Fensir

Fensir, also called heaven-trolls, are native to the northern warrior heaven and no kin to the trolls of the Prime. They are smarter and far more civilized, ranging from huge, hideous brutes to folk nearly human in size and looks. Even the human-seeming ones are plainly alien: they are active only at night and will eat nearly anything, from roots, grass and bark to carrion and even certain clays.

They dress like the heaven's other inhabitants, not in rough hides. Males favor helmets, wool hose and tunics, leather vests and boots, and tall hats of black rabbit fur; females wear simple woven dresses of linen or wool and leather shoes. They speak the languages of their plane, the tongue of the lillendi, and common.

Fensir use the same weapons as the plane's heroic petitioners, especially spears, broad swords and battle axes. Caught unarmed, often while foraging, they pound with stony fists for 1d4/1d4. Males and females fight very differently, as described below.

Every adult fensir turns to stone after more than one round in daylight. A sunray spell allows a save to avoid petrification, but any sunlight or sunray forces a morale check at -4 on the spot regardless. The only cure is a complex mandrake extract the males brew under the new moon, which works as stone to flesh on any petrified creature.

Women rule the household and guard its treasure. They brew mead and beer, selling it to giants, petitioners and other trolls, and weave cloth to trade with the plane's dwarves for stewpots, spears, arrowheads, kettles and cleavers. They also feed the family, since male hunting brings home little; nuts and roots make up most of the diet, and meat broth, ideally made from halfling, is a treat. Females defend the home too, flinging big rocks as far as 200 yards for 2d6 damage.

After her first litter a female becomes a rakka, a devourer. She never stops growing, reaching 20 to 25 feet and over 6,000 pounds, outgrowing house after house while her children strip the land to feed her. A rakka has 8 Hit Dice and fists that strike for 1d10. She dies within a few years, often after a second or third litter. If slain in battle, she can lay a dying curse of disease or madness on up to seven attackers.

Males are poor hunters, decent craftsmen and superb cooks who prepare and bless the food the others gather. Lean, quick and magically gifted, they serve as their families' priests and lawgivers and know a great deal of herb lore. Three times a day each, every male can use transmute rock to mud, plus transmute earth to stones, the latter turning soil into small throwing boulders. About 75% are mages, anywhere from 1st to 12th level, gaining an extra Hit Die per 4 levels.

A male with no talent for runes is considered unlucky and is often exiled to a lonely life in the wilds. A few gifted herbalists stay home instead, brewing potions and poultices and using magical potions to protect their kin.

Sunlight does not harm young fensir, and they abuse that freedom. Gangs of youths rob travelers, harass animals and vandalize small settlements. Youths have 2 Hit Dice and fists too weak to count as attacks.

Each family keeps to itself in hard country: deep forest, sea cliffs, high mountains or empty heath. Their houses are dug half into the ground for winter warmth and roofed with sod, so even those who know what to look for rarely spot them. Males and females are bashful with each other and lead almost separate lives under one roof, which the fensir find unremarkable.

Births come in litters of 2d4, usually including at least one set of twins; a twinless litter is bad luck. Twins stay together until adulthood, then seek another pair of twins, and two brothers commonly marry two sisters. Once mated, the pair-bond replaces the twin-bond. If poison, magic or violence kills one twin, the survivor seeks revenge relentlessly, fighting in a frenzy with twice its normal attacks and +2 damage. A lone fensir without a twin may seek a human mate instead, perhaps because it cannot properly court one of its own.

When a rakka dies, her family is gripped by the Long Walk, a wanderlust that drives them out into the wastes to roam and sometimes join other families. Such hordes may sweep out to plunder the rich realms of gods, elves and heroes. Either way, the family never goes home, so empty fensir lairs dot the plane.

Fensir mind their own business and expect the same, with one exception: an obsession with the lillendi, whom they sometimes kidnap and enslave, perhaps because lillend blood is needed for their petrification cure. They get along tolerably with the plane's dwarves and elves, and the ram-folk consult them as wise elders on herbs, diagnosis and healing.