Marikith

Although marikith are common enough in the domain of Timor, they are only rarely seen, for they slide through the shadows, exposing themselves only when their victim has no chance of escaping. By the time the city guard arrives, summoned by the shrieking of the marikith target, there is nothing left.

The marikith are hulking, musclebound humanoids covered with a tough, black, leathery skin. This skin does not impede their movement in any way, but seems to aid them in their motion through the slippery sewers and catacombs. Their glowing red eyes allow others to see them, but the marikith can veil these eyes at will, unveiling them only when it is the best moment to strike.

Combat: Marikith never enter into combat alone, preferring to overwhelm their foe by sheer numbers. However, if their companions are slain, they fight to the death. They never retreat from a combat unless they are ordered to do so by their Hive Queen. If they must flee, they grab as many of their dead as they possibly can, for they do not wish to expose themselves to the world.

They fight with their sharp claws and incisors, tearing their victims to pieces. They prefer to snatch their unfortunate prey from the streets and drag them into the underworld where they may devour them at will. Even if their quarry fights back, the marikith’s skin protects them from the brunt of atfacks from blunt weapons. They receive only half damage from bludgeoning weapons.

The marikith prefer to fight in darkness, for their whole lives are spent in the murk of the sewers or in the night of the upper world. They suffer a -4 penalty if fighting in bright light, -2 in dim light, -1 in minute amounts of light. Their 120-foot infravision allows them to see others perfectly well in the darkness. Those using infravision to spot the marikith see only faint, blurry outlines of the creatures. Their leather skin diffuses most of the heat that emanates from their bodies. There is only a 25% chance that somone with infravision can see a marikith in the dark.

The marikith prefer the darkness, for it allows the victim’s terror to build. Slithering noises and strange scufflings force their target to reevaluate their night fears. By the time the marikith are ready to strike, the victim will most likely have worked himself to a fever pitch of terror. Their targets must make a successful save vs. spells or attack at -2, because of the fear they feel.

Habitat/Society: Marikith live in a communal hive hollowed from Denearn the city of Timor. Their society is under the command of the Hive Queen, an ancient evil beast. She appears as a spider-like creature, bloated and maleficent. She orders her brood about with some form of hive telepathy, effective for about a 5-mile radius.

Marikith society has only two classes, the hunters and the Queen. There is only one Queen per hive, but currently there is only one known hive in existence. The Queen seems to exist only to feed herself and reproduce. The hunters bring her food and tend to the babies she produces. She mainly spawns hunters, but occasionally a baby queen is born.

Ecology: Timor appears to be the only place marikith have ever been seen, although there exists the possibility that some of the Hive Queen’s brood have been exported from the domain. Perhaps the fate of her young queens is decided somewhere outside Timor and she is directed to destroy them. If Timor is destroyed, the eggs are transported out of the land, but it is not known where. The marikith seem to enjoy a relationship with Timor, having survived as long as the city has stood.

The marikith feed on both the meat of their victims and their fear. Some sort of fear energy seems to be necessary for the marikith to sustain themselves.

It is rumored that the marikith were once humans who followed the directives of their Queen, hunting and slaying the defenseless and weak. They revelled greatly in the fear they created and soon became dependent on both the food and fear, as well as their ordinary food. They became totally subservient to their mistress and their dreary existence holds no joy.