Bainligor

Bainligors are small bat-people who cannot fly. Even kindly observers find them hideous, with towering pointed ears, ridged snouts, and the ornate, wrinkled faces of bats.

They track prey with echolocation, so darkness 15' radius, invisibility, blindness, and visual illusions mean nothing to them, while deafness blinds them and imposes -4 to their attacks. Their shrieks are inaudible to most humans and demihumans, though dogs and cats hear them coming. Packs swarm prey to drag it down fast. The smallest claw and bite for 1d4 each; larger ones deal 1d6 or 1d6+1, elders 1d10, and the Revered 1d12.

Once an hour, in place of other attacks, a bainligor can unleash an ultrasonic pulse that pounds flesh for 1d6 per Hit Die. A target who fails a save vs. paralyzation is stunned for 1d4 rounds, able only to defend, with -2 to AC and no Dexterity bonus; missing the save by 8 or more leaves it permanently deaf. They are also adept at dodging missiles: in melee their AC against missiles improves by six places to AC 1, and when they focus wholly on evasion only a natural 20 hits. This applies only to missiles needing an attack roll.

They live in primitive tribes in the upper reaches of the deep underworld. Though they know the underworld trade tongue, most of their speech is too shrill for others to hear, and even their low voices squeak, so they trade little, and their goods (bone and stone tools, hides, a little food) are worth little anyway.

Their society reveres age, and the young obey the old. They keep growing through a series of magical changes all their lives, until the eldest are called by an inner voice to dry, empty caves for a final transformation. They return as undead of 10+9 Hit Dice, the Revered Ones, who act as chieftains, priests, war leaders, and protectors, and the mightiest may rule a swarm for generations. About 10% gain spellcasting, and every follower is fanatically loyal.

Nomadic scavengers, they eat insects, spiders, subterranean cattle, fungus, detritus, and rotting flesh in a pinch, and take pride in it: they boast they can live anywhere on anything, unlike races chained to cities, possessions, and fussy diets. Eating something disgusting is a common boast. Legends tell of the Deep Tribes, starved down to nothing but packs of Revered who hunt for the joy of strength and terror, but no sage has confirmed them.