Linqua

Linquas are short, stocky humanoids from a volcanic lower plane. They look male but have no sex at all, being closer to constructs than living beings. Their pale skin is pitted and sprouts tufts of stiff green bristles.

Made by divine magic, linquas draw power from their maker much as priests receive spells. While they serve the bandit-god Shen Gao, each can use tongues, stone shape, spider climb, know alignment, free action, detect magic and detect lie once per day, and can borrow his might to gain Strength 19, spending up to 10 rounds of it per day in any split.

Forged from the substance of their home plane, they ignore the horrors of its four infernal furnaces; off their plane, acid, cold and fire deal them only half damage.

Raised in dark halls where only trickery kept anyone alive, they function as 2nd-level rogues: climb walls 65%, hide in shadows 55%, move silently 50%, pick pockets 40%, open locks 25%, detect noise 20%, find/remove traps 20%, read languages 0%. Like thieves they deal double damage on a backstab, using long serrated daggers. In open fights they favor spiked maces, hand axes or short swords and handle polearms easily despite their size; at range they use slings, light crossbows and occasionally javelins. Armor is never worn, though a shield sometimes is, bringing them to AC 3.

Most scurry through the volcanic first layer of their plane, living in caves they hollow out of the searing rock. The god's favorites dwell in his tear-shaped palace as guards and servants, well kept and well fed until they displease him; he has little patience and no mercy, so a disobedient linqua is at best thrown out onto the bare ledges and more likely annihilated. He can always fetch replacements from the caves or simply make more. Those outside the palace roam in leaderless, disorganized bands but still act as a buffer keeping wanderers away from his home, and they must obey whenever an avatar of his gives orders.

A few have fled or simply walked away, some even serving other gods. Since he could destroy them at will, he apparently permits it, perhaps as part of some scheme or out of admiration for their willpower. Most linquas are addicted to divine energy, and even those who leave often suffer its absence as a painful hunger. Freed ones usually head for the great planar city, where, unused to liberty, they behave recklessly and fall prey to strong drink, poor choices and shady locals. Some later seek service with another god; occasionally one is accepted, probably shifting its alignment to its new master's and gaining a different set of powers.

A story is told of Quillik, the first linqua and the first to leave. After years in the god's service, he was told by his master of a portal in an unvisited wing of the palace, beyond which lay wonders. Curious, he betrayed his maker and stepped through into the great planar city, only to find the gate went one way. There he breathed air that didn't scorch and walked stone that didn't burn, but he missed the divine fire in his veins. Drink, love, friendship, wealth, philosophy and religion all failed to fill the emptiness. At last he found a way home to beg forgiveness. The god smiled and, still smiling, blasted him to nothing in a burst of fiery pyrotechnics. Many linquas have left since; none has ever come back.

When not eating palace scraps, they devour any beast they can grab. They fear the fiends and other lower-planar powers that pass through, but treat quasits, imps, hook spiders and anything else smaller as food. Immortal creations of an immortal god, they never age, and their free will hints at true spirits, yet they cannot breed and create nothing of worth. They are naive and simple unless forced otherwise, strangers to love, mercy and kindness, and are moved only by greed, fear, despair and respect.