Magman

Natives of the Paraelemental Plane of Magma, magmen are glowing 3-foot humanoids, like gnomes or goblins wrapped in fire, whose skin spits little bursts of flame as if they sweated fuel that ignites as it pools. They throw off heat like small campfires, making their company miserable for anything that does not love fire, and their faces almost always wear a grin of spiteful delight. They speak only their own language.

Magmen are not fighters, but chaos follows them. Nearly everything is unfamiliar to them, and so they try to burn each new thing purely for amusement, either unaware that others fear flame, perhaps not caring. Reasoning with them almost never works; at best they can be bribed with another target or a tasty bit of burning food.

Their touch ignites clothing, hair and anything else flammable, which burns for 1d4+2 rounds at 1d8 a round. Highly flammable gear such as oil flasks must save vs. normal fire every round until the fire is out or the item is dropped, or it catches and adds its own damage. Combustible magic items like scrolls likewise save each round unless discarded, or are destroyed.

Hurt, they flee just far enough to be safe, then curiosity and foolishness bring them back. Cornered, they strike with a molten fist for 3d8, halved against fire-resistant creatures, magical protection included. Only +1 or better weapons can hit them, and any weapon below +2 must save vs. magical fire on each hit or melt into slag. Fire cannot harm them; cold does double damage and forces a morale check.

Beyond their home plane they have no society and seem to care only for fun as they define it: fire and burning things. Their childlike glee might be sweet if it did not cause so much harm. They never grasp, or never care, that others are hurt; pain and fire are unconnected for them, so a panicking burning person looks like pure slapstick.

At home they are hunter-gatherers in small tribes, each one extended colony, since magmen are sexless and multiply by dividing as they grow. The eldest leads, and they roam the molten plain for prize flaming minerals or hunt other elemental beings.

Gaps opened by intense heat and pressure in deep lava sometimes carry them onto the Prime Material or into other Inner Planes. The molten rock in these portals tastes different, and magmen who dive in to sample it are pulled through; some sages think it intoxicates them, explaining their giddy behavior abroad. They reach the Outer Planes only when summoned. Tanar'ri and baatezu find their mischief amusing, sometimes keeping them captive in molten pools, and summon them into enemy lines in the gray wasteland of despair, Gehenna and the prison plane as distractions in the endless war between demons and devils. Too flighty and cowardly for real battle, they serve no other military role.

They love swimming in active volcanoes, since an eruption lets them loose to ignite everything combustible in reach. Out of lava or other fiery surroundings they stiffen and freeze in place after six hours at most, and they rarely stay away more than two or three, finding anything under 1,000 degrees F unpleasantly chilly.

Sages guess they dine on tasty bits of lava, though they may absorb much of their nourishment through the skin. Wizards occasionally summon one to stoke a furnace for a magical process, and sensible ones send it home immediately afterward. Some are tempted to trap magmen and let them cool, since the statuettes are prized garden ornaments among the rich, but facing death makes them vicious, and their escapes have burned down whole city blocks more than once.