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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BLACKDIRGE" data-source="post: 1264502" data-attributes="member: 1953">Ok, this critter is not to fill anyone's requests, just a little idea I had.Nemogg is an advanced death dog with the half-troll template. He is a pretty straight forward critter so I included a short piece of fiction instead of the usual writeup.Dirge************************************************************NemoggAdvanced Half-Troll Death DogLarge Magical BeastHit Dice: 6d10+42 (87 hp)Initiative: +3 (+3 Dex)Speed: 50 ft. (10 squares)AC: 19 (-1 size, +3 Dex, +7 natural), touch 12, flatfooted 16Base Attack/Grapple: +6/+19Attack: Bite +14 melee (2d6+8)Full Attack: 2 bites +14 melee (2d6+8)Space/Reach: 10 ft./5 ft.Special Attacks: Disease, rend, tripSpecial Qualities: Darkvision 60 ft., fast healing 5, low-light vision, scentSaves: Fort +5, Ref  +16, Will +7Abilities: Str 28, Dex 16, Con 24, Int 06, Wis 13, Cha 08Skills: Hide +2, Listen +7, Move Silently +5, Spot +7Feats: Improved Natural Weapon (bite), Power Attack, Weapon Focus (bite)Environment: Any desert, hill, plains, mountains, or undergroundOrganization: SolitaryChallenge Rating: 7Alignment: Chaotic EvilDisease (Ex): Any creature hit by Nemogg’s bite must succeed at a Fortitude save (DC 20) or contract a wasting disease. Incubation 1 day, 1d3 points of Str and Con damage.Rend (Ex): If Nemogg successfully strikes a creature with both its bite attacks it will hang on and rip its opponents flesh for an additional 4d6+12 points of damage.Trip (Ex): When Nemogg hits with a bit attack it can attempt to trip its opponent as a free action without making a touch attack or provoking an attack of opportunity. Two men staggered down a moonlit path, weaving in the complicated rhythms of the truly drunken. The men were notable only because they differed from each other so drastically. Verek was short, fair skinned and portly his clean-shaven cheeks glowing brightly with the rosy hue of much imbibed ale. He wore a stained muslin shirt tucked into ill-fitting trousers of soft leather and seemed to exist in a heightened state of dishevelment. His companion, a hulking brute of a man, was called Dorun and his lethal glower was a direct contrast to his rather innocuous looking comrade. Dorun was clad in a sleeveless tunic of coarse black wool, gray hose and high black boots. His muscular arms were covered in thick hair the same black as his bushy beard. Swarthy skinned and tall, Dorun conveyed a fighting man’s grace made all the more evident by the longsword he carried in a battered leather scabbard on his left hip. Both men were gate guards in the nearby town of Gundervale and were returning along the dark twisting path that ran between town and their favorite watering hole, a foul dive known as the Rusty Codpiece. The tavern was located a good five miles outside of town, as the local clergy of Torm had long ago banned drinking within city limits. Both men made the hike to the Rusty Codpiece almost every night, leaving town just after sunset and returning stinking drunk well into the small hours of the morning.Today had been no different for the two men and as soon as the gate captain had relieved them they had set out for the Rusty Codpiece reveling in visions of cheap ale and cheaper women.  Verek and Dorun had been patronizing the disreputable tavern for years and had made the five-mile hike hundreds of times. It was actually a pleasant little stroll, winding along through the Heatherwood, a small forest that lay to the south of Gundervale. The tavern was located in a small clearing and was just outside city jurisdiction and the intolerant arm of the Tormite clergy. Tonight had been a fine night for the two besotted guards as the proprietor of the Rusty Codpiece had actually convinced a traveling bard to stop and share a song or two. The bard, an unfortunate and only moderately talented lass named Fenarra Glorysong had withstood nearly half and hour of jeers, cat calls, lewd suggestion and the occasional hurled ale stein before storming out in a huff. Verek and Dorun had played a large part in the bard’s hurried exit and where drunkenly proud of their accomplishment. The two men had left the tavern – or more rightly were thrown out – at just after three in the morning. They had begun the trek home in high spirits, arm and arm, singing raging off key parodies of Fenarra Glorysong’s bardic endeavors. The night was clear and bright with a silver orb of a full moon shedding a lustrous pale luminance across the countryside, and the two drunken guards had managed to fall down only twice in the short distance they had traveled. Verek and Dorun were nearly halfway home when the quiet chirping of nighttime insects was suddenly shattered by two piercing howls form the east. Both men had staggered to a halt, eyes peering in vain through the gloom of the Heatherwood. They listened for nearly ten minutes but the distressing noise did not return and the two men simply moved on, crediting the strange howling to ale-induced delusion. Another mile went by swiftly as Verek and Dorun quickened their pace, neither man willing to admit that the two howls had frozen his blood with the icy grip of terror. The Heatherwood was an incredibly benign forest, with nary a wolf or bear to threaten from beneath its inviting canopy, but when the double howl came again, this time much louder then before, both men began to doubt that claim.“There it is again, Verek.” Dorun whispered, his eyes wide in the moonlight. The short guard stood frozen his head cocked to the side, listening intently.“By Torm’s hairy crotch, Verek! You are the biggest coward I have ever had the extreme displeasure of working with!” Spat Dorun, but his hand had slid down to the hilt of his ever-present longsword, an ugly but lethal three feet of well-honed steel. The big man feigned exasperation but there was fear lurking behind his brash words.“Do you think it is wolves?” Verek said, ignoring Dorun’s outburst.“That’s ridiculous!” Dorun blustered. “There haven’t been wolves in the Heatherwood for two generations. Its probably a couple of dogs that got loose from their master’s kennel.”“Ok, but I never heard dogs sound like that before. It sounded big.” Verek continued to use hushed tones, his fear lingering on his words like the ale that lingered on his breath.“Look, Verek. I’m tired, and I have no desire to stand here in the middle of the gods be damned woods discussing the veracity of dog howls.” Dorun hissed stepping close to his short companion. “Now, can we go before I beat you senseless with the flat of my sword?”“Yeah, sure Dorun. I just thought them howls was funny is all.” Verek acquiesced and began to amble down the road again. Dorun followed, bemused at the smaller man who kept sneaking glances over his shoulder. They had gone another hundred yards when a thick crashing echoed from the tree line, to the left of their narrow path. Both men stopped and this time Dorun actually drew his sword. Seeing the glimmering length of steel, Verek scuttled behind his larger companion whimpering in drunken terror.All traces of intoxication had seemingly disappeared from Dorun’s movements as he peered intently into the gloom beneath the trees. “There is something moving…” Dorun had no time to finish his sentence as a huge black shape burst from the trees and collided with the big fighter. Dorun was knocked backwards over the cowering form of Verek and fell heavily to the ground. Dazed and still fighting the numbing influence of too much drink, Dorun rolled over to see a slavering two headed monstrosity bearing down on his companion.The creature’s form was suddenly illuminated by the silvery moonlight as it bore down on Verek. It resembled a wolf but only a wolf in the most fevered dreams of a raving lunatic. As large as a draft horse and solidly built, it emitted the piercing double howl from two massive fanged heads. Two sets of red eyes blazed in the gloom and Dorun saw a dark and malevolent intelligence lurking within the hellish glare.Verek let loose a high wailing scream and turned to run. He managed a dozen paces before the beast leapt after him covering the distance in two great bounds. The creature simply rammed its body into the fleeing guardsman knocking him to the ground in a tangle. Verek rolled over wide-eyed to see the two heads dipping low for murder. “No! No!” The small man screamed beating at the beast’s double maws with the flat of his pudgy hands. “Dorun! Help me! Help me! Please…” Verek's words suddenly trailed off into frenzied screaming accompanied by the grisly sound of tearing flesh.Dorun surged to his feet, sword in hand and although his mind was choked with fear, he found himself charging down the path towards certain annihilation. The beast saw him coming and its eyes blazed bright with malice. In response it locked both its great jaws onto Verek and began to worry his body savagely. A terrible ripping sound echoed through the night as Verek came apart in a fountain of gore. The beast tossed both halves of his mutilated body to the side and patiently awaited Dorun to close. Heedless of the ghastly display of carnage, Dorun charged in. Unlike Verek who had been little more than a poorly trained guard, Dorun had spent most of his life serving in various mercenary and adventuring companies throughout Faerun. He was a skilled combatant and had battled many men and beasts in his long career. In Gundervale the former mercenary had found there was little need to unsheathe his sword in anger, a prospect that suited him just fine. He had seen more than enough of bloodshed and misery to last a lifetime. Dorun carried only one legacy from his time as an adventurer and mercenary. His sword, a blade wrested from the tomb of a long dead necromancer in Vaasa, was much more than it appeared to be and Dorun called upon the unique abilities of his weapon as he closed in on his foe. “Heruush! He cried, and in response the glittering length of his blade was suddenly consumed in crackling red flames. The beast waited, twin jaws hanging open, eagerly awaiting the warm flesh that surged towards them. Dorun did not slow his advance and as the great hungry jaws reached out to snap him up, he spun his body in a complete circle without altering his forward momentum. The twin maws closed on empty air as Dorun danced aside with nimbleness few would have thought possible in such a large man. His defensive maneuver had carried him to the left flank of his adversary and he let his blade lick out in the midst of his defensive whirl, scoring a deep smoking furrow in the beast’s hide. The creature let loose two howls of agony as its flesh gave way to Dorun’s flaming blade and leapt back to avoid the warrior’s burning brand. Dorun stood, blade extended taking the measure of his foe and his first close look at it jogged something in his memory. He had seen a beast such as this before. On the plains of Vaasa there roamed packs of vicious two-headed dogs named Fenred na Kerr by the native people, a phrase that translated loosely into “the dogs of death”. But the monstrosity that confronted him now was much larger and was subtly different. It had the same bristly black fur of its smaller relatives and of course the two slavering heads that characterized the death dogs, but its size and musculature was grossly exaggerated as if it had been bred with something else to attain such a massive girth. In addition the exposed flesh of its twin muzzles was a sickly green and had a rough warty appearance that triggered a warning on the edge of Dorun's memory.  Out of range of his weapon the beast watched him, waiting for him to make a move. Dorun knew that if he came within range of those two powerful jaws that his end would be quick and messy. He would have to strike and then retreat beyond range if he hoped to live to see the morning. With little choice but to take the offensive Dorun charged in again sweeping his sword in a wide burning arc. The beast whipped its heads to the side attempting to dodge the incoming blow but Dorun was quicker and his blade cut a deep slash in the top of the creatures left head. Enraged it darted forward to crush its foe in its jaws but Dorun had already retreated safely beyond its reach again. The beast was not badly wounded and Dorun knew that his game of cat and mouse could not last forever. Eventually he would he would not be quick enough to evade one of the bites and he would be torn to pieces. He had to end the battle quickly. The beast for its part had grown impatient and bounded forward snapping and growling. Dorun gave ground swinging his sword in a defensive pattern that dazzled the beast causing it to leave off its attack and retreat a few paces. It was taking his measure, looking for a chink in his defenses that Dorun knew it would eventually find if he did not take decisive action now. “Alright, then lets see how smart you are.” Dorun whispered under his breath. He then raised his sword and charged forward slashing furiously, the beast gave ground but Dorun stopped short with an awkward hopping gate. The fighter pulled back limping, feigning an injury to his right leg and cursing dramatically.The beast lowered its head and its four eyes narrowed deviously. Although far more intelligent than any common predatory animal it instinctively recognized wounded prey. Its twin maws split in what seemed a grin of pure delight and the creature surged forward to finish its wounded adversary.Dorun kept up the illusion of his injury hopping backward on a single leg frantically as the beast charged in. It had taken the bait and as it twin jaws stretched out to take him he flung himself backward onto the ground with a bone-jarring thud. The beast was unable to stop its forward momentum and surged over Dorun bringing its vulnerable underside in range of his deadly blade. With a single savage thrust Dorun drove his sword up into the beast’s furry belly, extinguishing the flames about the weapon as the blade sunk in to the hilt. The creature loosed a single strangled howl and lurched to the side ripping Dorun’s blade from his hand. It staggered a few feet away weaving drunkenly and gasping in great blood flecked wheezes. Dorun climbed to his feet praying that his thrust had been mortal while the beast regarded him with four burning eyes that blazed with incalculable depths of hatred. Suddenly it threw back both heads and emitted two great mournful howls that froze the blood in Dorun’s veins and backed him up a few steps. But that was the extent of the beast’s fury and as the howls faded against the silence of the moonlit night so did the fire in its eyes. With a double wheezing exhalation the creature pitched over on its side and lay still, its blood leaking from the great wound in its belly in a widening pool. Dorun was suddenly filled with a relief so complete it threatened to sap the strength from his limbs and the motivation from his will. He walked cautiously over to the steaming corpse of the beast and with drew his imbedded blade with one great pull. The blade came out in a spout of crimson flame that Dorun quieted with another utterance of the word that had brought the flames forth. The big warrior sheathed his sword at his side and sighed heavily. Even in a quiet and peaceful town such as Gundervale it seemed he could not escape his former life. With a heavy heart he went to retrieve the remains of poor Verek vowing to give the small man the best burial he could afford. Overhead the night was giving way to the first stirrings of dawn and Dorun cursed mightily for the adrenaline rush he had experienced during the battle was giving way to what would be the most colossal hangover of his entire life.</blockquote>

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