Batracine

Imagine a big frog with a bulldog's head and a stubby tail. A batracine's forefeet are webbed, dog-like paws, while its hind feet are broad frog flippers, and short, oily fur covers it from snout to tail. Most are brown or gray, with the odd black or silver one. A typical one is two feet high and fifty pounds in weight. Their pointed teeth are backed by crushing jaws, and their deep, booming bark sends many would-be threats running.

Batracines normally attack only things small enough to eat, though a pack may tackle something bigger and slower. A long, sticky tongue snags the prey and reels it straight into the mouth, and a few bites end it. Faced with a larger attacker, or a small one that will not quit, they flee.

Their leap carries them 20 feet forward or upward, plus 1 foot per Hit Die, to a maximum of 35 feet, high enough to pluck birds out of the air. On land they never stray far from water and will leap back into the river when threatened.

Batracines dwell along an enchanted river on the eastern border of a frontier kingdom of dog-folk, both above and below a great river lock, and the sleep-bringing amber lotus that grows there has no effect on them. They forage the banks for small forest animals and love birds above all, striking at any that land too close, but will not touch fish, frogs or other amphibians. When food runs short, packs gather to range a little farther from the river after bigger game.

Each digs a small den into the bank or among the roots of riverside trees and lives alone except in mating season, when it shares the den with one mate. The male does all the hunting while the female guards the litter of two to four pups. Pups can be tamed into loyal pets, and the dog-headed lupins selectively breed them for coat color, build and size. A pup sells for 5 gp, a trained adult for 20 gp.

Batracines are mid-ranking members of their food web and rarely leave their river unless carried off as pets. Some die for their blood, a key ingredient in a potion that cancels magical sleep. They suffer badly from cardinal ticks, yet would sooner eat the little songbird that could pick them clean than let it help.