It makes
sense that today’s monster is one of those I wrote about this week. It’s
between the shambling mound and the harpy, but I went with the one I used most
often of the two.
I’ve used harpies
in my three most recent campaigns, and they’re already inhabiting at least one
dungeon I haven’t run yet. In the BECMI campaign I ran a couple of years ago,
two harpies were nesting in a dungeon. The magic-user managed to put one to
sleep, but one of the monsters was enough to kill the thief and severely wound
the others in the party. In a short-lived 4E campaign, the party’s flying ship
was attacked by harpies. There’s also a pair of harpies in Three Sad Wizards, and there’s a harpy nest in Castle Verge.
Like I said
last Friday, my love for the harpy comes from exposure to the monster at an
early age. Astrid Lindgren’s Ronja
Rövardotter, and it’s atmospheric illustrations by Ilon Wikland, had a big
impact on me, and they still are the foundation of what I like in fantasy.
The
bird-witches from the book always tried to claw out the eyes of their victims. Harpies
in the D&D game could use a good Claw Out Their Eyes rule. Maybe something
like this:
Claw Out Their Eyes: When the harpy’s attack roll is a
natural 20 and she rolls maximum damage (4, in RC), she claws out one of the
target’s eyes. For the remainder of the fight, the target suffers penalties as
if he was blind (in RC, -4 to saves, -6 attack, +4 to AC). After healing or first aid is applied, these
penalties are reduced by 3 (so in RC, -1 to saves, -2 to attacks, and +1 to AC
remains). The eye can be restored with any form of regeneration, but not by cure
blindless.
In addition
to the harpies in Ronja, these were very
influential . Lindgren may have put bird-witches in my imagination, Carl Barks
made sure they stayed there.
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