1d20 Gypsy Curses. Thinner...

Thinner

I am in the middle of a Stephen King reread, so, after reading ‘Thinner’ this weekend, I figured I’d whip up some Gypsy curses that would make Taduz Lemke proud. A 1d20 chart of gypsy curses with their explanations beneath. I mostly play First Ed AD&D, but any DM with chops can melt it down to their own system of choice, besides, I don’t go into too much detail anyway. It’s up to the DM to determine how much of an irritant they are going to be. The only real pain in the arse with curses are clerics. They come along, snap their fingers, and Hey Presto, curse removed. You need to find a way around it or it’s no fun at all. In the book, the main character can never destroy the curse, all he can do is give it to someone else. So in essence, the curse is never vanquished, it just becomes a hellish chain letter which spreads from person to person. I like that, so I think that’s how I’m going to play it. To make it even tougher, the curse can only be given to someone that they know/love/respect, and not just some random stranger they pass in the street. You could also make these into a minor plot point because they now have to go off and break the curse. Anyway, here you go:

1.       Shock

Any time the player would touch anything metal, they will be given a short, sharp, shock that will deal 1-3 hp Dmg. This will happen every 1d4 rounds. So, if the player goes for a sword with a metal handle, Bzzzt they get shocked, however, if it has leather wrapped around the handle they should be fine, until they accidently touch the cross guard … Also, this will make wearing metal armour a near death experience, unless of course they are fully clothed beneath it and no part of their skin is touching it. If someone would deal them damage with a metallic weapon, on an exposed piece of skin, they will still take Shock damage. Also, because of the Shock, the player’s hair turns white.

2.       Feast

The player will be constantly hungry, stomach growlingly hungry and will stop at nothing to fill the empty void, even stealing from their friends and looting through their backpacks. If in a village/town/city the player will think nothing of spending all their treasure on food. While in this state they are pretty much useless as every waking second is consumed with looking for it, talking about it, thinking about it, and finally, eating it.

3.       Saint/Sinner

Once a day the player will find themselves doing something completely out of character, so much so, that there will be a gradual shift in alignment to the opposite of what they are when the curse first struck them. A true neutral could go either way, that’s up to the DM. So, if the player is notoriously tight-fisted with their cash, the next time they are in a town they could donate it all to the local orphanage. In turn, if a player is known for their generosity, they might actually break into the orphanage to see what money they could steal.

4.       Thinner

For a good idea on how this plays out, read the book. But, in a nutshell, the player will begin to lose weight rapidly, shedding massive amounts of fat daily. Armour will no longer fit and will in fact be more of a hindrance than a help. Every week the PC will lose a Constitution point until dead.

5.       Heat

The Player begins to sweat, excessively. If they were consuming one water-skin a day, then for the first week that doubles, and in the second week, doubles again. They will need to find somewhere to store all the excess skins or hire more people to help carry them. Also, wearing anything more than a robe will be impossible. They have to try and remain cool at all cost. Because of the excess heat and sweat, there is a 20% chance per round, that when in combat, they will drop their weapon.

6.       Coin

Once the player has been given their share of the loot, and anytime they want to try and spend it on something, they will find that whatever coin they try and use will turn to copper, or a type of metal that is completely worthless. While the coins are in their possession they are normal, gold, silver etc. But as soon as they’re not, they’ll change. Also, whomever they are trying to give them too, will see the change and will no longer be interested in doing business with them.

7.       Dull

Whenever this player handles an edged weapon (anything that has a sharp bit, or a pointy bit is fair game, from swords to spears to arrows) they become dull and lose their edge, to the tune of a -1 to damage. Each week thereafter will be worse, just how bad is up to you. If the player wields a mace or a stave, or anything considered to already be dull, there is a 20% per combat that the weapon will break.

8.       Teeth

Starts slowly at first, but become progressively worse. Loses 1d4 teeth the first week, 1d6 six the next and so it goes until they are all gone. Big changes to the players eating habits, speech patterns, and also, if they are spell-casters, there will be problems with the verbal component of their spells. Possibly include a failure roll to see if they get the spell off as intended?

9.       Miss

They slowly lose their ability to hit with ranged weapons. At first it’s say a, -1 to hit, then -2 etc. Until they couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn with their helmet from six feet away.

10.   Clumsy

Tripping over their own feet at every turn, dropping weapons when they need them the most. Butterfingers extraordinaire and born with two left feet. Penalties to their dexterity will apply over time, making them easier to hit, not because their armour is weakened, but because they are so clumsy they fall into harm’s way. If the character is of the Thief persuasion then they will revert back to first level thief statistics with a huge penalty levelled against them.

11.   Doze

Nods off at the most inopportune times, like when you’re crossing a rope bridge over a river of lava for example.  Find the most exciting time for it, then let the player make a Saving Throw versus Spells ( no bonuses need apply) then have them roll a d10 for how many rounds they’ll be asleep.

12.   Blood, Sweat and Tears

Blood seeps from the skin, tears from the eyes, and sweat drips from their brow…constantly. Makes it uncomfortable to see, and of course be seen. Leak 2hp per day until death takes them.

13.   Hooves

Seen the Foley engineer clip-clopping coconuts together to mimic the sound of a horses hooves? Well, walk in silence no more! Every time you move, it sounds like a shoed horse on stone. Clip-clop. The fun never stops.

14.   Jump

I came to get down, I came to get down…So get out your seats and jump around… Jump around around…Jump up, jump up and get down. Jump, jump, jump, jump…. Jump around. Non-Stop.

15.   Goth

Complexion becomes pale. Develops allergies to sunlight and garlic. Holy Water burns as if the player was un-dead. Lose their reflection, cannot be seen in mirrors or any other reflective surface. Cannot pass over running water. Is a vampire for all intents and purposes, with none of the special abilities, just the weaknesses.

16.   Rot

As if they had been touched by a Mummy. It will manifest in 1d4 days however, and the grave rot will claim 1d6 hp per day. Also, limbs and appendages will fall off too, starting with the nose.

17.   Silence

Cannot speak, not even above a whisper. Nothing comes out except freshly hatched flies. Will impact on spell-casters casting verbal spells, those spells will be off the menu until the curse is broken.

18.   Goblins

Goblins is dungeon slang for the runs. So that’s how the character will spend their days, running around looking for a toilet.

19.   Moth

Drawn slavishly to naked flames, like torches or campfires etc. Once there, they will run their hands through the flame, doing 1d4 hp Dmg to themselves until restrained or someone puts the flame out.

20.   Fear

The player becomes scared of their own shadow.  Treat every encounter with any HD creature as if it had the Fear special ability. 

Swamp City. This 'aint no Wind in the Willows.

For there is no honour amongst 'Fibs.

“It’s a hardscrabble existence down here in Swamp City... hell; it’s hard on us ‘Fibs that have to live here, what you think we’ll do to you? Huh? A tourist? It doesn’t work like that, you either play, or get played. Man, your ass is just so much swamp fodder, take my word for it, human... either gamble, get laid, or get lost. If you don’t? You’d better just stay the hell away.” 

Some ‘Fib.

Swamp City.

If you want to get high, or send someone low, then this is the place for you. It rose out of the stinking morass of mud, and rot, like a bloated corpse a little over ten years ago. There was a need for it you see. Gambling, drinking, fornication, everything deemed fun is against the law in nearby Silverton. So, a young and enterprising ‘Fib, who called himself the Toad, got a few derelict boats, lashed them together, and started selling jugs of Moon Juice and dealing a few hands of cards on the side. Word of mouth did the rest. A few choice kick-backs to the pious of Silverton guaranteed a blind eye to all his endeavours, just as long as he kept the action south of the Pads, and squarely in the bayou.

Swamp City

Now, ten full years later, Swamp City boasts three Casinos, over twenty drinking establishments, taverns, hostelries, night markets, bazaars, and more than a bushel of bordellos. Toad has built himself a mansion at the heart of his creation, and called it Toad Hall. He is the Kingpin of Swamp City, and nothing happens here without his command. He controls Swamp City with an iron fist and a gang of hardnosed amphibians called the ‘Fibs. He keeps them around to do the heavy lifting and the policing of his establishments. For his more, shall we say, specialist work, he’s employed One-Eyed Bill, the belligerent battle badger who is his bodyguard, and chief debt collector.

Badger, out cracking heads and collecting debts

Where badger might fail in his heavy handed negotiations, Toad lets Ratty take over, and if you see him coming, then you know it’s too late. He’ll take the money, and your life, then feed your corpse to the Alligators. He favours a slick, razor-sharp stiletto for his wet work. Silent and deadly is old Ratty, and he’s no slouch when it comes to picking locks either.

Then there is the one they call, Mole. A practitioner of the Dark Arts, he acts as council to Mr Toad. Wise, often silent, he gives his keen insight into the day-to-day running of Toads Empire. He keeps a string of dried human ears around his neck and dines on the flesh of the dead. Warped, twisted, and dangerous. A powerful sorcerer who cavorts and converses with demons, not many people have ever tangled with the Mole and lived to tell the tale. He uses human skin for his spell books, more supple, and holds the ink better he says.

Toad, holding forth in the morning.

Oddities and Rarities

The Flesh Farms.

On the outskirts of Swamp City, and hidden deep within the greenery of the Pads, lies the Mole’s Flesh Farms. It’s here that he grows flesh, limbs, and organs in arcane vats of bubbling bile. He caters to Necromancers, local hostelries, and anyone who is in the market for black market bodies. If you plan on dining in Swamp City, it’s best not to ask where the chef gets his meat from.

Toad, holding forth in the evening.

The Floating Palace

Run by one of the Toad’s henchmen, known simply as the Caterpillar, the Palace is the largest consumer of Lotus, Dream-Weed, and M’Eth in all the seven Kingdoms. Room upon room of bedraggled smokers, spikers, plungers and sniffers, all nodding off or racing around as manic as rabid monkeys. Those that chase their dreams a little too closely, the ones that slip over the edge, are merely thrown overboard to let the wildlife dispose of the remains.

The Poppy Fields

Why buy, when you can grow your own supply? That’s what Toad came up with one sunny morning as he was messing around in a boat. So that’s what he’s done. Toad has cleared entire acres of bayou in order to grow his own steady supply of narcotics that he sells to the punters. Heavily guarded by ‘Fibs, both night and day, this is the most profitable piece of real estate around.

Enemies of the Toad

They are legend. Ranging from Kings to commoners, and the entire spectrum in-between, Toad is one hated individual. Why? Because he is rich, arrogant, duplicitous, dangerous, and a murderer. No longer satisfied with what he has grown in the Swamps, he wants to extend his reach beyond the bayou, into the Wild Wood, and that, will start a war between two of the most dangerous gangs the region has ever known: The Weasels and the ‘Fibs.

The Weasels

Led by Sly, a vicious, dipsomaniac killer who has a burning desire to take Swamp City for his own. He will stop at nothing to do so, and has even gone so far as to enlist the aid of Albert, the Burgermeester of Silverton. He too has grown weary of the Toads amphibious influence.  The Weasels run the Wild Wood and have a similar, yet less lucrative set-up to Swamp City. War between the two gangs is inevitable.Who will be the victor? No one can say for sure, but if it came to it? My money would be on Toad and his motley crew of 'Fibs and his diabolical henchmen.

  

Any Port in a Storm. Plot hooks for your nautical/sea-side adventures.

“I steer between the crashing rocks, the sirens call my name

Lash my hands onto the helm, blood surging with the strain

I will not fail now, as sunrise comes, the darkness left behind

For eternity I follow on, there is no other way…”

- Ghost of the  Navigator – Iron Maiden

You’re at sea, desperate, trying to claw your way out the throat of a deadly storm that’s threatening to send you all to a watery grave. But wait, what’s that? On the horizon, it’s… it’s a lighthouse! Praise Poseidon and his barnacled beard! It’s a port!

But…just what type of port is it? Random plot hooks for your nautical/sea-side shenanigans in strange harbour towns.

(1d8)

1) There’s a killer on the road…

The harbour is near deserted at this time of night. Mercifully the winds have abated the moment you entered the shelter of the cove. It looks like you might be able to wait out the storm here after all. But first, you need food and grog! And not necessarily in that order. It’s a short trip from the desolate docks to an inn called, ‘The Salty Dog’. It’s full inside but the locals eye you with great suspicion, and answer your questions guardedly. It seems that strangers are not to be trusted, especially now, since the killings began. They call him the Ripper, and he’s left a body every night this month; not safe to go outside. “Strange though, how you said you just came in from out that storm. Old Haggerty said she got a good look at the Ripper, and bless my eyes if he doesn’t seem to look a lot like you…”



 

2) Do the Mash, do the Monster Mash!

The first thing that hits you is the smell. Yup, it clambers right over the aroma of brine and tar, and grabs you by the throat, making your already queasy stomach heave. You’ve spent your life adventuring; you’re no fool. It’s the smell of death if ever there was, and not recent death either, we’re talking flyblown and maggot-wriggling death. The worst kind. You head off the boat and into the darkened harbour town. Cautiously. It’s quiet. Too quiet. No fires are lit, no greetings on the air. Doors and shutters bang loudly in wind. But wait, what’s that moaning sound? And what’s that coming down the main street toward you? It’s…it’s the, undead…

3) This town is coming like a ghost town.

It might be the dead of night, but the harbour is bustling; it’s full to the gunnels with boats and junks and tall ships from lands both near and far. A veritable cornucopia of sailors, and navigators crowd the docks as merchants wait patiently for their goods to be unloaded. But wait, isn’t that old Gunter? The one eyed barbarian? You could have sworn he got killed back in the great delve of 06…and there, next to that stack of yellow wood, it’s Maxim Ling! Problem is, you know he’s dead. Why? Because you’re the one that killed him, that’s why. But the closer you get, the less sure you become. And when you come right up to them to take a closer look, they are gone. Slipped into the crowd most like. You shrug your shoulders and head to a tavern called ‘The Flying Dutchmen.’ The evening is spent carousing and drinking, whoring and wagering. A good time is had by all. But in the morning you awake, cold, stiff sore, and on the ground,with your head resting drunkenly on a moss covered gravestone, a stone’s throw from your boat. There is no harbour, no inn, and no farmer’s daughter called Sally; and, to make matters worse, you have the cold-iron taste of ghost in your mouth and not a penny to your name.



   

4) All the fine young cannibals.

There’s a welcoming committee waiting for you, on the docks, with torches lit and smiles that stretch from ear to ear. Never before have you seen such looks of concern, and compassion, on the faces of complete strangers. The burghers of this port ply you with hot, spiced wine, and wrap you in cloaks of the finest wool, before leading you for a hearty meal at a tavern called, ‘The Long Pig.’ All is going swimmingly, until your feet give out from under you, and, just before you hit the wooden floor, you could swear you saw the inn-keep adding what looked to be a handful of human heads to the soup tureen you all just ate from. Thank the gods the thief is a teetotaller. You might just survive this yet.



 

5) Spreading the Disease.

The harbour is filled with decaying slave ships. Sails untrimmed, crew lying unmoving on the swaying decks. Rats scamper everywhere. Death is in the air. You proceed up the gangplank, cautiously, and are greeted by a mob of coughing and crawling locals, begging for help. Huge boils, weeping pus and filth, cover every piece of skin you can see. One of the townsfolk gets a little too close for comfort and sneezes on you all before collapsing, dead, at your booted feet. What do you want to do?

 6) Bloodbath in Paradise

The harbour town’s locked up tighter than the Vatikaan’s Vaults. No one around. Doors and windows barricaded. The reek of garlic and wild roses is everywhere. Each abode has the sign of the Hunter’s eye painted on the door to ward off evil. When you finally convince someone to let you in they make you all drink holy water to prove you are who you say you are. It all started last month, with a strange ship that crashed into the harbour. There was no one at the helm either, the only thing to make landfall from that cursed boat was a gigantic black dog with eyes of fire that went running off into the night. Since then, strange lights have been seen up at the abandoned abbey and, people have started disappearing… only to return, pale and wan, and looking for blood. It seems as if a vampyr has set up shop…

   7) I’m just a runaway.

It’s a port, just like any other. There are boats waiting out the storm alongside you. The inn is full, and the beer is no better, or worse, than most other places you have drunk in. The next morning you leave the tavern, and the harbour, unmolested. It such a pity that those bandit stowaways had to ruin it all…

 

8) You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. 

The people are just so friendly! And you can think of no better place to ride out that ferocious storm. Everyone really enjoys your company…until sunset, then everything just goes Pete Tong. Bound, trussed, and about to become a sacrifice for some writhing, wriggling mass of tentacles that has erupted from the harbour waters. You’ve had better days, that’s for sure. Apparently, living here, is such a sacrifice…

Quirky Characters for Hire. Mercenary Group. The Midnight Ramblers...

 “I was there you know; Kith took a bad one, straight across the chest. Ogre cut through his armour like it was nuthin’. Blood was pouring something fierce. So, the Cleric in me wants to run up and help ‘im, you know? But nah, he fixes me with that death’s head stare of his, and says, ‘Back off, mate... let it bleed.’”

-          Wee-Tam, the Half-Inching Priest

Let’s get one thing straight. If you hire the Midnight Ramblers, they work with you, not for you. In fact, they’re best left to do their own thing actually, and to just bring you what it is you’re looking for.

And what is that exactly? What exactly are you looking for?

These ‘aint no Torch Bearers, my son... nah, these are the gents who get things got, if you catch my drift. Kill a King? Look no further. Family heirloom got itself disappeared? Got a drop on a tomb or a temple that needs a bit of lightening? A Dungeon that needs crawling? An artifact that needs acquiring? Not a problem, just brook discussion with the Boroughs most notorious mercenary group and hand over the dosh.

They might look like untrustworthy miscreants of the highest order, but a deal’s a deal and they’ll bring you the goods, or die trying. But who are they exactly?

The Midnight Ramblers, at rest. Art by Rodney Matthews

Maik Jaeger

Please allow me to introduce this adventurer; he’s a man of wealth, and taste. Urbane, refined, knowledgeable on any number of interesting subjects, he’s the leader, the number one, glib of lip and tongue this one, a ladies’ man through and through; voice like an angel, so it’s told.

His skills lie in oration, he’s charming, spellbinding, in fact, that’s his thing, ‘Charm Person’. He has a ring that allows him to do it almost at will, plus, his Charisma is through the roof. He wears no armour as he prefers to keep it casual. He is a high level Bard to trade, of at least Cli status, if not higher. He carries a magical harp made from the skull of a Demon that allows him to haste four times per day. While in haste mode, he is nearly impossible to hit, count him as AC Plate as he moves and shifts gracefully around his enemies. He wields a Dagger of D’eth that strikes, and wounds at a +4. He carries the usual adventuring equipment when on the road, but is dressed almost, foppishly, when back in town.

His weakness is for women, clothing, and expensive art, but other than that he is a solid and dependable adventurer that will ensure that his band of merry pranksters get the job done.

Kith Reichardts

What can be said about this man that hasn’t been said before? He too is a Bard -a Mandolin-Slinger- that adventures where angels fear to tread. A notorious drug taker who has consumed every drug in the known universe (and more than a few that aren’t) and because of this, he is impossible to poison. Consider him to always pass a Save Vs Poison. He is always drunk, but never in a state that might affect the rest of the group, nor his fighting or playing style. His mandolin is a Canaith Fender Mandolin (pg 148 1^st Edition AD&D DMG) that has the following extra abilities: it has control winds, as well as being able to cast fairie fire on all creatures that attack the group. He wields a long sword +3 vs. Undead and has leather armour +2. He seldom carries more in his backpack than his drug paraphernalia and his wine skins, but on occasion is known to possess a rope, blanket, and a few bags for carrying treasure. Don’t let this laconic, inebriated, lifestyle fool you, Kith is an excellent fighter with a high strength, and dexterity, allowing him to go toe-to-toe with the best.

Kh’Arlie WuAtz a.k.a ‘Bird’

No one knows where this brooding warrior hails from, but his silence speaks volumes. Giving a curt nod of the head now and again lets people know what he wants done, and how he wants it done. Just because he rarely speaks, you would be a fool to think that he has nothing to say. He is the backbone of this group. Stalwart in its defence when in a fight, his blade flashes and sings faster than the eye can even see. He wields a Luck Blade of +2 with six wishes attached, as well as getting a +2 to all Saving Throws. Clad in +2 Chainmail, Kh’Arlie is able to go four/two attacks in combat. He carries regular adventuring equipment, but in the group he is known as the map-man, with cartography covering most of the known world. Quiet, and studious, he spends his evenings poring over his maps, and playing kettledrums he fashioned himself, from the hollowed out skulls of the Monroe brothers, a pair of nee’r-do-well Hill Giants who burnt one farm too many to the ground. Now they act like drums of deafness under Kh’Arlie’s loving caress.

Billy VanWyman

The oldest of the group, he just like to put his feet up, swig some ale, and smoke his pipe after a hard day down in the dungeons. A ranger by trade, Billy has travelled the realms from north to south, and all points in-between. There aren’t many places he hasn’t been, and those he’s skipped, well, they’re just not worth seeing, anyway. Billy considers himself a top-notch lore-master and giant killer. When above the ground, Billy is front, while the rest of the Ramblers follow his lead. No slouch in a fight either, Billy wields a long sword of +1/+3 vs. Giants. He’s also a dab hand at foraging and laying snares, making sure the Ramblers never go hungry. At night, around the campfire, Billy plays the whoremonica and a beautiful, hand-crafted, four stringed lute, that was a birthday gift from the rest of the Ramblers. When Billy is in the group, the Ramblers cannot ever be surprised.

R’ron Woed a.k.a ‘Woody’

The newest edition to the Ramblers, Woody replaced a fallen comrade who had tripped just one trap too many. He has the fastest hands in the realm does Woody. He’ll have your pockets picked before you could say ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash.’ A master thief, Woody is responsible for some of the biggest capers the Boroughs have ever known (and a few that aren’t *wink*wink) and this has garnered him the reputation of one of the greatest thieves of his time. He is closest to Kith in the group, likes a drink or ten as well, but he is solid and dependable. He also possesses Daern’s Instant Fortress that he deploys when the going gets a little tougher than expected. Woody tuned down life as Guild Master for a life on the road, but has serious swag with most, if not all of the Guilds in the Boroughs. He is an expert climber, lock-picker, back-stabber, and an all-round felonious thief! He carries the standard adventuring kit, portable hole, bag of holding, rope of climbing, and wields Dancing Daggers of +2, one in each hand.

Group Special Abilities/Rates

Sympathies from the Devil

Due to some, shall we say, sensitive work for an Arch Duke of Hell, the Midnight Ramblers are incredibly hard to kill. When a Rambler is taken to below 0 hit points he collapses for 1d3 turns then arises again at full HP’s. This happens until the Arch Duke has paid his debt in full, after that? Who knows...?

Beasts of Burden

They can carry double the normal weight before becoming encumbered.

Rates

They work quick, clean, fast and quiet. What more could you ask for? But they ‘aint cheap... 50 gold per person per day, and you have to hire all the Ramblers. They also take a split of the treasure but those terms you can discuss with Jaeger. Rest assured, if you have hired the Ramblers, I can guarantee satisfaction.

Next Target...

The Time Spire of the fell Mage, Tempus-Fugitus Rex. After this gig they’ll be back at the Voodoo lounge and available for hire. look for the sign on the wall outside to tell you their available. Gaping mouth, huge lips, extended tongue.

Midnight Ramblers. Open for Business. Working with them is a gas!Gas!Gas!

 Testimonials and Scuttlebutt

“They ‘aint cheap that’s for sure; and if their on your tail, ‘aint nobody gonna give you shelter...”

-          Kirk the Nameless

“Tomb rooting, ripping, or raiding, this is the crew you need, hands down. No one out there has sticky fingers like this lot. Worth every gold coin I spent. Satisfaction, guaranteed! ”

-          Mefrou Trien

“Anarchy, chaos, they have it in spades this gang... and if you want violent, palace type revolution? To kill the King and rail at all his servants? Well, look no further, mate; there’s a place for these street fighting men called the Midnight Ramblers.”

-Bark, the Usurper

“I was there you know; Kith took a bad one, straight across the chest. Ogre cut through his armour like it was nuthin’. Blood was pouring something fierce. So, the Cleric in me wants to run up and help ‘im, you know? But nah, he fixes me with that death’s head stare of his, and says, ‘Back off, mate... let it bleed.’”

Wee-Tam, the Half-Inching Priest

“It’s not all raiding, killing, bounty hunting and lawlessness with them, you know. Why, just last week they were down here with us, throwing the biggest party you’ve ever seen! Called the Beggars Banquet it is. Happens once every fortnight, hearts of gold that crew...bless ‘em!”

Lurk, the Beggar/Leper/Down on his Lucker

“I once asked Jaeger what colour I should paint the tavern door. Well, he just sort of sneered at me, and said, ‘Paint it black, man. What else?’ I felt like a bit of fool for considering anything else actually...”

-          Neap, owner of the Public House, ‘The Voodoo Lounge’. Home from home of the Midnight Ramblers.

  

                                                                  

d30 Masks, and their Magical Machinations. Part Two.

These thirty masks are cursed, cursed, and cursed again. Once any of them are worn, only a Wish spell or a timely ‘Deus-Ex-Machina’, type intervention can remove them from the wearer. The DM could possibly make a quest out of trying to get the mask off.But hurry, bad things are on the way.

“There are people in this world who can wear whale masks and people who cannot, and the wise know to which group they belong.” 
― Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume

 “Masked, I advance.” 
― René Descartes

“You, sir, should unmask.

Indeed? 

Indeed it’s time. We all have laid aside disguise but you. 

I wear no mask. 

No mask? No mask! “

― Robert W. Chambers  

“I am the walrus, goo goo g'joob”.

-The Beatles

1) Mask of Myriad Magic
2) Mask of Better Out than In
3) Mask of Mighty Migraines
4) Mask of Plagues, Pestilence & Rot
5) Mask of Silence
6) Mask of Stranger to Myne Own Self
7) Mask of the Lure
8) Mask of the Vulture
9) Mask of the Manson
10) Mask of the Scarecrow
11) Mask of the Cosmic Jackal
12) Mask of the Vark
13) Mask of the Mosquito
14) Mask of the Giant Head
15) Trout Skin Mask
16) Mask of the Crow Road
17) Mask of ZorroZ
18) Mask of the Bristling ‘Tache
19) Mask of the Ass/Bottom
20) Masque of the Red Deth
21) Mask of the Masheen
22) Mask of Drunkenness
23) Mask of the Serpent
24) Mask of Unabashed Evil/Good
25) Mask of the Fool
26) Mask of the Wanderer
27) Mask of the Black Stars
28) Mask of the Scapegoat
29) Mask of Sloth
30) Mask of Tragedy

1) Mask of Myriad Magic
When worn, the victim becomes unusually susceptible to magic. All spells that would deal them damage may add an extra 1d6 to the damage pool, as well as making the player re-roll any passed ‘Save vs. Spells’, saving throws.

2) Mask of Better Out than In
There is only one outcome from wearing this mask...and that is pain. After 2d12 turns the wearer’s skeleton will animate itself and flee the body that encases it, thus killing its host. The pain of the skeleton ripping itself from the body is  terrifying and will drop the PC to 0 Hp and cut their entire attributes in half. The player character is now a skeleton but not un-dead, so they cannot be turned as technically, they are still alive. There is now one bonus though; all your mates get to laugh at you when you eat your lunch...

3) Mask of Mighty Migraines
Every day the wearer must roll a Save vs. Spells. If passed they keep the headaches at bay...if they fail however, then the megrims attack most viscously, rendering the wearer catatonic until the following day when they get to roll again. Each migraine deals 1d4 damage to the player.

4) Mask of Plagues, Pestilence & Rot
Your extremities start to rot, starting with your toes. Nothing can stem the tide of awfulness that has befallen you... and, to add insult to injury, your Constitution freefalls by 1 point a day until you are naught but a rotting carcass regardless of how many hit-points you posses.

5) Mask of Silence
The wearer may not speak, and if a spell-caster, they may not cast any spells that require a verbal component.

6) Mask of Stranger to Myne Own Self
It’s a topsy-turvy world being an adventurer. Wearing this mask just makes it worse! Swop all your attributes around from bottom to top. So, what you have in Charisma goes into Strength, and Strength into Charisma, Constitution into Intelligence etc... Dump Stats be gone!

7) Mask of the Lure
The wearer of this mask is ALWAYS surprised, even if the threat is standing right in front of them, they ALWAYS fail initiative. Sucks to be you... you could, if you wanted, make it even worse by having the entire group always fail initiative if the wearer of the mask is among them.

8) Mask of the Vulture

Can no longer stomach fresh food or liquid of any kind. Can only eat rotting meat and drink pestilent water, and develops a foul odour of death that lingers all around them. Any Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Gnomes or Halflings, standing with a 20ft radius will be overcome with uncontrollable vomiting and must stop what they are doing no matter what it is. All creatures, such as Orcs and Goblins, are drawn to this fetid aroma and will actively seek it out.

9) Mask of the Manson
Upon donning this mask the wearer is immediately assaulted by a barrage of sinister, and sibilant whispers from the deepest parts of hell that grows louder and louder every day. Not only will the wearer be unable to sleep and recover from the rigours of adventuring, but the satanic scuttlebutt makes it impossible to pray, or study spells, thus rendering the mage/cleric useless and at their wits end. Insomnia, worry, stress, paranoia and later hallucinations featuring anything, and everything, the character has killed in their adventuring life coming to haunt them. Madness comes next. Suicide is an option.

10) Mask of the Scarecrow
This will immediately cut the wearers intelligence score in half, and then, at dawn of the following day, in half again; and so it goes until there is but 1 point left and the wearer is left with the mental faculties of a baby sparrow.
If only they had a heart, eh?

11) Mask of the Cosmic Jackal
The player is instantly whisked away to a realm not of their knowledge or understanding, and is enslaved on the galley of the Cosmic Jackal. Here they will spend the foreseeable future lashed to the oars being forced to row... and being whipped by angry djinn for good measure. 

12) Mask of the Vark
Once this mask is on, the wearer will immediately think themselves famished...starved, as if they haven’t eaten in days. From then on all they are interested in is eating, day and night. They must consume, tirelessly, anything goes, scraps, road kill, unmentionable blobs of goo, nothing is off limits. They will root and forage anywhere.

13) Mask of the Mosquito
At first the wearer will hear high pitched noises that grow progressively louder every day. Then, in about two weeks, the noise will begin emanating from the Mask, thus making any attempts at stealth a waste of time. Sadly for the wearer this is just the beginning. At night, if they can sleep through the noise, a proboscis slides out from the helmet and pierces the victim’s skin and begins to suck up the host’s blood; in essence, devouring them from within. The host body will be drained of every drop of blood/fat/muscle/tissue leaving nothing but a helmet and a husk. The helmet is actually the head of a Phase Mosquito from the Nightmare Realms that hunts in our world.

14) Mask of the Giant Head
Upon donning the mask, the wearer's head begins to swell until it is ten times that of a Stone Giants head. The player can do nothing but lie there until death.

15) Trout Skin Mask
The victim’s skin turns to that of a fish. Deep scars form on the throat and become gills. Speech as they know it is impossible. They slowly begin to choke to death unless they can find fresh running water and fully submerge themselves. Fins will grow along the spine as the arms and legs begin to shrink. Eventually, after twelve weeks, the victim becomes a fish entirely.

16) Mask of the Crow Road
Once in place, all around the wearer seems incorporeal and unreal. They will begin to talk to people that have slipped beyond the pale not recognising the living around them. After the first week they will lose one full level. This continues for every week thereafter until level 0. It will then drain the victim’s Hit Points to 0 and inevitable death. 

17) Mask of ZorroZ
Donning this mask makes the wearer fool-hardy to the extreme. When everyone else decides to leg it away from the danger, the victim will rush toward it! He fears nothing and no one. When discretion calls to be the better part of valour, the player says, ‘Damn their eyes!’ and charges recklessly into glorious battle. Unsurprisingly, death will occur. There are only so many dragons you can mess with before the inevitable.

18) Mask of the Bristling ‘Tache
In combat, this mask ensures that the player is more of a danger to his teammates than himself or the enemy. For each separate encounter, roll 1d4. That is the number of rounds that will pass before he accidentally swings at one of his friends. To make matters worse, those attacks against his friends are at a +2 to hit, and wound.

19) Mask of the Ass/Bottom
When worn the player can do nothing but bray. Normal speech is impossible. Whenever the situation calls for extreme silence roll a Save vs. Polymorph, if failed the player brays non-stop for 2-8 rounds.

20) Masque of the Red Deth
And Darkness and Decay and the Red Deth will hold illimitable dominion over the unfortunate player. Blood will flow from every orifice accompanied by sharp pains and dizziness until they pass out from lack of blood. Anyone within 6ft of the diseased player rolls a Save vs. Death Magic or they are going down too. It usually takes about one turn for death to occur.

21) Mask of the Masheen
As soon as the mask is on, the player hears a ticking noise coming from within. They have precisely 24 hours until the mask drives a spike through their brain. No pressure.

22) Mask of Drunkenness
The player is instantly drunk and useless at just about everything. Communication is reduced to slurring, and at night, the victim snores so loudly, a wandering monster is guaranteed every hour, on the hour. They will also suffer a -6 penalty to everything combat related. Walking is actually crawling as they cannot stand up unaided.

23) Mask of the Serpent
Will slowly- but surely- poison the victim. Roll a Save vs. Poison every day. If the player passes, then that is a good day, if they fail, take 2d8 Dmg.

24) Mask of Unabashed Evil/Good
Alignment is immediately changed to the exact opposite of what they are at that moment, all penalties apply.

25) Mask of the Fool
Becomes addicted to gambling but will lose every single turn/hand/race/wager, and yet, is compelled to, until they have no assets left to gamble. After that, all bets are off. A life of crime, perhaps? Or life in debtors jail? You decide.

26) Mask of the Wanderer
The wearer has absolutely no sense of direction. None. If everyone else is going left, they go right. They are apt to wander off without telling anyone where they are going 1d6 times per day.

27) Mask of the Black Stars
User becomes berserk and starts stabbing themselves in the eyes, then chest, and finally stomach/groin area until they are dead.

28) Mask of the Scapegoat
The player polymorphs into a goat that is highly sought after for sacrifice, by any number of cults and religions. It’s only a matter of time before they get their hands on you and sacrifice you for the greater good/evil.

29) Mask of Tragedy
Overcome with the melancholies of the gods, the unfortunate wearer must take a daily Save vs. Turn to Stone or be turned into a statue representing great misery, and melancholy. 1d4 determines what type: 1) Wood. 2) Stone. 3) Rock. 4) Crystal. The hardening begins in the hands and toes and spreads till everything is solidified leaving the head for last. Limbs that have been ‘turned’ can still be used, but under great penalty and pain to the wearer of the mask.

30) Mask of Sloth
Everything is done as if slowed. Eating, speaking, fighting, talking, walking...everything is in sloooooooowwww motion.