Spaceworm

Spaceworms look like glistening, pallid sea slugs up to 3 feet long. Small as they are, spacefarers dread them. They chew grooves into any organic surface, ship or sailor, and they especially love eyes; whole crews have been found blinded and drifting hopelessly, with no idea where they were or where they were heading.

Swarms of spaceworms dart and weave to overwhelm their prey, gnawing bone or timber hulls and biting anyone on deck. Hungry ones push inside after stores and sleeping crew. Their behavior is unpredictable: roll 1d8 on meeting them, one die per four worms in a large group.

On a 1 the worms burst open in a mess of slime and torn skin, each releasing 1-3 tiny worms that deal half damage, drift aimlessly for 1 round, then check reactions on a d8 themselves. On a 2 they cruise by, ignoring every meal. On a 3 or 4 they leave the crew alone, but one or more settles on the ship or another solid surface, darkens and dies, leaving a puddle of slime and wrinkled hide with an 80% chance of treasure. On a 5-8 they attack without letup until killed or full, attacking as 5-Hit Die creatures regardless of their hit points. A worm is full after dealing 12 points of damage, and then it breaks off and glides away, dodging attacks.

Unlike a rot grub, a spaceworm stays on the surface, scraping its razor teeth along flesh, wood or plants. Each groove keeps going round after round, dealing automatic damage, until the worm is hurt, at which point it rips loose and swoops back in for a fresh attack.

They need no air, ignore changes in atmosphere, and are unharmed by extreme cold, though fire, electricity and great heat hurt them normally. No known disease or poison affects them.

Spaceworms began in the oceans of certain worlds, and new strains, some said to have odd powers, keep adapting to space. They feed and drift, feed and drift until they reach a certain size, then split at any moment, even in flight, into 1-3 young that reach full size in 10-40 days. They often hunt with others of their kind but may roam alone. They form no lasting families, though some elven sages think each generation grows a little smarter and more social.

Alchemists have had little luck finding uses for spaceworm slime or distilled essence. Veteran spacehands know a trick, though: crush or slit a worm and smear its thick, clear or faintly mauve slime on a fresh wound within seven rounds. It neutralizes every known disease and poison and seals the wound against bleeding and infection, but it heals no damage.

Worms sometimes carry swallowed valuables such as coins, gems or magic rings. Their stretchy bodies swell to hold such loot, but only a truly stuffed worm looks fatter than the rest. A worm that splits spills everything it held, and its young carry none of it. Some spacers even eat spaceworms, a rather unappetizing subject.