Wizard Wednesday: Abrax the Terrible

Like this, but with the spikes facing out, and the face is a scarier.

A metal sarcophagus floats towards you. Whatever is inside screams and gibbers in it's madness, and all around magic erupts, incinerating anything that stands in it's way. THIS is Abraxas the Terrible.

But his real name is Carl.

Carl Ingsbell was an adventuring wizard, up until an ogre threw him across the room. When he woke up two days later, he was paralyzed from the neck down. For one sad, bitter hour he cried, cursing his friends for pulling him out of the dungeon at all.

It is surprisingly hard to find pictures of levitating doom coffins. I can't understand why.

And then he got over it. Carl is an optimist, you see, and that means quite a bit when you're a wizard. He would 't let something as trivial as being unable to move his limbs stop him from adventuring. He spent most of his adventurer's loot on an enormous metal coffin, tougher then any armor, and locked himself inside. Tenser's Floating disk moves him around. Prestidigitation keeps the coffin clean. A tight metal grate in front if his mouth lets him cast spells, and unlocks come meal time. He's got a few apprentices now who feed and buy shit for him. He delights in dressing them as deranged cultists.

Because Carl knows he's freaky, and he figures he might as well use it. He screams, he howls, he speaks in a strange and terrible voice. He's bolted on an entire mess of spikes to his sarcophagus, casted the head to look like a demon, and liberally decorated everything with skulls. He loves how stupid the name 'Abrax' sounds.



When he's not striking fear in the hearts of his enemies, Carl likes to talk politics and play chess. He loves intelligent conversation and adventurers; they remind him of the good old days. His current plan is to find someway to fix his back. He hasn't met with a lot of luck, but remains hopeful. If he does, he'll give away the sarcophagus to the first asker: he's sick of the bloody thing.

Abrax's motto is "I WILL EAT YOUR SOULS." 

Carl's motto is "THIS WON'T STOP ME I'M A WIZARD."

A note on his armor: Normal weapons can't pierce Abrax's metal coffin. They can pound his mouth grate in, which has 10 HP, but you need to roll 15+ to hit. While Abrax can float, he moves a measly 10ft per round, and turns pretty damn slow: it takes him a whole turn to spin 90 degrees.

Adventure Hooks

1. The Party encounters Abrax in the dungeon. He's fighting a bunch of orcs. The orcs see the party and cry for help. 
2. The Party encounters Abrax in the dungeon. He's currently sleeping and his apprentices are out. His sarcophagus is creepy but still. 
3. The Party encounters Abrax on the road. He interrogates your cleric, asking if they have a spell that can fix his back and let him leave his coffin. 
4. The Party encounters Abrax in his Sarcophagus, lying on the floor. He's yelling for help: he's in an antimagic field and every monster in the dungeon has been banging on his coffin. The thing will take at least ten men to move, but Abrax can tell you a lot about the dungeon. 
5. In someone else's evil lair, you find Abrax. The guy who owns this place is a douche: he cured Abrax of his broken back but locked him in his coffin. Abrax begs you to find the key and let him out. Or at least get that fucker in front of him: Abrax still has a fireball ready for that son of a bitch. 
6. Some dudes in bloodstained robes approach you. They ask if you'd be willing to talk their boss about current events. It's not weird I swear.

What Would My God Do?

Or: How to Randomly Generate my Shiny New Cleric's Religion

Sometimes you just need to know how your god feels about something. In those cases, roll a D6. Or grab a blank D6 and write these words on it. That's even more convenient.

1. Sacred! This is an object of reverence! Make sure it is respected and protected.
2. Acquire! Such a thing is good fortune! Try to obtain it, or things made from it.
3. Praise! Your god saw what they had made and it was good. You should probably compliment it.
4. Pity! Your heart goes out, it really does. Truly is this object low, and worthy of your sympathy and/or spite. Play it by ear.
5. Unclean! Avoid this! To touch it is to degrade yourself before your lord.
6. Destroy! Your god does not tolerate such evil. Cut this cancer from the world!

The more you roll this dice, the more convoluted your cleric's faith becomes!

Why stop at just ten? I'd go for at least twenty; it's a much better D&D number.

On Pulling a Delphi

Next time the party stumbles across a witch, prophet, or soothsayer, offer one, and only one, character this proposition:

"I can tell you how you die."

Maybe you'll let the player decide: that's ripe for tragic reversal. Maybe you'll roll on a random table; I've thoughtfully prepared one for you.  But if anyone's brave enough to take you up on the offer, you've hit the motherlode. The player will think, 'I'm bloody immortal as long as I avoid my doom'. And you, as the DM, are in the perfect position to be an actively malicious universe. It's a wonderful game of cat and mouse, with the player trying their damndest to dodge their fate and the DM gleefully trying to shoehorn it in.

The best thing about this is that by being unable to kill a character 99% of the time, you are thus excused to pile on them a heap of suffering and sorrows. Sure, your character can't die to these orcs, but you can pass-out, lose your arm, be dangled on a rope and used as monster bait, end up in a stew pot, etc*.

For the truly industrious GM, such trials and tribulations can be used to break a character, who will then plead for their fate to finish them. Or maybe, in the process of trying to avoid their doom, they will enable it. Or find a clever loophole. There's a lot of classic options here.

YOU WILL DIE BY

1. Turtle
2. Flail
3. Siege Weapon
4. Whore
5. Gold Coin
6. Splinter
7. Fire
8. The Sea
9. Villain in your game.
10. PC in your game.
11. The weapon you are currently using.
12. Crane
13. Dog
14. Your Father's Hand
15. Giants (Plural!)**
16. Grass
17. Goblin
18. Greed
19. Steve
20. Macho Man Randy Savage
21. A nine-fingered man.
22. Under moonlight
23. Child
24. Falling
25. Poison
26. Wood
27. Rats
28. Royalty
29. Witch
30. Angel

Feel free to come up with more. Hound the player. Allude to their doom frequently, get them freaked out. Always give them either fair warning or time to respond. Make attempts at them, and embrace failure: the story of the PC constantly dodging their inevitable death is FANTASTIC.

* I believe that's called the "It Gets Worse" rule, and I'm cribbing it from Wampus Country.

** The plural thing is great for anything really.

Wizard Wednesday: Ur of the Iron Fist

UR IS REALLY MAD

Ur is from Carcosa. Ur got something wrong and now Ur is stuck here. Ur is not particularly troubled by this.

Ur is a yellow man. Ur, like all yellow men, does not sleep, but instead can enter a state of torpor for 1d10 hours, during which he cannot die. Ur can talk to men in their dreams if Ur knows the man's name.

Ur has a metal hand. Ur likes to hit people with it. Ur loves the sound it makes when it smacks against a skull. Ur made his hand better and now it can shoot a laser; it deals 1d20 damage! Ur can't find any batteries here so it only has three shots left.

Ur is a sorcerer. Ur sacrifices men, women, and children to control horrible things from beyond time and sanity. Ur is okay with this. Ur messed it up once and lost something important. Ur can't remember what it was.

Ur has one minion left called Fred. Fred has thirty hit points because Fred is very big. Fred is invisible and silent. Fred eats people and they become invisible and silent too; Ur likes how they just disappear. Fred is acidic on the inside so people who Fred eats take 1d8 points of damage every turn. Ur has a powder that will make Fred not invisible, but Ur forgot where he put it.

Ur talks to Fred a lot, but isn't sure if Fred can understand. Ur is scared of Fred, but Fred cannot hurt Ur. Ur does not always remember this.

Ur would like to summon more monsters and open a portal back to Carcosa, but Ur needs red and green and orange men for that. Ur is rather peeved that there only seems to be jale men around here. Ur laughs at them; they think Ur is stupid but the jale men do not even know what color jale is.

Ur thinks that maybe dyeing people will work well enough. Ur will pay a lot for red and green and orange dye, and for people to dye. Ur likes that the people he will dye are people that will die. Ur thinks this a fantastic joke. Ur wants to shoot his laser at people who don't laugh at it, but that's why Ur's batteries are almost empty.

UR WROTE THIS HIMSELF!

Adventure Hooks

1. The PCs have found a fantastical technological item. Ur can fix it, but he's going to charge in slaves.
2. Ur wanders into town and starts trying to buy slaves and dye. He doesn't understand why all the jale men are screaming. It's very rude.
3. The sky burns with letters made of fire, 200 feet tall. They spell out 'UR WILL PAY A FORTUNE FOR A TWINKIE'. Pretty soon the entire continent will erupt in people trying to find Ur and trying to figure out what a twinkie is.
4. A band of barbarians have started dressing like Ur, complete with his stupid helmet. They go around punching people with metal gauntlets. Ur thinks they are pretty cool. Maybe these guys find and punch the PCs, or maybe they are paid by someone to find out what the heck is going on.
5. People have started growing tiny holes in their bodies, through which the darkness and cold of space seeps through; without help they slowly freeze to death. The disease seems to have started when the yellow stranger came through town, riding on an enormous centipede. Ask Ur and he can tell you it's actually incredibly common on Carcosa, and the cure is drinking onion juice. Ur drinks a glass every day, but not to keep away the disease; he just likes the taste.
6. The PCs find that gold is suddenly worthless; every peasant seems to have pocketfuls of the stuff. The economy is crashing and everywhere men set their brothers in shackles and march them to a terrible metal mountain, where Ur has finally fixed his matter transfigurer.

Fun fact: I have never seen Heavy Metal, but this guy looks pretty cool regardless.

On Orcs

An army is a terrible thing. Wherever it goes, an army needs to eat, and what it eats is everything. The soldiers will ride out to pillage and plunder. They take food, water, fodder, women, money, stealing what they can and killing if they want. The grass is trampled, the trees are chopped down for firewood, the ground is polluted with latrines. When moving the medieval army would leave a wasteland of ten or more miles in it's wake. This process was necessary, but it was also intentional; this was the damaged inflicted upon the enemy. The misery thus caused vastly exceeded the horrors of the battlefield. 

But one day the army will return home. The soldier will find his family waiting for him with open arms, eager to see his wealth and his scars. The man will put down his sword and pick up his scythe. He can stop being a soldier.

But some armies don't come home. Some march for long days under strange skies. Each day their hearts grow more and more callous. Each day the sun dries and blisters their skin, until it turns a dull, leathery grey. Each day they forget a little more about their home, and one day they will forget it all. These wretches, who burn and kill and don't remember why, these men have become Orcs.

Wizard Wednesday: Grandmother Um

From this...

Grandmother Um scares children and insults adults. But there exists a mystery about her that attracts rumor and gossip. Is she needlessly rude because she is horrible, or has the world committed some injustice upon her? Much speculation exists as to what exactly goes on in her hut in the woods. The woods are very dangerous, filled with wolves and fouler things, but she always makes the journey to town safely.

Grandmother Um is much fiercer then the beasts in the forest; she is firecer then any beast in the world. In truth she is a demon, disguised by a set of magical clothing. The more she wears, the more man shaped she appears. As she discards them she reveals her true form, a sea of hair and eyes and limbs.

... to this.

Each of Grandmother Um's clothes grants her a magic power.
Each piece she removes restores part of her demonic form.

Her brass rimmed Glasses

While wearing her glasses, Grandmother Um can see through lies.

Grandmother Um takes off her glasses 'to see you better deary.' Her body bursts into eyes, opening across her flesh like wounds. She can see through darkness, and can no longer be surprised.

Her delicate silk Gloves

While wearing her gloves, Grandmother Um's touch rots wood and rusts metal.
Grandmother Um will take off her gloves 'because my nails itch.' Her hands and feet grow into claws, long and terrible. They cut like swords, and she attacks with both every turn.

Her great fur Coat

While wearing her coat, Grandmother Um doesn't make a sound.
Grandmother Um takes of her coat since 'it's much too heavy.' Free from it's weight, she stands up straight, a full eight feet, and is overgrown by hair. Her hands gain reach like a spear and her hide becomes tough as leather.

Her red checkered Headscarf

While wearing her headscarf, Grandmother Um can change her voice to whatever she pleases.

Grandmother Um will take off her headscarf because 'it hurts my jaw.' Her head becomes a crocodile snout, her throat lined with backwards facing teeth. If she catches your arm she won't let go; you remain grappled, and your friends have a 50% chance of hitting you instead of her. Ripping your hand out leaves it as so many ribbons of flesh, ruined forever.

That mouth? It belongs to a TURTLE. A bloody freaking turtle.

Adventure Hooks

1. The PCs find one of Grandmother Um's pieces of clothing. She wants it back, and soon she will find them.
2. Grandmother Um hides in a cave. She asks the PCs to find and return her clothing; she enjoys her life in the village. If they do, she promises to serve them for a day, whichever day they want.
3. The PCs must defeat a monster that far exceeds them in power. If they could trick it into wearing Grandmother Um's clothing, it would become a simple human. The trick is getting Um to part with her clothing.
4. The PCs find Grandmother Um sitting in the Goblin Market. She offers to sell you her clothes, extolling the virtues of each. A freely agreed upon sale is the only way she can remove them. Afterwards she will be very grateful to the PCs, and won't harm them, or indeed anyone at the market. The next day her trail of destruction and devastation will be clear and easily followed.
5. Grandmother Um's clothing is scattered through the dungeon. She has cast it off, for the wearer is cursed to obey the words of the wizard Zaibon. Help her kill him and she'll teach the PCs how to remove it. But first she'll mock them for being fool enough to put it on. If anyone mentions that she wore them first, the offer is retracted.
6. The PCs befriend a monster. It tells you that Grandmother Um makes magic clothes which can hide it's form and let it walk as a man.

Edit: It seems I am really bad at knowing what a Wednesday is.

Wizard Wednesday: Xamir the Faceless

Xamir is never seen without the white rag that covers his face. He sleeps with it, he talks with it, he eats and drinks with it. When questioned as to how he eats and drinks with it, Xamir seems perplexed as to why anyone would be fascinated by basic bodily functions.

Even in bright light, you can't see his eyes. He doesn't have any. When he takes a drag on a cigarette, the smoke comes out the eye holes of his white rag. If he took the rag off you would see that his head ended with his face.

Xamir styles himself as a bottle wizard. Are you in need of magma? Acid? Oil? He is a hollow man who can transport any of these in abundance. For things living, he wears a cast iron mask, which locks around his head. His prices are exorbitant, but his services are unique.

Xamir is currently filled to the brim with,

1. Flesh Eating Beetles
2. Tawny Port
3. Tar
4. The Elixir of Youth
5. Mercury
6. Holy Water
7. Dragon Piss
8. Molten Iron

If you stab Xamir you will not actually hurt him, but his insides will splash everywhere. He has enough magical bandage on his person to recover from five such wounds, but after that he will leak. If dealt over 30 damage with slashing weapons, Xamir will be reduced to ribbons, unable to move but not dead. He will curse the party as they leave.

If you truly need to kill Xamir, you must find his lair. Inside will be a man shaped glass bottle, contained a person flayed of everything but his face. This is Xamir's real body.

Adventure Hooks

1. The PCs meet a drunk(?) Xamir inside of a bar. He boasts of his wizardly prowess and how valuable his cargo is. He will soon pass out into a stupor.
2. Someone hires the PCs to find and cut Xamir into precisely measured ribbons. These will be fashioned into unbreakable shackles.
3. Xamir is expected to meet in high society. Extremely busy, he hires you to buy or craft a suitable mask.
4. The PCs are hired to find Xamir and invite him to their employers home. Xamir is currently carrying a valuable cargo, and is  being hunted by a party intent on taking it and killing him. If unopposed, they will succeed. Xamir will mistake the PCs for these hunters.
5. The PCs return home grumbling about how much loot they couldn't carry out of the dungeon. Xamir overhears and offer's his services (for a modest fee).
6. The PCs hear about a bag of holding in nearby dungeon. It is actually Xamir. He can't make such a thing, but is willing to teach you his craft (but only when he's between gigs).

Sometime after the PCs first meet Xamir, he will have advanced in his craft. A zipper by his chin allows his whole body to split in half, and instead of being merely hollow, his insides are now a portal that links to some far off place. Currently that's

1. A Distant Swamp
2. A Begemmed Mine
3. His Lair
4. The Bottom of the Sea
5. A pocket dimension, inside a tiny Dead World
6. Hell

Meet him again, and he can now swap between three such places with the use of a magic sliding ring, which he constantly seems to drop.