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Timor Tom, cloud leviathan

Most of Matt Kish’s illos are just his own thing.
, though, is clearly a monster for an RPG.

Timor Tom, cloud leviathan.
No. Enc: unique
HD: irrelevant. OK fine, 60,000,000.
Move: with the wind, or up to 50mph against it
AC: -2/20. It’s a flying island. It won’t dodge. But it’s covered in yards of crystalline armour. Try crawling into an orifice and see if you find something vulnerable.
Other stats: not very important. Except it’s nearly immune to magical intervention, and spells cannot be used within 100 feet of it.
LOA: 2 miles
Turning circle: 200′
Attacks: brush against – save or die from crushing. Swallow whole: begins new cavern adventure inside the beast. Maybe lightning? From piezo-electric effect when he stresses the crystals on his back? Ooh: breath weapon – save or be displaced 500 feet in a random direction.

Because few people have seen Timor Tom in clear weather, let alone at close quarters, he’s commonly imagined as a rather diaphanous, woolly sort of whale, a playful spirit who calms storms, rather than provoking them. He’s even propitiated during the islanders’ children’s festival as a kind of beneficent guardian spirit.

Nothing could be farther from the truth. Tom is hard as rock and mad as hell. But he’ll crumble to table salt if he touches the ground or anything in contact with it, so he’s only a menace to birds, flying characters, and lookouts at mast-heads.

What especially infuriates him is that, being inconveniently large, he can’t do much about creatures on his back, and he’s become home to a tribe of blue-skinned sky-devils. Occasionally they step off him into the clouds, running their errands, and very occasionally he catches them at it, and then it’s a tense time for everyone, but the sky-devils are just about invisible to anyone who only has 3 kinds of cones in their eyes, and Tom falls in that benighted category. Tom hopes one day to befriend a Roc and be rid of the sky-devils forever. So far he hasn’t met one that wanted anything to do with him however. He’s starting to dislike them on principle.

He dreams sometimes about diving into the ocean and drowning the blue men, but he fears that, even if contact with the sea itself is not fatal to him, he might never get airborne again.

Tom can speak many languages, but communicating with him is not easy. He hears messages best if they’re shouted inside his ear-caverns. His voice is painfully loud up close, and from a distance merely sounds like rumbling thunder. He can read Latin and Arabic (but only in decorated early Kufic presentations) fluently.

UPDATE: dammit, swords and dorkery points to a whole raft of Escher I somehow hadn’t seen before, and the very first picture lays this whole conceit bare. I guess I’m just an unconscious parodist of MC.

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