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Simpathetic Birdcall Dictionary
"The Lower Planes are tricky."
This dictionary is a power-send to those traveling the lower planes, useful for anyone from an adventure to an inspiring birdwatcher. Written by one Screechy Skee, a fiend of some noteworthy, he has outlined 429 terms that are screeched by these birds. In fact as anyone who met him knows, he often happily would screech out these calls himself to anyone who asked. That is, until one day his listener was the lord Pazreal, who decided he didn't like being caw'd at. I believe those who ate him also spoke highly of old Skee. That as it be, we have outlined some of the more useful translations below.
"The balance is not true, there are to many. *boom*
While the rilmani are rarely seen, the plutonach is even more rarer, as most berks just say their a bunch of screed. This is not actually true as they do exist, just not for long. Their actually quite common in the secret lands of the rilmani near the spire, the booms can be heard if proof is needed of their existence. See, the plutonachs, these strange glowing rilmani, are highly unstable and tend to explode at the slightest upset. This is in fact their contribution to balance, as they keep the rilmani population constant (just 'promote' another rilmani, and it's only a matter of time), bringing balance to the balancers. Sometimes they are also called in when a large explosion will serve the balance, such as cases a vast armies wreaking havoc or a gatetown is slipping. They tend not to make these assignments though, as the chances of the exploding on the way there are so high. Contrary to their function, the personality of a plutonach is usually optimistic and cheerful, open to outsiders, and they always get this slightly surprised expression on their face when they explode.
They appear as slightly stocky humanoids, with a shiny silver-green skin, and a slight green glow that emits from them. They tend not to be to strong or well-muscled, as they don't have the time to work out, and combat tends not to be a problem. They favor clothing similar to other rilmani, but it always tends to get a little wrecked and ashy for some reason.
The plutonach is a fearsome foe in combat, at least technically, even being able to take a pit fiend or planetar. The fact that they have to explode to do this is a minor quibble. Attacking a plutonach is the same as suicide, any attack causing them to go off. This tends to take out their attacker, and the surrounding countryside. They have all the usual abilities of the rilmani, plus the spell-like powers (once per round) of shocking grasp, flaming sphere, wall of fire, wall of force, cone of cold, and ice storm. Unfortunately these powers only work if the plutonach casts them on itself, or area of itself. They make a pretty bang when the plutonach explodes though.
When not in service, or more accurately before being in service, the plutonachs tend to hang around in pubs at the spire, cheerfully hoping they don't explode. A great bunch if you ever meet them, for some reason other rilmani don't like to hang around or make friends. This of course means the plutonachs are entirely platonic.
Ah, Sacrilegion, month of the Athar, a month to ponder what powers are, a month of explanatory pamphlets, a month of the soap box heckles. Yes, those old Athar, seemingly no worse then their younger zealous faction members, but in some ways worse. Especially if your a proxy, found yourself outside the shattered temple, and you haven't learned yet why planewalkers don't have horses. Hear the tale of one such proxy and his fate, in The Soap Box Hecklers.
A small stage in Release from Care, a hastily assembled
background behind it, the scene resolves around a tall, hooven parodee,
dressed in clothes that pull off being fiendish and completely pansy at
the same time, he addresses the crowd, as he plays his part, "I
Grazz'twinkle, shall curdle the mile of my enemies, as I march
forth..." With a whistle a small pie flies out of the side stage,
splatting him in the face. The crowd roars, a small coure at the edge of
the stage practically flat on his table, the braying coming from him more
akin to an equinal. He beats his mug on the table, the laughing
practically vibrating his whole little body.
"Are goal is to disgrace the fiends, with the
scratch of a quill, a well played dialogue, and a well aimed custard pie
if need be"
Parodees are satyr-like natives of the Upper planes. However, unlike ther satyr, they are more civilized, preferring the comfort of civilization, and are more into the arts such as plays, poetry, and literature. In fact they often travel in troops, putting on plays in various of the upper planar cities and gatetowns. The dark of these plays, well, you know how the chant-mongers always say the Blood War is what keeps the fiends from deciding that conquering some celestial property might be a good investment? Well, they say the parodees and their plays is what keeps the celestials and good folk from going and giving the fiends a right talking too. See, the parodee plays make fun of the fiends, parodying them as stupid and cowardly, and often custard is involved too. This lets the upper planars rest easy in their beds, knowing that evil isn't as scary and frightening as it seems, however, they figure the fiends aren't worth worrying about either. The play Two Bumbling Baatezu kept a whole battalion of guardinals from giving the fiends a little scrap, and Grazz'twinkle Toes always makes the whole house get this warm happy feeling. Parodee's make it allot easier to bare the dark scary nightmares we all think fiends are.
Often confused with satyrs, parodees appear very similar, but are more civilized, preferring clothing and styles of city life. This means they wear the common baggy shorts and spiral shirt, with a pair of the often found spiky like armor pads. There 3-hooved feet are not an exception, as they often wear silver shoes, and laces wrapped around their legs are also becoming common. Their pointy ears also separate them from a satyr, visible beneath long stylized hair worn in a pony-tail, and their horns are much longer and spiraled. Also, unlike the satyr, there are female and male parodees, making them a complete race of their own.
While more interested in make a scathing pun instead of combat, Parodees know their plays put them on the black-list of the fiends and the occasional celestial gets grumpy with them too. For this they make sure the instrument they carry, from horns to harp to the mighty bass, are always covered in spikes and blades, making them useful not only for entertainment but also putting a dent in a berks head. They are also not above sneaking around or casting a spell (They are equivalent to a 10th-level bard), and have a number of innate magical abilities. These include Spiral Custard Pie (Causing a pie to be summoned in their hands, and thrown at a target), Hooved Tap-Dance (Causing confusion as they escape sideways), and the more common abilities of Charm, Advanced Illusion, Dancing Lights, and Color Spray.
All content copyright 1999 Jeremiah Golden or credited authors.