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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Vraille Darkfang" data-source="post: 2221154" data-attributes="member: 16989">I have two 12 year olds in my current game, so I can’t use this.  But I really want too.  Anyone who uses this, let me know how it turns out.Requirements: Any party with a PC ‘scout’ who spends more time ‘exploring’ by himself than informing the party what’s going on.  This is also known as the jacka** who keeps wandering off & getting himself killed.The set up: any dungeon complex.  Party comes to a section filled with crude, nude statues of naked humanoids.  Eventually the scout will find a room that seems unoccupied & easy picking for a little ‘individual enrichment’Once he enters the room, have the door slam shut & read this:Across the room from a crude frame, molded, decaying furs flying into the air, a massive mountain of glistening green-gray flesh rises.  The immense mountain of naked, living fat slides off the edge and stands upon two flesh-layered pillars and stares with small, red eyes concealed deep within folds of greasy wrinkled skin and a bald head too small for such immense girth, despite the extravagant excess of fat and flesh. Long dried (and fresh) mucus completely covers the thick hairs upon its chin and jowls, rivulets of snot hanging from its broad nasal passages to drip upon the pool of slime that forms its protruding lower lip. Her (as she is unquestionably female) head reels back, exposing a multitude of chins, each one dropping lower than the next.  They begin to undulate rhythmically as a low, bass growl escapes from green rot filled tusks and chapped black lips, coated with the grease and partially digested food scraps caked upon her lips and face. Indeed, her entire body is covered with the grease and detris of previous meals, the age of the visible bits peeking out from within the folds of her fat impossible to guess. The massive behemoth of grease covered flesh then charges with a speed inconceivable for a being of such excessive girth.  As each ponderous foot is placed before the other, her entire body begins to shake like a gelatin dessert at some noblewoman’s feast.  As massive rolls of flesh begin to bounce up and down like a moss covered log on a storm-wracked sea, the full extent of her sloth becomes clear.  Debris like a summer downpour falls from her body, as each flap of long- closed flesh separates with a sucking noise as congealed grease is forced to separate for the first time, and bits of food, sloughed off skin, and other, unidentifiable pieces fall from these crevices that have never seen light.  Further, the flesh-quake has disturbed the scavengers living within the folds of flesh. Beetles, spiders, centipedes and other unknown insects scurry from the safety of their darkened flesh-holes to seek other, safer abodes within her green pock-marked flesh.  A spider the size of a hand races from within two overlapping pouches of flesh that separate as the behemoth races forwards to dart for the cover beneath the ogress’s massive distended belly.  As she takes another step, her belly rises several feet into the air, flinging decaying food about the room and exposing the dark hair covered center of her naked form, where even more small creatures scramble for safety, before the massive belly smacks down upon her frame, crushing the fleeing spider with an loud popping noise, and flinging dried bits of stool from her backside along the path she has tread.  Her teats, resembling nothing more than elongated, rotted avocadoes, alternately slap against the fleshy rings that make up her thighs to flop back and strike the broad swathes of greased fat which compose her broad back in a way only half-rotted, wilted fruits could. She stops, her charge stopped short, though the folds of her flesh (and those creatures scurrying about her body) do not cease their motion.  She raises a green arm from which ponderous rolls of fat hang down a foot from the bone.  Her yellowed, thick, grime covered fingers point in your direction as her low, deep, bass voice echoes words of power inside your skull.As you struggle to resist, you can feel you memories being re-written.  The massive monstrosity in front of you is being changed into an old friend, a true friend, a truly special friend; perhaps more than mere friends…..Now the enemy:Thrisux is a priestess of the ogre goddess of fertility & gluttony.  She’s just taken the gluttony to a point where no ogre wishes to partake of the fertility aspect.  So, now she sits, dejected in some abandoned ruin, depressed.  She refuses to move from her bed, casting Create Food & Water whenever hunger stirs her (which is quite often).  She has become so despondent that she seeks any companionship of any sort.  Most of those she encounters however flee screaming as she approaches them.  She has decided to take things into her own hands.  The next suitor she encounters WILL like her, even if she has to ‘help’ things a little.To this end she has a Wand of Charm Person (10 charges), a Scroll of Word of Recall, and has at least 1 Hold Person memorized.  As for Stats, take an Ogre give it 5-10 cleric levels (enough to make it a challenge for your party) & up its wisdom enough so it can cast spells of whatever level it is (i.e. a 5th level ogre cleric needs a 13 wisdom to cast 3rd level spells).I could write up her stats completely if you want, but I always find I change things to fit groups make-up.  I prefer guidelines, rather than concrete stats.Thanks,If you like this, I have several more encounters I can’t use in my current games:Including: Who’s Neutering the Orcs?Land Piranha Swam.Explosive runes in the outhouse.And many more.</blockquote>

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