Bacchae

Bacchae are petitioners seized by the wild spirit of the wine god's revels, wearing grubby, ripped robes, wreaths of laurel, mistletoe, or grape leaves, and sandals or rough leather shoes. In winter they pile on shawls, scarves, and woolen leggings. They speak the local tongue along with the languages of satyrs, dryads, and oreads.

A mob attacks in a frenzy of kicking, biting, clawing, clubbing, and gouging for 1d10 damage unless kept at arm's length. Their only missiles are thrown rocks, sticks, or goblets, and enchantment/charm spells cannot touch them.

Worse, they strip their victims. A bacchae whose attack roll beats the needed number by 4 or more yanks away one item, such as a helmet, cloak, shield, or breastplate. A lost shield or magic cloak changes Armor Class at once, but armor comes off piece by piece, each such hit costing 1 point of AC. A seized item must save vs. crushing blow twice, once when taken and again the next round as the mob mauls it; failure means it is shredded or smashed, success means it is tossed aside.

Refusing them wine or beer starts a fight instantly. Once anyone falls, even one of their own, every wounded bacchae goes into a blood frenzy, gaining +2 to attack and damage and +1 to initiative. Just as suddenly, a whole mob may stop and offer food and drink: sometimes to catch its breath, sometimes out of real respect (especially when outmatched), sometimes from scorn at weak opposition. Spurning the offer sends them straight back into frenzy. When they attack or stop is purely the DM's call.

A mob travels as if by shadow walk, twice a day, letting hundreds descend on a glen or feast hall like locusts and vanish before the watch arrives. A pressed mob may use it to escape. A lone bacchae cannot.

Everyone is either tribe or enemy. They welcome only those as filthy, drunk, and wild as themselves, though musicians and vintners get a pass. A stranger may revel with them for a night and is accepted on a reaction roll of 11 or better, with Charisma and faction modifiers applying; a newcomer who then breaks character risks being cast out, blamed, or attacked. They scorn manners, rules, and cleanliness, prizing wit, stamina, good cheer, and fierce joy, egging each other into absurd stunts. They die young and happy.

Anyone who stays among them risks becoming one. Each day the reveler checks against a base of 20 in 20, minus 1 per point of Wisdom, minus 1 per Hit Die below 2, plus 1 per level or Hit Die above 2. A 7th-level tiefling rogue with Wisdom 9 faces 16 in 20, while a Wisdom 10 petitioner of 0 level faces 8 in 20. Shapechange, heal, or limited wish restores a transformed character, while polymorph other fixes the body but not the mind.

They tear apart and eat anyone who won't join the feast. Most planars avoid them, though satyrs, centaurs, dryads, and oreads enjoy a night with them. They get along with the Seelie Court and the heartiest carousers of the plane of endless battle, whose halls they also raid (few survive). In the plane of raw chaos the zerathi slay them at a glance; still, their true home is the first layer of the plane of passion and its mountain realm of the gods. A faction of sensation-seekers sometimes joins them for a rough holiday, and members of a wine-god cult consider acceptance a divine blessing, though the bacchae accept very few of them.