The Susvul, females of which are known as Sauvixen, partake of both the fox and the wild pig. They have the swine's distressing likeness to humanity, with the cunning of the fox. The torso of the Susvul is as that of a heavily haired pig - a red or sandy-coloured pig, though it has the legs and clawed feet of a fox. The tail is more like a fox's brush than the curled pigtail; the face is that of a thin-snouted hog, albeit with the ears and eyes of a fox.
All this might be outlandish enough. But from vulpine wit or porcine humanity, the Susvul somehow manages to make the sounds of human speech from its maw. It speaks, and if it attempts to converse, it will attempt to gain A) Food and B) Prestige. It is rare that a Susvul can negotiate human social structures with sufficient aplomb to obtain either, but this will not stop them from trying.
***
The Ippopolemos is a roughly equine beast, if larger than almost all horses: reddish in hue, with a human skull for a head and armoured forelegs. It is a horse as suited for battle as the hippopotamus is suited to the river.
There are two legends of the Ippopolemos. Firstly, that it is the steed of the Great God of Battles - a fitting steed for the deity of the clash, and that it is full of yet more wrath than the rider. The Great God of Battles therefore carries not only shield and sword, but also the Adamant Bridle to restrain and direct the Ippopolemos.
Therefore, if you see the Ippopolemos alone, there are two options. Firstly, that the Great God of Battles has let him off the rein - let him wander through the world of men. A terrifying enough prospect. Secondly, that it is one of the Ippopolemos's progeny; as almost all divine beings, he is dramatically fecund - and not even the Great God of Battles would be able to geld him. These are perhaps less potent than their forebear, but less used to the bridle.
The second legend is that the Ippopolemos bears on his back not the Great God of Battles, but one of the many men who have thought that they might be able to control War, to steer and ride it to the place they desire. Those fools borne away by the Ippopolemos are rarely ever seen intact again.
***
Thanks to a very literal wizard, the lion has finally lain down with the lamb. The result was the Agneleon.
Having the head of a sheep and the body of a lion, it has all the appetites, drives and social inclinations of a herd ruminant with the physical might and range of an apex predator. The Agneleon laughs at fences, drystone walls and sheepdogs. It will cross many miles to find new pastures. If threatened, an Agneleon may run and pounce upon you, attempting to slash with its claws and butt with its horns. (Thanks to some quirk of enchantment, the Agneleon is more prone that most sheep to producing irregular numbers and shapes of horns).
The gold-ish fleece of the Agneleon can be used to produce wool, which is sold for a significant sum to a particular type of aristocrat. Actually sheering an Agneleon is, of course, rather troublesome. Their flesh tastes not quite like lamb (or hogget, or mutton) - it is also notably tougher.
Agneleon Prideflocks are sometimes followed by very confused hyenas.
***
The Ippopolemos originated here.
The Agnoleon reminds me of a Pathfinder scenario I played recently. The PCs were all plant-people based on different plants, and your first combat encounter was with a terrible menace to your health: hungry deer!
ReplyDeletePerhaps none so fear and despise the Agneleon as the Dryads!
DeleteGood monsters, and now I've learned a new word today: hogget.
ReplyDeletet. semiurge
Glad you got something out of a fairly impromptu post!
Delete