The Jabóbo & the Mystery Cult

Mystery Cults were one of the three flavours of Hellenic religion, and one that hasn't been gamed anywhere near hard enough. Typically RPG religion is a matter of worshipping Angry-Jesus or Pretty-Standard-Nice-Jesus or maybe even Probably-A-Little-Bit-Racist-But-Mostly-Harmless-Shaman-Jesus, and only that. How dreary.

The Hellenes recognised the multiplicity of man and thus offered a rich platter of spirituality in the form of three main branches: the state or local religion (the standard idea of what religion is), mystery cults, and philosophic religions. One person would typically follow the local religion, possibly a mystery cult or two, and rarely a philosophic religion unless they were of the upper classes.


Traits of a Mystery Cult:

1. Observance of the seasonal cycles. Death and renewal were central themes.
2. A focus on secret ceremonies and initiations. Each layer of mystery unveiled offered the initiate new insight into the cult's god.
3. Mystery cults have no interest in doctrine or correct beliefs. It's all about making a strong emotional connection with the initiates with the aim of becoming closer to god.
4. Inducing religious ecstasy, usually through theatre, chanting, dancing or drugs. You can see the influence of mystery cults on Christian passion plays.
5. The primary goal of a member of the religion was union with god, or whatever it is they worship. Possibly in the form of salvation, spiritual or physical immortality, or redemption.

You can see that the a major difference between this and a state religion is that one is for the masses and one is for the individual. A mystery religion is a very personal experience centred around your journey to unity with the godhead, in whatever way that was appropriate. This system can happily be set alongside traditional cleric classes or my previously explored ideas of killing them off and replacing them with random tables of stuff. You can have a religion and be part of a mystery cult or two (or three) as long as your god doesn't have a problem with it. Even then, it's conceivable that a god would have many mystery cults dedicated to them. Think about all the Christian heresies, look at the passion plays, go read about the cult of Mary. Easy stuff.

Jabóbo fertility cult of the Prior Kairnlaw

Jabóbos flourish in Prior Kairnlaw as they do nowhere else on earth. The beasts are big quasi-bipeds, about twice the size of a man. They are cleanly (they wash themselves in the manner of cats), short-muzzled, small-eared and, except for their thick, stubbish tails and huge thighs, have a rather anthropoid aspect. They are valued for their milk, not their flesh, and no more males than are needed for breeding are ever raised. The females have remarkably pronounced mammary developments which are, if I may so phrase it, directly and immediately exploitable by men. The herdsman’s feeling of communion with such a breed is—imaginably—great. Not to put too fine a point on it, jabóbo cults—originating in various fertility-promoting rituals informally practised by herdsmen—now abound in Prior Kairnlaw. Sacred herds are designated and the rituals centred on them are reported—probably reliably—to have both dionysiac and priapic features. The herds are often called, by local cynics, “sacred seraglios.”

1st Mystery

Better to build strong children than repair broken men.

Initiation: The initiate is staked to the ground while a heard of jabóbos are allowed to meander around them. If the herd settles and grooms then they are accepted into the first mystery. (Reaction test adding your wisdom bonus to the roll, needing 6+)

Reward: Your next character's strength and constitution will be at least 13.

2nd Mystery

If your herd is strong you can make the devil plough.

Initiation: The initiates must suckle from the breast of the herd matron. To do so they must wrestle the the young (though still enormous) young away and be accepted by the matron. They must successfully wrestle away D4 STR 14 young and either have a reaction test of 9 (adding your wis bonus) or wrestle her for 2 rounds (the matron is strength 20). If the young pin them or the matron rejects and resists them then they have failed.

Reward: The character has one chance to say no to the GM, and he must accept it. Once it has been used it is gone.

3rd Mystery

We reap as we sow.

Initiation: The initiates are set amongst the herd naked to engage in the jabóbo mating season. Men must secure a strong female for copulation and possibly defend themselves against an enraged bull (strength 18), asserting their authority over him. Women must attract the amorous attention of the bull. 

Reward: The character is incredibly fecund. Any sex will result in pregnancy and those children will be strong and healthy. What's more, for each child the character spawns they will receive an additional single use rebuttal as seen in the 2nd mystery.

4th Mystery

What is bred in the bone will not leave the flesh.

Initiation: Initiates attempting the 4th mystery present themselves to a Golden Calf. One will be selected to bear its child and shall enter the final circle of the mystery. Men will bear this child, the details are up to you to decide (caesareans are very advanced in the Kairnlaw since they are a nation of herdsmen).

Reward: The character will produce children with anything they have sex with. Any man, any woman, any animal. Their fertility is boundless. However when copulating with members of other species consult the following tables:

Roll 1D6:

1 - The child is a healthy human blessed by the gods, roll 4d6 and keep the best three for its stats. 

2-5 - An animal is born. It is especially fine in every way.

6 - A Golden Calf is born, a chimera of both its parents.

Golden Calf chart:

1. It has the head of the animal that spawned it, 1 in 6 chance it can't speak human language. The thick pelt extends down its back to the base of its spine.
2. The child matures at an astounding rate. Within a month it will be fully grown.
3. Their skin is that of the animal. Their natural armour class is now 13.
4. It looks exactly like its animal parent, except it can talk and is incredibly wise from the moment it's born.
5. They have ungulate legs where human ones should be. They move twice as fast as normal.
6. A tail adorns the base of their spine. It twitches and whirls with a mind of its own but is not altogether unattractive.
7. They are barrel chested and thickly muscled. Strength and constitution 18 when they mature.
8. It receives unquestioning adoration from all those who view it. Save vs. magic or be positively inclined towards it. Save again to strike it, and each future attempt.
9. The child has all the rewards of the highest initiation in the mystery cult.
10. They can talk to animals.
11. Roll twice (re-roll 11s or 12s)
12. Roll three times (re-roll 11s or 12s)

Rumours born of jealousy of those seen as being too successful or too popular are often accused of being golden calves. None in the Kairnlaw would take it as a point of pride to be accused of being the love child of a cultist and a beast.

I think this is all gameable in its current form, but let me know if you think I've left anything out and I'll clear it up. All this stuff has been part of my campaign world for ages so it's easy to forget bits that seem obvious to me.

The Wolfmother

The Wolfmother is considered a folk tale, told to encourage the young men to marry early and bring new hands to the farm. A terrifying cautionary tale used to keep the serfs in line, as far as they town folk know. But the farmers in their homesteads know the truth of it.

Mothers are careful to pair off their children as soon as they come of age, before She appears at the virginal young men's bed sides and offers them presents. Anyone not accepting her wedding gifts will have their innocence and masculine flower rudely taken. Within two weeks the wolfmother will give birth to a clutch of wolf cubs who will hound their young father, bitter at their abandonment. They will kill his friends, steal his livestock, cause as much pain as possible, until finally their father wakes in the middle of the night to see his children at his bedside.


Some are brave or foolish enough to accept the gifts instead of immediately striping to their skin and taking to the road, calling for a wife. After three visits She will take their hand and walk them into the brambles, never to return.

D30	Wedding gift
1	A mollusc attached to a locket. Anyone approaching the wearer with sinister intent will cause it to emit a high pitched sequel until they are dispatched. Inside is a picture of the wolfmother.
2	Gloves made of whole rabbits. They don't look much like gloves but they fit wonderfully. They will run away at any loud noises, hiding in your pockets or inside the folds of your clothes, taking your hands with them. Their morale is 6. Taking them off will kill them horrifically as your hands distend their innards out their nethers.
3	A broom with a brush made of virgin's hair. Cleaning your house with it every day will ensure your past never finds you.
4	A kettle made from a goat's skull. No matter what is poured in, thick clotted blood will come out. Drinking the blood will give you visions of all the hurtful things your loved ones have said behind your back.
5	A rat in a cage. It gives good lifestyle advice, except for one time when it will give you the worst advice ever.
6	A little lost child from under her skirt. It doesn't speak any language you know and is altogether quite exotic looking.
7	A rope that leads out of your window and into the woods. It will not budge and does not end unless pulled by three stout men. On the end of the rope is a sorcerer of middling power.
8	Dirt in a jar. Any plants set in it will grow overnight and black lotus flowers will burst forth.
9	A pen made from the feather of a white peacock. It will only write sonnets fit to break the hardest heart. Readers of said poems must save vs. magic or seclude themselves away for a night and a day. A second failed save will drive them to a fit of passionate suicide as they know they can never know a love so sweet.
10	A kiss on the cheek. Her face is warm, her fur a rich pelt that gently tickles. Save vs. magic or run away with her, never to be seen again.
11	Three  mice tied together by their tails, alive and trying to run in different directions.
12	A burning bulrush. Save vs. magic or fall into a deep sleep, haunted by dreams of the wolfmother, for d3 days.
13	A hand mirror that will age you 10d10 years if you look at it beneath a clear sky.
14	A wooden button. If thrown away save vs. magic or lose all your hair and fingernails. -1 to hit until your nails grow back.
15	A walnut box. Save vs. device when opened, as inside is an adder. It sinks its teeth into your arm and withers away like a rotten fruit. Save vs. poison or die, refilling the snake like a balloon and slinking off.
16	A handsome set of underwear. While worn (she will insist you try them on) they tighten when in the presence of women other than the wolfmother, dealing d3 damage per round. They resist being torn or cut and are removable only with magical assistance.
17	A flock of seagulls tied to a staff. They will loyally follow the stick wherever it goes.
18	An old gold coin. If spent it will always make its way back to you in the most “monkey's paw” way possible.
19	A black cat that can communicate silently with whomever it pleases. He gives valuable council and has been familiar to many great women. He is here as a favour to the wolfmother and will leave is mistreated. The wolmother will hear of it.
20	A tiny misshapen human in a jar. He will need to be fed blood to live. Every time he feeds he gains d3hp and grows ever so slightly. When he has 10hp he will escape his jar and go on a killing spree.
21	A hunting horn that, when blown, will summon three armed men to you aid. They will not remember how they got there and there is no guarantee they will be predisposed to benevolence.
22	A rope. Anyone tied with it must save vs. magic or run to the nearest source of magical wrongness. Once there they must save again or lose their minds and become a drooling vegetable.
23	A rose and a song. Her singing is haunting and nothing like any you have heard before. Save vs. magic or never be able to enjoy music again.
24	A bundle of nettles tied with a yellow ribbon. If cooked into a tea a drank on the solstice in the field of your fathers, you will find a fortune buried in the roots of a old oak.
25	She slips a wooden ring on your finger. The wearer cannot remove it as it fuses with their flesh. Save vs. magic to resist future gifts.
26	A book of nonsense and diagrams of plants & animals that have never existed. If read from cover to cover you gain 1 wisdom and become chaotic.
27	A vial of perfume. It smells of fresh mushrooms and cinnamon.
28	A cradle made of chicken bones tied together with ligaments. It creaks and cracks but is very strong. A child who uses it until they outgrow it will never know fear and be bold as the dawning sun. He will die too young.
29	A tiny spyglass that takes you to where you see, as if you were there all along. Every time you use it you shrink by d3 inches.
30	A basket woven from the wolfmother's hair. Anything placed inside it will rot and tarnish within hours.

Corpse Lions

Named for their love of decayed flesh, corpse lion's sprawling subterranean nests often tunnel into graveyards and crypts in search of your dear old ancestors.

A corpse lion hive is considered a serious menace by local settlements, so much so that entire villages have uprooted and left in the past. Once their preferred food source is expended, once the forests and graveyards have given up their dead, they come for the living to carry them off to hang in their larders to ripen.

No. Encountered: 

Source

Between one and too damn many. A single corpse lion found outside of a nest will typically be lost and isolated, often too disoriented to defend itself.

Size:

Roughly the size of a large dog, but with longer legs.

Speed: 

As fast as a house cat.

AC: 

14. Their shell is hard, their organs are simple & robust and they're as fast as hell.

HD: 

2 (8hp)

Attacks:

Mandibles and claws +2 1d6

Gummy resin goo +1 paralyse save or blinded, further successes against a blind target will disable a limb (randomise)

They like to go for the throat and inner thighs, nicking your blood pipes in order to start the draining process. Once disabled they'll drag you to one of their larders and paste you up to the wall to dry out and get a good strong stink on. If a corpse lion rolls max damage on an attack it will induce 1d3+1 bleeding every turn until someone spends a round and an intelligence test to stem the flow.

Sometimes they won't drain you and instead disable you with their gummy saliva, burrow their heads into your gut and deposit an egg sac. This process leaves you alive long enough to keep the eggs warm, and briefly enough so that you are suitably tasty for when they hatch. (The egg sac can be removed with Cure Disease or traumatic ghetto surgery)

Reaction (pg. 56 of LotFP): 

-4, unless cornered or outnumbering you 4:1, in which case they will attempt to kill you and take you back to their nest. If you are inside the nest they will perceive you as a threat and put their whole weight into removing you.

Morale:

8. 10 when defending eggs.

Notes:

They smell like old nutmeg and sound like someone trying to light a cigarette lighter unsuccessfully.

T.O.B.I

Transplasmic Organic Bifurious Inductors, or Tobi for short.

The Wizard in the Silver Tower created and used them as a mix of goat and pig: a convenient method for disposing of waste and trimming the grass. Though you would think that with a mouth that big garden work would be a problem, yet you would be wrong since they have long, delicate, skin-shreddingly abrasive lips which can distend and be used with an alarming degree of finesse.

Tobis consume matter and process it into a universal nutritious soup/all purpose compost which dribbles out of their mouths unless regularly instructed to empty themselves somewhere more productive. Though generally better at eating purely organic items, such as sewage, table leavings or adventurers, they can ingest just about anything with varying degrees of success. They alternate between chewing and soaking in acid whatever it is they've been set to mulch, a rinse/spin cycle if you like.




Highly receptive to plasmic interference, the Tobi can be altered readily by a competent sorcerer with a firm grounding in Fundamental Transgressive Plasmology. Modifications include, but are not limited to: invisibility, form-mimicking, height reduction, teeth removal, hair transplantation, voice inclusion, blindness, liquefaction.

• No. Encountered: Unless told to be somewhere or do something they will have wandered off and be on their own, otherwise it can be any number appropriate for the job they are performing.
• Size: 4ft from hoof to to roof.
• Speed: Faster than they look, slightly slower than an unencumbered human
• AC: 12. They don't protect themselves especially.
• 3Hit Dice, they're just big spongy sacks of acid and teeth. If you deal more than half its remaining HP in one hit you might get sprayed with stomach acid and whatever they're currently working on (breath save or 1d4 damage). They tend to all charge up on their theee short legs and try to manically force as much of you as they can into their mouths.
• They like to grab and bite for 2d6 damage (+4 to hit, they don't care about getting hit and can fit a lot in that gob). Any grapple they perform will effectively be your limbs in their mouth. (save vs. device or lose it? Season cruelty to taste).
• Once per day they can vomit up their last job (they can always eat it again later), requiring a save vs. breath every turn, dealing 1d4 damage regardless. Continues until you succeed a save or remove your clothes and wipe that nasty gunk off.
• Intelligence: The base Tobi is about as smart as a dumb six year-old, however modifications are possible.
• If you are crazy enough to sift through their toxic gut you may find some undigested heavy metals.
• Reaction (pg. 56 of LotFP): -6 unless empty or instructed otherwise, in which case they will eat you.
• Morale: Unless told otherwise they will eat unto death. If you fed them a red hot cannon ball they wouldn't spit that thing out (except to vomit on you).
• They smell like someone farted through an onion and sound very similar.

Concerning Mudmen

Mudmen cover themselves with the rich silty mud of Loch Doldrum

Legend has it that the Mudmen of Doldrum once lived in great cities, stone cities full of tall martial men and women who made war with their neighbors on the backs of fearsome Banths, a gift from their new god.

Banth numbers have dwindled due to over hunting. Conservation efforts are ongoing.

No one remembers the names of their cities and the Mudmen won't tell. Each one of them burned down to their foundations, nary an arrangement of rubble even the most optimistic adventurer could call a ruin left. Overnight all their conquests undone by their pragmatic and single-minded god: Tolhoth

Tolhoth, God of Mudmen

 Quite apart from the struggles of his worshipers, he waged war in the realm of the jealous gods, a dimension of unending strife between many gods.

As his earthly following grew, his own victories diminished in glory and reward, eventually leading to a string of stalemates and eventually defeats. He descended to the earth and consulted the Great Oracle of Pellan, whose vision extended throughout all dimensions. She told him that as he was victorious on earth, he would suffer defeat in the sky.

Tolhoth appeared as a fiery giant towering over the tops of mountains, destroying every person and every temple in every city of village where he was venerated. Nothing remained of the nation that had worshiped him, and the neighbors swarmed in to take possession of anything of value that remained.

-Rolang's Creeping Doom

 All except for the Mudmen. Sad and forced to flee from their conflagrating homeland into the cold waves of Loch Doldrum, they waited. Tolhoth saw them rise from the banks as the fires died and the cities crackled and popped. Covered in mud and hunched over from the crippling cold he thought they were restless spirits, quite understandably perturbed by his rending of the lands, and ignored them.

Still he fights his war, never quite victorious, never achieving his total monotheist dominion in the sky. We could speculate that he now doubts the words of the Oracle of Pellan, maybe even that he regrets losing one kingdom without gaining another, but it's unwise to speculate on the minds of Gods. The Mudmen certainly don't.

Loch Doldrum: big, deep, cold. Considered to be neither use nor ornament by everyone except the "Elite Brotherhood of the Potters of Gaxen Kane" who owe their success to the fine white mud that lines its shores.

Today the Mudmen are found primarily on the shores of Loch Doldrum and along its contributory creeks and rivers, never too far from their mud lest Tolhoth spies them and comes back to finish the job and finally win his war in the sky. In their minds the very survival of the physical world relies on that mud and who are we to argue?

A Mudman war party on the look out for careless Potters.

Their more traditionally civilized neighbors consider this superstition a great convenience as the Mudmen have lost none of their martial spirit and would undoubtedly cause all sorts of mischief were they to wander freely along the Spine or, worse yet, peddle their superior crockery in the markets of Gaxen Kane.

 As it stands their only regular contact with foreigners is through the Elite Brotherhood of the Potters of Gaxen Kane who regularly send well armed expeditions to collect the eponymous mud, and almost equally often don't return with a full compliment of staff. These dealings go some way to explain the Mudmen's reputation as marauders and cannibals, but since the white mud commands such respect in their trade the Potters are resigned to its cost.