The Smaug Dragon

It is possible to stat up a dragon in Old School Essentials by taking Smaug’s boasts literally.

“My armor is like tenfold shields”

A shield provides a +1 bonus to AC. Multiplied by 10, this gives our dragon an Armor Class of -1 [20].

“My teeth are swords”

A sword does 1d8 damage. Smaug’s teeth are like “swords” plural: our dragon has a bite attack that does at least 2d8 damage. Let’s say it’s three swords, for 3d8.

“My claws spears”

Spears do 1d6 damage and have the “brace” and “missile” properties. Our dragon has two claw attacks that do 1d6 damage, with double damage against charging enemies (the dragon feigns distraction, then lashes out with surprising speed). Obviously it can't throw its claws, but let's say the dragon can perform a flying leap with a claw attack, moving between 5–60 feet. This leap gets +1 to-hit against opponents within 20’ and a -1 to-hit against opponents more than 40’ away. The dragon cannot leap two rounds in a row.

“The shock of my tail a thunderbolt”

Paraphrasing from the Lightning Bolt spell, our dragon can lash its tail in a 60’ line. Creatures caught by the tail attack suffer 5d6 damage, with a successful Save vs Wands indicating half damage. The dragon cannot move in a turn where it uses its tail strike, and cannot lash its tail two rounds in a row.

(This is the minimum caster level required to cast lightning bolt. You could instead use the dragon’s HD as the caster level to determine the number of d6s, or the 9th level implied by the OSE red dragon’s spell selection)

“My wings a hurricane”

From the Control Weather entry for “high winds”: the dragon’s wingbeats create powerful winds that can impede lesser creatures. Whenever the dragon flies or leaps, movement rates for smaller creatures within 180’ are halved. Missile fire and flight within this area is impossible (smaller flying creatures are knocked back, potentially taking damage if they hit a solid object). In sandy areas, may cause a sandstorm, reducing visibility to 20’.

“And my breath death!”

You could use the Death Spell here, but the OSE dragon’s breath weapon is pretty deadly already. Let’s say that the dragon’s fire ignites flammable materials and anyone who fails their Save vs Breath, dealing 1d8 damage for two rounds (as burning oil).

Smaug is red, so we'll use the Red Dragon to fill in the rest of the stat block.

Dragon

AC -1 [20]

HD 10**

Attacks [2 x claw (1d6), 1 x bite (3d8)], leap [2d6 + wingstorm], tail strike [5d6], or breath

THAC0 11 [+8]

Movement 90’ (30’) / 240’ (80’) flying

Saving Throws D6 W7 P8 B8 S10

Morale 10

Alignment Chaotic

XP 2,300

Number Appearing 1

Treasure Type H

Breath Weapon: 90’ long cone of fire, 2’ wide at the mouth and 30’ wide at the far end. All caught in the area suffer damage equal to the dragon’s current hit points (save vs breath for half). All flammable objects and any creatures that fail their save are caught on fire, suffering 1d8 damage for two rounds. Can be used 3/day.

Flying Leap:  range 60’, 2d6 damage. This leap gets +1 to-hit against opponents within 20’ and a -1 to-hit against opponents more than 40’ away. The dragon’s wingstorm is active on any round where it uses its flying leap. The dragon automatically wins initiative in a round where it uses its flying leap. The dragon cannot leap two rounds in a row.

Wingstorm: the dragon’s wingbeats create powerful winds that can impede lesser creatures. Whenever the dragon flies or leaps, movement rates for smaller creatures within 180’ are halved. Missile fire and flight within this area is impossible (smaller flying creatures are knocked back, potentially taking damage if they hit a solid object). In sandy areas, may cause a sandstorm, reducing visibility to 20’.

Swift As A Snake: characters that charge a dragon take 2d6 damage (save vs breath for half) as the monster lashes out with its claws.

Fire Immunity

Pride: dragons are immensely proud creatures and will always listen to flattery.

Language: dragons speak their own language plus any languages used by creatures that live near their lairs.

Dragon Reaction Roll

2d6, no modifiers

2-: Attacks

3–5: Demands tribute. The dragon is hungry and impatient, and will attack if its demands are not met immediately.

6–8: Demands tribute. The dragon is interested or has recently fed, and will make a game of the interaction and only attacks if thwarted or annoyed.

9–11: Amused condescension. Demands tribute, but roll at +1.

12+: Asleep

Dragon Tribute

2d6 + CHA modifier

2–: your lives, everything you have, and the dragon is angry enough to go and destroy the nearest settlement afterwards.

3–5: one large animal or person per HD of the dragon, and/or 1,000 gp per HD.

6–8: one large animal or person and/or 500 gp per HD.

9–11: the dragon is open to proposals. What have you got?

12: the dragon falls asleep or wanders off.

Gallivespians, Twk-Men, and Tiny People

Kev Walker, Glen Elendra Archmage

 Arnold K’s most recent edition of his excellent monster manual, the MONSTROME, laid out some thoughts on sprites as tiny non-magical winged people. Miniature people are an immediately adventure-ready concept. It’s fun to think about how they would interact with a space, meet their needs, make common objects out of tiny things, interact with animals, and so on. In giving his sprites an interesting combat niche, Arnold seems to dial in on recreating Attack on Titan but with the roles reversed and the PCs in the position of the lumbering giants. In general I like this framework, because fighting a smart little wasp is cool. However, I really don’t care for Attack on Titan, and the model here recreates it too closely for my taste (why do the sprites’ neck razors target specifically the back of the neck on a human and not, say, the throat or ankles?). This got me thinking about other versions of these creature types in fiction, the Gallivespians of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials and the Twk-men of Jack Vance’s The Dying Earth: why I like them, and what seems gameable about them.

Otyugh/English Lexicon

The otyugh is a very strange monster. Being big, irascible, alien creatures that smell like literal shit and who mostly want to shovel garbage into their mouths and be left alone, few scholars have plumbed the depths of otyugh intelligence. Nevertheless, otyughs are capable of language and have their own form of polite etiquette. Indeed, many seem to understand a great deal of common speech (although they are either unable or unwilling to speak it). The next time you expect to go crawling around in otyugh territory, be sure to bring along this handy pocket phrasebook. The polite delver may avoid suffering ingestion, indignity, or a fatal blow from the otyugh’s horny feeding-palps.

Talking Doorknob

I eat thieves' fingerbones for breakfast and clean my teeth with the lockpicks, buster

Talking Doorknob: fitted to a magically locked door, the doorknob demands a password and bites anyone who tries to open it without one (1d4 damage, no save). Hollers if anyone tries to break its door down. The doorknob has a physical face and mouth - it can be reasoned with, threatened, gagged, and so on.

What Does the Doorknob Want?

1. To stay shut and bite people. Demands a password, then guffaws and bites anyway. It’ll take your finger off, given half a chance.

2. Respect. It is a very important door. Will brag about what’s behind it. Scrupulous about its password.

3. Sympathy. It has a lot of complaints about work hours, compensation, pensions, etc. Willing to open for its password if you insist, but will attempt to delay in order to prolong the conversation.

4. Excitement. A change of scenery and/or employment. Gives broad hints and winks to try and help you with the password, although unable to outright tell you what it is.

5. Sleep. Go away and stop bothering me, I’m so tired...

6. Friends. It’s a tough row to hoe, being a doorknob. One meets so few people. Sympathetic if you don't know the password ("better luck next time, buddy!"), gives fond (and loud) farewells if you do.

Password, Ebenezer?

Dungeon Ecosystem: Sprites

Waitomo Glowworm Caves

Ecosystems need producers. On the surface this niche is mainly occupied by plants, which take in energy from the sun. Herbivores eat plants, and are eaten in turn by omnivores and carnivore. Some smaller carnivores are eaten by larger carnivores. Eventually things die and become food for decomposers. It typically takes a lot of plants to sustain one herbivore, and a lot of herbivores to sustain one carnivore.

Down in the dungeon there is little to no sunlight, but there are lots of monsters, many of which are carnivorous. What's happening down there? What are they all eating? The answer is sprites.

Sprites

Castle in the Sky (1991)

Sprites form the bottom rung of the dungeon food web. Near-microscopic elemental spirits that feed on ambient mana, sprites are everywhere, including the surface. However, they are particularly drawn to the large concentrations of mana found in the deep earth, as well as certain mineral deposits and subterranean waterways. Sprite colonies in very old dungeons can grow large enough to be seen with the naked eye, resembling scatters of tiny glittering lights in the rock or water. Dead sprites enrich the soil as well, allowing dungeon plants to take up greater quantities of mana than their surface counterparts.

Castle in the Sky (1991)

Experienced delvers can learn to commune with the sprites. If you douse all of your lights and listen intently in the darkness for a time you can begin to see the faint pinprick lights of the sprite colony, and with patience come to hear their tiny voices. A sprite colony's thoughts often appear childlike and simple, for their individual lives are very brief. Sprites are keenly attuned to moods, magic, and minerals, however, and the colonies that make up a dungeon's system are in constant communication with each other. Sprites can describe the general layout of nearby rooms in terms of airflow, water, light, heat, concentrations of mana, and from those signs they can deduce the presence or absence of living creatures.

Castle in the Sky (1991)

Wisps

Howl's Moving Castle (2005)

Where large sprite colonies form, arcanovores follow. Most arcanovores are miniscule elementals, but also include dungeon molds, lesser slimes, insects, and tiny cave fish. The most common and colorful arcanovore, the wisp, is the size of a small insect. Wisps are a key food source for a wide variety of dungeon-dwellers, including filter feeders such as phosphorescent fungi or dungeon mollusks, as well as predators like bats, lizards, and winged snakes. These miniature predators, along with salamanders, crayfish, and the greater slimes, become food in turn for many of the larger monsters that trouble prospective dungeon delvers.

Tony DiTerlizzi