HP:  3d6
Num:  1
Spd:  2
Dam:  Nil
Def:  10
Soak:  4
CL:  5

Bizarre little spirits of exchange, kikuro defy the categorization of the sages.  Some claim the wee beasties to be an odd sort of fey; others argue that the tiny traders must surely be some exotic form of undead shade.  The kikuro, silent as they are, answer neither query and will immediately fade from sight should they ever be asked about their nature or origins.  Kikuro are small skeletons of oddly silvery bone, combining aspects of housecat, mouse and monkey.  A kikuro may be encountered completely bare of ornamentation, wreathed in withered greenery or scraps of rags, decked out in a king’s ransom of tiny jewels — the creatures are impossible to predict.  The only constant is the bag woven from multicoloured hair which is ever clutched in the small spirit’s bony hands, promptly held up in silent offering to any who approach.  The bag appears empty, no matter what is placed in or drawn from it.

Any item the size of a dagger or smaller may be placed in, or drawn from, a kikuro’s bag.  If an item is given to the spirit and then an item is drawn from the bag, the new item may be virtually anything — relative value is 50% equivalent, 25% greater, 25% lesser.

If an item is drawn from the bag and no offering is made in return — or if the kikuro is attacked, or its bag is taken from it — the spirit immediately turns black and fades out of existence, blightcursing its assailant.  Typical curses are blindness, the withering of a limb, a debilitating disease, or a wound that will not heal.  Kikuro blightcurses require a second spirit to consent to sending the victim on a redemption quest of some sort … which also means working out a means of communication with the mute spirit.  Cursing is temporarily avoided if an attack killed the kikuro outright, but the next spirit encountered will then blightcurse the guilty party.

Kikuro take double damage from cold iron weaponry.

HP:  1d8
Num:  2d20
Spd:  3
Dmg:  1d4
Def:  3
Soak:  2
CL:  2Sometimes, in an abundant harvest season, portions of the crops escape the attention of the overwhelmed harvesters.  When the harvest is especially abundant even the gleaners who come after the farmhands may fail to gather up all that is left — and the spirits of green growing things that offer themselves up each autumn do not appreciate their gifts being left unnoticed, even by accident.  That is when they send the swarms of dannik, madcap tangles of cornstalks and grape vines and gourds and other food crops, to run rampant and cause mayhem as a chastisement and a warning.

The dannik are not meant to commit great slaughter, so their abilities are more fearsome in appearance than in fact.  Their thorny “claws” look fearsome but inflict only 1d4 hit points of damage.  The dannik’s danger lies in the potential size of their swarms, and their resistance to injury save from iron weaponry or fire — all other sources of injury cause only half-damage to a dannik.  Dannik cannot be reasoned with; they are a near-mindless force and not an independent species of spirit.