Filth Pig's Abattoir

  The esteemed Semiurge, dank be his name and I each made an illustration of three creatures for the others to stat. Mine are very disappointing and his are kind of fucking amazing. To me, this is clearly a recursive undersea elder god. The yawning black voids in th carapace that beckon you to sink into their oblivion are whole dimensions - alternate realities where the PCs can go see how nice their lives would have been if they had never traveled into the cold black where the light no longer reaches. Massive arms, covered in the mountain ranges of your home world. If you were fool enough to try to fight this thing, would it destroy the world you live on? Would the universe collapse in a paradoxical explosion?  Even more obvious, to me, than the last piece - this is a player character who has done some interesting multi classing and had some fun results on an excellent mutation table. I'd say the player started out as a were shark, perhaps some sort of bipedal shark, or maybe...

You can only hold so many spells at in harmony within your body before you explode. The smarter you are, the greater capacity your mind has for holding spells hostage within your brain. Holding these spells in harmony within yourself is more commonly referred to as having memorized them. You know them, you can recall them and cast them instinctually, quickly and without struggle. You can cast any other spell that you've mastered, but it's a slower process. Wizards know waaaay too many spells. Nobody has a brain capable of holding all the spells even your most underachieving Wizard probably knows. Which is why they use what the Talentless have come to think of as spell books¹.  These spell books act as a portable spell repository for the Wizard. At any point, they can take a few minutes and transfer spells from their own brain into their spell book and vice versa so that they can be as prepared as Wizardly possible in any given situation.  Of course, only Wizards have mastered ...

Just as a man in service to a dragon undergoes a change in physiology and psychology, so too does a tome in service to a Practitioner undergo a similar metamorphosis. Spell books have been proven to develop minor sentience, exhibiting an intelligence on par with the average hound. In rare cases, a spell book may end up quite a bit more developed; oftentimes to the chagrin of their master. So you've "found" a spell book that belongs to another Practitioner of the Art: Construction Binding 1. A mixture of ground up bone, ash, and... an adhesive .  2. Thick tree bark, alive with various friendly and harmless insects. 3. Soft and supple leather, warm to the touch, smells like a freshly groomed beast. 4. Thick metal plate, would undoubtably stop projectile attacks if held strategically. 5. Purest Ivory, purloined from a legendary beast; highly illegal, will both open and close many doors. 6. No binding at all, if pages and ink exist they are loose and haphazard. Pages 1. Human...

  Alexander bolted upright in his bedroll, soaked in the cold sweat of a fever dream. His eyes darted erratically like feral rats trying to escape torchlight and his mouth was agape in the shape unheard by mortal men. "Fafnir?" Cleale asked him.  Alexander nodded silently. Fafnir the fire wyrm had haunted his dreams since the day Alexander felled the great beast. "We have to go back. I have to see it. I have to make sure he's dead." Alexander told the foot of his bedroll, ashamed to meet eyes with Cleale. He knew how foolish he sounded. There'd been no less than seven witnesses to Fafnir's corpse. Delmorte had even crawled into the beasts maw to pry out a tooth nearly as tall as himself. Four people had actually seen Alexander land on the snout of the beast and drive himself into its eye in a desperate bid to stab at the brain of the beast. Cleale reached out and grasped his clammy hand. "Honey, you know he's dead. It took a full day to wash th...