#plothooks

Paizo loves to draw on real-world myth and religion to flesh out the Age of Lost Omens and these psychopomps are no exception. Yamaraj is one of the names of the Hindu God of Death, who also shows up in many, many other Asian religions and mythologies. While Yamarajes are largely created whole-cloth for Pathfinder as best as I can tell, they share their role as the afterlife's supreme judges with their namesake. 

When dealing with psychopomps in general, and yamarajes specifically, it’s critical to remember that, while they have hierarchies, these are not devils. The bureaucracy of the Boneyard is considerably more laissez-faire than that of Hell. Psychopomps follow their hierarchy because if they don’t someone further up, the chain of command might bury them under so much busy work they’d wish they could die. A psychopomp may all be the spirit of the law one day, then the letter of the law of the next, simply because it is convenient. If it gets them the results they believed to be correct, they may not have any qualms about breaking the law entirely.  

All this means the yamarajes get a high degree of latitude to deal with problems as they see fit. They are the penultimate step on the org chart, second only to the Ushers and the gods themselves. They are smart, cunning, corvid-dragons of death who heal from lightning and have the scarab swarms from The Mummy ‘99 as their breath attack. You try telling them they’re doing their job wrong. It can be tough to find inspiration for outsiders acting this way, but luckily one series does exist. Daily Bestiary recommended Garth Nix’s Keys to the Kingdom to me a while back and while it’s not a perfect fit for psychopomps (he suggested it re: rilmani), the denizens of the House are a good starting point for getting in the mindset of neutral outsiders.  

Rajit the Wayward stubbornly insists that he is not, although the nickname has stuck amongst mortals and his erstwhile colleagues. The yamaraj hasn’t set foot in the Boneyard for nearly 3000 years, proclaiming to anyone who will listen that she has merely taken a short sabbatical and will return to his courtroom soon enough. Even his fellow immortals are skeptical, but Pharasma has made no move to censure him, so the other Yamarajes put up with his truancy. Meanwhile, Rajit serves as one of the few points of stability within the First World realm of Nighthold, dispensing legal advice to those in need. Rajit is just as curious about the fey as they are about the psychopomp, which helps him endure both their shenanigans and treachery. He is one of the easier psychopomps for mortals to approach — if they can make it through the remnants of Count Ranalc’s kingdom.  

Like any body of water in the Universe, the River of Souls has its own weather. Shah Jamshid rules over the largest of these storms, riding it up and down the River as he incinerates soul thieves with lightning bolts. The yamaraj's storm doesn't usually disturb the departed, but every few years he must recruit adventurous to track down souls who get blown stray. While irritating, Jamshid justifies these minor interruptions to the River's flow as the price for ensuring daemons and powerful undead don't do worse damage. 

I’m a lot of things, but one of them is a science person. I’m driven to learn about the new and discover the unknown. All reality is one great big puzzle, and I get to see how the pieces fit together in new and exciting ways. So in fiction, I tend to have sympathy with academics, scientists, and explorers. I will die on my bed raving about how science wasn’t the problem in Jurassic Park. The problem was capitalism.

But alchemists? Alchemists in the Chronicles of Darkness scare me. Alchemists are the dark side of scientific progress, which transgresses and doesn’t care about the harm it causes. Alchemists are the western tradition’s deep connection with imperialism and its arrogance in disenfranchising other knowledge traditions. They are the “ends justify the means” people and the “it’s for your own good” people. They want knowledge, they want power (even if they won’t admit it to themselves), and they ultimately don’t care about anything that stops them from getting either.

Alchemists are mortals who tap into the secrets of Pyros, allowing them to learn Promethean’s Distillations, modify their bodies, and gain Dread Powers. Body modification? In a game crawling with body horror? Totally not going to backfire on you, but you do you. The catch is that most Alchemists get the barest trickle of Pyros and can’t stablize much of it at a time - unless they steal it from Prometheans. And those modifications? They need Vitrol to do that, so at best, they are delaying a Promethean’s progress toward becoming human for their own game. Most of the time, they just murder them.

If Promethean: the Created is a game that embraces humanity, its Alchemists represent the rejection of human nature. If you want to play a game where transhumanism leads to the loss of what makes humanity important, Alchemists are a great place to start.

Graveyard Gary’s been at this a long, long time. He considers himself a reanimator, in the “grand” tradition of Herbert West, while rather missing the point about West’s grizzly fate. In fact, Gary’s missed the point so completely that he didn’t even notice when his body died, but by that point, it was so laced with Spark of Life Distillations that it just kept moving. As a result, Gary’s lack of heartbeat and unblinking stare unnerve anyone who visits his cemetery, but other than the faint smell of formaldehyde and ozone, there is no decay. Gary wouldn’t even mind even if it was pointed out to him; this is the best he’s felt in years. Honestly. Mostly. Probably.

N0V4 thinks he’s big shit, with the corner office in his father’s company and a hacker alias, so he can pretend he’s on the worker’s side. He’s not untalented, but he’s a relentless taskmaster who isn’t half as bright as those who work for him. Unfortunately for every Promethean who comes near Toronto, the world of corporate ruthlessness trained him well for being an Alchemist. He’s mastered various Electrification and Luciferus Distillations, he even sees the electromagnetic spectrum’s invisible colours, but now the electricity is stalking him back. An electricity spirit has latched onto N0V4’s resonance, and it has no intention of letting its food source slow down his experiments.

also found elsewhere, pretty tough for adventurers to kill & def not civilians, but if you know to harvest them their [body part]s are valuable/useful (may be the case for many such creatures)

turns out guy raises them for [body part]s, easy to harvest(/kill? or nonlethal?) while contained but hard to catch when they escape, having to pay adventurers is worth it to recoup some loss

adventurers eventually try to track down source (bc they get annoyed they keep getting the same job) & find farm

wtf

(do they condemn? do they help him build a better security system? do they report him (nuisance, can't be kept (in city limits))? do they blackmail him? (if so either new "ally" or source of goods) what else?)

My patrons expressed interest in a few of the remastered monsters that got a facelift, and I am thrilled to present the first one: the horned dragon. With the remaster project, Paizo had to chuck the classic chromatic and metallic dragons out with the bathwater. Or at least they had to check their names out. While Monster Core is full of brand, new and deliciously weird dragons, there is a familiar face. The green dragon has been redubbed in favour of its horn, making it clear all the dragons we love to love and love to hate are still around. Expect the other metallics and chromatics to reappear with a fresh coat of paint as time goes on. In the meanwhile, horned dragons have literal decades of lore we can draw upon. 

Art by Ben Wootten

The most notable change to horned dragons in the Remaster is trading the arcane spellcasting tradition for primal. This aligns with their fondness for woodlands and linguistic talents for both elven and fey, although their erudite minds still resonate with the arcane tradition. There is an overlap between the two in shapechanging  and elemental magics, which suggests some themes to worm horned dragons around. And, as I will frequently say when dealing with the Remaster, there's no reason you can't just go with the classic arcane caster and all that entails, especially if that's what makes sense for the story.

Horned dragons have a reputation for being intellectuals, but they do have a gap in their knowledge: the outer sphere. For those of us who harken back to the Planescape days or focus our planar games on the afterlife, that sounds like a significant gap. Likewise, they know relatively little about outsiders, and the undead. It is worth remembering, however, that this is the only gap in their knowledge when it comes to planar affairs. Horned dragons are trained in Arcana, Nature, and Occultism, with even a young dragon able to beat expert level DCs reliably. Add in the fact they’re experts in society as well, and they know about almost every type of monster that’s out there too. Horned dragons don’t just have a reputation for being smart, they are genuinely brilliant and unlikely to let you forget it. What that means is that horned dragons could be the masterminds behind any plot involved in the planes. Or they could be the ones who dispense a crucial piece of information to the party. Or both. Probably both.

Deep within the Hanging Bower is one of the Green Mother's favourite concubines: the horned dragon Urðvox, the Hungering Mind. Her title was bestowed by her Eldest mistress, for Urðvox role the Green Mother's court is to speak for and embody mental seduction. Hours of conversation with the ancient worm pass in the blink of an eye, but the horned dragon only hints at her great knowledge. Those who wish to learn her secrets must tease apart the few crumbs the dragon give, all while being careful not to get drawn in too quickly.

The oddest monastery exists in the Napsune Mountains, founded by Zestrex, a young but capable horned dragon. The dragon is enamoured with the Laws of Mortality, scoffing at the prospect divinity makes one more worthy than intellect. Upon arriving in Rahadoum, Zestrex found many restless spirits, mortal and elemental alike, and resolved to gather them to himself. Now, Zestrex studies the primal and occult forces at work within his disciples while helping them move on or return to their planes of origin.

Imetx lives a contemplative live of seclusion and reflect on the Ethereal Plane. She considers herself a gardener, but unlike horticulturalists on the Universal Plane, what she cultivated are emotions. Anger blossoms, red and stinging, on fleshy vines that must be constantly trimmed. Joy is a field of yellow blooms, as far as the eye can see. The white stalks of fear are rarely seen, for it is never Imetx’s own fear, but that of those who see her imposing form. An authority on the In-Between’s emotional resonance, Imetx can provide information or ritual components relating to aura reading.

While horned dragons are known for pursuing self-perfection, they can be protective of other beings they view as perfect, to the point of possessiveness. Giorgis the Pure sees unicorns in this way — they represent perfect virtues, are perfect horses, and serve as perfect emissaries between the mortal world and the First World. The horned dragon obsessively tracks in the comings and goings of all unicorns within the forest where he lairs, as well the portals they use to commune with the fey. He has a violent and deep hatred of alchemists, blaming them for alicorn poachers, whether or not they deal in such substances.

Note: If you want to get a vote in the what monsters I cover out of order next, come follow the link at the top (and right here)

When the cycle of life and death is disrupted, relentless and towering outsiders seek out the cause and drag offenders back to their proper fates. Old Planescape hands can be forgiven for thinking I’m talking about the marut, but today’s topic is shinigami.

There is a point to that intro, too. While the 2e marut stats still exist, they will be casualties of the OGL/ORC transition from here on out. While losing such a classic monster is a bummer, shinigami can admirably fill their niche. Maruts were beloved for being implacable and terrifying. While their aesthetic is very different, shinigami check off both boxes. Next time the PCs try to become immortal, they may be pursued by a small death god instead of a ruthless onyx statue. 

It is worth noting that while shinigami don’t have much in the way of elemental resistances in 2e, their fast healing 40 is high enough that they can tank the damage from moderate environmental hazards. The majority of the Plane of Fire deals moderate environmental damage. Sure, it probably will hurt like hell (literally), and it is worth protecting themselves if they know they are headed for the inner sphere. If push comes to shove, a shinigami can stride through the most hostile planes and be fine.

Who needs frightful presence when that’s scary enough as it is? (Although shinigami have a frightful presence as well, so they are bloody terrifying in every sense. Good luck. Fighting that.)

The party wakes one day to find a shinigami sitting cross-legged in the town center, watching people go about their lives. If questioned, Togusa the Judicator responds simply that he is gathering evidence and refuses to elaborate further. Over the next few days, the party gets the distinct impression he is watching them specifically. Worse, the shinigami somehow lurks at the edge of their dreams, keeping them under 24/7 surveillance. Following the monitor into its nocturnal mindscape reveals each party member is the reincarnation of an infamous historical figure who wasn’t supposed to be reincarnated. 

Æown Coppereye has terrorized the Five Kings Mountains for thirteen generations with his ruthless brand of justice. While not as renowned as the Whispering Tyrant or Arazni, the dwarven lich is still dangerous and frequently used as a bogeyman in children’s tales. While the psychopomps would love to see him join Purgatory’s ranks, he is clad in a robe of shinigami bones he stole from the Boneyard. It allows him to flit between dimensions and hides him from all of death’s agents, regardless of which god they serve. Mortal heroes must chase him across the planes if he is to be stopped.

One of the reasons for my posting slowdown last year was looking ahead and send daunting prospect of covering every xulgath variant featured in Extinction Curse.  Don’t get me wrong, I was also excited about it, xulgaths are great! At the pace I was moving out though, it would’ve taken months. Today we are going to cover the base model and expect those variations to pop up occasionally as side quests. And yes, if you plan on doing anything related to xulgaths, make sure you check out the Extinction Curse adventure path, along with Occult Bestiary, Monster Codex, and Darklands Revisited.  

Xulgath's defining cultural feature is that they got knocked back several civilizational levels thousands of years ago and have been unwilling or unable to recover. While they are a Stone Age civilization, there are a couple of things to keep in mind. First, while they don't have the rest of Golarion's fancy new technologies, a lot can be achieved with stone, bone, and sinew, so they still have skilled laborers. Second, the ruined cities of their ancestors could contain just about anything, so they absolutely could reverse engineer lost technologies unexpectedly. Third, magic is still a thing and xulgaths definitely have access to it, with the arcane tradition being the only one that doesn’t fit. Plus, those unexpected past technologies could absolutely include magical innovations, not just engineering. 

Biologically, xulgaths have two main features. Xulgath stench is iconic, so expect them to not be as bothered by the rotten and the foul as other humanoids. If the table is comfortable with it, this is a good opportunity to make the encounter more visceral. Smells don’t get involved as much in writing and games as sight and sound, so take advantage of that olfactory opportunity. The other thing about xulgaths is the generations of exposure to the Outer Rifts and (unrelated) magical radiation have made them extremely prone to mutation. This could be to a body horror aficionado’s delight, but it’s also a great excuse to throw new and weird variants of these reptiles at your players. Again, see Extinction Curse for exemplars.  

Finally, the T-Rex in the living room. Xulgaths have a strong affinity for dinosaurs, which is a great excuse to haul out every prehistoric critter in the book. It’s also a useful way to distinguish xulgaths from serpentfolk, who also live in the underground ruins of their empire and are also highly prone to mutation. The dino aspect does wonders for giving xulgaths their own identity, so make sure you use it. 

Relations between xulgaths and other humanoids range from uneasy tension to outright violence almost everywhere. They are likely the calmest in the Land of the Mammoth Lords, although they still aren't exactly friendly. Nevertheless, the region's Kellids and Xulgath respect each other's drive to survive and admiration of massive, prehistoric creatures. Once every decade, xulgath emissaries emerge from the Darklands for the Night of Skin and Scales, where they exchange tales of gods, spirits, and shamans alongside hallucinogenic fire pits. 

Szvean the Iconoclast spurns all gods, declaring that all deities have exploited and marginalized the Xulgath people. She hates demon lords, but truly despises Aroden. More than any other mortal, she has mapped the tunnels beneath Axis in search of a way into the Last Azlanti's realm. Once within, she plans to destroy the last of his legacy as he destroyed her people, but in the meanwhile, she must contend with Norgorber and Thamir's minions. 

“Are they curious about their immortal heritage or do they fear it?”

When I wrote that line about the suli, my mind immediately went to the aasimar. I don’t think people would question tieflings fearing their heritage, but when we see aasimar, we default to our OCC knowledge of celestials and their alignment. What would it be like if you grew up on legends of avenging angels and relentless archons? That’s why that question resonated with me.

How much weight and expectation must there be on an aasimar’s shoulders, knowing they're descended from celestial beings? What was their childhood like? Did their celestial parent pull an angel unaware and adopt a mortal guise to be with the child? Did they watch out for them from afar? Visit them in their dreams? Did they grow up surrounded by entities of pure goodness in the afterlife? Or did the poor kid grow up like Percy Jackson, hearing tales of a wonderful parent that left them behind?

And then there’s the question of how much you should fear celestials. Yes, they are good, but good does not mean nice or perfect. Many celestials are outright terrifying if you aren’t a hero and that’s before considering how close they are to divinity or how connected they may or may not be to any given apocalypse. That’s a lot for anyone to take in, especially from a young age. While not every single one of an aasimar’s motivations should be tied to their lineage, it is a good place to start and storytellers should think about how aasimar feel about it.

While I’m ostensively going in reverse alphabetical order, it’s nice to jump out of order one last time and return to the beginning ten years later. When we plot hook our way through the Bestiaries, we tend to give Aasimar the short end of the stick, not because we hate them, but because they are the first thing we write. I encourage you to go deeper into these celestial-touched mortals, as I think you will find them to be diverse and fascinating.

Rasa Lightbringer was literally Heaven-born, having been raised in Heaven’s Shore by three generations of aasimar relatives as well as her celestial great-great-great-great grandfather. Rasa hardly speaks to them these days though, as she finds Heaven’s definition of “good” excusatory and patronizing. She still lives along the Heathen Shore, but now she represents the chaotic interests of the Cayden Cailean and the Azatas. She is welcome within the city, but Rasa knows how to get under the other locals’ skins. Many Archons would rather deal with almost anyone else.

Stereotypes of the aasimar abound, but celestial heritage in no way guarantees good behaviour. Ayes Emeraldeye was once a champion of Ketephys in the elves’ war against Treerazer. Blessed by his celestial heritage with a long life even for an elf, Ayes eventually fell from grace upon realizing that everything eventually withers. Now he stalks the River of Souls on the behalf of Charon, although the still smites any minions of Treerazer he encounters.

I called this one a decade ago. Didn’t I call this one a decade ago?

The yeast ooze doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. It’s a zany monster, but too good an opportunity to pass up, especially for a low-level ooze. Unfortunately, it didn’t get much descriptive text, but there’s enough to work with. What little we have attributes yeast oozes with a generally alchemical origin. However, the ones in the Outlaws of Alkenstar arose organically, so they are potentially a threat in abandoned breweries and bakeries. 

Yeast oozes spread the mother of all yeast infections, but thankfully they aren’t lethal, even if it is incredibly uncomfortable. Like IRL yeast, these oozes don’t like cold either; they are vulnerable to cold damage, and cold environments grant additional saving throws to the infections they cause. I wouldn’t expect to see them in colder planar regions — unless an alchemist or occultist wanted to create them intentionally, so having a frigid lab may make the experiment safer.

Aakriti the Everchanging considers all oozes sacred but holds a particular fondness for the ever-adaptable yeast oozes. Unfortunately, Aakriti’s celestial oozes have attracted the attention of the Horseman Apollyon. The Prince of Plagues wishes to corrupt the oozes with his “improvements,” specifically making their yeast infections increase the host’s vulnerability to other diseases. Now, Aakriti’s faithful and anyone seeking the Everchanging’s aid must stave off constant daemonic plots and assassinations.

While most towns have to deal with rats and pigeons as local pests, yeast oozes infest Delight. It makes sense because Delight is nestled deep within the Outer Rifts and since almost the entire population is some form of alchemist, brewer, or baker. Delight specializes in inventing new food and drink, presenting itself as a refuge and resting place for weary travellers to Cerebulim. As with all things related to Haagenti, this is merely a facade, but Delight is a relatively space place compared to other Chthonian settlements.

Deep within the Plane of Wood’s fractal wilderness is an enormous tree known as the Thyrsus. This living tower is a strange combination of pine and vine, growing grapes as large as a person. When these fruits grow ripe, they inevitably burst, spilling their contents into massive cup-like hollows below. Given time, they ferment into a wine vintage that is a delicacy across the planes and a potent primal spell component. This natural winery is the product of the many yeast oozes that live on and around the Thyrsus. When docile, they appear to be perfect spheres of amber dew, but they quickly become active if they sense a new source of sugar in their presence — such as an adventurer’s flesh.