Expressionless and dull, the plucker still exudes a menace despite its placid features and mute manner. The three-foot-tall fey's glassy eyes remind one of a corpse, but are still wet and alive. Though once mortal, the plucker's years in the feywild have marked it with honeycomb scars, vestigial antennae, and a long, hooked nose. It wears a simple robe of rough, red cloth tied with a slip of leather. The plucker is never far from its bag and can never be swayed from its duty to the harvestman that made it. Soul Bag. This patchwork bag of garish colors is crafted from the plucker's flayed away soul and personality. Despite being an interdimensional vessel its size never changes, roughly that of a sack of grain. A plucker never has difficulty lifting its bag and always knows where it is. Dying Spark. Some pluckers retain motes of their former humanity. This haunts them with memories they cannot comprehend and often instills them a preferred kidnapping victim profile. Ol...
Box of Teeth is a blog dedicated to horror role-playing games. It features essays, monsters, and other bits and baubles to help game masters and players get the most out of rpg experiences.
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