Random hooks thread

[Zilfer]

Try a Call to arms or something like that in magic. It's much more humorous and a joke card. XD

I shall say....

The Laywers wouldn't let us have it any other way.....

[Zettaijin]

The Urban Witch

Ceren is no ordinary witch. She is an urban witch, whose mind is one with alleyways and crossroads of the urban sprawl yet like the city she is both old and new; static and changing; fascinating and repulsive.

Her ever young Alu-Fiend mother left her to pursue her own interests, entrusting her in the care of a perpetually time lapsed gypsy woman, perhaps sensing her progeny's own temporal instability. Better fate than what one would expect from the aloof half fiend.

The Zarovian woman instructed the girl in the arts of witchcraft but in turn left her to another's care in the form of the city's streets. Unlikely urchin that she was, she found herself inexpliably tied to the city. It whispered to her of ancient secrets and dark mysteries, of things left unsaid and thoughts carelessly left behind.

Seer, soothsayer, thief, spy, wanderer...

She knows of the city and draws her occult skills from its invisible heart.

However, she is never quite the same, her appearance changing ever so slightly from day to day. It is said that after a year one might be unable to fully recognize her unless one stays within her presence. She is a chameleon as well, taking on the colour of those near her.

Her most potent skill, however, is the painful relationship she has with time and the unfortunate redoubling of her person in different shapes taken from her past or from her self perception.

Indeed, she is never truly permanently in one specific time shifting through minutes, hours, days...

Major crossroads lead to the severing of her person into multiple beings, all incarnations from her past. Meeting these other selves from the past causes her great pain yet also provides her with a temporary clarity of sight that may undo the unusual memory alteration suffered by Darkon's migrant population. Alas, those individuals touched by her powers also find themselves forced to confront the flaws of their self narrative and see their past as it was rather than as how they say it was.

The players hear of this strange woman and seek her services only to find her the object of some important undead Kargat agents' attention.

Vampiric agents regain their previous existence and werebeast become beasts forevermore through her unusual powers, however the unpredictability of the past she will revisit means players may find themselves escorting a young, angry teenage girl just as well as a babe of a scant few months away from the womb... or a crone?

[Zettaijin]

Goin' to a chapel and gonna get ma-a-a-arried

You are formally invited to Styrix and Kazimir's wedding to be held in the Grieving Cathedral of the city of Nod.

Mullonga shall be anxiously waiting to escort the guests to her spiritual sister's side, that is if they even reach her.

Hopefully by then the Rift Spanner will be in working condition, thus allowing the Night Hag to elope on her honeymoon.

---------------------

About Kazimir...

Kazimir was born a great many decades ago, making him rather ancient despite his appearance. His father was a nomadic priest who worshipped at the altar of some ancient war god in the frozen Tundra of a far away land lost to time.

Upon one of his holy journeys he would encounter a charming young woman shivering in the forest from the cold autumn night winds. Her clothes party torn, she begged for help claiming wild beasts had attacked her. Oh for but a little of his warmth she would give him all, even glory to a god she did not know.

"Women are to bear warriors. Will you lend your womb to the glory of war, woman?"
"Why, yes! Vow to protect me and my womb shall bear the strongest sons!"

As he approached to annoint her with his holy warrior blood, the woman revealed herself a hag with iron teeth and claws. Yet, the stoic man pushed her back and still annointed her. The blood burned a sigil into her flesh as she cursed him in ancient tongues, eyes burning with rage.

"I shall protect you, woman. You have in you the potential to bear powerful sons who shall serve the cause of my... now OUR heavenly master. You are one of us now, woman, as you said you would be."

He knew the woman was a hag all along, his connection to the warriors' realms above giving him the true sight that allows a man to see through the ruses of his adversaries. No normal woman could bear a son like on of her kind, he thought. If annointed, she would be accepted as a mother of warriors by his god and thus her sins would be cleansed and no blasphemy caused.

The hag spit at him but he clenched her throat with a mighty hand and reminded her of her promise. Would she dare defy the will of the warriors' heaven? Would she unleash a thousand brave from the heavens to rip her flesh asunder for her crimes? Is a broken promise worth her life?

She could not break his grip. Despite her inhuman strength, the hag found herself pinned against a massive stone as the priest's grey eyes stared unflinchingly, waiting for her answer. She agreed to serve the terms of her promise and bear sons for the great wars to come all the while cursing her fate.

That her ruse had failed would surely make her a laughing stock, so she agreed to accompany the priest under the guise of the young woman he had met before however he would then have her change to a form more becoming of a warrior's wife as a frail young woman could not hope to bear strong offspring.

She would be known under a new name and begin a new life which, over time, she came to appreciate in some ways... That is until she became pregnant.

The pregnancy was a painful one, it would have likely killed a normal woman, and were it not for her supernatural ressillence she would have succumbed as well. Every day she could feel it, twisting, kicking, and moving within her. It was in no way a natural being, she thought. Her belly was swollen to the point that midwives feared for her life. "Her son will burst from her body, no doubt!" quipped an old woman.

Her more human form and now heavily pregnant body did not allow her to easily hunt prey, yet she found some relief in drinking the blood of animals. Raw flesh of recent kills soothed the pain and oh how she wished to devour those delicious looking babes so freshly out of the womb. Soft bones and placenta smell filled her mind with thoughts of what could be...

Somehow, none of the midwives could explain why the son would not come forth. Why would it resist so? Had it not been 9 months? How much longer would he remain in his mother's belly?

No remedy or herbal concoction would precipitate the birth, and the hag mother began despairing. Raw flesh and animal blood no longer eased her pain as the thing, it seemed, was growing ever bigger inside of her. She begged to be cut open, but the midwives could do nothing for their knives simply could not cut through her skin.

Alarmed, she began drinking various concoctions said to kill children in the womb which were sometimes used against enemy mothers. But it was to no avail as the thing would not die. So, after alomost 18 months within her, the hag's mind snapped and with all of her strength she ripped her own belly open to reach in and throw an overly large and developped infant out of her womb. With the last of her rage she cut the umbelical cord and cursed the child.

Upon returning to find the mother of his child dead, the priest grew furious and slapped the toddler sized infant to little effect. She had indeed given him a great warrior but at the prize of her own life. The priest gave the boy a name: Kazimir, which would surely be fit for a great ruler.

The boy grew rapidly, fat too rapidly for the village's council of mothers who could no control him. Not even an adolescent yet he would follow his father into the woods to be initiated but it would seem as if the warrior god would not accept the boy. In a dream, the celestial warrior appeared to the priest and told him that the boy was born to kill gods and only a mortal could slay him. Alas, the priest could not bring himself to kill his only son. So he drugged the boy into a deep sleep and escaped into the night never to be seen again. As the boy awoke to find himself alone he understood that the fates had decided to test him and so he would answer their challenge to find his destiny.

Decades would pass as Kazimir took on many lives and engaged in various works, from a travelling mercenary to a great warrior and from a simple labourer to a splendid builder. He even spent time in a monestary, joining an ascetic cult. There he would fall into bouts of deliria as nightmares came to him at night, a mysterious crone speaking to him, begging him to find her in the ruined city. She claimed to be his mother, longing to see he son who had killed her without thought.

In his dreams, his mother's belly threatened to swallow him whole again and the ghostly figure of his father, now a decrepit old man, scolded him for the death of the hag.

As the mist rose one day, the entire land found itself displaced and upon entering a mist bank he found himself near a bay. No longer was he in the frozen reaches of what would be known as Sanguinia but rather within the expansive domain of Darkon. His head felt heavy and a kindly old woman offered to let him rest near her hut. She would watch him as he slept and promised to keep wild animals from disturbing his rest. She had his mother's eyes is all he could remember before falling into a deep sleep.

That night, a wicked hag appeared by his side and upon turning him onto his belly, rode his back as if a steed. Cackling and laughing, the hag urged him to run all the while hitting his naked flesh with a thorn covered branch. However, he refused no matter how hard the hag hit him. In fact, he became enraged and threw her off his back! The bewildered hag had never met anyone capable of not only escaping her nightly curse but to dare insult her as well. As she rose he quickly knocked the crone down with a heavy backhanded blow, forcing black blood to ooze from her mouth.

"Who are you to insult me, who are you to dare lay a hand on me, IN MY DOMAIN? I am Styrix, and you are but fuel for my infernal machine!" uttered the hag, but at that moment Kazimir's expression changed to the same one his father showed the hag who would be his mother. He grabbed her throat and forced her to answer to him, forced to answer his questions. Armed with this new knowledge, he agreed to aid her in her plans so he would finally tear the heavens asunder and ascend as the new warrior god.

She smiled coyly, finding herself almost... well... in love with this towering man. She scoffed and asked if he would marry her, a symbolic union of their combined powers. He agreed.

----------

Kazimir met Mullonga some time ago and she is interested in his feverish dreams and emotions. However, Styrix is a powerful creature who certainly does not fear the Nightmare Lands and its rulers, so Mullonga merely spies on her spiritual sister's nightly games with Kazimir not without some envy.

Syrix feels the Nightmare Lands should provide a perfect location to finally use and fully power her Rift Spanner away from the prying eyes of the Lich Lord of Darkon. The players are among numerous individuals chosen to be fed to the Rift Spanner after being run through a few dreamscape scenarios meant to prepare them for their final fate.

Will Mullonga betray Styrix so as to keep Kazimir to herself?

What is the link between Kazimir's mother and the two hags? Given the multitude of myths surrounding female trios, what i the significance of these three hags?

Kazimir himself is mostly immune to the powers of planar creatures, yet quite mortal when faced with non-planars. He remains however a powerful figure and possesses not only near inhuman strength and stamina, but skin said to be as hard as steel.

Dreamscapes have little sway over him, so both boons and curses from the night hag are useless.

[Zettaijin]

Random hooks will continue until morale improves! (Or something like that)

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The canvas of the mind/the shape of your rage

A new self-styled "physician artisan" claims to be able to cure various forms of mental distress through verbal channeling which he refers to as "giving tangible shape to your emotions".

Individuals having recently suffered a trauma of some sort, ranging from the loss of a loved one to a close encounter with a particularly terrifying denizen of the domains, have been contacted for a special session with the man.

Patients discuss their problems with the rather strange individual who then proceeds to associate them with various creatures or objects until the patient finds a shape that best represents their emotion. This is of course a very liberating experience that the patients actively seek again and again.

Eventually, the "doctor" nudges the individual into imagining more and more dreadful forms for their emotions which the mists are only too happy to bring to life. And while these creations have a limited lifespan at first, further sessions extend their stay within the misty domains.

In some cases, the patient him or herself will undergo a transformation or else succumb to the creations of his mind.

Cases include a woman who suffered numerous still births following the birth of her daughter, leading to a crushing state of depression. The artisan had her imagine the stillborn children at various stages of growth, pushing her to act out her maternal desires by feeding and caring for these fictional children. However, the derformed mist-created children are fiercely protective of their mother and start responding to her emotional shifts by violently attacking various individuals connected to the mother.

Another is a man who felt perpetually overlooked and powerless, so the artisan made him a leader... of wolves. His feelings of frustration turned to leadership and confidence. He became the alpha male of a pack of wolves, running through forests and howling at the moon. In time, he would hunt down his powerlessness and frustration which took the form of prey. The prey he hunted with his pack invariably ended up at the doorstep of people he resented, yet due to the misty nature of thesecreations, the dead carcasses vanish over time. As one would expect, the man took to the beast's power and on the night of a full moon finally turned into a werebeast to savagely attack those who made him feel powerless or otherwise overlooked him. As an unusual side effect, the victims develop traits related to mammals which are preyed upon by wolves.

[Zettaijin]

For my next trick, I ask you (silent readers) to name a creature and I shall write a few hooks surrounding it.

[Zilfer]

Wights.

[Gonzoron of the FoS]

You're making it easy on him, Zilf. Living Tattoo! (and you'd better make them good hooks, or next I say tentacle rat. )

[Zilfer]

lol you got to throw those 'normal pitches' first to throw them off guard then you throw that slider.

[Zettaijin]

Someone is targeting the Brain's men, and for once it isn't Dominic D'Honaire.

A number of the Brain's low level operatives (e.g. goons, and assorted riff raff) have been recently killed in rather violent ways with the only clue left by their mysterious assailant being their blackened and charred backs.

The Brain suspects that his eternal rival may have boosted his forces with magic users and is merely mounting an offensive against the underworld.

The truth is that the culprit is a living tattoo which survived the death of its bearer to become a pseudo-wraith. The shock of its bearer death caused the tattoo to "die" but also be reborn with increased maliciousness and a shred of his former host's own disagreeable personality.

The original owner had acquired the tattoo from an Abber Shaman in exchange for some foreign goods while exiled in the Nightmare Lands. It was just one of many miraculous survival stories that had convinced him that strength of character is all one really needs to survive in this world.

He settled down in Dementlieu, even finding steady work as a member of the Brain's numerous criminal gangs and "settling down" as it were after a life of (mis)adventures.

His living tattoo matched him quite well and the two became quite a pair in the lower ranks of the underworld, alas the host's personality did not sit well with all of his new colleagues and they plotted to off him. Given their relatively unimportant status, none of the higher ups paid any attention.

Upon the man's demise, the tattoo found itself free or almost free as its desire for vengeance fuelled by its former host's lingering spirit having merged with its own basic consciousness caused it to gain the properties of a wraith.

As with all wraiths, it cannot stand the sun and needs to hide from the daylight. Also, the longer it stays away from a host, the weaker it becomes. Unfortunately, the only host that seemed to welcome it is the young son of the former host.

[Gonzoron of the FoS]

very nice, but I didn't mean to stomp on Zilfer's wights completely. I think you should do a hook for them too.

[Zettaijin]

Actually, I misread somehow and ended up thinking that Zilfer suggested wraiths not wights.

My bad, I'll find something to do with wights.

Oh and the living tattoo was supposed to be something akin to the dark man archetype as found in the MM.

[Zettaijin]

Pierre Montreux was always a pious man. So when the heavens came to him and requested his aid, he quickly abided.

How could such a simple man help the heavens, he pondered. Why, the simplest way of course! Go forth and raise a large, healthy family who will praise the heavens for generations to come!

However he often felt as though the city was not suited to raise a family to be truly thankful for the heavens' generosity and relocated to an abandonned chapel in the nearby woods.

Locals spoke of curses and spooks, but with heaven on his side he felt invincible!

Unfotunately, after the birth of their second child his wife became ill and found herself somehow unable to bear more offspring. Even as her health improved her body simply could not give more to the heavens.

So the man once again considered how he could overcome this sudden obstacle in the divine plan. For almost ten years the man despaired and more than once the temptation of using arcane methods or some manner of with-brewed concoction to heal his wife came to him. But, no, his wife reminded him that they had sworn to serve the heavens as the heavens demanded.

As he looked to the city he abandonned he remembered the street urchins and thought of those children with no family or whose parents clearly did not love. He would rescue them and bring them to live with his own family as well as raise them in the heavenly ways.

So he sent his own children to talk to and recruit various younger street urchins in hopes of bringing them to his humble chapel (the older ones were obviously too far gone and could not be saved form the sins of the city). Promises of shelter and food were more than enough for the younger ones to elope with the Montreux children, although the patriarch certainly had not expected them to be quite so difficult. While they eagerly devoured any food offered to them, manners and respect were not so easily accepted.

Oh but the heavens work in mysterious ways.

The father of some of the urchins was a man with a penchant for the bottle. He loved it so much, in fact, that when his wife suggested he choose between her and the ale, he chose the later. However, the offending wife was taught a lesson for her lack of tact - an unfortunately fatal one.

His children would steal food for themselves and their somewhat lacking father so when the man realized he had not seen his sons for a few days (or perhaps he merely realized that his pantry was now empty), he flew into a rage and took it upon himself to not only find his lazy brood but teach them about the seriousness of their simple tasks.

It did not take him long to loosen the tongues of various vagrants and children of the street to learn of the chapel in the woods; one should never underestimate the pursuasiveness of a drunken, violent man. And upon finding the chapel empty, his rage rose to a boiling point with much destruction and defiling. Somehow he found the secret passage to the underground where the children had been hiding while the Montreux patriarch and his wife were out.

Cursing at his "lazy" children, he attacked them relentlessly as he had done to his wife years prior. The young adolescent boys were no match for the man who brought them into this world and he quickly maimed and killed a first boy with a broken bottle and strangled his other son with his large hands. Before he could come to his senses, the Montreux boys mounted an attack in self defence but fell to the heavy man's anger.

His violent efforts took their toll, but he had enough awareness to hear someone coming down the stairs. He armed himself with a simple knife found on a table and waited in the shadows. Pierre may have been pious and hard working, but he was quickly overpowered by the violent drunkard. His wife screamed and the panicked drunk stabbed his hostage before accosting the wife and silencing her.

The beast, covered in blood and exhausted from his carnage, fell into a deep sleep besieged by terrifying nightmares. In them, the murdered family rose from the dead...

Well, he thought it was a ngihtmare...

The chapel had been a cover for a cult devoted to some ancient forces, hence the underground complex. The members had long since been erased from existence by whatever fiend they inadvertantly summoned but the place maintained a certain "perpetual stain" from the lower planes. The dead family having died in violent, vicious manner were reanimated as life hating wights and their first victim was their murderer.

The heavens have their way and the man was himself turned into a wight, a particularly large, angry one with far less wit about him than should be. The others still resent him but being unable to fully destroy him have kept him chained and gagged to a cell.

The family continue to live within the underground complex going about their usual activities... in a way...

Pierre being the most clever of the bunch concocted some story of vast riches or captives which they spread through roughly penned letters.

The dark powers saw to it that these letters found themselves in the hands of the guillible and passed on to others.

Pierre secretely wishes for his final demise, but for now draining the life from mortals will do.

[Zettaijin]

The tentacle rat is a much maligned creation from the pages of the Denizens of Darkness book, one which has received criticism for being rather unimpressive if not fairly useless.

I'm not convinced that tentacle rats are completely useless and, with some love, they might fit a niche role.

Here are some ideas:

Honey I Shrunk the PCs!

An old favourite, shrunken PCs, would be suitably terrorizing thanks to the malignant rodent's tentacles if played right.

The players are traversing a dark, damp, and very narrow crawlspace riddled with holes from which a sudden flurry of spiny tentacles attack!

As they make their way out, they soon realize how useless their puny shrunken lanterns are and that the darkness is quite overwhelming. From the darkest corners, glowing eyes and teeth threaten them and lashing tentacles seem to emerge from every shadow. No sooner is one cut down that two more appear!

The rats are never fully seen, only eyes and tentacles, leading players to imagine some strange Lovecraftian beast.


Invading species

Jacqueline Renier had no formal objections to the tentacle rats entering her domain: a cousin is a cousin, after all. Yet she never thought that the rats would be so difficult to contain let alone control.

Given their superior abilities, their numbers are quickly growing and lacking proper food they will even feed on normal rats or passing humans!

Jacqueline feels this is an invasion and refuses to let their numbers swell, alas, what can she do? Her servants are a little hesitant to slay what looks like a distant cousin of theirs. Even normal rats are having a difficult time differentiating themselves from their Markovian bretheren.

Outsiders will have to act as exterminators, a rather disgusting proposition for the rat queen, alas it is also a necessary one.

Further investigation reveal that the rats' invasion is anything but natural as a small cult-like group of rat-like broken ones have established themselves in a remote area of Richemulot from where they summon the tiny beasts.

Having players suddenly swarmed by ugly, tentacled rats could be a cause for revulsion and horror.

[Zettaijin]

Miasma

The air is heavy with noxious vapours and the soil damp with blood. Everywhere, houses crumble under their own weight as weakened wooden beams break into rotten splinters.

This ghost town didn't exist on any map, and it may never will.

When the players enter it, it doesn't take long for them to realize that something is amiss. However, the invisible fumes that seem to permeate the area are slowly taking their toll on the players and filling their minds with wild hallucinations.

This is a perfect opportunity to break out more fantastical creatures and the weirder creations from the old monstrous manuals. Grells, lamasu (lamasi?), and even displacer beasts can be justified!

A simple feral cat seemingly grows into a ferocious feline and tentacles painfully erupt from its back. It seems to blur in and out of their view, but is it the beast or their eyes?

A dead bird rises with its grey matter leaking from its head only to reform into an ever expanding brain that soon overtakes most of its head. The bird grows to a larger and larger size until it turns into a fully formed grell.

Toadstools grow limbs and under the rim of their cap is a devious rictus. Spores fly from the cap as they dig themselves out of the ground and grow to the size of toddlers.

All of these beasts cause increasing nausea and illness and the players have only a short time to regain their minds or else succumb to the madness.

The true culprit is a lazy neo-otyugh which found itself a home in the wake of the Whistling Fiend's rampage. The inhabitants, driven half mad by the attack started blaming each other for the fiend's sudden appearance (and just as sudden disappearance). Many lives were lost needlessly and whomever remained sane quickly fled.

The cty eventually became completely empty save for the remains of citizens and broken homes. The neo-otyugh "followed its nose" through the mist and to the town where it feasted on the decaying bodies and the occasional delusional citizen. Lazy as it is, it refuses to move from what seems to be a bounty of delectables, but it also knows that it may have to move one day and so it feeds upon anyone foolish enough to enter.

First, however, it "prepares" its meal by making it violently sick. Using rudimentary psionic abilities it invokes nauseating images in the minds of its victims who are already suffering from the putrid, noxious air. Then it instills a sense of panic and fear which destablizes the victim and renders it more succeptible to further mind invasions. Lastly, it brings the weakened, soiled individual to its lair where it will deal the killing blow.

The dead bodies that liter its lair are either victims or remains from the Whistling Fiend's attack who were dragged into a large, festering mound.

The neo otyugh should be seen as a strange, Eldritch creature barely visible under the maggot filled corpses.

[Zettaijin]

The Lechberg Strangler

The Lechberg Strangler is the name given to a mysterious character who has been somehow dispatching members of Lechberg's lower nobility in a rather discreet if not time tested manner: strangulation.

Victims are found with their larynx crushed and their necks bruised and red, so while the method is clear, the motive remains obscure. Furthermore, the assassin makes house calls as all victims are found dead within their own home yet traces of struggle are few and far between.

The strangler is assumed to be a powerful individual with uncanny prowess at disguise and subterfuge.

In truth, the culprit is a cunning necromancer turned assassin who is dealing death to members of a secret society with whom he had some business dealings in the past. Unfamiliar with the arcane, they thought the man was merely an herbalist with an aptitude for the smokes and mirrors of the stage magician; it would prove to be a fatal mistake. The necromancer expected payments for his services and when the society rebuffed him, he took it upon himself to show them his true power.

Dead men do have tales for the necromancer and he obtained quite a bit of information about his victims through the corpses and spirits of former "associates".

Using boneless stuffed into jars, boxes and the like he snuffs out his victims in the comfort of their own homes when they least expect it. The boneless then slithers away into the night.