Morin

A morin is a squat, flattened oval, front and back hard to tell apart except for the hooked beak. Its tiny eyes see poorly. Six stubby legs end in heavy digging claws, and its nearly bare hide is a dingy, sickly mauve.

Morin never travel alone. Each one hops about 3 feet onto its prey and rakes with all six legs in the first round. If four or more claws hit, it locks on: every gripping claw then deals 1 point per round automatically until the morin or its victim dies, and each attached morin gives the victim -1 to hit.

Eight or more morin form a swarm, which attacks any living thing up to horse size, all against one target. Roll once for the mass at THAC0 17; a hit deals 2 points per morin (eleven morin, 22 points). A survivor has 2-12 morin clinging to it afterward, each dealing an automatic 4 points per round. When the prey dies, the swarm burrows down and takes the body along. Morale is normally 12, but swarms never check. About once in twenty years colonies merge into a swarm of 100 or more, which folk can only flee until it breaks up through attrition.

A colony, or pod, lives most of the day in a warren of dens, food stores and escape holes that looks from above like a prairie dog town. One or two sentries always watch, though few predators threaten them. Morin dig very fast and sometimes lie in ambush just under the soil, but usually they simply run prey down.

Litters of two to five arrive each year, and morin get most of their water from their kills. In drought the whole pod seals itself into a single nest and sleeps; when rain returns, they erupt starving and swarm at once, making the hours after a thunderstorm perilous. Prey is mostly antelope and small mammals, plus carrion, attacking humans or larger beasts only when swarming. Sheep are a favorite, to the misery of shepherds.