Bearholk
A 3-foot wide mass of knotty fur sporting a multitude of wet, goopy eyeballs atop four nasty bug-legs tall enough to bring it up to eye-level, so you just cant look over the thing and pretend its not the grossest thing ever as you throw a Molotov at it. Hanging from under its hair and eyeballs is a jawless mouth that contorts and flops around like a black leathery tentacle. Its bite is harmless, but once the mouth touches something edible it begins to pour out approximately a bucket-full of nasty smelling digestive fluids. While not acidic enough to cause any permanent damage under normal circumstances, Bearholks do hunt in packs of about 4 to 12 and approximately 3 could overwhelm an Adventurer and drown him in bugpuke.

Also comes in Polar, Grizzly, and Circus varieties.

Froggum
A race of exceedingly annoying frog men that nest in three to six foot deep holes that they dig wherever they damn well please. When possible, they will steal garden hoses and use them to fill their pits with water. They stand about four feet tall and wear ratty human-made clothing, purchased from garage sales whenever they can afford it. They fiercely defend their pits when anything comes too close, but mostly just ask questions and follow you around when you encounter them outside of their territory.
They have been known to use small weapons and makeshift armor, but these are usually rusty pieces of shit due to being stored in a mud pit.
Froggums often breed in their pits before leaving for a new one, with the potential of breeding up to a hundred more Froggums. This can be prevented by pissing in the Froggum hole.

Rumblesnake
A species of rattlesnake whose rattles contain compressed lead filings, so heavy that when it shakes its tail, it causes a small earthquake in the immediate area. When its target is off-balance, it then springs out and "punches" them. Adventurers hit by this "punch" have all claimed to see a gigantic fist coming at them like a rocket and terrible nightmares of soaring through the air as their faces swell up. The Rumblesnake's bite is nearly fatal, but it never bites its targets because it considers that cheating. In the case that you DO get bit by a Rumblesnake, the only cure is to kill the snake that bit you.


Silverback Cougar
Imagine the speed , piercing roar and tearing bite of a cougar, but in the terrifying muscular frame of a silverback gorilla, complete with hands that can grab and tear off limbs. Silverback Cougars, unlike their close relatives the common Tree Gorilla, live primarily to beat the living piss out of everything they meet. They are not to be fucked with. Even if you manage to hold off the assault from its tree-trunk arms, you have the snarling face of a pissed cougar snapping at your neck as it slowly overpowers you.

Sub-Ops Groundhogs
Highly skilled groundhogs that work as a group to quickly dig tunnels underneath threats and erupt from the dirt to kick off-guard adventurers in the head. They live underground, and also are hoggers, so watch any valuables you happen to set down on the ground. They wear tiny little army helmets and speak this hilarious little rodent version of combat orders to one another. Despite their appearance they can and chances are will kick your ass and send you packing. They prefer not to kill their targets, because they know that living with the shame of being pushed around by a handful of furballs is more than enough to keep most adventurers away.

Sub-Ops Groundhog Captains are also highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat, disarms, and submission holds.

Pine Goblins
Tiny little men coated in pine sap and needles, they attack their prey by jumping on them and slowing them to a crawl by turning the sap in to amber almost instantly. When their victim is completely encased in amber, they drink its blood by driving a syrup tap into the victim's leg.
Pine goblins also mark their property by coating it in their sap. In their society, anything not caked in gunk is up for grabs, and this means anything. Some adventurers have awoken from camping at night to find that every square inch of their tent had been claimed by one pine goblin. These stories are also accompanied by the same goblin attempting to lay claim to the campfire

 

 

Peter Osmarand Cuffs, whose name was legally changed in 1252 to "Diamond" Pete Cuffs, is the legendary hero who on several occasions has torn chunks out of dragons throats with nothing but his teeth and a set of enchanted rock climbing gear. Diamond Pete first discovered his ability in 1249 at the New Beeferton Bazaar, when the young hero to be bit the worlds largest uncut diamond into a perfect gem with three hundred and ninety-eight facets, while it was in transit through black market smugglers in a candystore used as a front for their operations. Taking the Diamond for himself, the young Pete, then a mere 12 years old, traded it at the pawn shop across the street for a set of adventuring gear and promptly left town without his mothers permission. It is interesting to note that by cutting and selling the diamond at the pawn shop he completed the hand-off between two black market rings while simultaneously increasing its value fifty-fold.

While travelling to West Potluck (stop one on the Historical Diamond Pete Trail) Pete began to hone his ability to crush anything in his teeth and began to fashion spearheads, small daggers, fishhooks, meathooks, rings (one enchanted, see D. Pete's "Spitball" Ring, pg 502), and various small sculptures out of scrap metal salvaged from the sides of the Ancient Freeways. He would eventually master this ability and build his first Hot Rod out of parts he chewed himself.

In the fall of 1252 Pete was a contestant in the Republic of the St. Louis Blues Knuckle Cup (Knuckle Stadium, stop two on the Historical Diamond Pete Trail), and took third place after disarming and disqualifying 12 men by biting their weapons in half as they attacked him. Pete's path to victory was abruptly blocked after being clubbed unconcious by a man who was immediately vaporized by the first place contestant. the second place fighter's name could not be confirmed, as all form of ID on his person was dispersed to the atmosphere. While not first place, Pete was awarded an honorary legal name change for being the first Knuckle Bowl contestant to not kill a dude. He was legally renamed that night in the victory ceremony, right next to that years winner, Wiz. Ferdinand "Magrillin' " Brunswick. Pete later regained conciousness at a bar, after the ceremony committee left him there.

Pete used his fight money to outfit himself with an enchanted set of climbing gear to climb over the Mississippi Mountain Range and cut a new path into the kingdom of South Olovania, bypassing Butt Swamp. (Diamond Pete's Pass, stop three on the Historical Diamond Pete Trail, also the last stop unless you cheat.) He set a new speed record by travelling from New St. Louis, RSLB to Cairo, Illinois Desert (Cairo, Il. Desert, stop four on the Historical Diamond Pete Trail) in less than 72 hours. He arrived in Cairo hauling a dragon, with throat torn out, which he then butchered and sun-cured south of the city (Diamond Pete's Dragon Rib Shack Ruins, stop five on the Historical Diamond Pete Trail).

Realizing the culinary potential of dragons, Pete then spent the remainder of his career hunting and killing dragons and selling the meat at his barbeque restaurant until the day of his death, December 3rd 1264. Cause of death: a communications satellite landed on his restaurant. The offending NASA wizard is still at large.

 

 

Over the course of several thousand years, the mythos surrounding the Headless Horsemen has been warped over time. Contrary to popular belief, these individuals are not headless, caped rapists skipping along misty forests on the back of a mustang looking for some tail while sporting a pumpkin fetish. In actuality, they are simply decapitated centaurs.

The first centaur was a joke put forth by an angry, drunken Zeus. Hera, his wife, constantly nagged the poor dude about his tiny member. Her phrase of choice was "I might as well go bag a horse." After a particularly gruesome interchange after a night of failed consummation, the mighty deity was feeling particularly angry and upset about the supposed lack of umph in his God Rod©, so he shot back some wine, slapped a horse and a poor schmuck on the street together, and a centaur was born. Zeus promptly turned to his wife and said, "saddle up, sis." (Hera was Zeus's sister, but that's a tale for another page.)

In an exciting and entirely unexpected turn of events, Hera went all the way with this lucky buck, and a whole, terrible race was birthed out of her gaping maw. One can argue that it's activities like giving birth to large animals which require the deitess to hunt for larger dork cork, and we do not disagree.

The new race of centaurs did not know what to do with themselves. The initial thought was "hey sweet, natural taxis", but after a few hundred years of fervent political discourse, this was deemed "offensive" to the [expletive deleted - Ed.], and the centaurs were reluctantly welcomed to mainstream society. However, after piles of shit stacked up in the break rooms of offices, horseshoe marks ruined expensive wooden floors, and work wasn't getting done because everyone was staring at the huge half-man, half-horse dongs swinging about, the populous stated enough was enough, and they began hunting the freaks for sport.

Good money was paid to those who brought back the sweetest, most pain-stroked removed heads of the things. The more agony depicted the better. Thousands flocked to the forests, where the centaurs retreated, and over time the creatures' population dwindled. The creatures are now thought to be extinct.

In present times, the tale of Hera and the Angry Four-Feet is told by the parents of sexually active young women in order to steer them away from porking dudes. As the story morphed and evolved over time (and social norms began frowning upon doing it with animals), the literal horse-man was replaced with a dude who really likes riding horses, the slaughtered culture replaced with a pumpkin fetish, but the missing head and the huge cock remained. Well, one head was missing, the other very present.

 

 

It is commonly said that Native Americans used every part of the buffalo that they killed. Bones, skin, ickier bits of the digestive system, and even the dilz. They found a use for it all. Why is this important to you, the adventurer? While they used the scrap off their kill to make clothing and build igloos, you can actually use the hacked-to-soggy-lumps of your adversaries as a form of quick cash. For example, take that freshly killed Mimic, scoop out all the slop inside, and BAMMO, you got yourself a treasure chest (fun fact: nobody has actually made a treasure chest in over a hundred years seeing as how mimics grow them as skin). Bury it somewhere, draw a map, and sell it to someone. If you can't sell your map, we suggest growing a beard, wearing some robes and hanging out in the back corner of pubs.

Dead witches leave behind terribly ugly corpses, even the ones that were total hotties before you mercilessly split them down the middle. You may be thinking to yourself "who in the hell would pay me for anything I can salvage from this hag?". The answer is teenage adventurers with nothing better to do. First grab your razor, and depants the witch. You will probably gag a little, if not throw up. Once you've properly steeled yourself, begin to shave the witch's pubic hair and place it in to a small sack. You now have a sack of Witch Pube, which is an increasingly popular legal drug amongst our professions youngsters. When you get home divide the pube into sandwich bags, about half full each. For an average harvest of Witch Pube you will wind up with roughly a dozen baggies which you can sell in back alleys for roughly 50 gold coins a pop. Effects of smoking Witch Pube include hallucinations of bizzare smoking cauldrons, uncontrollable cackling, perceiving other people's skin as green toned, and lethargy, all preceded by intense fits of painful vomiting.

Grease Goblins, while a pain in the ass to deal with, often carry a small fortune in their armor and weaponry. Simply remove the leather straps and makeshift wooden handles and you'll often find yourself with a wide variety of kitchenware and spare car parts. In fact, killing a whole community of Grease Goblins, collecting their equipment, and disassembling it will often yield a complete set of parts to build your very own hot-rod. If there are any survivors after your onslaught it usually isn't too hard to convince them to put it together for you. Once they are done you can set them free, or hack off their heads and thread them on a rope to tie to your antenna.

These are just basic exercises in Buffalo Theory, dear adventurer. Just keep in mind how much goes to waste when you simply kill a monster for its wallet and credit cards. Keep an eye out for anything that may be useful, and don't be afraid to take some of their worthless crap even if it doesn't have an apparent use at first, because there's always some dipshit back at town who's more than willing to fork over a handful of coins for a pill bottle full of minotaur dingleberries.

 

 

During your travels, you'll more than likely come across meadows full of wildflowers. When travelling through such places, you may encounter bee men. These creatures are about 1 foot tall, and look like honeybees with 2 arms and 2 legs. They are capable of walking and running, but prefer to fly whenever possible. Some can also speak English.

Bee men are most often seen gathering flowers to take back to their hives. They can occasionally be seen smoking clove cigarettes, as well. Unlike honeybees, who gather only nectar and pollen, bee men take whole flowers with them. They use the flower portion to make various types of food, including extremely delicious honey; stems and leaves are used as hive building material, or turned into compost. No one is really sure how these things are done; bee men have never told anyone how they make things, and people who have tried to look inside bee men hives have never been seen again.

Bee men live in hives that can be up to 12 feet tall and 10 feet wide. Hives can be found in groups of 3 or more, and are usually located in fields. The hives are never empty, and there are always bee men outside them.

If you encounter bee men and/or their hives, please heed the following information:

1. Be polite, and don't bother bee men that are working. They tend to work in groups, and angering one of them will more than likely anger all of them. An angry swarm of bee men is very dangerous. Unlike honeybees, bee men can sting repeatedly, bite, and use small wooden spears.

2. DO NOT try to break into hives unless you have special training and equipment! Attacking even one hive will likely cause the bee men in surrounding hives to swarm you. See 1 above as to why this is dangerous.

3. If you'd like some honey, be sure to bring something for the bee men; they don't give honey away for free! And make sure at least one of them speaks English! Some good things to offer for honey are cloves, large flowers (e.g. roses, peonies), and money.

If you follow the information above, and throughout this guide, you'll more than likely survive encounters with bee men.

 

 

Are you currently staring at an exact duplicate of yourself? Run. Run away. Read this page, then go back.

A common Doppleganger is what you are dealing with. Their bodies change shape, their minds sharpen, and their clothes morph around until eventually they look and think exactly like you. This is a major problem for most magic type adventurers because they know every spell that you do. Fortunately if you know a teleport spell you can just zip right by him and take off before he can do anything. Brawler type adventurers should have a little trouble with them, as they match your strength, but the gear they carry is just cheap knockoffs of your enchanted gear. Thief types should be able to sneak right by them, no problemo. On the event that you do get caught, just kick him in the crotch. Dopplegangers are used to their victims freaking out long enough for them to kill them quickly and cleanly, not jumping up and immediately disabling them with a quick popcorn maneuver. In fact, disregard most of this entire paragraph. No matter who you are, just kick a Doppleganger in the balls.

"Doppleghandis", as they are called, are an offshoot of the doppleganger species which by some odd branch in evolution copies its target completely down to every last molecule on their armor, ether particle in their magic swords, every synapse in their brain, leaving behind nothing of the original doppleghandi. A perfect duplicate of yourself that won't try to kill you. This, dear adventurer, is what we in the industry call a "One Up". You might call them "Free Men" or "Extra Life", but what it boils down to is that you or your doppleganger, NO fucking telling who the original was at this point (don't even try to argue with him), is now totally expendable. This may sound weird to you right now, and you may already be having an identity crisis, but worry not, dear adventurer. When it actually happens to you, you will realize a whole new world of possibilities opens up.

You can rock paper scissors each other and send the loser (or winner) home to your family while the winner (or loser) can (or has to) continue his adventuring career without any lingering regrets of abandoning your wife and children. You can charge into battle side by side, slaying dragons way way out of your league, knowing that two of you is twice the adventure. And twice the adventure brings twice the loot, twice the babes, and twice the potions if you're in to that sort of thing. You could keep him at the inn at all times to guard your valuables while you obtain more valuables. You could keep him in some town on standby waiting for the inevitable letter or newspaper article announcing your heroic, untimely, hilarious, tragic, or much deserved death so he can pick up exactly where you left off. Or you could just fight to a bloody end, winner now has two battleaxes forged by the last swing of the dying barbarian king's blacksmith hammer. How cool is that?

There is a third variation of the doppleganger, known as the "Koppelganger", It's a clone of Ted Koppel and was brought into existance when a curse that makes bad puns real things kicked in to effect in our own offices. do everyone a favor and kill it.

 

 

Dear adventurer, let us rest and examine this cool world. Have a mug and polish your favorite blade, for the world is dark for a dirty blade to shine.

Go for a walk. Go to the forest at the edge of town, go deeper into the wood than you usually go and take with ease the resplendant amount of trees. Take the warm essence of the wood and bring it in through your lungs, concentrating on your breathing. Listen to the stream and the company of birds, and to the rocks that the sun bashes light upon. Calibrate yourself, my friend, for the journey you are embarking upon is a mighty one. Take with natural ease the segments of this planet, the various components that it is framed upon. If you can constantly resonate with your surroundings, then you, too, can hope to raise your skills in an effecient manner.

The basic composure of life is sound. Ye should glide soundly upon these holy grounds if you listen to the squire of your deity. And kneel to offer your composition of memory to your god, as he or she will take it with care, to another land of listeners. The cycle of life constantly washes itself with reverberations. Learn this, adventurer, should you be a blessed man in heated battle.

If you're reading this book, then battle may become a necessity for you. You should be prepared in mind, body and spirit.

Eat healthy and stretch in the morning.

 

 

Here you are, a big chunk out of your neck, laying on what looks like a butcher shop floor coated in about an inch of your blood and your two best friend's blood. You're mostly sure you're in one piece, judging by all the peices you can spot not looking familiar to your body. You judge yourself fit to sit up, and with your muscles screeching like a stopping train you manage to bend at a 90 degree angle and confirm that yes, your friends are dead, and yes, you are a vampire now.

The first thing you will want to do, dear adventurer, is to look at the bright side. Vampires can still draw pleasure from the basic joys of all adventurers. Booze, Killing, Gathering Loot, and Boning. The only trick is now you have to figure out ways to make it come to you, seeing as how your days as a wandering heroic beacon of light are now over and your effective range is pretty much limited to the county you just died in. The second thing you will want to do is realize that you're a vampire and theres no cure for that.

You'll need help getting through this, dear vampire, so the first thing you should do is drink up any loose blood on the floor. Think of yourself as a plant gaining its first bits of energy to grow from the seed it sprouted from. Once you're feeling strong enough, the next task is judge if its day or night. DO NOT quickly rush to the nearest window. carefully approach any room which seems to be emitting light. Slowly and carefully lift any windowshades and take a peek outside.

-If you see the moon, then you can only determine that it's night.
-If you see the sun, quickly pull your face back from the window as it is about to start ashing up on you. If you are burnt, do not dunk your face in water, this makes it worse. Do not use any holy-typed god's name as a cuss word, as most of them have certain spells on their name that may make vampires spit up a roach every time you say it. You are one now.
-If you see the sun and you dont feel any worse than you already do, then you just lapped up a bunch of your best friend's blood earlier for no good reason.
-If its night, the next thing you should do is go lick some silver.
-If it burns, then you are a vampire.
-If it doesn't, then you lapped up a bunch of your best friend's blood earlier for no good reason.

Now you should determine if your area is lightproof enough for you to survive. If you're feeling slightly warm, then you will need to move to a darker area. For the time being, small closets and under sinks will suffice. If you cant fit in a sufficiently dark spot, make use of your first new cool ability as a vampire: turn into a bat. Once it is night time you may want to seek a new shelter. Preferrable spots are abandoned houses, sewers, or creepy churches with high rafters. You'll also need to drink blood from time to time, so every few nights you may want to wander down to the nearest village and just bite somebody's head off. Try to clean up after yourself, dear vampire, as dismembered corpses and bloodsplattered walls will hasten the tide of incoming adventurers.

When they do come, dear vampire, refer to "So you're fighting a vampire, make the best of it!" and keep in mind everything that it tells you to watch out for. You can now do all those things that you had to watch out for previously! Burst into flames, spit your teeth like bullets, grow your fingernails in to claws, everything! the best part is the secret panel under the flap labled "for female adventurers only". Go ahead and read it now if you haven't already, you'll like what you find.

You might be thinking "well hell why dont i just become a vampire on purpose?". While it does sound good keep in mind that adventurers will be crashing into your palace at every odd-ass hour, just like you used to back in the day. Also keep in mind that they probably have this guide, and know how to deal with you. Your sleep hours will double and your fun time hours will be cut in half. But most importantly other vampires in the area will know you're around and come to hang out with you sometimes, and a lot them are the type that frequent night clubs and wear trenchcoats.

Once you have you have exercised your abilities far enough and killed at least a dozen adventurers, dear vampire, you are probably strong enough to go claim the nearest castle or similar structure. Plot out your course and mark areas to seek shelter from the light, and prepare a night in advance before attacking the castle. It should be fairly easy, as most guards crumble like cheap cars infront of vampires. Ditch all corpses in the moat and start setting things up just the way you like it. Take hints from dungeons you raided in your previous life, and make ample use of traps and hallways cursed to twist around forever. Make sure to turn most adventurers you kill into ghouls for protection, as a well armed ghoul can take down a whole group of weaker adventurers. You can also use them to start raiding nearby towns for valuable goods and harem fodder, effectively taking all the dangerous stuff out of your previous job and yet leaving you with all the rewards.

One last thing, dear vampire: if you hear the name "Belmont", just run like hell.

 

 

So, you're lost. First thing, turn around.

If you've seen what you're looking at more than once before, you're definitely lost, and going in circles. If not, just keep going that direction. You'll get back. If you find you can't remember seeing anything you're looking at, you're probably coming off the drugs. Don't panic, that's what they want you to do.

Check the local fauna. If it is on fire, you're next. If you're ballsy, breath in heavily, you may come to again in a basement or minimum security prison. If it's not on fire, then you should be fine for a few minutes.

Take a moment to figure out what time of day it is. This will help to eliminate potential predators roaming nearby. If you can see the sun, stop looking at it, you'll just blind yourself, and there's nothing worse than being lost and blind. Well, maybe being lost, blind, and deaf, but you may be surrounded by all this torched fauna, which can ease your burdens. If you can't see the sun, but can still see other things, it's probably either sunset or sunrise. This is called the "lull period", during which time you can take a shit, clean yourself up. But hurry up, within a few minutes, there will probably be some noises.

These noises, and understanding what they mean, is key to your survival.

If the noises sound like birds singing, you're in a gay forest, consider yourself in a safe haven. No predator wants to be caught hanging out in one of these. At least not the kind we're worried about at this point.

If you hear the sounds of body parts exploding (I'm sure you know that noise by now), then Jesus Christ, you need to read on fast. You're most likely in a place where people die. And not by choice.

You're one of these people.

At this point, because you're lost, who knows which direction you need to go. I wish I could give you some sort of amazing tips about how to cleverly deduce which way is the best way to high-tail it, but we all know that giving you bullshit will just piss you off even more than you already are. So let's just try to think logically.

You have no idea how you got here. So when you leave, use the same logic and try not to notice you're doing it. It should be easy, as you're probably thinking of the terrible ways that you may be about to explode. With any luck, you'll suddenly find yourself in some sort of bar or gay forest.

Either way, you'll be drinking heavily. And learning the hard way to check your ass.

 

 

Dungeons, caverns and ruins you have read about so far, dear adventurer, for the most part have gained their names from something totally unrelated to what you should actually expect when you get there. This, however, is Butt Swamp. That's all we're going to say about that, other than paying a visit to Bulge Castle may be a good idea before taking on any quest you have within. The "ruins" part comes from the popular theory that Butt Swamp might have actually at one point not been deserving of the name Butt Swamp, and was actually a fairly plain and standard swamp with standard swamp wildlife.

Rest assured, the wildlife is still there, dear adventurer. Only they've changed and evolved to cope with living in a place named Butt Swamp. For example the alligators you will find have much smoother skin than your normal gator, and they have a familiar brown shade to them. Some will even have yellow specks. The mosquitos, instead of sucking your blood, will actually inject you with the swamp's water in a vain attempt to get rid of it all. The rats are just friggin' huge, I mean, look the hell out for them.

Scattered throughout the swamp are various airlock chambers that will be vital in your attempt to travel through the disgusting, murky waters. Remember when entering the swamp to ask the attendant at the toll booth if any airlock chambers need new air compressor pumps, filters, or other various parts to keep them running. If so, he will give you a package with a number on it corresponding to the airlock in need of repairs, and detailed instructions on how to repair the chamber. Trust us, dear adventurer, even if you're not good with repairs, you will be really damn quick.

You may be asking yourself, "What kind of idiot would ever go to Butt Swamp?" and the answer is of course YOU, dear adventurer. For various unfortunate reasons, Butt Swamp is the only route between New North Olovania and the Republic of the St. Louis Blues that isn't a 100 percent chance of dying in very gruesome ways. Once you arrive on the other side of the swamp, you will be required to stay for 2 weeks in a quarantine shack, naked, shaved, and hosed off twice a day to remove all the skin cells that may have had the poor fortune to soak up whatever the hell's wrong with that goddamned swamp. Ugghh.