Once a ‘mere’ wendigo, December’s hunger reached new heights as people from other lands came into its territory, carrying with them a belief in higher powers. December devoured these invaders and, using their connection to their gods, ripped open a hole into their divine home and devoured them as well. Gorging itself on entire pantheons, it became a god in its own right, its endless appetite turning from a hunger for the warmth of life into a craving for warmth itself; Heat is the very lifeblood of the cosmos, and now it was all the beast wanted.
Its hunger eventually saw it swallowing every star in the sky as it drank up every bit of heat it could, plunging the once vibrant realm into a cold sleep. Fueled by a belly filled with stars and gods, it broke from the confines of its plane and now swims through the infinite realms, sinking its teeth and claws into new, warm, fresh realities.
It cannot simply break through the barriers that surrounds them, though. It must wait for someone to open the door for it, to let it in. Such is the price it pays for its own twisted divinity. It takes many guises, some of which are shown here, as pieces of its power find weaknesses in the border, each of them fooling mortals into widening the entrance just a little bit more until December can pull the entirety of its massive bulk inside.
im gonna end up bringing back a really old character of mine because the Pathfinder Demilich suits him so much that it resurrected his concept from the dead
Pathfinder liches become demilich out of apathy and boredom, lazing around their lairs so much that their bodies disintegrate and their phylactery rots away. while this means it’s a hell of a lot harder to actually kill them, most of the time they’re too stuck in their rut to actually do anything worth killing them over. they exist in a permanent torpor state unless some stimulus (adventurers) enter their lair, and drop right back into it as soon as nothing is happening anymore.
The character in question is a demilich who succeeded in all his Evil Plans but is now stuck in the “And then what?” stage. He doesn’t want to conquer the world or really destroy anything, and has already done all the research he felt like doing, so now he’s just kind of twiddling his thumbs. thumb. he’s a hand. Just a skeletal hand. It’s all that’s left of him. couldn’t even be asked to preserve his skull.
He passes the eternity by writing books, now. At first he just wrote spell tomes from memory, then every book he ever read, and now he’s writing original fiction. It’s... not very good. He’s not very imaginative or creative (hence why he became a demilich in the first place), so most of his stories are stiff and plain, with the occasional rare flashes of above-average writing or storytelling that makes them just barely palatable for anyone that happens to stumble upon them whenever he teleports a batch onto an unsuspecting bookstore’s shelf.
Or “faerie favors.” When bargaining with the fae, their prices can be mundane or abstract. They may demand a price that’s disproportionate, such as asking for a pound of rice in exchange for a pound of gold, but it’s never wise to question their reasoning. The brownie fae, for example, will do all manner of household chores for the mere price of a bowl of porridge, a seat in the home, and a new pair of shoes every now and then. It’s in the mortal’s best interest to merely accept their quirks, as doing so will get you in their good standings.
The price of a fae’s help varies. Some may ask for food, some for clothes, and some have prices more abstract. They may want your smile, your memories, your firstborn, or even years from your life; all things can be currency in their lands, if you find the right people. Depending on what you need done, some of these prices may be worth it... But you must never, never, never accept a bargain where your price is “a favor” for the fae.
A favor is, to put it as bluntly as possible, is the worst possible thing you could ever promise to beings like the fae. It is akin to writing them a blank check. They can, at any time, cash it in for anything from you. They can make you do or say anything, make you hand over any of your belongings, any of your qualities no matter how abstract, anything you have and perhaps even everything you have. They can even call your soul back from the afterlife to fulfill their favor, and they don’t just have to extract payment from YOU; they can call in the favor from anyone that shares your bloodline. Your grandchildren’s grandchildren could end up paying for your actions long after you’re gone.
Depending on the type of person you are, this may make things more appealing. If the faerie is benevolent, they may simply ask for some labor, or perhaps a compliment, or a place to sleep for the night... But there’s no reason to take the risk. Again, it’s like writing them a blank check that can be cashed to get anything from you, at any time, even long after you’re dead. If a fae asks for an undefined favor, you do not take that offer. You negotiate for a more concrete price, no matter what that price may be.
A foul, blood-based potion said to have been crafted by a paranoid vampire lord in order to control his lesser subjects more efficiently. The aroma is absolutely repulsive, even when compared to normal blood, but sanguivorous creatures find its scent enticing to the point of madness and its flavor above and beyond anything but the freshest, most mana-infused blood. It is no more nourishing than any mundane blood, though, conferring no boons or benefits beyond sating bloodthirst... But drinking it irreparably afflicts any vampire with the inability to stomach any blood except the elixir itself. No matter what type of blood, the cursed vampires will simply vomit it back up as soon as it reaches the stomach, condemning them to a slow death by starvation. Unless, of course, there are more elixirs around. While it can be used as a tool of painful, torturous execution, the elixir's primary use is forming a leash around a vampires neck. Unable to sate themselves elsewhere, they have to rely on the elixirs to survive and thus are forced to obey the whims of the suppliers until they either find someone more reasonable, find a way to make the elixirs themselves, or find some way to break the curse affecting them. It's easier to learn to brew them. Despite the surface-level moral victory that may come from enslaving a "horrible creature of the night," the elixirs still require fresh blood to create and thus someone is still required to pay the price of a vampire's hunger... Though the price is much more agreeable to ones body, if not their wallet. One pint of blood is typically enough to create six doses of the mix, eight if you're especially wealthy and have access to more exotic materials, and each dose can sate a vampire for roughly two days. Some pragmatic or honorable vampires may intentionally addict themselves to lower the overall amount of blood they actually need to survive, though the alchemical ingredients for the elixirs tend to be on the pricier side.
Most creatures which require some semblance of secrecy rely on a powerful and unusual psychic phenomena called a DLAM (Don't Look At Me) Field. A DLAM operates subtly in most cases, causing observers to simply overlook the being projecting it, ignore any noises coming from it, and in especially powerful fields their brain simply doesn't register scents, tastes, or any tactile sensations.
DLAM Fields trick the brain into believing the incoming sensory data is not worth processing or remembering because it is either too familiar to seem unusual, or too minor to devote thought to. Creatures with powerful fields are effectively invisible, either because surrounding humans cannot register their presence, or because of a sudden and overwhelming case of TIHIAB (This Is How It's Always Been) Syndrome makes it feel as though the creature projecting the field has always been a part of their life and thus requires no attention.
Any being with psychic potential can learn to project a DLAM Field of at least strength 1. It may seem more useful in some cases than psychic invisibility, and is much less mentally demanding, but DLAM Fields have no effect on machines, golems, homunculi, or other beings immune to psionic intrusion. They also have no power over people viewing recordings, do not prevent people from seeing reflections (though they DO keep people from simply turning and looking), and fields below strength 3 are useless against creatures that do not rely on sight.
Some advantages include the fact that, unlike actual invisibility, the fields cannot be seen through via True Sight (because the viewer will overlook them), causes crowds to unconsciously part around them or individuals to move out of the way without realizing why, and allows the use of doors and other objects without raising suspicion at strength 5 and above. Possessing knowledge of what DLAM Fields can do offers some protection from their effects, effectively lowering the strength of the field by one stage, and those trained to deal with creatures that project them can effectively lower the strength by up to five stages.
DLAM Fields, regardless of strength, have limits to what they can make others disbelieve. A room full of mirrors pointed at the projector will allow them to be seen, a floor covered in plates rigged to release extremely loud noises will allow them to be heard, etc.
DLAM Field Strength Scale
-1: The most basic field. Any being inside the field will unconsciously avert their gaze from the being projecting it.
-2: A stronger version of the above, where the brain does not process any visual input from the projector. Beings will unconsciously avoid walking directly into the projector.
-3: As above, but the brain will not recognize soft noises from the projector (I.e. Footsteps, breathing, whispering). At this strength, the size of the field increases dramatically, and continues to do so as the strength increases.
-4: Being's within the field no longer register louder noises from the projector, I.e. coughing, sneezing, speaking, and begin to rationalize the seemingly random movement of items the projector manipulates.
-5: Being's within the field completely rationalize trivial things associated with the projector; they will believe they closed a door or misplaced an item, or a faulty circuit caused the lights to turn off, and other such small things. This rationalization takes the "path of least resistance," and can be successfully disbelieved if the action is too bizarre or dangerous for the brain to rationalize (the projector cannot just go around openly stabbing people, for example).
-6: No sounds the projector generates registers in the brain anymore regardless of its volume, and quiet noises resulting from their actions are ignored (I.e. Stepping on a twig, latching a door, undoing a Velcro strap). Other beings will unconsciously step aside if approached by the projector to allow passage, often rationalizing this as "tripping" even if standing still. At this stage, physical contact with the projector is often impossible unless the two parties are forced together by outside circumstance.
-7: Louder noises from the projector's actions are either ignored or rationalized. More bizarre happenings around the affected are perceived as normal or mundane (I.e. the projector can place or remove clothing from the affected, and this will be seen as 'possible'). At this point, scents from the projector become dramatically fainter, and beings with even supernatural senses of taste will have difficulty placing the flavor.
-8: Physical stimulus from the projector is ignored completely unless it causes the affected physical damage or impedes their movement. The projector can quite literally slap someone across the face, and the affected will be left wondering what hit them, so long as the strike is not hard enough to leave a bruise. The affected will unconsciously move out of the way of the projector in more dramatic cases such as getting out of chairs to allow the projector to sit down, and will be unable to make physical contact with them unless forced. The projectors have no scent to anything without a supernatural nose, and possess no flavor. The affected will rationalize or ignore incredibly bizarre events (such as being slapped, as above) so long as they pose no danger to the affected.
-9: No sounds that the projector or any item they're interacting with will register to the affected. The affected no longer possesses a scent. Marks left by the projector (writing, scratches on the walls, fingerprints, etc) are overlooked or ignored so long as they remain within the field, and for several hours after. At this strength, any behavior from the projector that could not be rationalized before is simply outright ignored, making it immensely difficult for any being without proper training to "break" the field.
-10: At this strength, memories of the projector cannot be formed or maintained. Even if the field is disbelieved or seen through, the moment that the projector is no longer within the sensory radius of an affected being, all memories regarding the encounter begin to fade from the affected being's mind. New memories can be formed regarding the projector, but the process is similar to a hole being punched into a bucket. Beings with a field of this strength are only to be engaged by creatures completely immune to psionic influence.
World Trees are just that; trees with worlds on their branches. They are not the Yggdrasil, but some believe they are its seeds or shoots. There are theories that our realm is inside of another World Tree, or that the Yggdrasil is a World Tree of unfathomable size that holds all the multiverses on different branches. Physically, World Trees are massive. The smallest of them are 'only' forty or so feet high, while the largest ever recorded on Earth proper reached over three miles in height and just over a mile and a half in diameter at the trunk. At their peak is a massive, lotus-like flower that holds an immense water bubble, inside of which is a stirring microcosm. World Tree microcosms tend to contain singular worlds and the celestial bodies needed to promote the formation of life, but elder trees can have whole solar systems or even small galaxies, sometimes even growing secondary microcosms on separate growths. The World Tree with the most recorded microcosms topped out at six. Journeys into these cosmos' are possible with the trees permission. Beginning no more intelligent than a rodent, as it grows, the World Tree becomes significantly smarter, wiser, and more observant, while gaining considerable magical power focusing on the creation, alteration, or relocation of matter. Despite their immense power, they're either unable or unwilling to actually interact with their internal worlds in meaningful ways. On occasion they may wield their power to stop some destructive event or whisk some malefactor on their world away before it can do harm, but otherwise they merely passively observe their creation, and the world around them. Despite the curious beauty they have when fully grown and the wonder that comes with exploring their alien worlds, the World Trees are not exactly a welcome sight everywhere. The energy costs associated with creating their microcosm is not insignificant, with many civilizations viewing them as plagues because they drain the very life from the soil as they grow and darken the skies as they take their lions share of sunlight to fuel the formation of their worlds. They're technically classified as planetary parasites, but the essence they drain from their surroundings eventually stabilizes after a few centuries until the tree and the area around it achieve an equilibrium. The tree's own arcane power allows it to give back everything it has taken, and the strange energy that pours out of its microcosm causes life in all directions to flourish. Not everyone has the patience or desire to wait the three or four hundred years this process needs to begin breaking even, and dozens of worlds that could have been were prematurely destroyed before the World Tree even began to flower.
for my own reference and for the reference of others, below are all my huge and hungry critters that prowl between the infinite realms.
This isn’t a complete list, and will likely have more things added onto it later/as I remember things, but for now enjoy.
The Gardener
The biggest and hungriest, and has the honor of being a part of the greater machinations of the infinite realms. The Gardener is responsible for getting rid of all planes that are dead or dying, as their existence poses some kind of threat to “healthier” realities. While normally its duties mean it does not directly antagonize sapient life, the machinations of powerful beings will sometimes cause it to bite down on planes that do not deserve it yet.
The Maggots/The Sea of Teeth
The parasites that cling to the Gardener are without number, forming a literal sea of bodies that writhe continuously across its surface. Incapable of actually harming it, they mostly squabble and fight among themselves for cosmic detritus and scraps that drift by as a result of the Gardener’s latest meal. While some are actually intelligent and some could truly be called gods in their own right, the vast majority of them barely borderline our definition of “sentient” and are simply guided by their own hunger.
The Maggots slither en masse into the cracked shell of whatever realm the Gardener is feeding on, aiming to sate whatever appetites they possess in whatever way they can, and do not care what gets in their way. Even other maggots fall victim to their greaters, as they cannot be truly called a “kind,” “kin,” or “allies;” their only drive is to consume, and woe fall onto anything that would interrupt them.
The Maggots, by and large, are harmless to most realities so long as they’re not summoned into one by some fool seeking power. Some may scheme, some may step out of bounds, some may break away to grab a snack on their own, but the reason many of them become maggots in the first place is because the Gardener always assures a relatively easy meal. There will always be food in its wake, and even the gods among the Sea of Teeth hesitate to risk the good thing they have going just for some fresher food.
Monenalpa
Also known as the Glutton, the Planar Parasite, or a wide variety of other unpleasant names, Monenalpa is a living, sentient (though far from sapient) plane of existence. It consists of nothing more than an eternity of winding, tooth-lined throats, spine-filled intestines, pits of gastric acid the size of planets, writhing, grasping limbs and other morbid features broken up only by its smaller, internal manifestations... And the struggling civilizations that have formed inside, the remnants of its past meals that have refused digestion.
Monenalpa clings to other realities and sinks itself inside, slithering its various limbs through its layers as it finds weak points to manifest through. All of its manifestations are hungering monsters, beasts whose anatomies are little more than mouths and a means to transfer matter into them, all of the throats leading directly to the gluttonous realm itself. As the parisitized plane weakens, either through the passage of time or the corrupting effects of Monenalpa, more and more of its manifestations will emerge as the parasite slowly squeezes its way inside to feast more directly.
Its mere presence causes planar laws to go haywire. Forces which bend space and time create weaknesses that Monenalpa can exploit, teleportation or portal systems have greater and greater chances of opening up into the being’s winding guts, and extradimensional spaces randomly become another orifice through which it can feed. Monenalpa is incredibly hard to dislodge once it has latched on; usually, the only thing inhabitants of a parasitized plane can do is drive off the creature’s feeding limbs until it decides that the plane is no longer worth the effort.
December
This... thing was once a wendigo, a creature of our multiverse, which gorged itself on the flesh of beings far above its usual prey. When it eventually joined the Sea of Teeth, it found a new favorite meal in the form of stars, the molten cores of planets, and the heat of life found in other living beings. Not content with the guttering remnants of planar waste that the Gardener provided, the beast known as December crawled from the Sea of Teeth and now prowls fresher grounds, feeding upon the light and life of younger stars.
December is limited by what it can do by the laws of its creation. It cannot simply enter a plane, nor can it make its own entrance; it must be invited by the inhabitants inside, either in whole or in part, its manifestations drawing more people into its service to ‘open the door’ for the rest of it. Once inside, it couldn’t care less for whatever its former worshipers desired, its own hunger takes precedent. It plunges vast swaths of space into chilled silence as it first consumes the existing stars and works its way down the ‘food chain’ to scavenging heat from other beings, leaving nothing but darkness and cold in its wake.
December is clever enough to play the part of a god to those who’d call to it, making promises it has little intention of keeping and displaying powers when asked to keep its subjects enthralled. It will fake whatever it needs to in order to trick mortals into giving it entry.
Vile Spirit Corrosion
One of many powerful entities born from roiling spirit energy within our dimension, Corrosion was locked outside of time and space and now seeks to worm its way back in to complete its goal: reducing all things to an unshaped chaos. While not a devourer in the traditional sense, Corrosion definitely gives off the same vibe, describing its drive as a “hunger” and demands to be “fed” different alchemical mixtures or magic items to gain enough strength to break itself back into reality.
Corrosion offers those who’d help it unequaled alchemic prowess, teaching them the secrets of alchemy and granting them the power to break things down to their basest components and reassemble it into whatever forms they desire. These are merely extensions of its own power, destructive and painful infusions of itself that it grants to its ‘servants’ to give them the illusion of control. If Corrosion’s power doesn’t abandon them for new hosts or destroy them through overuse, the spirit itself will be rid of them once it gets what it wants and has no further use for them.
Vile Spirit Decay
Not truly a devourer, but the being known as Decay can summon them. Its touch causes all things to rot, its mere presence causing a greater and greater area around it to fester and stagnate. As it runs out of physical material to rot, its powers eventually turn upwards, seeping through layers of reality until it begins wearing at the shell of the realm.
The stench of decay attracts all kinds of scavengers and predators, which is one of the many dangers Decay poses. Though the vile spirit rarely manages to reach the level of infection that would cause it to reach up instead of out, the rot can very well attract the Maggots or even the Gardener itself if Decay becomes powerful enough to affect entire worlds at a time.
Blessed Oblivion
One of the victims of the Shattered Sky, a false transcendence event forced upon a universe before it was ready. The nameless being was formed when the sky fell over a plane where life could have formed but never did, where space was collapsed but time and force continued on. Aware of all it could have been, the desire to live and flourish overtook all its senses, forming a deep, black hole within its mind into which all fell. That hole grew outwards, overtaking all the being was until it was all that was left.
Blessed Oblivion is the hole left behind when the original being collapsed into itself, crushed by its own overwhelming desires. It is a living void whose size increases as the realm around it weakens, a negative space that absorbs and destroys anything it touches utterly and irrevocably out of a misguided desire to fill itself with everything the original being could have had. It does not truly hunger but it fills the same niche, seeking matter and especially living beings to draw into itself and scrub them from existence.
Because it cannot communicate, its actions seem blindly destructive, though even knowing its motivations is little comfort to those whose world is being drawn into it little by little. Despite its behavior (or because of it), it has mortals and higher beings which, for their own reasons, seek to funnel worlds, systems, or entire planes into Blessed Oblivion.
Concept: a lich whose phylactery is a giant club that they wield for multiple reasons: 1) no one would expect it to be their weapon, and normally claiming a fallen foes gear is just part of normal combat. 2) it'd send The Heroes on a fools quest to find the "real" phylactery 3) they enjoy the feeling of using their soul as a bludgeon or get a kick out of the irony in using their own weak point as a weapon 3 is the 'real' justification while 1 and 2 are just what they use to deflect accusations of idiocy
