HOT TUB LICH
FREQUENCY: Very rare
NO. APPEARING: 1
ARMOR CLASS: -5
MOVE: Rarely; an occasional sigh and head nod
HIT DICE: .01
% IN LAIR: 110%
TREASURE TYPE: See below
NO. OF ATTACKS: Special
DAMAGE/ATTACK: 0
SPECIAL ATTACKS: See below
SPECIAL DEFENSES: See below
MAGIC RESISTANCE: 0%
INTELLIGENCE: Low—Average (Local sports trivia knowledge: High)
ALIGNMENT: Non-committal
SIZE: M
PSIONIC ABILITY: Nil
LEVEL/X.P. VALUE: I/10
The hot tub lich is perhaps the rarest of liches, occurring only when hot tubs have been built in the vicinity of a dungeon, when a human has decided to use said hot tubs, and when that human—against the advice of his friends/hot tub owners—remains in the hot tub for two weeks or longer. Even then, special conditions must be met to form the hot tub lich: 1. The presence of music (especially the dreaded “Yacht Rock” variety; i.e. Peter Cetera, Jimmy Buffett, Hall & Oates, etc.). 2. Lack of restorative fluids (beer and diet soda increase the probability of hot tub lich formation by 30%). 3. Incredible laziness ; i.e. the hot tub human refuses to leave the hot tub simply because he is “too tired” or the air is “too cold” or the massaging jets “feel awesome on my lower back.”
When all conditions have been met, after two weeks a transformation begins to occur. First, the human demonstrates “skin slippage” similar to the condition affecting waterlogged corpses. A simple touch upon the human’s skin will slough away the epidermis; remarkably, this does not induce pain or even complaint, for after two weeks, a hot tub lich has succumbed to such profound laziness and malaise that his nerves themselves become too tired to transmit pain signals to the brain. On such occasions the hot tub lich may utter “cut it out, man” or just frown slightly.
The hot tub lich has no actual attacks. Being considerably bloated and lazy, they are unwilling (or, more likely, incapable) of movement, aside from the occasional sigh and head nod. Their only “weapon” is their voice, most often utilized to request the radio be “turned up” (despite the batteries having died months, if not years, before) or that beer/diet soda be procured from the “fridge in the basement.” Ironically, if a radio is indeed switched on and/or a fresh beer is handed to the hot tub lich, they will remain in a constant state of morose, tired agitation. The hot tub lich state is irreversible.
Special defenses are existential in nature; a hot tub lich cannot be convinced to do anything other than remain in its hot tub. They will answer questions in a vague, non-committal manner (“I dunno’” or “What?” or “Eh, whatever”) and offer no opinion about any known topics aside from local sports trivia (though their scope is limited to events occurring before the transformation occurred, and display considerable bias in favor of baseball and football; rarely will a hot tub lich demonstrate interest in basketball, and only then in a manner bemoaning the way “the game used to be” before “showboating” and “overpaid thugs took over”).
Treasure type is consistent: a towel nearby, empty cans or bottles of beer, occasionally a comb/brush. Very rarely, white socks may be found, inside-out, lying near the base of the ruined hot tub. If presented to the hot tub lich, he may stare at his old belongings with a quizzical, perhaps nostalgic, but ultimately exhausted expression.
A potential hot tub lich; note treasure type nearby.
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