus' burrow do the same.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Shovel Tusker

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    While wandering the Bronze Woods of the Lonely Island, it is common to find large trenches dug into the dirt. Locals, while not believed by the world at large, say that these trenches are dug by a creature the size of an elephant known as the Shovel Tusker. By following the trail of the freshest trenches, I was able to find the beast. The Shovel Tusker spends its time digging in the dirt for the edible roots of the otherwise inedible bronzeleaf trees, leaving long trenches in the ground. While usually too focused on feeding to bother others, anything red will immediately gain the Shovel Tusker's attention and be the subject of a vicious attack. The Shovel Tusker's tusks can be used to deadly effect in this rage, so it is best not to bring any red objects to the Bronze Woods.

    Another strange thing about this already strange beast is that the fur on the end of its tail has the magical ability to repel insects, mice, and other pests from areas where the hairs have been scattered. This ability seems to keep parasites and biting flies off of the Shovel Tusker, but it is inherent to the hairs. Oddly enough, the Shovel Tusker seems to shy away from anything that is blue, an opposite reaction to when it sees something red. I cannot say what the cause for this is, but it may be a learned reaction based on something in the beast's past. Regardless, I have found this information to be quite useful in my time studying the Shovel Tusker.

    Every night, the Shovel Tusker returns to the same meadow and goes to sleep in the same spot. The creature has carved several notches into the trees surrounding its home, causing the bronzeleaf trees to ooze sap. This sap has dried and has a unique, metallic scent that makes it worth a lot of money as an ingredient in perfumes and incenses. Such a large supply of dried sap would be worth quite a bit. Additionally, the fur on the tip of the Shovel Tusker's tail regrows relatively quickly, allowing one to collect and use it. The only issue is, of course, shaving the tail without gaining the attention of the Shovel Tusker. I have had some idle thoughts about making a regular trip to collect the dried bronzeleaf sap around the creature's home and to shave its tail in its sleep, but I generally feel like I have better things to do so I don't.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Shindegoost

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    There is one resident of the Planar Peninsula who I have always struggled to understand. Possessing razor-sharp fangs and powerful tentacles is the Shindegoost, which runs through the Northern Plains at breakneck speeds looking for its preferred prey, teleporting hares. In order to actually catch and eat such prey, the Shindegoost is able to dispatch creatures with shocking speed. The Shindegoost does its killing with its fangs and tentacles, able to easily grab onto anything and slice open its neck in the blink of an eye. This man-sized creature seems to spend most of its time hiding in large bushes and bunches of grass, waiting for its prey to wander by. This behavior likely explains why so few people have ever seen the Shindegoost, in addition to the fact that it will frequently attack any people who happen to discover its hiding spot. By watching a band of teleporting hares for several months, I was able to spot the Shindegoost when one of the hares I was observing seemed to be pulled into a bush one day. Upon closer inspection, I saw the bush shaking a bit, and chose to observe from afar. Soon, the Shindegoost emerged, looking quite satisfied, and began sprinting away faster than any other creature in the Northern Plains.

    While the Shindegoost is quite fast, it seems like that is not the most incredible thing about the creature. The Shindegoost secretes a musk from the tips of its tentacles that is able to prevent the hares it catches from teleporting. The musk seems to be derived from whatever part of the teleporting hares allows their own teleportation, however, so the effect relies on a steady diet of hares and little else. Despite its sharp teeth and strong bite, however, the beast is unable to bite through metal, making one immune to its dangers by wearing conventional armor. With its powerful tentacles, the Shindegoost will be able to remove the armor, but it will give its victim time to react as well.

    Having this time to react is important, as well, because I believe the musk on the creature's tentacles is effective against all forms of teleportation. Such a substance would be of incredible value, one just has to collect it off of the tentacles of a deadly beast. The Shindegoost does not seem to keep a nest or lair of any sort, preferring to sleep up in a tree where other creatures on the ground cannot easily see or reach it. I am not brave enough, but I suppose someone could track the beast down and collect the musk while it is sleeping. Whoever performs such a task has a lot of money to make from those who want to detain teleporting criminals and rivals, so good luck to them.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: Shepherd Jim

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Shepherd Jim is the semi-aquatic protector of the cold water manatees that call Big Bay home. Stretching out to thirty feet from his nose to the tip of his tail, the people of Farport know Jim as a fairly gentle creature who will keep manatees out of the way of ships in the bay. Not only is this good for the manatees, but it saves the crews of the ships a lot of work scraping bits of manatee off the hull in port. Manatee herding is not something Shepherd Jim does out of altruism, however, as he will periodically lead one of his herd off to eat it out of sight of the others. To ensure that none of the other manatees find out about his treachery, Jim will pull his victim onto land to eat, usually caching the manatee in a nearby tree and coming back over several days. With his herd as his primary source of food, Jim is quite protective of them. Those who harm a manatee from Jim's herd are rarely heard from again, so it is probably for the best that he tends to keep the manatees away from people.

    Keeping the manatees in check is something that Shepherd Jim is able to do through magic. Jim's saliva has a hypnotic property which makes the manatees docile and easy to direct. In the state, the manatees do little more than sit in place and eat until they are pushed somewhere else by an outside force. To ensure they stay in this state as much as possible, Jim will spend hours of each day grooming his herd of manatees, as well as himself. Beyond the necessity of this behavior for maintaining his food supply, the creature seems to be a bit of a neat freak. He tends to avoid seafoam in particular, seeming to find it particularly offensive, although for what reason I do not know.

    Most people in Farport seem to be aware of Jim, but pay him no mind since he tends to stay out of the way. This is their loss, as most people do not realize that Shepherd Jim eats the manatees he herds, and therefore do not realize that his food caches represent the only way to harvest cold water manatee blubber without incurring his wrath. This blubber, unknown to most, can be dried into one of the hottest burning fuels that can be naturally attained. This blubber, so dense in calories, burns hot enough to melt iron and can be lit with a single spark. While certainly dangerous, this blubber can also be a powerful tool. The creature does not eat the blubber, preferring the meat and organs, so harvesting blubber does not impact Jim's food supply. As a side note, Jim's saliva acts as a powerful narcotic drug when applied to the foreheads of people, and is one of the most relaxing experiences I have ever had.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: Scondalius Firebringer

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    It has always been considered common knowledge that the tales from the Ashmount Range of Scondalius Firebringer are mere explanations for the random nature of volcanic events in the area. As it turns out, there really is a bright red lizard the size of a hippopotamus that is able to eat rock and regurgitate it as a gout of lava. Scondalius Firebringer seems to eat rocks only to produce lava, however, and needs to maintain a diverse, omnivorous diet to fuel his body. Acting as a bit of a scavenger, Scondalius is able to fit just about anything in his massive jaws and crush it up, a fact he is able to use should his lava spitting fail to ward off an opponent.

    Despite being mostly mouth, the most impressive thing about Scondalius Firebringer is his stomach, which can not only digest just about any organic material, but melt rock into lava. This magical process of melting rock seems to also be why Scondalius is able to eat anything, a convenient side effect. Scondalius Firebringer also seems to be entirely immune to the effects of heat. The creature is able to wade through lava and walk through blazing fires without issue, paying the hazards no mind. As a result of this heat resistance, however, Scondalius cannot handle any temperature cold enough to freeze water. To avoid the cold of winter, Scondalius Firebringer will spend months at a time wallowing in lava pools, apparently unharmed by this behavior.

    Despite getting no nutrition from it, Scondalius Firebringer seems to be able to pass the rocks he eats but does not spit out as lava through his digestive system. This does not appear to be a pleasant experience for the beast, but the one time I saw it happen, the rocks he ate left his body as a massive ruby the size of my head. Something about the magic that melts rock in his stomach seems to also convert rocks into gems when fully passed through. While I certainly collected the massive ruby, I believe the experience was quite uncomfortable for Scondalius and I doubt it would be humane to try to force this result.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Rotten Creeper

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Lizard folk of the Mangey Seagull Tribe tell legends of a terrible creature known as the Rotten Creeper, a mass of putrid, decomposing goo that roams the island they call home looking for food. Able to alter its body into any shape, the only warning its victims get is the smell of rotting flesh that permeates the air around the creature. On the new moon, the Rotten Creeper leaves its lair to go find prey, looking to find the largest thing it can catch. The beast will alter its shape to sneak up on its victim, remaining silent until the moment it grabs its prey, at which point it uses its great strength to pull in the poor creature and drown it in its gooey body. By the next new moon, the creature will be digested, bones and all. After a successful hunt, the Rotten Creeper will often kill several more unlucky creatures, taking them back to its nest to become bedding rather than eat them.

    Being able to maintain a solid form with a body that is apparently made entirely of liquid is the result of a magical spell, something I was able to figure out by examining the creature's magical aura. Whoever cast this spell is long gone, but their work remains to terrorize the lizard folk of the Opal. The reason why this mass of decomposed goo is still around so long after its creator seems to be that it is able to suck the energy out of its victims, using this energy to sustain the spell that keeps it alive. To avoid this fate, it is important to always have a source of light around. Any light, but sunlight in particular, seems to dry out and injure the Rotten Creeper, causing it to move away from the source of the pain. In order to avoid being touched by any light, the beast maintains a large pile of decaying animals which it can hide under for the month of light between new moons.

    Taking advantage of this time spent hiding from the light, I was able to get into the Rotten Creeper's lair and collect some samples of the creature's goo. Although it would not stay usable if exposed to sunlight, it turns out that the goo is incredibly caustic, being able to dissolve flesh instantly. These samples have come in handy many times since then, allowing me to dispose of any organic material with ease. To keep the goo safe from drying out, I keep it all in a leather-wrapped vial in my bag which has been quite effective. I assume this goo would have similar utility to others, but no one has ever asked me where I got mine, so I take that as an overall lack of interest in the stuff.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Rooftop Clicker

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    While it is normal to hear many different sounds at night in a large city, some parents enjoy telling stories to their children about the strange creatures that produce these otherwise mundane sounds. One of these sounds is a distinct, rapid-fire clicking, which stories attribute to a creature known as the Rooftop Clicker. While stories and descriptions vary wildly, there is in fact a real Rooftop Clicker. He stands about three feet tall, is an excellent climber, and he uses his large beak to make his clicking sound. Preferring to run away if anything happens to see him, the Rooftop Clicker seems to prefer to perform in solitude. Should one catch the quick little creature, his beak is actually quite sharp and capable of leaving a nasty gash. As far as food goes, the Rooftop Clicker is able to feed off of the mental anguish of those trying and failing to get to sleep.

    The Rooftop Clicker, when undisturbed, is able to detect the person having the most difficult time getting to sleep in the entire city. He uses this magical sense and climbing skills to make his way to that person's roof, where the Rooftop Clicker will click his beak in irregular, rapid bursts to keep his victim from falling asleep for as long as possible. By standing near his target, the beast is able to absorb the psychic energy produced by the victim's frustration, consuming this psychic energy instead of conventional food. Warding off the Rooftop Clicker is as simple as getting onto the roof and shooing him away, but at that point I would hardly call that a win.

    With great difficulty, I was able to track down the Rooftop Clicker to his nest. Situated inside the attic of an old tavern, the entire nest is coated in a strange, smooth, purple substance. This substance, as it turns out, is regurgitated by the Rooftop Clicker after he feeds, probably a by-product of digesting psychic energy. After it dries, this substance becomes incredibly hard and dense and has been used to create rudimentary furniture in the Rooftop Clicker's nest. This dried substance is harder than diamonds and can be fashioned into incredibly durable and sharp tools with enough work. If the substance is broken, it can be mended by wetting the pieces with water and holding them together for a few moments, making the tools easy to fix as well as durable and sharp.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Quiffleromper

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    Chickens, and more importantly, roosters, are not really found in the bog lands of Squee, making the sound of a rooster exotic to the area. Bog people, however, seem to have legends of a terrible creature from well before their knowledge of roosters which makes an identical sound. This creature is the Quiffleromper, the legendary protector beast of all quiffle bushes. According to legend, this flightless bird stands about ten feet tall, has a whip-like tail which can shatter bones, and a razor-sharp beak which can sever limbs. The Quiffleromper, as its title suggests, will attack anyone who attempts to pick the fruit of a quiffle bush, preceding the attack with its rooster-like call. In reality, the Quiffleromper only attacks those it sees picking quiffle fruit, which is very few people. Regardless, bog people have a cultural taboo against picking the fruits, which is probably for the best. Quiffle fruits, while not being particularly nutritious, have an addictive quality that its consumers attribute to its unique flavor. 

    Aside from being protective of the bushes, the Quiffleromper also has the ability to instantly travel between quiffle bushes by stepping into one and magically stepping out of a different bush elsewhere. This ability seems to come from a lifelong diet of nothing but quiffle fruit, a feat that would be difficult for any other creature to accomplish. Bog person legends speak of one way to ward off the beast, however. If one wishes to safely pick quiffle fruits, all they have to do is coat themselves in a paste of mint, onion, garlic, and ginger. The strong scents are distasteful to the Quiffleromper and will keep the creature at bay for as long as the paste remains potent. 

    Oddly enough, the Quiffleromper maintains a nest, deep in a massive thicket of quiffle bushes. I was able to get to it by sneaking up on the Quiffleromper itself and walking under it while it transported through a quifflebush, repeating the process as a way to observe the creature until it happened to take me to its nest to sleep. Here, I discovered that the creature passes the large pits of the quiffle fruits without breaking them, and it actually alters the pits in the process. After having been swallowed and excreted by the Quiffleromper, quiffle seeds become explosive. When broken, these altered seeds erupt into a massive ball of flames, a discovery that took me by surprise. Of course, once I learned this I grabbed several of these altered quiffle seeds for self defense, which I recommend anyone else with the opportunity do as well.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Notorious Beast

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    The Notorious Beast is one of the few creatures I've encountered who is not only known worldwide, but also largely believed to be a hoax. This massive creature, nearly thirty feet tall at the shoulder, is seen regularly by those who visit the remote Peninsular Range. Reports uniformly describe a creature which looms over the treetops, leaving a path of trampled and toppled plants that anyone can follow. Pulsating Plums are the creature's favorite food, although it will eat any fruits it can find in the cloud forests it calls home. Should anything try to challenge the Notorious Beast, it can use its tail like a massive whip, capable of snapping large trees in half. Despite this formidable weapon, the Notorious Beast is so large that very few things are able to gain its attention. Conversely, its size makes it difficult for people not to notice it.

    The fact that the Notorious Beast is so large makes it hard to miss, but the remoteness of its home means that very few people actually have the opportunity to see it in person. This is where the notoriety of the beast comes in. For some strange reason, anyone who sees the Notorious Beast is magically compelled to tell everyone they meet about it for up to a year after seeing the creature. A secondary part of this magical effect seems to be that anyone who hears about the Notorious Beast but hasn't seen it will assume that they are being lied to. Due to the low number of people who have actually seen the creature, this has led to global derision at the idea of such a creature, and even resulted in the rather sarcastic name bestowed upon it. The magical effect seems to be some kind of defense mechanism to keep attention away from the Notorious Beast, and it seems to be working quite well. As far as curing this effect goes, I found that eating a pulsating plum, the beast's favorite food, does the trick, and will also work as effective bait for the creature itself.

    Related to the effects of viewing the Notorious Beast is the effect gained from covering oneself in a powder made from the creature's shed scales. After several months of following it around, I had amassed quite the collection of shed scales, so I chose to experiment a little. As it turns out, the powdered scales have a strange effect. While they do not turn things invisible or muffle sounds, the powdered scales made it so that other living things simply do not notice whatever is covered in scale powder. In essence, with the scale powder one does not need to become invisible because no one will notice or care that they are there. Of course, it did take me a long time to collect enough scales to grant this effect to myself, but considering my line of work, I actually followed the Notorious Beast for much longer than I had planned to collect a decent supply of scales. The Notorious Beast seems to shed the most during drier parts of the year, but not by much.

The Immortal Naturalist's Guide to Cryptic Creatures: The Mud Guzzler

This post is part of the Immortal Naturalist's Guide series. The explanation for that series can be found in this post.

    When wandering parts of the bog lands of Squee at night, one may hear a strange sound. This sound is something like that of a howling wind in the distance, although I have personally only ever heard the sound when the air is calm. Local folklore suggests that this sound is produced by some kind of massive, deadly creature that one ought to move away from, but having followed the sound, I can tell you that it is produced by the harmless Mud Guzzler. Standing about ten feet tall at the shoulder, the Mud Guzzler is a nocturnal creature that feeds by sucking mud up through its trunk and filtering out all of the insects, rodents, and bits of organic matter to be digested while the inedible parts are expelled immediately. This feeding method is what produces the terrifying sound that most know the Mud Guzzler by. Although it is generally peaceful, the creature is able to defend itself by blasting mud out of its trunk at assailants. 

    Something about the Mud Guzzler's mud filtering must be magical. This is because the filtered mud that it excretes is lacking in any organic material at all and has the ability reverse the aging process in other animals. I do not know why the beast would grant this effect to mud, but any creature who finds themselves submerged in the filtered mud will rejuvenate at a rate of one year for every hour submerged. In order to produce this magic mud, the Mud Guzzler seems to prefer mud with very few rocks in it. After noticing this, I did a few experiments and found that the creature will generally avoid rocky areas, allowing me to start influencing its direction of travel by putting rocks in areas I did not want the Mud Guzzler to go. Given no choice in the matter, the creature will cease feeding to go find a less rocky area, but only after it has exhausted its nearest supplies of non-rocky mud.

    Even after a few weeks of observing, I never saw the Mud Guzzler return to any one spot to sleep. Rather than maintain a nest, the creature seems perfectly happy to burrow into the mud and sleep wherever it is when the sun comes up in the morning. While this can make finding the creature somewhat difficult until you get close enough to hear it, the magical filtered mud it produces is probably worth more than gold. Unless one provokes the Mud Guzzler, collecting its magical mud should be as easy as following it around and waiting. I think the only reason this resource isn't being exploited is that most people choose to believe local legends when they hear the horrible noise produced by the Mud Guzzler and run away. Simply put, everyone is too scared to go look and find out the truth, which I suppose is a good thing if you're the Mud Guzzler.