Flumph

(From 5th Edition Monster Manual - 2014):

The mysterious flumphs drift through the Underdark, propelled through the air by the jets whose sound gives them their name. A flumph glows faintly, reflecting its moods in its color. Soft pink means it is amused, deep blue is sadness, green expresses curiosity, and crimson is anger.

Intelligent and Wise. Flumphs communicate telepathically. Though they resemble jellyfish, flumphs are sentient beings of great intelligence and wisdom, possessing advanced knowledge of religion, philosophy, mathematics, and countless other subjects.

Flumphs are sensitive to the emotional states of nearby creatures. If a creature’s thoughts suggest goodness, a flumph seeks that creature out. When facing creatures that exude evil, a flumph flees.

Psionic Siphons. Flumphs feed by siphoning mental energy from psionic creatures, and they can be found lurking near communities of mind flayers, aboleths, githyanki, and githzerai. As passive parasites, they take only the mental energy they need, and most creatures feel no loss or discomfort from such feeding.

Consuming psionic energy reveals the thoughts and emotions of the creatures on which the flumphs feed. Since so many of those creatures are evil, flumphs are often subjected to thoughts, emotions, and hungers that sicken their pure nature. When flumphs encounter good-hearted adventurers, they eagerly share the dark secrets they have learned in the hopes of casting down their evil sources of energy, even if doing so means they must seek out new sources of nourishment.

Flumph Society. Flumphs live in complex and organized groups called cloisters, within which each flumph has a place and purpose. These harmonious groupings have no need for leaders, since all flumphs contribute in their own way.

(From 2nd Edition Monstrous Compendium Annal Volume 2 - 1995):

Flumph resemble aerial jellyfish. These odd creatures are round and almost flat, perhaps the or four inches thick in the center, tapering to one or two inches near the edge. The body is mostly hollow, much like a large cushion. A round orifice si+s in the center of the upper surface, flanked by two eyestalks, each about six inches long. Several short tentacles hang from the creature’s underside, concealing a mass of small spikes. The tentacles closest to the flumph�s rim can be used for fine manipulation of small objects. A common flumph is pure white in color; a monastic flumph is generally a pale yellow or green, with darker tentacles.

A flumph flies by taking in air through the hole on its upper surface, and expelling it through several small holes on its underside. The creature also has several small apertures along its equator, for use in maneuvering. It usually hovers about four to six inches above the ground. Keeping its body aloft does not require great amounts of air. It creates a gentle breeze, and a slight whistling sound can be heard in a quiet area.

Common flumphs cannot communicate vocally, but have a unique sign language that makes use of their tentacles and eyestalks. Some monastic flumphs, perhaps 10%, can speak and understand common or another language.

Combat: The flumph survives by hunting small creatures, such as rats, lizards, frogs, and the like. The flumph hovers along just above the ground, or hangs motionless in reeds or similar concealment. When it finds a small creature, it rises a foot or two, then drops onto its prey, its spikes inflicting 1d8 points of damage on a successful attack. In addition, the flumphs tentacles secrete digestive acids into the wounds; the acid causes an additional 1d4 points of damage each round for the next 2d4 rounds. Once the prey is dead, the flumph settles on it and absorbs nutrients through its tentacles. Flumphs often need to pursue their healthier prey for a short distance before the victim dies. The acid can be washed away by complete immersion in a fast-moving stream, or by actively washing with 2d4 gallons of water (simple immersion or rinsing will not work).

If threatened by a larger creature, the flumph usually attempts to drive it away by squirting a foul-smelling liquid from an orifice on its equator, in the front. This can strike anyone in a 60 degree arc before the flumph, within a range of 20 feet. Any creature struck by the noxious liquid must make a successful saving throw vs. poison or become nauseated, reeling and unable to attack for 2-5 rounds. The odor lingers for 1d4 hours, and can be detected up to 100 feet away. If this method of repulsion fails, the flumph can rise to a height of 10 feet and drop onto an opponent, as if hunting.

A flumph is helpless if turned over.

Habitat/Society: The common flumph is a nomadic hunter, intelligent, good-aligned, and peaceful. A flumph reproduces about every two years by budding, producing 1d8 tiny flumphs on its underside. These become independent after about three months when they reach two inches in diameter. They grow to adult size within a month, and live for 20 years.

Ecology: Flumphs are predators low on the food chain, feeding on smaller creatures and clearing their area of vermin. Flumph flesh has a foul taste, and they are generally considered unpalatable, though ogres and some goblinoids will eat them.

Monastic Flumph

The seldom-seen monastic flumphs are more advanced creatures that can cast spells as if they were clerics of levels equal to their Hit Dice. They gather in cloisters to share knowledge and to worship deities unknown to humanoids. A cloister is usually in a large cavern or (in swamps and grasslands) a large, nest-like bower constructed of grass and mud. The inside of a cloister is decorated with fine, colorful paintings, made by flumphs dabbing natural pigments with their tentacles. The paintings are usually abstract, showing spirals and other curved lines, though some are vaguely representational of flumphs engaged in hunting.

Each cloister is led by an “abbot”, a flumph with 5 HD. The abbot is aided by one “prior” per six flumphs in the cloister; a prior has 3 or 4 HD. The remainder of the flumphs are “monks,” each with 2 HD. On occasion, a small group of common flumphs can be found near a cloister, bringing food as an offering in return for healing or guidance.

(From Dragon Magazine #246 - 1998):

ECOLOGY OF THE FLUMPH - By Jonathan M. Richards:

“Well then, if there is no further business,” said Dreelix, his gavel raised in the air to strike the table, “I hereby declare this meeting of the Monster Hunters Associa—”

He was cut off in mid-sentence by a commotion in the doorway. Buntleby bustled into the meeting hall, out of breath and with a large, squirming sack tucked under one arm. Ozzie, his osquip familiar, trotted obediently at his feet. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, “but I was unavoidably detained.”

“Late?” squeaked Dreelix. “I was just about to adjourn!

You must learn to be a bit more punctual if you wish to continue in this prestigious . . . guh!

By the gods! What is that smell?”

Dreelix wasn’t the only one to notice. All around the room, the collected wizards and sages that made up the Monster Hunters Association were getting a good whiff of the stench that Buntleby seemed to have brought into the meeting hall with him. Throughout the room, nostrils flared and noses wrinkled in disgust. Lady Ablasta raised a perfumed handkerchief to her nose and pretended not to notice as others administered table napkins or bits of their own cloaks or robes in an attempt to ward off the vile odor.

“Oh, that. Sorry. I sort of had a little encounter on the way here...” Buntleby reached into his bag and pulled out its contents—a whitish, disk-shaped creature with writhing tentacles on top.

“I don’t want to hear about it! Get out of here with that thing!” “Wait!” said Spontayne, a taciturn scholar who seldom spoke up. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Beats me,” said Buntleby. “I haven’t the foggiest idea what the thing is. I was hoping maybe Willowquisp could tell us.”

Willowquisp the Zoophile, an elderly sage with a fondness for all of nature’s creatures—even the silly ones—squinted over at his friend. “Why, bless my soul!” he said. “That looks like a flumph!” Spontayne nodded his head in agreement.

“It attacked one of my osquips,” Buntleby said. “I managed to capture it, but not before it squirted some foul smelling gunk all over me. It seems harmless enough now, but it has some unusual properties, and I thought maybe the Association might want to study it.”

“Fine, fine,” agreed Dreelix, barely understandable as he spoke with his left hand over his nose and mouth. “I hereby appoint Willowquisp, Spontayne, and Buntleby as a subcommittee to study the creature. Zantoullios, maybe you’d better join them. Any questions? Good. Meeting adjourned!” And without another word, he jumped up from the head table and rushed out the door into the fresh night air.

Zantoullios wasn’t the most powerful wizard among the Monster Hunters, but he did have the best-equipped lab, filled with the most modern equipment. He prided himself on being on the cutting edge of magical experimentation technology. Perhaps more truthfully, the reason his paraphernalia was so new was it was constantly being replaced after Zantoullios’ experiments blew up in his face. He still hadn't lived down his recent attempt to use a summoned fire elemental to test the flameresisting properties of a new magical oil. The battered sword he had coated in the oil survived just fine; the lab, converted from an old wooden barn, didn’t fare quite as well.

Buntleby arrived at Zantoullios’ recently-restored laboratory to find the other three members of the newly-created subcommittee already there. Willowquisp was seated at a table, poring over a large book he had brought with him, with Spontayne the Studious looking over his shoulder and nodding occasionally to himself. Zantoullios was pouring brandy into four beakers.

“Hope you don’t mind the glassware, Buntleby; I brought the bottle but left the glasses back at the house.”

“That’s fine. Why’d you build the lab so far away from the house, though? Seems a bit inconvenient.”

“It’s, uh, safer that way,” Zantoullios admitted. “I’ve had to rebuild the lab three times now after things . . . kind of got out of hand, but the house has managed to avoid any damage so far. Willowquisp? Spontayne? Some brandy? No? Suit yourselves. So, is that the beast?”

Buntleby took the beaker and placed his sack on the worktable. It shifted and wiggled around as the flumph inside it tried vainly to escape. “Thanks,” he said to his host. “So, where should we start?”

Willowquisp cleared his throat. “Spontayne and I have been reading up on it, and you’re right: there are some rather interesting features about the creature. Why don’t you start by telling us how you came across it?”

Buntleby sipped his brandy and began his tale. “Well, I had just walked out the door and was on my way to the meeting hall when I heard a squeal from the direction of the osquip pen around back. I dashed to the back and found the flumph perched atop one of my osquips-Squinty—with its tentacles wrapped around his body to hold it in place. I ran forward to pull the thing off, when it spotted me with its eyestalks.[1] It immediately let go of Squinty and rose up into the air. I saw its base swivel slightly,[2] and before I knew it, I was being sprayed with this liquid that—well, you all got a whiff of it, and that was after it had worn off a bit.[3]”

“It stunk even worse than Grindle’s patented garlic and onion stew!” suggested Zantoullios.

“Anyway,” continued Buntleby, “there was a butterfly net at the side of the house, so I grabbed it up thinking to capture the creature for study. Meanwhile, Squinty was running around in a panic at my feet, and in all of the confusion, I sort of...” He winced in memory of the event, and stopped talking.

“Tripped over him?” guessed Willowquisp.

“Stepped on him, actually,” admitted Buntleby. “On his head.”

“Oof!” said Willowquisp. “Is he okay?”

Buntleby grimaced. “He bit his tongue.”

“That’s not so bad,” pointed out Spontayne.

“Off,” added Buntleby. “You know what their teeth are like?”

“Poor thing.”

“Getting back to the flumph...” suggested Willowquisp.

“Oh, right. Well, stepping on Squinty put my swing a little off. I twisted my ankle and went plummeting to the ground, but on the way down I gave the net a wild swing at the flumph. I hit him on one side, but as it turned out this was a lucky break, because instead of catching him in the net I flipped the creature over in mid-air, and it crashed to the ground on its back. It seems to be helpless when its upside-down.”[4]

“Yes, that’s mentioned in my book,” noted Willowquisp. “So then what?”

“Well, I fixed Squinty up as best as I could—poured a potion of healing down his throat, you know, the cherryflavored kind he likes. His back was scarred from the flumph’s attack,[5] but the potion healed him up okay. So I threw the flumph into an old potato sack and raced to make it to the meeting in time. I guess that’s about it.”

“So what prompted you to bring the creature to the Association for study?” asked Willowquisp.

“Well, I figured there’s got to be something we can make out of it. Zantoullios?”

“Well, you’ve got our procedures backward: usually, we come across a formula for a new spell or a magical Item, find out what strange body parts we need, and then plan a Hunt accordingly.

But still, we’ll see what we can come up with. Hmm, hovering: potions of levitation, perhaps, or spell components for levitate, or possibly reverse gravity spells...” he muttered to himself, his mind already examining the possibilities. “Acid secretions: tentacles might be useful in oil of acid resistance, possibly tie it in somehow with a Melf's acid arrow spell? Maybe. Smelly squirting liquid: stinking cloud spell components, perhaps . . . I’ll have to check my formulae.”[6] He busied himself in the back of the lab, digging through a pile of disorganized notes and books filled with his tiny scrawlings.

Buntleby pulled the flumph out of the sack and looked at it in the light of the laboratory, careful to keep it upside-down. It was entirely white, from the eyestalks to the tentacles. Even its short little spikes were a whitish-gray, although there were specks of dried blood staining a good number of them. Its eyes were a dark blue, almost black, and it looked at Buntleby with an unfathomable expression. Was it angry at its captivity? Curious? Frightened? Buntleby had no way to know.

“Look how long the eyestalks are,” said Buntleby, holding up the flumph for his companions to see. “I wonder why they’re so long?”

“By necessity, no doubt,” suggested Willowquisp, looking up from his tome. “If it spends its life in the air and drops down on its prey, it would have to be able to see past its own body.”

“Makes sense,” admitted Buntleby. On a whim, he placed the inverted flumph on his own head, and held its eyestalks together under his chin. “Here we go,” he said, “A new hat for Lady Ablasta.” Tilting his head back so he could look down his nose at his companions, he scrunched his face into a lemon-sucking configuration and did his best Lady Ablasta imitation. “I’m sure you young men cannot possibly appreciate just how proper and fashionable my new headgear is.

But of course, such is to be expected of the uncouth members of todays society.”

Willowquisp chuckled and held out his hand, and Buntleby passed the flumph over to him, careful to keep it upside-down. Willowquisp tested the sharpness of the creature’s spikes with his finger, and offered, “There are times I’d be sorely tempted to place this little fellow, as is, on Dreelix’s chair.”

“That would be a sight!” agreed Buntleby, placing the flumph down on a chair and waggling his butt over it as if about to sit. Even Spontayne, normally slow to join in any jocularity, allowed a grin to cross his face as he pictured Dreelix sitting on a flumph.

Buntleby picked the creature back up, then examined its shell. “Hey, feel how hard the top is, compared to the bottom,"[7] he said.

Spontayne gave a rap on the creature’s top, then poked a finger into its squishy, pliant underside. The flumph responded with a squeaky “wheel” of exhaled air, as if ticklish. “Almost like a turtle’s shell,” he said. “Odd that they can fly with so much weight on top.”

“No, really, its not that heavy at all. Here, feel for yourself.” Buntleby passed the creature over to his mentor.

“Amazingly light,” agreed Spontayne.

“Perhaps the shell could be used in the construction of lightweight armor of some type.”

“Possibly. Or maybe a buckler, or something.” He took the creature back from Spontayne and carried it over to Zantoullios, who was buried in a pile of arcane formulae and research notes, many of which had spilled out onto the floor. “Hey, take a peek at this texture. Think we could fashion some sort of armor from this?”

Zantoullios spun around at the sound of Buntleby’s voice. His oversized book of notes bumped the flumph out of Buntleby’s hands, and the creature spilled onto the floor. At the same time Buntleby's foot slid on a loose scrap of paper, one of Zantoullios’ escaped notes that now littered the floor of his lab. He went crashing to the floor, jarring his funny bone in the process.

The flumph landed on its edge and began spinning across the floor like a runaway wheel. Zantoullios made a grab for it but slipped himself and landed hard on his face, shooting a stack of notes detailing the marvelous new uses he’d found for troglodyte bladders flying out behind him.

“Stop it!” Buntleby yelled, crawling to his feet. “Don’t let it get away!”

Willowquisp and Spontayne looked up from the thick zoological tome Willowquisp had brought, to see the flumph barreling across the floor at them in a bee-line, tentacles splayed out on one side and eyestalks splayed out on the other. It hit Spontayne’s foot and tipped over, wobbling in a small circle along its circumference like a dropped coin between the two men.

“Look out!” yelled Zantoullios. “It’s flipped up! Grab it, quick!” Willowquisp bent over to grab the flumph. Spontayne did the same, and the sound of their heads colliding could be heard clear across the lab. Both staggered backward, and the flumph shot up into the air between them.

In an instant, the flumph reached a height of ten feet, well out of the range of the four humans below, where it teetered drunkenly and attempted to regain its balance. Spontayne staggered over and slammed the shutters closed on the lab window, preventing its escape. “Now what?” he asked.

“Got that butterfly net with you?” asked Zantoullios. Buntleby shook his head. “What about spells?”

Buntleby took a quick mental survey. “Nothing of use,” he admitted. “You?”

“Sadly, no. Wait a minute, though, I’ve got an idea.” He disappeared into a back room.

The flumph circled around the room slowly, eyestalks waving back and forth as it looked for a way out. It had apparently regained its equilibrium and scooted about along a horizontal plane well out of reach of the humans below. The three Monster Hunters could hear a low whistling as air passed through its maneuvering jets.[8] It glided aerially along one wall, did a quick pirouette, and floated along the , next wall, eyestalks in constant motion.

Suddenly, its eyes did a double-take, and in a burst of speed it maneuvered over to the far corner of the lab.

A sudden thought struck Buntleby. “Where’s Ozzie?” he cried.

The flumph positioned itself over the osquip, making final adjustments as it aligned itself above its unwitting prey. “No!” screamed Buntleby as he leapt across the room toward his familiar?[9]

The two reached Ozzie at about the same moment. Buntleby curled protec¬ tively over his familiar, and the flumph ended up landing on Buntleby's shoul¬ der. He felt a brief prick of pain as several of the creature’s spikes penetrated the layers of his robe, but then the flumph, surprised by the loss of its prey, zoomed back up into the air.

It didn’t get far. Zantoullios, brandishing a staff of striking he’d been meaning to recharge, gave a blood-curdling scream as he charged across the room and smacked the creature between the eyestalks. The flumph teetered and tottered in the air, wobbling crazily as it tried to regain its balance. Not surprisingly, it let loose with its defensive spray, catching Buntleby, Zantoullios, and Ozzie in their faces.

Zantoullios dropped his staff, recoiling in disgust.

Spontayne made a grab for a wand on the worktable and tossed it over to Zantoullios. The gangly wizard caught it, spoke a command word, and the air became more breathable at once. The slim black wand had an inflatable bag at one end. As the bag filled with air, the stench became less and less noticeable. “Troglodyte bladder. Good thinking Spontayne.” Spontayne merely grunted his agreement and went over to check on Buntleby. Zantoullios picked up his staff and looked up at the flumph, hovering just out of reach.

“So now what do we do?” asked Willowquisp.

There was a loud bang at the shuttered window. All eyes turned toward it, including those of the flumph.[10] The shutters buckled once, twice, and then crashed open. To the Monster Hunters’ amazement, a hammer-shaped field of energy floated into the room, followed by a pair of flumphs.

These flumphs were different-greenish-yellow, with tentacles shaded dark green. There seemed to be a considerably greater number of tentacles present on the green flumphs, and they waved about constantly.[11]

The white flumph hovered up to the newcomers and performed an intricate series of movements with its tentacles and eyestalks, one tentacle

pointed accusingly in Buntleby’s direction. The green ones positioned them¬ selves between the white flumph and the startled humans below.

Spontayne was bent over Buntleby, both caught staring up at the strange creatures hovering above them. Willowquisp the Zoophile held his large tome up like a shield as if to ward off any evil spells the things might hurl at him. 

Zantoullios stood with an enlarged troglodyte bladder on a stick in one hand and a staff in the other, ready to strike. Under the creatures’ gaze, he lowered the staff to the floor and gave a sickly chuckle, his oversized Adam’s-apple following his nervous gulps down his throat.

Buntleby felt a gathering of magical energy about him, and found that he was unable to move. From the corner of his eye he saw the others were immobile as well, and from the look of puzzlement on Willowquisp’s face he figured the sage had never been in the grip of a hold person spell before.[12]

One of the green flumphs sucked In a large breath of air from its dorsal mouth-organ and forced a few words out of one of its rim holes.[13] “Not evil,” it squeaked, evidently revealing the results of a quick detect evil spell. The spiritual hammer winked out of existence behind it. “Explain behavior.”

Suddenly, Buntleby could move againapparently, he had been released from the spell. He looked at his companions, but they remained immobilized. It seemed that he was to be their spokesman.

“Why fight?” asked the green flumph in its high-pitched voice.

“We were, uh, defending ourselves,” he began.

The green flumph that had spoken pointed at the white flumph with a thin tentacle. “Why attack?” it demanded in its squeaky voice.

“Well, he started it! He attacked one of my osquips!”

The flumph swung its eyestalks to stare down at Ozzie. “Kill vermin.”

“Ozzie’s not vermin! He's my familiar and my friend!” As if understanding the flumphs' motives, Ozzie prudently scooted behind Buntleby’s feet and hid from the hovering creatures.

The flumph swung its eyes back to Buntleby. “Not vermin?” it asked, surprised.

“Definitely not!”

“Not vermin?” it asked again. The green flumph pointed his two eyeballs at each other in confusion, then seemed to give a mental shrug. It pointed a tentacle at its white-skinned cousin, and said, “Not hat.”

Buntleby felt his cheeks burn crimson as embarrassment crept over his face. “Yes, well, I’m sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“Not cushion. No sit.”

Buntleby’s face grew even redder.

“Look, I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding on both our parts. I apologize for the way we’ve treated your friend here, and I see now that no harm was meant on your part toward my osquips, too. How about we just admit to our misunderstandings and each go our own separate ways?”

The flumphs stared at the Monster Hunters for a few seconds, then turned and waggled tentacles at each other. “Agreed,” said the flumph spokesman. With a puff of air, it swiveled around on its central axis and jetted out the window, the other two creatures following behind it.

Movement returned to the other Monster Hunters. “Well I’ll be,” remarked Zantoullios. “I think we were just scolded. What were those things, his parents?”

“Unlikely,” Wiliowquisp replied , flipping through his book once again. “Flumphs have but a single parentthey reproduce asexually by budding, once every two years or so. No, I believe they were a different type of flumph altogether. My tome here hints at a race of spellcasting flumphs, and I think that’s what we just saw.”

“So the little white guy just got rescued by two of his more powerful cousins,” remarked Buntleby, bending down to his familiar and stroking him behind the ears.

“And I’d say we were lucky at that,” said Wiliowquisp, flipping quickly through his book in search of a particular page. “We got off easy in only having to deal with a spell-using flumph; we could have been facing one of these, instead!” Finding the page he was after, he flipped the book around so his friends could see.

The picture showed a creature that looked like nothing so much as a giant brain, from which grew a parrot¬ like beak and ten long tentacles. From the way it was drawn on the page, it was obvious that the creature was hovering in mid-air.

“A grell?” asked Buntleby. “I’ve never heard of them.”[14]

“You’re lucky never to have met one,” said Zantoullios. “I don’t think we’d have got off so easy if it was a couple of grell that burst in here.”

There was silence for awhile, as each Monster Hunter reflected on what had just occurred. Finally, Zantoullios broke the silence.

“Actually, I’d prefer explaining to the Association that we lost our flumph to a daring raid by a couple of nasty grell, rather than admit that the four of us were bested by a little green.

flumph,” he said with a squeaky voice.

“Good point,” admitted Buntleby, rubbing his sore shoulder.

“I think,” suggested Wiliowquisp, “that after much investigation, we decided that flumphs are unsuitable for magical experimentation, and we let him go free.”

“I like it,” said Spontayne.

“Me too,” agreed Buntleby.

“Good plan,” said Zantoullios.

Johnathan M. Richards says he is very familiar with the concept of the nausea-inducing smell, since he grew up living across from a mushroom farm that brought in compost daily by the truckload, and currently lives downwind from a meat-rending facility.

FOOTNOTES:

1. A flumph’s eyestalks can move independently of one another, giving it a wide field of vision. As the creatures are nocturnal, flumphs have infravision to a range of 60 feet. They have no eyelids and so cannot close their eyes, even during sleep. For this reason, they are seldom surprised in visually-oriented situations. (For example, it would be difficult to walk up to one without it being aware of the approach.) On the other hand, they tend to take more damage from light-based assaults (for example, they save at -2 against light spells cast on them to temporarily bnnd them).

If an eyestalk or tentacle is severed, it takes about a week to grow back. One-eyed flumphs strike at -2 to hit due to a lack of depth perception; those missing a tentacle or two are not impeded and cause full damage with their acid attacks.

2. The flumph hovers by an innate form of anti-gravity, but it maneuvers by means of several smafl holes along the rim of its disk-shaped body. A mouth-like organ on its top takes in air, which can be expelled by any of the holes along the rim. Air being jetted out the back of the flumph’s body propels it forward; air jetted from the creature s left sends it to the right, and so on.

The air jets propel the creature horizontally, while it moves vertically at will by means of its antigravity ability. Its tentacles are used like rudders, enabling the creature to spin clockwise or counter-clockwise, depending on tne placement of the tentacles as it forces air out one of its rim holes. This is important in lining up its defensive spray, as the liquid can be expelled from only one of tne eight rim holes. This one rim hole is usually referred to as the creature’s “front” (a somewhat arbitrary position on a radially-symmetrical creature).

3. A flumph’s defensive spray squirts out in a 60° arc from its “front,” with a range of 20 feet. The liquid is extremely foul-smelling, something of a unappealing melange of skunk musk, rotting cabbages, and the unwashed armpits of a sweaty, overweight ore. The stench causes those struck to save vs. poison or be unable to attack for 2-5 rounds due to extreme nausea and dizziness. The odor from this attack lasts for up to 4 hours and is detectable from 100 feet away. (This scent could easily attract wandering monsters.) The flumph’s spray attack also propels it in the opposite direction, since the attack emanates from one of its rim holes. A flumph can use its spray only once every ten rounds.

4. A flumph is virtually helpless when placed on its back, even more so than a turtle. The creature’s innate anti-gravity is aimed downward from the creature’s lower side, making it useless if the flumph is flipped over. Its many tentacles are capable of delicate maneuvering but do not possess much strength, so the flumph is unable to flip itself over by grasping at nearby handholds. Furthermore, its “maneuvering jets” cannot be employed unless it is levitating, and this includes tne one responsible for its defensive spray. To add insult to injury, its long eyestalks are pinned by its body when overturned, so the creature cannot even get a good look at what is going on around it.

5. Although the flumph’s “mouth” is on its upper surface, it is used for air intake only. The creature actually feeds by means of several small spikes located centrally on its underside, surrounded by its tentacles. The flumph drops down on its prey (mostly frogs, lizards, and small rodents), piercing the victim’s body with the spikes for id8 hp damage. It then introduces acid into the wounds by means of its tentacles. Each tentacle is hollow, much like an elephants trunk, and is highly flexible. While some tentacles entwine around the prey in an effort to hold it still, others secrete acid, causing an additional 1d4 hp damage for the next 2a4 rounds. The acid is produced in the flumph’s lower body cavity; anyone piercing a flumph’s underside (AC 8) from below is hit with a shower of acid causing damage as noted above. The acid is highly potent, requiring active washing with 2-8 gallons of water or immersion in a swiftly-moving stream in order to remove it completely; simple immersion is not enough.

Once the prey is dead and the acid has had enough time to liquefy the creature partially, the flumph sucks up nutrients through its tentacles. In this respect it is similar to most spiders, whose venom liquefies the insides of its captured prey, allowing tne spider to “drink” its victims.

6. The brain of a flumph—a small organ located just under the creature’s upper shell, midway between its mouth and its rear rim holewhen pulverized, produces a liquid useful in the roduction of potions of levitation. One flumph rain provides enough liquid for three such potions.

The inner layer of hollow flumph tentacles can be removed and used as one of the ingredients for oil of acid resistance. It takes about 20 tentacles for one application of this magical oil.

The gland that stores the flumph’s defensive spray can be used as an alternate material com¬ ponent for the stinking cloud spell. If used for this purpose, any flumphs within one mile of the spells effect have a 50% chance of investigating the stinking cloud.

7. A flumph’s upper surface is AC 0. During the daylight hours, the creature often flies up into a tree and settles on a sturdy branch, wrapping its tentacles around the branch for support. This leaves its hard upper shell exposed while pro¬ tecting its softer underside while it sleeps. The eyestalks are retractable and can be whipped into the creature’s body quickly if necessary, but the flumph usually keeps them out and facing opposite directions while sleeping, flumph sleep is very light, and the creature remains somewhat aware of its surroundings at all times. If danger is present, It can snap awake in an instant, although it does suffer a -2 penalty to its surprise roll if attacked while sleeping.

8. This noise is just incidental to the flumph’s movement through the air and does not constitute a language. There is a flumph language, but it is a sign language based on tentacle and eyestalk movements, difficult for non-flumphs to learn and impossible for them to reproduce (short of using polymorph magic to take on the shape of a flumph themselves, or creating the illusion of a flumph and using it to do the “talking”).

9. Flumphs have no regular feeding schedule. They almost always attack rodents on sight, regardless of how recently they have fed, leading some to believe that flumphs prefer a rodent diet, or that they were specifically bred as a farming aid to cut down on the rodent population. They will also eat small creatures such as lizards, frogs, and snakes, but given a choice will always go after rodents first. A flumph sees killing rats and mice as a sacred duty to be performed whenever possible.

10. Although flumphs have no external ears, they do have a sense of hearing on a par with that of a human. They do, in fact, have four inner ears spaced equidistant around their bodies just below their maneuvering jets. They have an excellent sense of touch in tne tips of their tentacles but a weak sense of smell (based on the mouth-like organ on their upper surface) and no sense of taste.

Their sense of smell is somewhat unique in its extreme sensitivity to one particular scent—the odor of their own defensive spray. A flumph is able to pick up that one scent from over a mile away. Tnis means when a flumph uses its spray, it is also alerting all other flumphs in the immediate vicinity that a dangerous situation has arisen. Being lawful good creatures, any flumph picking up the defensive odor heads toward tne scent to assist if it can.

11. Monastic flumphs are a higher order of flumph, able to cast priest spells as if they were clerics of equal level to their hit dice. At 2-5 HD, this gives them access to priest spells of first to third level. These spells are modified versions of the spells known to PCs, requiring only somatic gestures, which they perform with consummate skill with their numerous tentacles. Monastic flumphs have a larger number of tentacles than do common flumphs; while this enables them to cast spells, it also leaves less room on their undersides for spikes, and as a result monastic flumphs cause only 1d6 hp damage instead of the common flumpn’s 1d8.

Little is known about the mysterious monastic flumphs. They gather together in large cav¬ erns to worship unknown, lawful good deities. Each monastic flumph society is called a “clois¬ ter,” led by a 5-HD “abbot,” 3-or 4-HD “priors” (one per six flumphs in the cloister), and a handful of 2-HD “monks.” Cloisters commonly hold up to 32 individual monastic flumphs, who act as guardians for the common flumphs and pursue their own mysterious interests.

Most of what little is known of the monastic flumphs was documented by one Cartificant the Learned, a curious sage with a penchant for unusual field-work. It was he who gave the monastic flumphs their religious-based titles, and since so little has been written about the creatures, the terms “cloister,” “abbot,” “prior,” and “monk” have become common usage in describing monastic flumph society.

Had Cartificant finished his field-work with the monastic flumphs (tragically, he was killed in a rare butter-churning accident), he might have learned the true relationship between ordinary flumphs and the monastic variety. Monastic flumphs are not a higher order of flumph so much as normal” flumphs are a lower order of monastic flumph-specifically, their idiot mutant children. About 10% of monastic flumph buds grow into albino flumphs. While these creatures are lower in intelligence and cannot cast spells, they are nonetheless cherished and looked after by the lawful good monastic flumphs. The albinos always breed true, so over time, the “normal” flumphs came to far outnumber the monastic ones.

12. Since monastic flumphs cast their spells using only somatic gestures with their many ten¬ tacles and also move their tentacles when com¬ municating with others of their species, there is usually no warning for an outside observer that a monastic flumph is casting a spell.

13. A very few monastic flumphs (about 10%) have mastered the Common tongue or another verbal language. They do not speak often, and when they do it is in short bursts of words as they force air out of their rim holes. A speaking monastic flumph sounds like it just took in a lungful of helium and is trying to do a Mickey Mouse impression.

14. No grell would ever come to a flumph’s rescue, although it is very possible that the flumph and the grell are genetically related. Sages point out tne many similarities between the two creatures: both hover in the air by means of an innate ability; both have numerous tentacles; both drop down on prey from above; both are nomadic, seldom staying in one area for long. In addition, each has a solitary type (the common flumph and the rogue grell) as well as a “colony” type (the monastic flumph and the colonial grell). Further Information on grell is available in the Monstrous Manual® tome (under “Grell”), MC5 Greyhawk® Adventures Appendix (under “Grell”), and MC9: Spelljammer® Appendix (under “Grell, Colonial”).

Another creature believed to be related to the flumph is the belabra, or “tangler.” Somewhat more primitive than either the flumph or the grell, the jellyfish-shaped creature cannot levitate or fly, but instead glides after a springing leap that can take it 60 yards at a time. The creature has 12 rubbery tentacles, a hard, bony upper shell, and four dorsal eyestalks. Further evidence of flumph ancestry is the fact that when a tentacle is severed, the creature sprays Its blood at enemies, which has a debilitating effect on them. Belabra also reproduce through budding, as do flumphs. Many sages believe tne belabra to be a precursor to both the flumph and grell species. Further information on belabra can be found in MC3: Forgotten Realms® Appendix, under “Belabra (Tangier).”

The best guess regarding the flumph’s origins, taking into account its probable genetic ties to the grell, is that flumphs originate from a different world. They may have traveled on grell spelljamming vessels (perhaps by design, but more likely without the grells’ knowledge) and disembarked onto their new planet. Or, for that matter, it might have only been a single (monastic) flumph-since they reproduce asexually, it would only take a single flumph to found an entire race on a new world.

If this theory is true, it might also explain the “normal” flumph’s existence-perhaps the albino mutation came about as a result of some subtle difference between this world and the monastic flumph’s original home world.