Apollo

Fights As: L15
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 3
Hit Points: 210
Attacks: 1 (2 with bow)
Damage: as below or by weapon
Save: L18

S: 20   I: 20   W: 18   D: 23   C: 23   CH: 24

Special Abilities: as an Olympian, and see below

Apollo usually appears as a well-formed, beardless youth, with an almost feminine beauty to his features, and curly blonde hair. He tends to wear clothing merely to accentuate his body and seldom takes on any unattractive form.  Apollo takes almost as many lovers both male and female.

Despite his vanity, Apollo isn’t shallow. He’s an aesthete and both artist and patron in the fields of music and poetry. He’s a medical researcher and designer of both diseases and cures. He’s a mystic with an interest in prophecy and overseer of the Oracle at Delphi. Finally, like his sister, he enjoys the hunt and the sport of archery.

Apollo has photo-emitter nanites implanted in his skin so that he can generate light of variable degrees up to flash blinding anyone (4 point penalty to attack rolls and armor class) within 30 feet for 1d4 rounds. He carries a bow with computer aided targeting (+4 tp hit, negates penalties for firing into groups), that actually fires arrow-like micro-missles that do 2d6 damage, but can be programmed to explode (7d6 damage), or to release preloaded toxins or poisons (per bio toxin bomd in Muture Future or poison type).

People in the City

After Saturday's Detectives & Daredevils Google+ game set in the world of Weird Adventures, there was some discussion of NPCs that have showed up in my various games. Here are a few that might still be encountered in the City in 5889:

Bookman, Rawley: Superintendent at an apartment building in Morningstar Hills on the border with Solace.

DeWytt, Lola: Secretary for Victory Detective Agency.

Graves, Zacherly: A Barrowman cemetery manager.

Hardluck Hooligans: A kid gang in Hardluck. Prominent members include: Knuckles (the tough one), Da Brain (the smart one), Freckles (freckles), Topper (oversized tophat), Juniper (tomboy in an aviator helmet), Sunshine and Smiles (creepy, somber kids), the Kid in Yellow (weird kid from Little Carcosa), and Marbles. They have an ongoing feud with the Grumpf.

Hazzard, Hew: Wealthy industrialist, inventor, and playboy. His headquarters and research laboratory are in Marquesa near the airfield.

Shreck, Eldmore: Tall, portly lawyer, parnter in the firm Shreck & Wail. They are the executors of the estate of Charles Ranulf Urst.

Snow, Sara: Platinum-haired beauty who is either a cat that can turn into a woman or a woman who turns into a cat. Grifter and sometime gangster's moll.

Throne, H. Leland: Antiquarian bookseller in Grimalkin Village. He doesn't have any magical tomes, but does have works that deal with occult or esoteric topics. He also runs a side business in racy photography. He sells the photos to collectors and sometimes uses them for blackmail.

Two-Teeth Drexel: Hell Syndicate thug with oversized incisors. Previously in Barton Blanchefleur's gang.

Vandemaur, Urania: Matriarch of an Old Money family with a mansion on "Paupers Row."

Wail, Tophias: Short, bespectacled lawyer, partner in the firm Shreck & Wail. They are the executors of the estate of Charles Ranulf Urst.

Wisdom and War

Fights As: L18

Movement: 120' (40')

Armor Class: 2 (in armor), 1 (+shield)

Hit Points: 225

Attacks: 1

Damage: by weapon

Save: L18

S: 24      I: 23       W: 23    D: 22      C: 25      CH: 23

Special Abilities: standard Olympian and see below

Athena is the bio-engineered “daughter” of Zeus. He created her with the aid of the artificial intelligence, Metis, as his ideal heir—though he shows no signs of being ready to abdicate, as yet. She provides him with wise counsel and supports arts necessary for civilization among humans, including various crafts and warfare. Her roll makes her a rival of several other Olympians, but so far none have been able to best her.  Unlike most of her people, Athena does not take human lovers. She is generally positively disposed toward humans, but prideful and unwilling to tolerate an insult.

Athena usually appears as a beautiful woman dressed in armor (an has fully encased, environmentally sealed variants for use when necessary).  She habitually carries a short sword (a quantum-edged blade, +5 to hit/1d6+5 dmg) When actually going to war, she wields an energized spear (+2 to hit/5d6 dmg) and carries a shield that can emit a swirling flash of colored light, causing seizures in any of baseline human neurostructure who view it (save vs. Stun Attack at a -1 penalty, lasts 1d4 rounds).

God of the Forge

Fights As: L15
Movement: 60' (20')
Armor Class: 4
Hit Points: 210
Attacks: 1
Damage: by weapon as below
Save: L15

S: 25   I: 25   W: 20   D: 12   C: 23   CH: 11

Special Abilities: as an Olympian, and see below

Hephaistos is the chief engineer and technologist of the Olympians. Unique among his people, his usual body is based on an extinct human subspecies: neandthalensis. He walks with a pronounced limp due to an old injury. His continued physical infirmity and less attractive appearance despite the technology of his people likely say something about his psychology. Hephaistos has a gruff demeanor and little time for things that don’t engage his curiosity. While he's seldom cruel, he doesn't forget slights.

The forge god maintains a secret workshop within an undisclosed volcanic mountain, though humans have identified many different mountains as its location in folklore. He is attended at all times by four golden automata (treat as androids) of unmistakably female form and aided in his experiments by the three elder cyclopes.

Hephaistos generally carries a hammer (actually an all-purpose tool) that can reconfigure as walking stick, sensor probe, cutting torch, and weapon (as light energized hammer: 4d6 damage; as energized war hammer: 7d6 damage; laser cutting torch: 5d6 damage, but close range only).

Aphrodite

Fights As: L5
Movement: 120' (40')
Armor Class: 4
Hit Points: 194
Attacks: 1
Damage: as below or by weapon
Save: L10

S: 17   I: 18   W: 17   D: 18   C: 23   CH: 25

Special Abilities: as an Olympian, and see below

Aphrodite is worshipped by mortals as the goddess of beauty, love, and procreation, but it is her own pleasure that she cares for more than anyone else’s. Aphrodite engages in research (if it can be called that) in various ways of enhancing mortal sexual pleasure and manipulating emotion. She most often appears as a perfectly formed woman with golden hair, but Aphrodite makes alterations both major and minor to her bodies the way other Olympians change clothes. Whatever the particulars of her form, her vanity ensures she is always beautiful.

Aphrodite doesn't engage in combat if she can avoid it. She wears a belt from which she can release nanites capable of manipulating emotional areas of the brain. It works like empathy except its effects are limited to creating attraction or pleasure (WIL 21 for the purposes of attack).

In the Dharwood

Last summer, I did some picture-based riffing on a setting on Google+. Since only part of that ever appeared on the blog (and without pictures), I thought it might be of interest to my readership here. I did more than these three. If there is interest, I might re-post more. I might even if there's not.

Golden Men of Haoun Dhar: The only inhabitants of the ruins which give the Dharwood its name. The men are seen on occasion amid the tall columns (engraved with demonic faces) performing odd, communal rituals or standing like statues on the central ziggurat for hours on end.  At night they are sometimes glimpsed on the ziggurat’s pinnacle, seeming to make observations of the heavens with unusual instruments. Few dare approach the ruins for fear of the strange men, despite the legends of a fabulous treasure within the ziggurat.

Kro One-Eye : Alcoholic (and possibly consumptive) swordmaster. He lost his left eye either to an insurgent in the Dharwood or to an angry whore, depending on how deep into the cups he his when he gets 'round to the tale. He's a fixture in dives along Wine and Tavern Streets, regaling fellow patrons with daring (and dubious) tales of his youthful adventures, and the occasional demonstration of his skills. For a cup of watered wine he'll give a few pointers on swordmanship. For a bottle of good Kael whiskey, he'll take on a student. For a small cask of vintage Trosian Red, he'll fight at your side--as long as it doesn't take him far from the River District for long.

Mystery cult snake priestess: One of many such agitators in the peasant uprising in the Dharwood.  Nobles have been burned alive in giant wicker statues in heretical rites. Lawlessness and banditry are common throughout the region and travelers should take care.

In the Cards

The Magi are a group of itinerant fortune tellers found throughout the Strange Stars but particularly in the Zuran Expanse. Viewed variously as mystics, cultists, or charlatans, and often treated with suspicion whatever the judgement, the Magi care about the opinions of other sophonts only to the degree it impacts their quest for enlightenment.

While baseline humanoid in appearance, Magi have a modified neural structure: The linkages within the reflexive system are enhanced, as is prefrontal-parietal interconnectivity. The result is enhanced intuitive and lateral thought processes and the ability to utilize controlled dreamlike states of consciousness. Another consequence of this restructuring (not fully appreciated when it was implemented millennia ago) is greatly enhanced precognition.

The Magi use these abilities (or tell customers they use them) for fortune-telling. Like all fortune-tellers before them, they’ve found that discerning what the client wants to hear and telling them that rather than giving vague impressions of the actual future is generally more likely to generate referrals and return business. Magi favor an elaborate cartomancy using a deck they call the Zener Tarot (suits of Circles, Crosses, Waves, Squares, and Stars), a series of questions (many wholly unrelated to the question at hand), and some physiologic biometric assessment of the client. Which parts of this protocol and necessary and which are just for show is a closely guarded secret.

Magi are also sometime gamblers. They enjoy almost any game of chance. They are often accused of cheating and find it prudent to leave the area quickly after any significant win.

What really concerns the Magi and drives their wandering isn’t the future, but the nature of reality. As an order (perhaps as a glitch in their neural arrangement) they are haunted by contemplation of the simulation hypothesis: they fear the world as they perceive it is only a computer simulation. Their hypercognitions and precognitions only fuel this ontological fear. The Magi search for either conclusive proof these fears--the final “tell” that will give away the game--or evidence of the transcendent uncomputability of universe, a concept they hold in awe and fear like unto a god.

Rooke

This is Mingus Rooke, club owner, jazz musician, and former adventurer. He's rendered here in a Chester Gould-ish style by Lester B. Portly. Here's Rooke's stats in WaRP:

Mingus Rooke
Famous former adventure; Owner of the Blue Hound club in Solace

Black man, mid-50s, gone a little soft since retiring.

Attack: 2 dice
Defense: 3 dice

Jazz Musician, 6 dice (jazz slang)
In the Know, 3 dice - Well-connected to the adventuring, music, and magical communities. (he's always got a story)
Musical Magic, 3 dice - Can great various spell-like effects via music. Must be able to play his horn or another instrument to use this ability. Range is generally 2 x die roll yards, though this may vary with effect, at the referee's discretion..
Not as Young as He Used to Be - Any exertion that goes over 2 rounds results in a penalty die.

Mugshots from the Weird Adventures Companion

This ugly mug is the hobogoblin croaker (shaman) Cheroot. He'll be appearing in the Weird Adventures Companion along with several other adversaries for PCs, including Waxy Moldoon and Heironymus Gaunt.

Art for the portraits of these characters was done by Loston Wallace. Here's Gaunt:

Meet Carnival Pandemonium

After our last Weird Adventures game, Cornelius Doyle and Don Diabolico went to do some research to find out more about their foes. This is what they found out:

Marzo, Orlando Vincenzo Rodomonte Visconte di, the assumed name of an adventurer, courtier, thaumaturgist (or charlatan), and likely confidence trickster active in the latter half of the 58th Century. Some sources place his origins much earlier, but this may be only so much propaganda. His detractors appear accurate in their assertion that he was no nobleman of the Vitellian League, at least in the sense that no viscounty of Marzo is known to have existed.

Marzo’s primary attribute seems to have been his ability to insinuate himself into the courts of various Ealderdish nobles their his theatrical use of magical power. He has been derided as a mere illusionist by some, while others have embraced that mantle and championed him as the secret founder of the Brotherhood of Illusion.

Marzo’s fame was such that even long after his likely death he figures into legend. Several adventurers over the past half century have claimed to have encountered Marzo who sought to act as an agent for infernal powers looking to acquire souls. Whether these encounters are mere fabulations, the actions of pretenders, or brushes with an immortal magician are the subject of debate. [from The Practioners of the Art (Roodmas, 5802).]

Deadeye: Stage name of Jonas Early, a sharpshooter in Bucksnort Bill's Wild West Show. He toured with the show from 5833 until his death in 5838. Early died from infection after having been shot in a quarrel over a gambling debt. After display at the Wild West Show, his body disappeared before he could be buried. During life his life, rumor attributed Early's skill with firearms to a pact he had made with a devil--a rumor Early did nothing to discourage. [from The Wild West Shows and Their Performers (Weedle, 5877).]

Polly the Rubber Girl: Polly Ethel Leane was born in 5844. Gifted with unusual flexibility, she became a contortionist and dancer, performing in vaudeville theaters in the City. She died of an ether overdose in 5869. [from The Vaudevillians (Smoal, 5882).]

Hell's Hoods: The Owl

The devil known as Andras the Owl is the current boss of the Avernus family in the Hell Syndicate. His family’s territory is closest to the Astral Plane. As long there as been a Hell, they've been tasked with the processing of new arrivals: both run-of-the-mill evil souls and those fulfilling general faustian contracts.  

Andras rose through the diabolic ranks as a hitman and since he became boss, the Avernus family has gone into the business of murder for hire.

In the modern age, Andras appears as a thin man with the head of an owl in an immaculate suit (of conservative cut) and gloves. His large, soulless eyes glow like headlamps.  He never speaks; communications are carried out through surrogates (sometimes a Hell Syndicate made man, other times a black dire wolf that accompanies him) with whom he seems to communicate telepathically. He smells like clove cigarettes. His angular, razor-edged shadow can cut creatures less than 1 HD that it falls on.

Combat: Andras uses knives of a silver-like material that cause wounds that will not heal normally. A favorite tactic is cutting a mortal’s face in a Cheshire grin, then coming back to kill them on a night of the new moon months or years later.  The blades will sublimate if exposed to sunlight in about an hour. He also has a high-powered rifle that appears to be made from the fossilized bone of a qlippothic beast and fires hell-glass bullets containing fragments of a sphere of annihilation. Any entity hit by them is sucked into the void contained within.

Diabolical Abilities: Andras's unblinking stare can cause severe inflammation of the eyes, resulting in temporary blindness.(lasts 1-10  rounds of successful saving throw, 2-20 days on failure). Once per encounter, he may issue the croaking cry of a night-raven which may cause fear in those who hear it.

Pacts: Andras will take contracts for hits on any mortal being, particularly if doing so will put others’ souls in peril. A petitioner must fatten 13 white mice on his own blood and then feed them to an owl of pure black plumage.  The petitioner must collect the regurgitated pellets and use them in the drawing of a ritual circle. Summoning wards must be strong; if Andras escapes he will most likely kill everyone present.  

One WaRPed Character

Last night, part of the gaming crew met in virtual for a character creation session for our new Weird Adventures game using the WaRP system.  Tim and Chris recreated their previous Lorefinder characters using the new rules set.  As I expected, the only step even the slightest bit difficult was just getting into the mindset of the system--the actually creation part was very easy.  Here's Chris's Don Diabolico--Gentleman Thief:

Traits:
Gentleman Thief (dapper clothes, shifty eyes) - 4
Good shot with a Pistol (steady grip) - 3
Skilled Driver (calm behind the wheel) - 3

Flaw:
Greedy (covetous gaze)

Motivation: 
Get rich or die trying

Secret:
In debt to the Hell Syndicate

Equipment: Natty attire, swordcane, concealable pistol, gloves.

Have You Heard?

Art by Lester

There's a new crime boss in the Hell's Commot neighborhood of the City.  He's connected to the Hell Syndicate but not (as far as is known) an infernally "made man" himself.  They call him (strangely) "the Mermaid," but his real name may be Marbendlar.

He holds audiences at the Iceberg, a new club off the Circus, where the bright-lights bleed into the darkness of the Commot.  The interior of the club is like an ice cave, all white and glittery with stalactites.  The band plays on a stage that looks like an white ice flow on an indigo night sea.

What power does this weird wizened and legless homunculus have to command the respect (well, fear) of hardcases and tough guys? No one is sure.  Some say that (though he's new to the City) "the Mermaid" has been around a long time, and is used to being in charged.  Some point to accounts of an odd little idol snatched from gill men in  skirmish in the last century.  No pictures exist, but the description is similar.

If you should meet Marbendlar (or whatever his name is), don't call him "the Mermaid."  He hates that.

Hey Kids! Weird Adventures now has a Google+ Page.  Follow here.

Saint Joan of the City

On the southern end of Eldside Park there is a bronze statue of a stern-faced woman in plate armor holding a sword. The lady couldn’t be more out of place, surrounded by greenery and the picnicking wealthy. Her battles were fought in the stockyards, waterfront, and railyards. This is Joan Darkling--to the City’s labor movement, Saint Joan.

Joan Darkling was born in the Smaragdine coal country. She saw the worst of the mining companies' attempts to stop miners from organizing. Strikers were shot by hired mercenaries. Agitators died of poisoning from deadly ores inserted by malign kobolds imported from Ealderde. Joan left the Smaragdines in her teen years and became an adventurer, but never forgot where she came from.

Joan survived many a delve to retired from adventuring young. She took up the cause of the City’s workers with the same zeal she’d showed in slaying monsters. She wore magical plate armor she had scavenged from a delve to labor rallies. They were just another form of battle.

The famous folk song about Joan says she died after her battle with the “Golem of Capitalism”--a brazen, bull-headed construct sent against her by a consortium of robber barons. She defeated the bull, but succumbed to poisoning, caused by the alchemical smoke rising from the bull’s boiler and snorted from its nostrils. That’s what the song says.

In reality, no one knows what became of Joan Darkling. It is true that she disappeared soon after her battle with the golem, but no death was ever recorded, and the last to see her say they she was pained by a few wounds but seemed in no way dying.

Some say Joan sleeps somewhere in a subterranean chamber, awaiting the time when she is needed again. When injustices visited upon the poor and downtrodden worker will again require her to do battle with monsters.

Joan Darkling’s Sword: Joan wielded a Holy Avenger, an intelligent blade who adopted Darkling's crusade. It has a particular dislike of fat cats and acts as a bane of monied interests and their agents, getting a +1 against such individuals, regardless of alignment.

Waxy

Here's some new art by Loston Wallace for a little Weird Adventures project for Gen Con.  This is Waxy Moldoon. His story illustrates how fortune and failure can sometimes go hand and hand in the City. Waxy was a sadsack wiseguy wannabe, until an chance meeting with Mr. Scratch (if there's such a thing) left him something more--and less--than human.  Waxy's flesh seems to be melting--slowly.  A touch of his uncovered flesh can pass his condition on to others, in a more acute form. Anybody touched by Waxy who fails a saving throw will find his or her flesh beginning to liquify.  Success at a second saving throw means the liquification stops a point where the victim is still alive, though not much more than a lumpen mass.  Failure means the victim dies leaving only a puddle.  The process takes d100 hours.

Waxy's power has gotten him closer to being the big shot he always wanted to be.  He's got soldiers behind him, and he's an up and comer in the City's underworld, but he still isn't happy.  Everybody Waxy's touch sends oozing into oblivion is another reminder just what maybe waiting for him one day.

Scientia Potestas Est

[This relates to my previous "Apocalypse Under Ground" posts, so take a look.]

Wizardry is a curse on all mankind.

This is what the common folk say, and sages acknowledge the rise of arcane knowledge went hand in hand with the emergence of the underground--perhaps more than once in history. Wizards are aware of how they are viewed (and feared) and are unconcerned. When you’ve held the words that encapsulate the true forms of reality in your mind--when you’ve experienced true gnosis--you’re above petty concerns.

Practitioners of the arcane art have always existed. Mostly they’re solitary, exploring their art removed from the intrusion of the mundane world. The opening of the underground changed that. It's entrances glowed like an arcane beacon. Those who might have lived their whole lives without ever knowing they had the talent were transformed by what they encountered, reborn into a new world--if they survived their first delve.

The old wizards came out of seclusion to tutor these fledging sorcerers--and to use them them to grow their own power with secrets wrested from below. In time, the adventuring wizards came to surpass their masters, sometimes frighteningly so. These new grandmasters took apprentices of their own, for much the same reasons--though as wizards grow older and more steeped in the arcane, their thoughts and desires sometimes grow more alien, and their whims more capricious.

One question above all concerns the grandmasters, though they seldom speak of it, even in their rare conclaves of peers: Does the arcane have a life of it’s own? Does the symbolary that is Man’s closest approximation of the true description of the universe have its own agenda? If so, does it favor Man--or the Monsters?

We've All Become God's Madmen

Art by Patrick Jones

[This view of clerics follows from my post "Apocalypse Underground"]

The clerics aren't priests. Before the underground was discovered, Man had priests--and gods whose intercession they sought. Their prayers had been in vain. The old gods had abandoned Man to the monsters.

Then the clerics came. Their gods were unyielding of personifications of law. They marked their chosen with fits, visions, and miracles of faith. Their precepts were few: Destroy chaos and evil, protect the innocent.

The monsters are (in the view of the clerics) chaos and evil manifest. The clerics wage a savage holy war against the denizens of the underground and are willing to martyr themselves in the service of their gods.

The clerics sometimes use titles of the old priestly hierarchy, but all clerical groups are cults founded around a charismatic leader who is considered strong in the faith due to the spiritual power he or she wields.

Random Weird Background Trait Table

Too often, unusual backgrounds mean super-special abilities.  But they don't have to...

The character in question (1d12):

1. Once saved a magical creature from a hunter’s trap and received 3 wishes in gratitude but squandered them long ago, with nothing to show for it.
2. Was the sole survivor of the mysterious disappearance of all the other people and livestock in his or her home village.
3. Owns of a pouch full of seeds which family legend holds are magical. 50% chance they are--but only sprout if planted in a singular (and far away) location.
4. Is the victim of an unusual familial curse that causes sex change under the a particular phase of the moon.
5. Bears a prominent scar, but cannot remember when or where it was acquired.
6. Once had a brief--but torrid--dalliance with a personage of some prominence which he cannot forget, but the former paramour gives no indication that he or she remembers.
7. Has two shadows (slightly offset, so not immediately noticeable) owing (it’s rumored) to a demonic ancestor.
8. Feels a strange longing for the sea and bears a nautilus shaped birthmark.
9. Could pass for a twin for a person of some renown or infamy.
10. Was found as infant in ancient ruins by foster parents.
11. Had a twin that was stillborn but with whom he or she converses at times of stress. 30% chance the never born twin blames the character for his or her death.
12. Occasionally, at night, can catch a glimpse of large dog-like animal that seems to be stalking him or her, but never approaches close enough for clear identifcation, and disappears if approached.

The Henchman Life

“Don't feel like you're successful enough to marry your sweetheart?” or “Tired of being a wimp?” These are the questions asked in a hundred ads in tabloid newspapers and pulp magazines in the City. Then they provide the solution: Train to be a professional adventurer! Which is to say: a henchman, a hireling.

Fleischschild’s Institute provides minimal training in outfitting and provisioning of an expedition into the subterranean depths, a couple of lectures from burnout delvers with nervous conditions on typical hazards, and an exploitative short film masquerading as a cautionary docudrama; and the gullible and desperate are turned loose find work. They mill about the entrances of outfitting shops and loiter in adventurers’ saloons waiting for their big chance.

A few get it and rise up the ranks to lead their own delves and make headlines. Most die without anybody knowing more than their first name.

Here are some of the common types encountered:

1. Cornfed farmboy: He’s got enthusiasm and muscles, but not a lot of smarts, and a misplaced chivalry that will get him killed by any monster with a feminine form.
2. Specks: Not necessarily smart in the way you need underground, but guaranteed to have a head full of pulp magazine and comic book nonsense...Which can be useful at times, true.
3. Rosie: It doesn’t matter what her name is, if she could beat you at arm-wrestling she’s Rosie. Good to have around, but always out to prove she can do as well as man does--which can cause problems.
4. Choirboy: He keeps his rosary in hand and prays a lot--mostly to no noticeable effect. Divine intervention is great to have, but hard to come by.
5. Crazy Jane: She might be plain or a real looker, but either way she’s got a crazy look in her eye and a matching berserker streak. Comes in two varieties: gun crazy and blade crazy. Good to have around until she inevitably decides to make for the gates of warrior heaven and take you with her in her blaze of glory.
6. The Twitch: Twitches are always trouble. They’ve got some experience, but it only gave them bad case of shellshock. In the moment you need ‘em most they either start crying for mama or get the thousand yard stare.

Stray Cat Blues

For those in the know, the whispered mumblings of an urban druid on the corner, the boastful wails of alley cats in the night, and the raucous debate of an ad hoc committee of the Parliament of Crows in the trees, can all point to the arrival of royalty in the City. In any night-spot from Broad Street to Solace, one might run into the coolest of cats, the Cat Lord.

The Lords of Beasts are held by (human) thaumaturgists to be eikones imbued with the symbolic power of their animal totems. The lords themselves dispute this and claim they're the gods of their respective species--the remnant of a time before mankind staged a coup and replaced the democracy of tooth and claw with the tyranny of the tool-user. A lot of the Beast Lords are still angry about the loss of the old order, the old balance.

The Cat Lord keeps his cool. From worship in ancient temples to the pampered care lavished on them today, man's done alright by his folk, and he’s got children amongst humanity. Certain families descended from ancient cat-worshipping clans still change into cats when their passions are high, or the moon is full. Sometimes he runs into one of them and maybe his green eyes show a hint of paternal pride, but he ususally shows no more interest in them than his other offspring..

What does interest him is avoiding boredom--and he bores easily. Secrets interest him, but he mostly keeps those to himself.  Sensual pleasures pique his interest, but he tires of lovers quickly. He used to enjoy the hunt, but he’s old and jaded now, and only something really novel is worth the bother.

A meeting with the Cat Lord should be handled with caution. He's got knowledge of possible use to adventurers, but he may or may not be motivated to share it. To try and coerce him is earn his ire, and that’s likely to end badly. Becoming too friendly with him is unwise, as well; the road he walks can be a dangerous one for mortals, and his friendship is often fickle.

The most important word to the wise: Only a rube gawks at the sharp-dressed guy with a cat's head seated in the corner table.