GREENEYED PIG MEN

I'm not an "orc guy" by any means (hobgoblins are more my speed) but for better or worse they're intrinsic to D&D fantasy. Similar to what I wrote about elementals in my last post, orcs are one of those aspects of the game that beg to be reimagined, as evidenced by how many hundreds (of thousands) of words have been devoted to reinterpreting orcs with more nuance to either explain their brutish tendencies or justify why they can be killed without guilt. I've mostly stayed away from this topic and from orcs in general (more for aesthetic reasons than anything else, as I've never settled on a "look" for orcs that feels right) but the other night I passed out reading Planet Algol and dreamed of  Bebop from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles softly punching me in the face while psychedelic noise rock played in the background. I woke up in a trashed hotel room and found this post fully written in a notepad document on my laptop ANYWAY HERE IT IS

GREENEYED PIG MEN

GREENEYED PIG MEN

# Appearing: 2d6 (dungeon)/1d6x10 (overworld)/30d10 (overworld lairs) 

Armor Class: 7 

Movement: 120'(40') 

Hit Dice: 1 

Attacks: +0 weapon (1d8) 

Alignment: Chaotic 

Morale: 8 (6 without a leader) 

Saving throws: Fighter 1

Lair: 50%

• Greeneyes: Can't see well in full daylight, -1 to hit.
• Death comes cheap: slain allies do not cause a morale check.
• Leaders: Dungeon groups are led by a 2 HD captain (hp 9, Att. +1 1d8). Overworld groups are led by a 4 HD PIG MAN CHIEF (hp 15, Att, +3 1d8+2). Lairs have their own leaders, detailed below.
• War pigs: Fight other tribes on sight. Commands from their leader to stand down are only obeyed 50% of the time.

GREENEYED PIG MEN live to fight. Prolonged bouts of pacifism atrophy their muscles and cause their organs to fail. PIG MEN are practical and don't care for tough decisions; they instinctively seek out leaders who prove their might and ensure they can kill and raze as they please.

Lairs (1d20)

1-6. CAVE COMPLEX	Leader: 1:10 chance per 100 PIG MEN it’s a dragon, otherwise it’s a PIG MAN chief Additional occupants: 10% chance per 50 pig men (checked independently):  1d6 ogres 1d4 trolls 1d4 ettins
7-11. WAR CAMP	Commander (1d8):  1-4. PIG MAN chief  5-6. Chaotic Fighter (7-9 HD) 7-8. Magic-user (11 HD) Additional forces: roll twice +1 additional time for every 50 PIG MEN above 150 1. Team of 1d4 PIG MAN beast tamers w/ trained chimera, hydra, basilisk, or giant scorpion 2. 1d3 tiraphegs 3. 1d10 war-painted dire boars  4. 3d8 0 HD human meatshields 5. 1 hill giant 6. 1d4 trolls 7. 1d6 ogres 8. 1d8 PIG MAN pterodactyl riders
12-14. SKULL FORTRESS	Dark Lord (1d8): 1-2. Chaotic fighter (9 HD) 3-4. Magic-user (8-11 HD) 5-6. Evil High Priest (11 HD)  7-8. Abyssal Demon (Bael’rogh) Additional forces: As War Camp
15-17. MULTI-TIERED PLATFORM VILLAGE complete with robust inter-platform zipline network	Leader: As War Camp  Additional occupants: as Cave Complex
18-20. They’re just piled on top of one another in a GIANT PIT	Leader: PIG MAN chief  Additional occupants: None, but the pit has a 1:10 chance per 100 pig men of being situated at the foot of... (1d12):  1-2. a Dark Lord’s stronghold. 3-4. a dragon’s mountain. 5-6. a recently ransacked human settlement. 7-8. a matronly elder hag’s cottage. 9-10. a giant mind-controlling mushroom. 11. an unspeakably horrifying obsidian effigy. 12. a smoldering crater, radioactive meteorite still glowing.

Convoys

When PIG MEN are encountered in the overworld outside of their lair, there’s a 37% chance they are escorting a wagon train. The train will have 2d4 wagons, and will have 10 PIG MEN guarding each wagon in addition to the number of PIG MEN initially rolled for the encounter. 

Convoy leader (1d6)
1-2. Fighter (7-9 HD)
3-4. Magic-User (7-9 HD)
5. Cleric (7-9 HD)
6. PIG MAN chief or something else

Wagon contents (2d6 for each)
2-4. 1 large, cumbersome statue, tapestry, or other piece of art worth 2d6 x 100 sp
5-6. 2d6 x 100 sp worth of trade goods like spices, furs, rare lumber, etc.
7-8. 2d6 x 100 sp in coins
9. Weapons, armor, and ammunition
10. Materials required to construct a catapult or other siege engine
11. 2d4 potions and 2 scrolls 
12. 1 miscellaneous magic item

What are GREENEYED PIG MEN? (1dwhatever)

1. Vat-spawned soldiers created for a long-forgotten war.

2. The offspring of other pig men breeding with female swine.

3. Men subjected to a curse that befalls those who spill blood on holy ground.

4. No one can say for sure, but it has something to do with fungus.

5. Organisms that spontaneously generate in dungeonous environments.

6. Children of the great demon Idnach, mother of monsters. 

7-100. don’t worry about it.

Sample GREENEYED PIG MAN clans & names

CLANS

1. Razorbacks. Incredibly hairy. Experts at ambushes and guerilla combat. 2. Rotting Sun. Covered in sores and rashes. Accompanied by swarms of biting flies. 3. Thrashbangers. Thick goggles protect their eyes from the sun. Fight with makeshift grenades and explosives. 4. Black Feast. Wear spiked leather harnesses. Eat fallen foes and allies. 5. Toegrinders. Decorate their armor with skulls and bones. Ride into combat on lumbering battlewagons. 6. Greenskins. Rather unremarkable.

NAMES

1. Gurglesnort

2. Master Exploder

3. Trotenheim

4. Excrementus

5. Slugnutz

6. Krunt

7. Rashburn

8. Elfsqueeze

9. Scum Gutter

10. Gruesome

11. Skidmark

12. Oglebog

13. Throckmorton

14. Weasel Piss

15. Dunkhead

16. Jagwort

17. Weenus

18. Gigantic

19. Crusher Prime

20. Bloodgut

The hills have arms (and they're beating your ass)

Elementals

Certain ideas are on their face kind of lame or frustratingly executed, but have a kernel of something resonant that keeps bringing you back. It's like the flaws are there to taunt you, challenging you to fix them. 

Old school D&D is like that. BX is a terrific game with enough tremendous flops and oversights that designing house rules and derivative systems has essentially become a hobby in and of itself.

D&D elementals also fall in this category. People have been providing new rules, alternative interpretations, and added texture for decades. Chris Hogan has a good writeup on why elementals are boring and what can be done about them, and it's from way back in the day when people started their posts with a Captain Planet reference (it's good though and you should read it. No one posts like that anymore). 

A lot of people go in the direction of adding layers nuance to elementals and changing the baseline assumptions. This post from Scrap Princess has been knocking around my brain for years, and even though I haven't found a use for it in my game it's a welcome addition to my mental ecosystem. "Gravity fire" is a good example of the kind of radical direction people take the elemental concept.

I like this approach a lot, but when you change elementals too much it requires a lot more buy-in from the players. The baseline concept for elementals is so easy to grasp it almost feels too straightforward, but hear me out: A wildfire is scary, but a sentient wildfire that's trying to kill you, specifically, is terrifying, exhilarating, and somewhat absurd—perfect for a D&D game. Living tornados and walking earthquakes might not be the most glamorous (certainly underserved by the official art) but damn it they can be fun too. They're like those OSR-style challenges we all go crazy for but with hit points. 

The problem is, nothing about this is reflected in the stats. We're led to believe elementals are living  flames/winds/water/earth but you can walk right up to one and whack it with a sword? And the only risk you run is being targeted by its one attack per round? Something's not right here.

This is just a side-note before I move on, but a point I've never seen mentioned before is the monster listing for elementals in both O and AD&D imply they are only the stats for conjured elementals (either by staff, spell, or device). The AD&D Monster Manual even goes so far as to specify more sophisticated elementals exist "than can be summoned." Over time, these "conjured elementals" became the standard all-purpose elemental, leading to the uncomfortable middle ground we have today where they're kind of mindless bag-of-hitpoint monsters but are also supposed to be the dominant lifeform on their respective plane, which supposedly all have their own cultures and civilizations.   

What D&D does well

Conjured elementals map neatly to things high-level characters will do, namely aerial adventures, seafaring adventures, domain-level stronghold sieges, and messing around with large quantities of fire.

When a magic-user conjures an elemental it requires their full concentration to maintain control. This implies elementals are like bound spirits held against their will, which is very on-theme. Elementals summoned by druids don't turn on their masters, probably because they asked nicely. 

Little details about how elementals’ size changes based on their power and how fire and earth elementals are obstructed by channels of water are nice and lend some tactical depth for keen parties to leverage. 

Treating elementals as extraplanar entities instead of constructs gives elementals an appropriately numinous quality, even if their statblocks don’t measure up. 

In AD&D, certain spells require the presence of an elemental or become stronger if an elemental is used in their casting. This is only true for earth and air elementals (distance distortion and move earth for earth, call lightning for air) but there’s a lot of potential for this to be expanded. Magic-users conjuring planar beings to aid their spellcasting is exceptionally evocative and I’ll most definitely steal that idea. 

This is how elementals work now

Elementals are formed when essence from the planetary lifestream is sequestered in base matter—in the D&D world, this means fire, water, earth, and air, instead of like atoms or whatever. 

Digression: There's no elemental plane of air/fire etc. There is only one elemental plane, and it surrounds and touches this one at all points. The elemental plane—wizards call it the Plane of Elemental Anima, capitalized—is where the world's living essence exists in tangible form. It's also the place where beings like animistic nature spirits, djinns, and all those weird elemental monsters from the Rules Cyclopedia like helions and the kryst reside. Barbarians call the elemental plane the "Godrealm," as that is where their many heathen deities originate. 

Conjured elementals, generally, should not be dealt with as typical monsters. Mundane weapons are useless, and magical weapons only deal minimal damage unless specifically designed to harm enchanted or extraplanar creatures. Damage to an elemental's corporeal form is just reconstituted from the surrounding element.

The most common way to defeat an elemental is by depriving it of its matter. Cut off a water elemental from its source, trap a wind elemental in a vacuum, uproot an earth elemental, deny a fire elemental access to fuel. 

Smart players would go after the commanding MU to break their concentration. You'd think most MUs have contingencies in place to prevent this from happening, but evil wizards have a habit of underestimating plucky adventurers.

The easiest way to handle an elemental is by commanding another to fight it or casting a spell of banishment. The problem is, this requires collaboration with powerful MUs and/or clerics, who are rare, expensive, and hard to get along with in equal measure. 

Elementals also have utility, believe it or not, outside of combat. Their life essence can be channeled to manipulate their native element. [design note: RAW conjured elementals exist indefinitely until slain or dismissed. I like the idea of using elementals for non-combat activities but if they last forever they would be too useful and unbalance the game. Exchanging hp for more capabilities is my compromise.]

Here are the stats to make conjured elementals more like the primordial forces of nature they ought to be: 

Air

Appearance ideas

8 HD:  Airborne debris flying like a starling murmuration

12 HD: A screaming, whirling disk of silvery cloud-stuff. Whizzes around recklessly.  

16 HD: A storm cloud serpent with thunderbolt wings 

AC 2/0/-2 Att. +7/+9/+11 blow (1d8/2d8/3d8) Mv. 360'(120') flying Saves: as HD Morale: 10 Alignment: Neutral

• Must be conjured under the open sky.
• Deals an extra 1d8 damage to flying foes. 
• Creatures less than 2 HD in melee range must save vs. death each round or die from suffocation.
• In place of doing damage, hit creatures up to ogre size can be flung 1d4x10' in any direction, taking fall damage as applicable. 
• Dissipates if trapped indoors or in other enclosed spaces.

Additional powers

• Thunderclap. Costs 2d8 hp. Releases a concussive burst that can be heard for miles; creatures within 50’ must save vs. breath or take 2d12 damage and be deafened and stunned (half movement and -4 to attack rolls) for 2d6 rounds, half damage on a success.
• Tailwind. Costs 2d8 hp per hour. Allows sailboats and aerial vessels to move at 1.5x speed.

Earth 

Appearance ideas

8 HD: Upper body like a man, lower body like a giant earthen slug 

12 HD: A slouched ape figure with arms thick as tree trunks 

16 HD: A seismic wave-hill that drags itself on four giant pillar-like appendages 

AC 2/0/-2 Att. +7/+9/+11 blow (1d8/2d8/3d8) Mv. 60'(20') moves freely through unworked earth Saves: as HD Morale: 10 Alignment: Neutral

• Must be conjured from raw dirt, stone, sand, or clay.
• Deals an extra 1d8 damage to structures and foes on the ground.
• In place of attacking, can create a tremor that causes everyone in 20' to fall over and save vs. paralysis or take 1d6 damage. 
• Cannot cross a water barrier wider than their HD in feet.
• Dissipates if uprooted from the earth. Explosives harm earth elementals, as does falling, which kills them outright. Large scale excavation equipment deals normal damage—a human with a shovel won't do anything, but a giant with a giant shovel is a different story.

Additional powers

• Liquefaction. Costs 2d8 hp. The ground in a 30’ radius becomes quicksand.
• Land formation. Costs 3d8. The elemental forms itself into a shape of whoever commands its choosing (wall, pillar, small hut, etc.). Total volume of earth available to manipulate is 400/600/800 cubic feet. The elemental is inert while shaped (yet still conscious), and must lose another 3d8 hp to return to its original form. MUs still need to maintain concentration while an elemental is shaped, or else it will slip from their control and revert to its original form. 

Fire

Jon Silent

AC 2/0/-2 Att. +7/+9/+11 blow (1d8/2d8/3d8) Mv. 120'(40') Saves: as HD Morale: 10 Alignment: Neutral

Appearance ideas

8 HD: Hundreds of small flaming figures dancing and leaping, their heads like tiny stars.

12 HD: A riotous vortex of fire unfurling like a rose.

16 HD: A plasma toroid hovering ominously above the ground.

• Must be conjured from a roaring fire of at least man-height.
• Automatically damages foes in melee range. Ignites flammable material.
• Cannot cross a water barrier wider than their HD in feet.
• Loses 2 hp each round it lacks access to fuel (dry firewood, oil, etc.).

Additional powers

• Combust. Costs 2d8 hp. Deals an amount of damage equal to hp lost to every creature within 30’, save vs. spells for half. Any amount of additional hp may be spent to bolster the effect.
• Primordial crucible. A fire elemental can be bound in order to reduce the time (but not the cost) of creating a magic item by 1 week per HD. There's a 10% chance each week the elemental escapes from it's binding and attacks it master, ruining the magic item in the process. The elemental dissipates once the magic item is created, and can be dismissed at any time—for example, an MU can decide that after shaving 8 weeks off a 6-month project they don't want to risk it any more, they can dismiss their elemental and work the remaining 4 months alone. 

Water

Appearance ideas

8 HD: Wriggling mass of transparent worms

12 HD: A broad ribbon of water, gently swaying

16 HD: A roiling black water leviathan with glassy sheen, flecked by sparks of bioluminescence

AC 2/0/-2 Att. +7/+9/+11 blow (1d8/2d8/3d8) Mv.  60’(20’) on land, instantaneously disperses and reconstitutes anywhere in a 180’ radius while in water. Saves: as HD Morale: 10 Alignment: Neutral

• Must be conjured from a body of water no smaller than a pond or creek.
• Deals an extra 1d8 damage to foes in water.
• A water elemental can attempt to surround and submerge a foe by moving into the space it occupies. Save vs. paralysis or be restrained by the elemental and unable to breathe (losing consciousness in 2 rounds). On a successful save the creature is pushed back 10’. 
• Dissipates if more than 60’ from its water source.

Additional powers

• Phase change. Costs 1d8 hp. Elemental becomes mist, ice, or turns back to water. It can freeze around submerged foes, trapping them and inflicting 1d6 damage as they get crushed by expanding ice.
• Maelstrom. Costs 1d8 hp per round. Elemental creates a giant whirlpool that sucks boats and traps aquatic creatures. Potentially surfaces submerged treasure or awakens abyssopelagic sea monsters.

Characters deserve cool mounts

Every once in a while you see something and think “I don’t care how or when but this is going in my game.” 

That happened to me recently with the early concept art of the Final Fantasy chocobo:

God AKA Yoshitaka Amano

Running birds. Wizards call them gallopedes. 

HD 5 AC 7 Att. +4 talon x 2 (1d6) or beak (2d6) Move 270' (90') Save 12 Morale 9 NA 1d6 (3d8)

They can charge into combat like a warhorse and carry as much as a draft horse. Big enough to accommodate two riders. 

Running birds aren't for sale in any town or settlement. Herds are only known to gather in hex 1512, the Gallopede Glade. There’s a 1:20 chance per visit the Brollothere is hanging out there too.

From Yūkyū no Kaze Densetsu: Final Fantasy III Yori

The glade is also home to Yulassetar, a mossy dwarf with an old gnarled pipe permanently fixed between his lips. He lives in a pleasant cottage with his pet dire ferret and welcomes friendly visitors. 

He’ll tell the PCs, as they're sure to ask, the two steps to befriending a running bird:

The first step to earn one's respect is to beat it in a race. It's not hard to initiate; running birds are highly social creatures and love contests of speed. Winning is a different story though, as a typical running bird can easily pace the swiftest riding horse.  

The second step is to have it accept a gift of food. Yulassetar recommends caecilia steak slathered in killer bee honey.

After both steps are completed the running bird will be your ally for life. It obeys simple commands, fends for itself, and like all creatures with common sense it avoids entering dungeons. If its mistreated or its owner dies, it'll return to the glade. 

When running birds sleep they curl up into a perfect sphere. 

From the first Legend of the Crystals OVA

Some dungeon fauna

Add these to the list of troublesome resource-consuming creatures like rust monsters, oozes, and the like.

Tongue crab

Ornery crustaceans that come to about mid-thigh with a dull teal shell and big slimy purple tongue.

HD 2+1 AC 5 Att. +2 Pincer (1d4) x 2 or tongue (1d6 + special) Mv. 60’(20’) Save 14 ML 8 Xp 50 NA 2d8 (4d6)

• Anklegrabber: if a pincer attack hits for full damage, target is knocked prone.
• Tongue: Leaves fast-drying gluey slime on hit, subject gets a cumulative -1 to attacks and AC until PC spends a turn cleaning off. Stains terribly. 
• Slime from their tongue can be harvested and used as an adhesive. Must be stored in an airtight container. 

Festerling

Scrawny dingo-creatures with pale greenish fur and equally pale fishy eyes. The bloated sacs beneath their chins lets them breath a gas that rapidly decays organic matter, which they have a rabid appetite for. 

HD 3 AC 6 Att. +2 bite (1d4+1) or rotting breath Mv. 120’(40’)  Save 14 ML 7 Xp 50 NA 2d6 (3d8)

• Appetite: First priority will always be to rot and eat organic matter. 
• Rotting breath: save vs. breath or take 1d6 damage. Destroys leather armor and held rations.
• Gas sac can be harvested; contains 1 attack-worth of rotting breath.  

Rune-eater

Serpentine reptiles with iridescent scales and too many legs. Their head exists fully within the Weird—to mundane viewers, it appears their body terminates at the neck, above which is a shimmery nimbus through which the outline of a wedge-shaped lizard head is visible in certain light. 

HD 4+1 AC 6 Att. +3 claw x 2 (1d6) and bite (2d4) Ml. 7 Mv. 150’(50’) NA 1d6 (2d12) 

• Only harmed by mundane attacks. 
• Target spellcasters. Attacks always disrupt spells, even if they miss. A successful bite attack against a foe with prepared spells causes them to lose a spell at random. 
• Devours the dweomer within magic symbols and glyphs, depowering them. 
• During the pursuit/evasion sequence, rune-eaters will be distracted by dropped spell books and scrolls.
• Their intestinal tract can be excised and unraveled to serve as a magic scroll with 1d4 random spells

Tar men

Bloated goopy bog bodies filled with pitch and tar. Drawn to flame like a moth; their hatred of the living is matched only by their desire to burn. 

HD 2 AC 9 Att. +1 slam (1d4 on a 4 target is stuck and automatically damaged next round) Ml. 12 Mv. 60’(20’) NA 1d8 (3d6) 

• Highly flammable. If damaged by fire, a tar man takes 2 damage every round and its attacks deal +2 damage.
• Can be damaged by mundane weapons but can only be killed by magic or fire.
• Weapons get stuck, requiring a full round of effort to dislodge. 
• Immune to poison and mind control.

Hobgoblin warband generator

To live is to be at war. Some liken the world to a vast wilderness, where dangers silently roam the forests and hills beyond the safe confines of civilization. This is false. The world is like an open ocean filled with creatures that exist solely to destroy one another. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to flee to escape the world of slaughter. All one can do to survive is kill as much as they can before they in turn meet their demise. 

That is life for a hobgoblin. Everything is a threat. Every other living being wants to subjugate or enslave or kill you and if they say they aren’t they’re lying or too weak to survive.

Their warbands aren't merely tactical formations, but survival mechanisms in a reality where isolation means death. By combining strength, hobgoblins create islands of relative stability in an endless sea of enemies. 

Though amenable to diplomacy when practicality demands, their fundamental worldview prevents true trust or alliance. The warband represents the only viable response to their existential condition: the means to survive amid the unceasing slaughter they believe defines all existence.

Mythic origins

Long ago, when the many heads of Idnach were at war with one another, the most vengeful bit off her right hand in an act of spite. From the red stump blood flowed profusely, and from each drop a hobgoblin was born. 

Hobgoblins spawn in pools of blood where trace amounts of Idnach’s blood remain. The pools are fed with the blood of other creatures, which is consumed by the great demon's blood so that it may grow. 

Locating and securing these blood pools is of utmost interest to hobgoblins. There are 39 active pools in the known lands, 22 controlled by the empire and the rest by rival legions. Many have been lost or destroyed; many due to inter-hobgoblin wars, and some from dwarven campaigns, which explains the bone-deep racial animus the hobgoblins have toward them. 

The hobgoblin emperor currently plots to send an army to Idnach's domain and reopen her ancient wound so that fresh blood might flow once more. 

Civilization

The basic unit of hobgoblin society is the warband. Smaller groups are nomadic and subsist mostly on raids and pillaging, Larger groups occupy castles or fortresses and slowly conquer the territory surrounding them. An orc horde might plunder a town and move on to the next, but hobgoblins have much more perspective. Captured villages are occupied and converted to closely monitored labor camps that fuel the hobgoblins' conquest. 

Warbands rarely subsume one another. Instead, defeated warbands simply fall under the others command, keeping their name and iconography. The mightiest hobgoblin legions are made up of dozens if not hundreds of warbands.

The only other thing that can be said to shape hobgoblin society as much as the military is the bureaucracy, though in truth no clear distinction can be made. The bureaucracy is an atavistically convoluted, dizzying nightmare of overlapping authority and nonsensical priorities. Extreme compartmentalization between departments and incompatible coding systems, layers and layers of mandatory verification conducted by mutually hostile agencies, betrayal officers with the sole purpose of sabotaging incomplete processes, ranks within ranks where authority is both absolute and constantly undermined; no hobgoblin administration would be complete without all this and more.

The paradox is that despite—or because of—this brutal inefficiency, hobgoblin bureaucracies function staggeringly well. Hobgoblins simply operate on an alien logic; their reality bends and tumbles into a shape that lets their systems work, while they find human organizing structures as ghastly and we find theirs. 

This bizarre logic extends to their design sensibility. Everything not covered in spikes is adorned with anguished gargoyles, severed limbs, vulgar blasphemies, barbed wire, and the like. Warband camps are like carnivals of horror and fortresses like disorienting cathedrals, every surface a riot of maddening ornamentation.

Hobgoblins & magic

Hobgoblins, like all children of Idnach, exist partially in the Weird. As other races must channel the etheric potencies of the Weird through precise ritual and craft, for hobgoblins it behaves like soft mud, where manipulating it is as straightforward as picking up a clod and molded it as one fancies. It can be said that hobgoblin warlocks have a “study” of magic as do magic-users of other races, but their practice is far more impressionistic, associated more with the honing of instinctive behaviors and bizarre compulsions than the application of formula. 

Hobgoblin magic items typically involve subverting a tool's conventional purpose. A lantern that spews occluding smoke. A whetstone that leaves any blade it passes over as malleable as soft clay. A hammer that pulls apart structures, freeing nails and fasteners with every swing. 

Warband generator

Roll 5d6. That's the number of basic grunts in the squad. 

A quarter of the basic grunts will be mounted, riding... (1d6)

1. Wolves
2. Boars
3. Axebeaks
4. Giant spiders 
5. Giant bats
6. Perytons

For every 8 basic grunts, the warband will be accompanied by a... (1d20)

1. Ogre
2. Troll
3. Ettin
4. Cyclops
5. Manticore
6. Hag
7. Tirapheg
8. Minotaur
9. Evil treant carrying 1d4 hobgoblin sharpshooters in its branches
10. Morningstar scorpion
11. Otyugh
12. Squad of 1d4+1 harpies carrying barbed nets and flaming oil
13. Catoblepas
14. Chimera
15. Wyvern
16. Squad of 1d6+1  bugbear shock troopers
17. Flaywheel (like one of those circus wheel things covered in spikes and blades; moves 50'/round and anyone in its path must save vs. paralysis or takes 2d6 damage) piloted by 2 hobgoblin acrobats
18. Giant crab w/ howdah carrying 1d4 hobgoblin grenadiers
19. Rhagodessa
20. Giant horned lizard

The warband will be led by a hobgoblin with 1d3+2 HD accompanied by 2 lieutenants with 1 fewer HD. 

There is a 50% chance that 1d4 of the basic grunts are hobgoblin warlocks—3 HD magic-users capable of doing one of the following every other round (choose or roll randomly):

1. Cause a mundane man-sized or smaller object within 60' to break (if it's held or worn by someone they get a save to resist).
2. Create a 30' radius cloud of thick, choking smoke anywhere within 120'.
3. Throw a fireball up to 90' away that deals 3d6 damage in a 15' radius (save vs. spells for half).
4. Levitate up to 20'.
5. Create an illusion that causes supernatural fear in up to 8 Hit Dice of creatures of 4 HD or lower.
6. Undo the last damage suffered by an ally within 30'.

This post would be incomplete without the much-beloved Hayami Rasenjin hobgoblin, which I learned he submitted to a D&D monster drawing contest organized by the great Tony DiTerlizzi. 

DiTerlizzi's own take on the hobgoblin, which he said was inspired by the Tolmekians from Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind. 

You've heard of the Flail Snail, now get ready for...

 The MORNINGSTAR SCORPION!

HD: 6 AC: 3 Attacks: 4 x Morningstar claw (crush 1d12 or grasp 1d6 + grab), sting (1d4 + poison)  Move: 150' (50') Morale: 10 No. Appearing: 1 Alignment: Chaotic 

Morningstar claw: Each claw has 8 hp (separate from the main hp total) and becomes useless when reduced to 0. The Morningstar Scorpion flees if all claws are destroyed. Grabbed foes are automatically hit by subsequent grasp attacks and the Morningstar Scorpion gets a +2 bonus to sting attacks against them.

Poison: Save or suffer debilitating pain and hallucinations for 1d6 turns, afterward save again or die. 

The thorny protrusions covering the Morningstar Scorpion's chitin impose a -2 penalty to melee attackers unless they are wield a spear or pole arm. The spikes also permeate the ethereal realm, causing snares in the plasmic effluence that disrupt magic. When the Morningstar Scorpion is targeted by a spell, roll 1d6: 1-2 spell fails 3-4 spell targets a random other creature in range 5-6 spell functions as normal. 

The Morningstar Scorpion is immune to poison and fire, but has weak vision in full daylight (-2 to attacks) and may become disoriented by bright lights. 

A morningstar scorpion is as big as a draft horse and usually attacks things on sight. They tend to live in deserts and caves, lying dormant for long periods of time before becoming active in the presence of potential prey. While none have managed to train a morningstar scorpion, hobgoblins have been said to capture and use them as opponents in their nightmarish fighting pits. 

Also available for purchase here and at an oddities shop I visited in Portland OR.

Goblin Kings

"In the goblin lair lives a goblin king," reads the goblin entry in the Moldvay monster section. I like the phrase; it's got a pleasant meter to it that lends some appropriate fairy-tale whimsy.

Goblin kings are, per the rules, 3 HD creatures (with 15 hp) that get a +1 damage bonus and a 2d6 squad of 2 HD goblin bodyguards. Tolkien already did the generic "goblin, but bigger" goblin king in the distant 1900s, which was charming at the time but passé in the current era. It has been done before; we should be emboldened to leave that sinkhole of creativity and journey forth into realms of stranger possibility. Here are some alternative "kings:" 

1. A huge, tumorous maggot. The goblins prevented it from pupating, and instead feed it non-stop in long ant-like assembly line so that it just grows, and grows, and grows.
2. An unsettling avian puppet effigy. Made of wood, feathers, and guano. It's piloted like a mech by a team of goblins, who inexplicably work in such perfect sync that the effigy seems alive. If any of the pilots die, other goblins will hurriedly climb into the wood frame skeleton and take their place. 
3. A giant goblin toddler, about the size of a full-grown cow. It’s all the goblins can do to keep him fed and entertained, for they fear nothing more than his tantrums.
4. An ancient corpse desiccated beyond recognition. Its limbs are long and bone-thin, and its face is just blue-black skin stretched over an eyeless skull. It’s shamanic bodyguards claim to be the interpreters of its strange decrees, which are delivered in the low groans that occasionally escape its mouth.
5. A captured, half-crazed adventurer. One night he was just getting settled into his bedroll, next thing he knows he’s chained to the throne somewhere deep in the goblin warrens. The goblins worship yet always humorously misinterpret his commands. Many failed escape attempts have left him frazzled and desperate.
6. A tall, beautiful, exquisitely muscled paragon of goblinhood. Unfortunately, not much more intelligent than a typical goblin.
7. A haggard wizard who fancied at one time that he should vat-grow his own horde of goblins. He realized only too late of course that goblins are much more trouble than they’re worth, but he can't seem to get rid of them. Spells known: Charm person (goblin), Ventriloquism, Mirror Image.
8. A grim, sinister warrior covered in terrifying armor. He calls himself “The Overlord.” He's got all the trappings of your generic grimdork villain: glowing eyes, booming voice, preternatural hatred of insolence. The goblins are scared out of their mind by him but he’s no tougher than a 3HD fighter.
9. A David-Bowie-looking elf with a magic crystal ball. He likes mischief and singing songs about being mean (or something, I don’t know, I haven't seen the movie).
10. Looks like a goblin, sounds like a goblin, acts like a goblin, but... it’s definitely not a goblin. Whatever it is, it looks to be wearing an ill-fitting goblin suit: The skin sits too slack in some areas and too tight in others, weird bits of hair peek out from frayed seams, and the face doesn’t move as much as it should when it speaks. Very conspicuous to anyone who sees it, but the goblins have no idea it isn’t one of them.

Three monsters from the Last Planet

These are some creatures I made for my homebrew Last Planet setting. There isn't really any "natural" fauna in the Last Planet, instead all creatures are some flavor of mutant or the product of bio-engineering. Originally I had intended to come up with an elaborate generator to make a bunch of unique creatures so the players would never run into the same type of twice, but I scrapped that idea when I realized it's actually just more fun to make up new monsters or use ones I find on blogs, modules, etc. Random generation is great for inspiration, There's nothing that can really be gained by having a bunch of mass-produced monsters with formulaic stats and abilities. Even if they all are distinct—all equally unique, all equally forgettable. So the lesson here I guess is that small-batch artisanally crafted monsters are superior to randomly generated ones. Who knew. 

Acridon

HD: 12 AC: 3 [16] Att: 2 x slam (1d8) or Acid Spray.

Move: 120’ (40’) Morale: 8 No. Appearing: 2d8

Slam: +4 to hit against human-sized creatures or smaller. If both attacks hit, the target is knocked to the ground. 

Acid Spray: 1-in-4 chance each round to spray of acid out of it's trunk. Deals 2d6 damage in a 30' line, save vs. breath for half. The target's AC is increased/reduced by 1 if the save is failed and they're wearing armor. 

Hide: Acridon hide is is an incredibly tough and can be used to make acid-proof hazmat suits. Getting a suit made costs 60 sp and requires an expert the likes of which are usually only found in big cities. 

Acridons are tuskless mastodons with bright orange fur and big, emerald insect eyes that bulge out from their face. Their trunk is tipped with many fine holes like a sprinkler hose. Acridons congregate around acid lakes and radiation zones, and are known to make long pilgrimages to new regions when the specific kinds of flora and fauna they feed on becomes too scarce. They can spray highly corrosive acid from their trunks, which they use to partially digest their food before they consume it as well as for self-defense. 

Bolt Beetles 

HD: 1-1 AC: 7 [12] Att: None

Move: 40' (10') flying, or 180’ (60’) flying (see special). 

Morale: 9 No. Appearing: 1d10 (2d12 if a nest is encountered)

Charge: A bolt beetle can spend its round flying up to 60' in a straight line while radiating volatile energy. Every creature in its path must save vs. magic wand or else take 1d6 damage.

Note: if you're playing with theater of the mind combat, a bolt beetle can hit 1d4 PCs per turn. If players specify that they position the PCs so that they are not standing in-line with one another, the number of PCs a bolt beetle can hit drops to 1d2 and the PCs must move at effectively half speed in order to account for maintaining their positioning.

Bolt beetles are the size of your fist, with knife-like wings and a horn shaped like a lightning bolt. Their shell is so iridescent that it's hard to tell what color it is, but close up they range from vibrant green to a deep electric blue. Their elytra is made of a special material that stores the kinetic energy expelled by their wing beats. They often fly together in lazy patterns, but when they are agitated or need to defend the nest, they can release this energy to rocket forward and drive off the invaders. When they charge, they emit a bright green light and shoot out sparks like an angry firecracker. 

Hyperlion (pronounced like "Hyperion," but you can call it hyper-lion if you want. I'm not your dad.)

HD: 8 AC: 6 [13] Att: 2 x claw (1d8), 1 bite (2d6) or 1 x horn beam (2d10 exploding)

Move: 150’ (50’) Morale: 9 No. Appearing: 1d4

Horn beam: If the beam deals more than 25 damage and the target survives, they immediately gain 2,000 xp and the undying respect of the hyperlion. This can only happen to a PC once in their lifetime.

Mutant hunter: Hyperlions attack mutated humans on sight, and will always prioritize mutants in combat.

Hyperlions were originally created to serve as weapons in the ancient war between the Veiled Kingdom and the Men of the Crystal Pyramids. Both sides fell in the conflict, but the hyperlions remain. A hyperlion is a mighty creature so thoroughly suffused with power that their blood runs white-hot and when they roar it sounds like the beat drop in a late-2000s dubstep track. They have platinum-blue fur, a wispy fuschia mane, and a spiraling unicorn horn that crackles with energy. From their horn they can fire a crimson beam of energy that carries with it part of the hyperlion's very life-force. The beam is remarkably dangerous, but it is said that some who have been stricken by it and survived have incorporated part of the hyperlion's essence into their own. 

Mosquito Men

They are mostly known as Quistids, and they are exactly as wretched as you would expect. They stand around four and a half feet tall and have fuzzy mosquito heads. Their arms are gangly, and they have tiny needle-like fingers. Their clothes are dusty and out of style, but sported with a clueless confidence that elicits endless frustration in others. Their wings hang from their back like tattered scarves, always blowing in the wind and annoying those around them. 

Their probosces are often kept curled and carefully tucked under their chin. It’s been said that in some hidden alleyways you can find little speakeasies where they congregate with one another away from the rest of the world. Yes they drink blood, but it's not blood from the living—and what about you, huh? You eat meat, but does that mean you’d take a bite out of a live cow?

Quistids get a perverse satisfaction from correcting others. They put on an elaborate show of “hiding” their embarrassing proclivities, only to get overbearingly defensive at the slightest comment. Their words buzz with self-satisfied indignation.

Quistids have a preternatural ability to annoy others. Unbeknownst to most everyone (Quistids included), they feed on frustration. It doesn’t nourish them like blood, but it sustains their spirit. The more annoyance draw from others others, the stronger and more defined their ego becomes.

When isolated from others, Quistids are mindless and violent with little more intelligence than an actual mosquito. They have been known to assault travelers without provocation, swooping down from the sky on their fibrous wings and baring their long proboscis like a saber. 

Naturally, most Quistids live in cities where a denser population means more frustration to feed on. They live in the noisy parts of town, in buildings that always smell a little funny, where the windows are always drafty and the roofs leak when it rains.

***

Despite their proclivities, Quistids are fairly benign. Many are more or less integrated into their community, while others prefer to keep to themselves. But occasionally, something goes wrong.

Some Quistids become aware of their nature and how the frustration in others feeds them. Often times they just take this information in stride and don't think too much of it, but certain Quistids desire to exploit it and learn to amplify their aura of frustration and further feed their ego.

When a Quistid turns malicious, the simple annoyances they cause hardens into bitterness and rage. A whole neighborhood could fall under the influence of a single malicious Quistid. The people become cold and withdrawn, fights start easily and often turn violent, and things just generally become more shitty and unpleasant all around. The Quistid grows more and more potent, until their bloated ego bursts through the seams of their psyche and begins to manifest in the physical world. The malicious Quistid’s body warps into something else entirely, twisting to reflect a gross combination of their idealized self-image and the harrowing rancor of their spirit. The psychic emanations cause their surroundings to alter as well—things get cold, tarnished, sticky, and moist; piles of trash and refuse manifest in the corners; everything smells of mold and water damage. The whole environment becomes almost consciously inhospitable. 

Affected vermin become fat, fleshy menaces. They develop sphincter-like mouths from which flick hungering probosces, and faceted eye clusters sprout on their backs. Humans, too, can be affected: they get overtaken by inarticulate, feverish rage, picking at scabs with swollen fingers or beating each other until their knuckles turn blue.

How to use Quistids

Throw them in your city encounter tables. It helps if they are engaged with a group that the PCs will likely butt heads with, so have your crime bosses and urban cultists use them as henchmen. Let them show up at inopportune moments, when the PCs are embroiled in something else and really can’t spare the time to deal with mosquito men. Make sure that the players get adequately frustrated whenever they show up.

Eventually, somewhere in the city, a Quistid is on the verge of turning malicious. 

As things start to get worse, other Quistids start to get nervous. They’ve been tolerated well enough up until now, but the more self-aware ones know that one malicious Quistid is enough to get the whole population be ousted from the city. Or worse. 

The city needs a savior from the malicious Quistid. And the Quistids need someone who can deal with the issue before they all get blamed. If circumstances get bad enough for the Quistids, more and more will become malicious. 

So the Quistids come to the PCs and ask them for help. The players should be pissed off at them by this point, but obviously the right thing to do is to help them, so you get a nice and simple moral quandary.

If the PCs choose to help, they track down the malicious Quistid, make their way through the horrid environment, and put a stop to the monster. Maybe they kill it, maybe they show it the power of friendship. It's up to them.

If the PCs fail, the malicious Quistid would eventually get killed by a group of upstart adventurers/mercenaries that the city hired. The group wins acclaim, and begins to lead the efforts in hunting down other Quistids and executing/imprisoning them before they turn malicious. The group rises in prominence, until eventually it is shockingly revealed that they are not who they seem, have some sort of ulterior motive, etc., etc.

If the issue gets resolved, everyone is happy. The Quistids are eternally grateful to the PCs and the city is able to keep its hands clean. But... what caused the Quistid turn malicious in the first place? Could it just have been by chance? Or did something, or someone, give them the means to turn bad? Was it all just a distraction to cover some deeper conspiracy??

Quistid

HD: 1-1 AC: 7 [12] Att: 1 x proboscis (1d6) or by weapon.

Move: 120’ (40’), 60’ (20’) flying.  Saves as a 1st-level thief.

Morale: 6 No. Appearing: 1d6

Treasure: 1-in-10 chance a Quistid is carrying a valuable piece of jewelry or gemstone worth 1d100x10 sp, otherwise they carry nothing but garbage. Lairs have d6-d4 (minimum zero, obviously) pieces treasure. 

Limited Flight. Quistids can’t fly for more than one minute at a time, and are unable to attack or act on the round they begin flying. 

Pester. Quistids can attempt two attack rolls instead of one. If both succeed, the Quistid prevents their target from attacking for one round, or takes something the target is carrying in their hands, or does something else similarly frustrating. If either or both rolls fail, nothing happens. 

Malicious Quistid

HD: 6 AC: 6 [13] Att: 2 x claw (1d6), 1 x proboscis (1d8 + blood sucking)

Move: 90’ (30’) Saves as 4th-level thief.

Morale: 8 No. Appearing: 1

Treasure: As a normal Quistid. Additionally, in the process of turning malicious, a Quistid’s eyes become hate-filled rubies worth 2,000 sp each. The rubies burn with an inner light for 1d6 days after they are extracted, during which time whoever carries one on their person gets a +2 bonus to attack rolls but suffers a -2 penalty to reaction rolls, including reaction rolls made while in a group with others. The rubies may be more valuable to chaotic wizards and cultists while they are glowing.

Blood sucking. Regenerates half the damage dealt with their proboscis, rounded down. 

Incensing aura. While in the presence of a malicious Quistid, all failed rolls may result in some additional penalty as determined by the DM. For instance, failing a roll to accurately throw a flask of oil results in all the oil leaking out of the flask and on to the attacker. 

Summon creatures. Takes one round. Summons grotesque creatures from the surrounding area to come and fight for the malicious Quistid. 1d8 1 HP creatures (rat-sized), 1d6 1/2 HD creatures (dog-sized), 1d4 1HD converted humans (unarmed and unarmored), or one 20x20 insect swarm (13 hp, automatically deals 2 damage to armored/4 damage to unarmored creatures in swarm area, only damaged by fire, extreme cold, etc.). All summoned creatures have a moral of 12.

Image credits go to this guy.