They buried Gnybaro in a solemn ceremony, each took his turn to say a few words about the wily thief. Valance prayed that the Spider God would assist Gnybaro’s soul in getting to its final destination, which did concern Chalk and Koram a bit. Each wondered what the Spider God would decide the thief’s “final destination” should be.
Just as the priest of the Spider God finished his prayer a racket could be heard in the distance. Koram scrambled up a wall to see what the commotion was all about.
A pig squeezed its way through the bent bars of the iron gate, squealing as it struggled. Suddenly the pig changed into a porcine-headed humanoid and opened the gate.
“Are we ever going to get a break?” Chalk wondered aloud.
“Apparently not,” Valance sighed.
No. Enc.: 1d6 (1d20)
Movement: 120′ (40′)
Armor Class: 5
Hit Dice: 3+2
Damage: 1d6 or by weapon
Hoard Class: VIII
Remnants of a forgotten pantheon of weird deities, pig daemons are pig-headed humanoids that can be easily confused for orcs by those who cannot tell the two races apart (a result of 4 on 1d4 for those to notice), and many times the pig daemons use this to their advantage, infiltrating and leading a band of orcs to do their bidding. Other pig daemons linger among the ruins of older civilizations, some think trying to revive the Old Gods that they served ages ago.
Pig daemons have an acute sense of smell, allowing them to track by scent alone 65% of the time. In addition, once per day a pig daemon can change its shape to resemble a domestic pig or a human. Using these shapes the pig daemon often roots out information, makes contacts or spreads rumors.
In combat pig daemons prefer to use short swords or spears, and they are experts at using improvised weapons (treat most any reasonable improvised weapon as a short sword for damage).