Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer Creatures
Frozen Sick
D&D Beyond Basic Rules
Basic Rules (2014)
Sign in to view your library & saved favorites.
Sign in- Marketplace
Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer CreaturesFrozen SickD&D Beyond Basic RulesBasic Rules (2014)Sign in to view your library & saved favorites.
Sign in
"He was no amateur...." theren mutters
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“And who was he? Asking so I can kill him.”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Theren stands up, wiping off his hands as he glances at them. "No need. Hes already six feet under."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“Are you sure? That memory may be faulty as well.”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
He pulls out a hand from his pocket. "This was his."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“Alright. Well, then, how are you doing?” Thirteen smiles at him.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
The hand vanishes in a flash of fire. "Im fine.."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“You sure?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"Yeah. I just hate having amnesia..."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
“I bet. Want to head inside?” He gestures to the inn.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
"sure." he flicks his hand at the flowers, bringing them back to life
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Thirteen vanishes into mist, reappearing inside the inn.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Theren follows them, hands in his pockets
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
Inside, Thirteen is seated at the bar. Caramel is curled beside the bottom of the stool.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Theren picks up caramel and pets them. "Hey there Caramel."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
In the elemental plane of air, there is a species called 'Harpies'. They are a humanoid folk who closely resemble humans but with one key factor, that have large wings, a light pushing of feathers along their arms and legs, and talon-like feet. They are a common enemy of the birdfolk there but not in ways you would expect.
The birdfolk and harpies long ago shared a god but when one individual from the harpies faction rose up to say that the gods had proclaimed to them that the birdfolk were lesser than, everything and everyone was at each other's throats. A small percentage of the birdfolk and harpies never fought but rather stayed away, still casting angry glances at one another.
The harpies are mostly known for their wings and telescoping vision but little is known about what they eat and they eat meat. They are exclusively carnivorous and eat anything they can get while the more civilized kind will stick with farm products and things they are naturally hunted.
There is the sounds of beating wings outside the tavern, like a very very large bird. On the roof, the wood creaks as whatever it is lands. A man, with large black feathered wings, is stretching quietly. He cracks his back and groans, muttering about being to old for something or other. He has dark umber skin that is flecked with dark downy feathers. He has short black hair that is closely shaven to his head, bright coppery eyes that are flecked with gold, and grey taloned feet. He wears a baseball cap, a black tank-top, and grey baggy cargo shorts.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
The sorcerer outside looks up at the figure. "Yo! Careful! You might break the roof!"
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
The man looks down "Mate, I weigh 84 lbs soaking wet, I ain't gonna break a thing." He chuckles.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"say that to the creaking roof."
Ye old creator of characters
Tortured poet and writer
This mortal body is expendable, I will be released from my binding soon.
He rolls his eyes and stretches his wings.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘