Aquatic Vassals. Long ago, a green hag gathered a small army of ogres to serve as her enforcers along the desolate coast she had claimed. The hag found the ogres’ simple minds and brutal strength useful, but too often, their lack of cunning foiled her plans. Many tumbled into the sea and drowned, too simpleminded and impatient to learn how to swim. Others smashed caravans and crushed their defenders most effectively, but looted cheap, bulky trade goods while leaving valuable smaller treasures behind. Frustrated by her servants, the hag wove a spell to adapt them to the coastal terrain while planting in their minds a few simple commands to help them with their tasks. She gave them the tenacity and toughness of a crab to augment their strength, grasping claws to help them claim the treasures she loved, and a deeply embedded magical compulsion to obedience.

Treasure Hungry. The hag had a particular love of silver, and was loath to allow even the smallest bit of that metal to slip through her grasp. Her spell gave the crab folk an insatiable love for silver. When they see it, all crab folk feel an irresistible urge to seize it and carry it back to their lairs. If necessary, they resort to violence to claim the metal.

Brutal Raiders. Each year, when the warm summer gives way to the chill of autumn, the crab folk look to the sky for omens. In ancient days, the green hag kept close watch on the fishing villages and towns near her domain. If those settlements grew too strong, she sent her familiar, a cruel seagull, to harangue the crab folk with its cries and drive them to war. Today, by a stroke of bad luck a gull might happen to land near a crab folk lair and utter the right combination of cries to summon up this ancient compulsion. Driven to action, the crab folk rampage along the coast, looting and smashing any settlements they know of or encounter. After six days exactly, their rampage ends, and they return to their humble lives.

Deep-Seated Memories. When a coastal raid or a theft of silver is done, crab folk gather the treasures they have won and place them at the feet of a simple effigy of their hag creator, made from driftwood and other scrap and kept in their communal lair. The crab folk have little sense of what drives them, but they understand that the effigy represents a mother and creator who must be obeyed. Legend holds that the green hag preferred to travel in the guise of a regal hobgoblin queen. If the crab folk ever encounter someone who bears a strong resemblance to that form, their magical compulsion might force them to worship that creature, obeying their every command.