| Dragon magazine | - | Monster Manual III | - | Dragon #99 |
We are dead men; I know it. The knowl-
edge is dry and dusty on my tongue ? but
not bitter.
I have drunk of life deeply and to the
dregs these five-score summers, and I thank
my elven sire for the equanimity to view
death as I should. No, it is not for myself
that I grieve, but for these others: for Nex,
the young guide who ? at my direction ?
led us into this accursed marsh and who still
claims he can lead us out alive; for the
nameless mage who rides with us, grey cowl
pulled forward over raven tresses to mask
her sorrow; and, most of all, for the boy
Tristan, her apprentice ? if such is the
word ? who edges his pony ever closer to
his mistress?s bay and looks up to her for
comfort she cannot give. For, when the
Corpse Lights come again after sundown,
as come they shall, we will be unable to
turn them away a second time. The slender
silver wand that the enchantress used to
such effect last night is almost drained, and,
without its power, even the stout bow slung
across our guide?s shoulders will offer us no
hope. As for my own Talent . . . it leans
more towards scrying than combat. I am no
warrior-mage like the fierce beauty riding
before me.
When this day ends, so do all our lives.
Still, if but one person finds this docu-
ment and the translation it contains, and
wins through with it to civilization, then our
deaths will not have been entirely for
naught ? or so I try to console myself. The
information I have stumbled upon concern-
ing the Corpse Lights could be of inestima-
ble value ? if it is ever seen by living man.
We found the scroll tube yesterday fore-
noon, as the sun was just struggling above
the miasma that cloaks the treacherous
ground. It was shielded and warded by a
small globe of faint silver light that flared
briefly to brilliance ? in recognition of a
kindred spirit, perhaps? ? then collapsed
upon itself as I reached out with my Talent
toward it.
My companions gathered around -- even
Nex, for the marsh seemed home to no
large creatures to be on guard against(1) -- as
I removed the wax stopper from the tube of
dark gold. The scroll within crackled as I
drew forth and unrolled it.
I could tell by the frowns of those around
me that the script on the parchment meant
nothing to them, but that concerned me not
at all. Though the scribe?s hand was
cramped and hurried, I recognized a dis-
used elven dialect that I had learned as a
curiosity at my father?s knee. My eyes grew
wide as I read, then closed in sadness when
I realized that I could as well have been
reading our death warrant.
There is neither space nor time to furnish
a complete translation of that long-passed
elfs last work. As I ride, I will attempt to
set down what I can, then, when the sun
sinks into the marsh-fog, I will follow my
predecessor and use my Talent to ward my
final document. Hopefully, in time, it will
be found and read by one more fortunate
than I, one who will spread the knowledge
about the Corpse Lights for which I have
paid with my life.
Firstly, the Corpse Light ? or the will-o-
wisp, to use its seemingly more common
name ? is not innately a magical creature.
No, even though its form ? a glowing ball
of light ? and powers seem to give me lie,
it is more a creature of nature than one of
dweomercraft.
As the many species of demi-humankind
have risen ? or so say the wise ? above
their baser antecedents, thus has the will-o-
wisp risen above its forebears. As we have
left-behind us our more brutish nature (or
so we hope), thus has the Corpse Light left
behind it the tyranny of matter, progressing
to a higher state of being.
How this can be I do not claim to know,
yet so proposes the long-dead author of the
scroll. Perhaps some Talent of the will-o-
wisp?s progenitor hastened its evolution.
Perhaps its rapid advance is a boon from
whatever god the will-o-wisp may have
worshiped. Perhaps we shall never know. I
feel certain that the will-o-wisps themselves
will never tell us.
By whatever means the evolution may
have occurred, that it did occur is impos-
sible to deny when one looks upon the
immature form of the will-o-wisp: the bog-
gart. No wonder that wild and dangerous
creature, commonly close in appearance to
a young demi-human(2), is so often found in
proximity to the will-o-wisp; they are the
same creature. The relationship is con-
firmed by the boggart?s ability to take the
guise of an adult will-o-wisp.
Many who would have fallen prey to a
boggart have been warned of their foe?s
nature by the creature?s mercurial changes
in form. Such is obvious. But, surprisingly,
a boggart?s change can warn of the very
presence of the creature. According to the
manuscript, the change from non-corporeal
to corporeal is accompanied by a sharp drop
in the temperature of the surroundings. The
reverse is also true. If one is unlucky
enough to be in the vicinity when a boggart
makes its final transition to adult form, a
pulse of heat can warn of the fact, though
little good such a warning would be to
most(3)
The elven manuscript describes the adult
will-o-wisp as a lattice of information with
no material substance ? ?a scroll with no
parchment,? the sage writes ? much as is a
symbol or a cleric?s glyph of warding. It is
crystalline energy, self-sustaining and poten-
tially immortal. From this nature come the
will-o-wisp?s main powers: electrical bolts
and levitation. The glow that comes from
the lattice can be quenched temporarily,
giving it its temporary invisibility(4).
But the will-o-wisp has yet another boon,
a form of limited telepathy. This, coupled
with its high intelligence, makes it an awe-
some foe, as many have found to their loss(5).
How does as intangible a creature as the
will-o-wisp reproduce? The question has oft
been asked, but never before answered. The
elven manuscript proposes the following.
There are three genders of will-o-wisp, to
all intents and purposes identical in appear-
ance, powers and behavior; all are required
for the production of an offspring.
The reproductive act itself takes place
usually deep within an impenetrable marsh
? necessary to protect the participants.
The three will-o-wisps draw close together
and apparently merge their forms together,
becoming one. The event is over in a mo-
ment: almost immediately the tripartite
will-o-wisp flares to intolerable brightness,
then splits once more into three. Left be-
hind is an infant boggart. If one wished to
destroy a will-o-wisp, now would be the
ideal time, since the three parents are in a
severely weakened state after the mating(6).
Mating appears to take place in cycles.
Adult will-o-wisps congregate rarely, but
when they do they tend to mate three ? or
sometimes more ? times within a period of
about a week. When the boggarts are born,
the parents share the nursing chores.
After the boggarts are capable of hunting,
the parents leave them to fend for them-
selves. The boggarts, however, tend to stay
together ? I know not whether for social
reasons or simply because three can hunt
more efficiently than one ? until they reach
maturity.(7)
As to the social philosophy of the will-o-
wisps ? what gods they worship, what they
see as their place in the cosmos ? the man-
uscript says nothing. It does note that the
will-o-wisps have no love for gold and gems
or for things magical; those things that men
see as treasure have no value for them. The
will-o-wisps do collect any material wealth
possessed by their victims, however, for they
know the strong ? and often fatal ? attrac-
tion that gold has for men. The Corpse
Lights bait their traps well.
I can write no more. The sun is sinking
into the marsh-fog, and it is time to seal ?
this, my final work, into its tube and ward
it as did my long-dead patron. Will it ever
be seen by living man? I can only hope so.
The preparations are being made. Nex is
stringing his bow and honing his broad-
heads to razor-keenness. Our warrior-mage
is composing herself for what must be her
final battle. And young Tristan is making
his peace with his gods.
And I? I wrap my cloak closer about me
to keep out the night?s chill.
The time is upon us. To the east is a
deathly glow, waxing coldly through the
fog.
I wish I could believe it were the moon.
Notes:
1. Few creatures with an intelligence of
semi- or better will be found in the vicinity
of will-o-wisps, since such creatures repre-
sent prey, and a will-o-wisp will never de-
cline to feed if food is easily available. The
only such creatures present will be those
that managed to escape the will-o-wisps,
those that are yet to be detected by them, or
those that are too powerful for the will-o-
wisps to trifle with (blue dragons are a fair
example). In an area determined by the
DM to contain will-o-wisps, for any random
encounter that generates a creature of intel-
ligence semi- or better but with fewer than 7
HD, roll percentile dice: 01-80 indicates
that the encounter has not taken place at
all; 81-00 indicates the encounter is with
fugitives from will-o-wisps, in which case
the maximum number of creatures encoun-
tered is 20.
2. As described in the Monster Manual
II, the boggart
can take on the form of an
adult will-o-wisp or of a small demi-human
or humanoid (usually a small halfling or
gnome, a goblin imp, a young xvart, or a
norker neut). It can also become invisible
for a short period of time. This ability to
change form ? and the instability of form
described in the Monster Manual II ? is a
result of the true nature of the will-o-wisp.
When it first enters the world, the young
boggart is in the form of a newborn human-
oid. This infant is nondescript in appear-
ance; it has no features that distinguish it as
one humanoid or demi-human race as
opposed to another. The young boggart
grows rapidly; within two weeks, it is the
same size as an average two-year-old hu-
man. During this time, the boggart is given
energy by a parent and so does not have to
feed.
It is at this point that the boggart?s
vagueness of form ? and concomitantly its
electrical powers ? begins to manifest
itself. The boggart begins to slip into will-o-
wisp form ? a ball of light, smaller and
brighter than an adult will-o-wisp. The
change occurs rarely, without warning and
without volition, and lasts, at first, for only
a segment or two. When the boggart re-
turns to physical form, its appearance may
match any demi-human or humanoid race
that it has seen (thus, as the young bog-
gart?s experience grows, it can take on more
different forms; conversely, if a particular
boggart has never seen a human, it cannot
take on human form). Each time it resumes
humanoid form, it is a little larger.
At this stage, the boggart possesses a
rudimentary form of electrical power. It can
deliver a shock of 1-6 points by touch and
fire an electrical bolt (once every other
round, to a range of 10 feet) delivering 1-6
points of damage. The boggart is so inaccu-
rate with this bolt, however, that the target
gets two saving throws. If it makes the first
one, it takes no damage (the boggart
missed); if it makes the second, it takes only
1-3 points of damage. These powers in-
crease with age until, at two years, the
boggart's damage potential matches
the
figures listed in the Monster Manual II.
As soon as the boggart gains its electrical
power, the parent that protected it and
nursed it with energy abandons it to fend
for itself. The boggart must now- begin
feeding itself physically (i.e., hunting).
As the boggart grows and ages,
its form
shifts become more frequent and more
prolonged until, also at the age of two
years, its characteristics match those in the
Monster Manual II. It is also at the age of
two years that it gains its invisibility and
confusion powers. At the age of five years,
the boggart makes its final transition to
adult will-o-wisp form, possessing
from the
outset the full powers listed in the Monster
Manual.
3. When the boggart shifts from corporeal
to non-corporeal form (i.e., from humanoid
form to will-o-wisp form), the body of the
creature literally disintegrates. The position
of every atom in that body is remembered
by the non-corporeal creature. The matter
that actually made up the body is converted
into energy.
Some of this tremendous energy yield is
consumed fueling the non-corporeal being
of the creature; the vast majority is chan-
neled off to the Negative Material Plane. (It
is this close connection with the Negative
Material Plane that grants the will-o-wisp
immunity to most magical spells. Only
those that disturb the actual non-material
lattice of the will-o-wisp?s existence can
damage it.) When the reverse change oc-
curs, the body is re-built following the
template in the mind of the boggart. The
actual matter required for the body is re-
created using energy withdrawn from the
Negative Material Plane.
But, when the humanoid boggart re-
forms, it is larger than it was before. The
energy debt represented by this additional
mass is withdrawn from the environment,
lowering the local temperature. This sud-
den, transient temperature drop can be
perceived by creatures within 30? of the
boggart, although being able to perceive it
does not necessarily mean being able to
interpret it.
When the final transition to will-o-wisp
form occurs, the energy released is not all
transferred to the Negative Material Plane;
rather, a portion affects the environment.
This heat pulse will cause 1-6 points of
damage to any unprotected creature within
30 feet of the will-o-wisp, and it can be
perceived from distances of up to 200 feet.
4. The fact that only a few spells can
affect the will-o-wisp indicates that those
spells somehow disrupt either the will-o-
wisp?s lattice on this plane or the will-o-
wisp?s energy pipeline to the Negative
Material Plane. The fact that any material
weapon can harm the will-o-wisp ? albeit
with difficulty ? shows that physical inter-
ference with the will-o-wisp?s lattice can
possibly disrupt it. (The unlikely nature of
this event is reflected in the will-o-wisp?s
very good armor class. It may actually be
easy to contact a will-o-wisp with a weapon,
but the chance of landing a blow that causes
damage is low.)
5. As well as allowing communication
with other intelligent creatures, this innate
telepathy grants the boggart its confusion
powers. The confusion is not a direct result
of the noise a boggart makes; the noise is
merely a focus for the effect (which explains
why stoppering the ears does no good). The
confusion is actually caused through telepa-
thy: a direct muddling of the mind. Such
spells, devices, and the like that shield
against telepathy are also effective against a
boggart?s confusion attack.
It is worth noting that the will-o-wisp?s
telepathy will inform it if an attempt to lure
prey to its doom is working or not. If it is
not (if, for example, the prospective victim
suspects the nature of its foe), the will-o-
wisp will often change tactics.
6. When the three will-o-wisps join to-
gether to reproduce, they do literally merge,
intermingling their lattices and, for a mo-
ment, becoming one. During that moment
each shares with both others its entire store
of knowledge and memories: everything it
knows, each of the others comes to know.
While so merged, the three-in-one will-o-
wisp possesses the sum of all three will-o-
wisps? hit points.
While merged, the will-o-wisps construct
the lattice that will become the boggart.
This lattice contains that information that
would, in a regular creature, be labeled
instinct, but does not include specific mem-
ories possessed by the parents. When the
lattice is formed, the will-o-wisps draw upon
their own energy stores, and upon the Neg-
ative Material Plane, to provide the energy
necessary to produce a body for the bog-
gart. While the great majority of this energy
requirement is drawn from the Negative
Material Plane, enough comes from the
parent will-o-wisps to significantly weaken
them: for the next 11-16 turns, all three are
at half-normal hit points and are incapable
of using their electrical powers.
7. The 10% chance of encountering 1-3
will-o-wisps as outlined in
the Monster
Manual represents the possibility of meeting
some or all of a group that is about to en-
gage in, or has just completed, mating. If
more than one will-o-wisp is encountered,
there is an additional 25% chance that 1-4
boggarts are also in the area.
OUT ON A LIMB
'Shape up or . . .'
Dear Editor:
This letter regards a . . . uh . . . “DM” at our
school. He is running a campaign for a group of
second-level characters. After numerous atrocities
(such as insisting that an NPC be party leader),
most of the party left. The campaign, however,
was continued after the first meeting the three
remaining second-level characters had killed three
will o’ wisps and gotten several
magical items (and
of course the DM told them exactly what they
were).
How were they killed? Good question. Player 1
stated that they threw water on them and they
shrank out of existence. Wool o’ wisps?!?
Player 2 stated that they threw water on them
causing them to short-circuit and shock each other
to death. Shock each other to death?!?
Player 3 stated the lawful good characters
convinced the chaotic evil will o’ wisps to kill each
other off. Kill each other off?!?
We then asked the DM; he stated simply that
the players pelted the AC -8 will o’ wisps with
Molotov cocktails. Molotov cocktails?!?
Would you please print this letter and an appropriate
inflammatory remark telling this “DM” to
shape up or ship out.
The Rebellion
(name withheld by request)
(Dragon #44)
“Baaad DM. Shame shame shame.” is that inflammatory
enough?) Seriously, Mr. Rebellion
points up an unfortunate fact of D&D
and AD&D
life: The game is only as good as the DM. Now
some players may not mind an incident such as
the one described above. But the AD&D aficionados
know that in the above described situation, the
players should have had no chance against the
will o’ wisps (OK, to be fair, almost no chance).
First of all, will o’ wisps are exceptionally intelligent,
their armor class is -8, and (although the
physical surroundings of this particular occurrence
are not described in Mr. Rebellion’s letter) commonly
haunt deserted, dangerous places such as
bogs, fens, swamps, or catacombs where mires,
quicksand, pit traps and such are to be found. The
will o’ wisp attempts to maneuver its victims into
these hazards so it can feed off the life force of the
hapless character so snared. For the will o’ wisp
massacre described above, the characters would
have had to have outsmarted the creatures (not
likely), avoided any dangerous surroundings
(there should have been some — if not, the DM
was lax in his planning), hit the creatures ( a task
that requires an unmodified roll of 23 on a 20
sided die!), and even at that point, do enough
damage to kill the things (and let’s not forget the
saving throws!). The average will o’ wisp takes
about 30 points of damage — Molotov cocktails
(which would not shatter upon impact with a will
o’ wisp) could only do 1-6 points of damage per
round, even if they did break — more than
enough time for the will o’ wisp to do in the
average second-level character. The water idea is
even more ridiculous, although a little more
imaginative.
Well, this is not Sage Advice, but barring some
bizarre circumstances not mentioned in Mr.
Rebellion’s letter, the DM really bungled this one
— at least from the standpoint of “normal” rules
interpretation. My advice would be for Mr.
Rebellion and his fellow players to elect/select a
new DM and continue their play without this bozo.
— Jake
(Dragon #44)
Sorry, no glow
Dear Dragon,
Mr. Findley’s article on the ecology of the willo-
wisp (issue #99) was great. I have a question,
though. When a will-o-wisp is killed, does the
light keep emanating from its body? In other
words, can you use a dead will-o-wisp as a light
source?
Al Pace
Stratham, N.J
I?d say no, judging by the fact that the will-owisp
is able to regulate the brightness of its illumination;
if it loses control over the light, then it
loses the light, too. The answer would be different
if the light were some form of natural phosphorescence,
but nothing in the creature's nature
indicates that this might be the case. --KM