MAGIC MOUSTACHE Barba supera magica
The magic moustache is a powerful eldritch construct, created by forgotten sorcerers of ages past, for reasons that lie beyond the grasp of the porcine slovel that is current intellectual practice. And best left that way. Magic moustaches are typically wall-mounted and found underground, in the timeless bowels of the Lozenge—be they ogygian tunnels, or forgotten dungeons carved of cyclopean blocks of stone. Anything with a good adjective, really. What initial purpose they formed has passed beyond the ken of even the wisest of the Elder Races, and now they just 'are'.
Magic moustaches can vary considerably in appearance. Some are humongous, black bushy constructs or tawny leonine manes; others narrow and well trimmed, or curled in splendorous forms. There seems to be a clear correlation between a magic moustache's outward form and its character. Thick bristling moustaches tend to be bluff, boisterous and hearty, while their finer haired fellows are usually gracious, effete or condescending in manner. Slightly upturned, waxed moustaches are quite common, and rather prone to engage in military banter, calling everyone they meet `Archie' and warning them against `the Fuzzies'.
They are curious monsters. A magic moustache revels in its sheer sense of being, and expects wandering bypassers to accede to its whims. For some this is to drench their bristles in Greydog ale, or rich pig dripping. Others are far more fastidious, and are gratified by people taking the time to give them a good combing through— removing some truly horrible things at times—or a pleasant stroking. More still like nothing better than a hard waxing, keeping them in tip-top appearance. But woe betide the hero that seeks to wax the wrong `tache or demean a splendid fellow with anything other than a properly decanted glass of a vintage ruby '66.
A magic moustache is typically five to ten feet in length, from tip to tip, though the largest of the coiled forms can extend to a hundred feet in length if fully unravelled! If angered, a magic moustache will seek to entangle its enemies in a manner concordant with its construction. Some whip like celeritous tendrils in the direction of foes, seeking to entwine and crush them like a python. A few can form their fine tips to grasp nearby weapons, and fight with those—especially those finer well-groomed varieties that possess outrageous accents! Others still just assault nearby enemies with a bristling wall of beer-stained death, which seeks to maul opponents and drag them into the darkest recesses of the magic moustache, wherefrom few are ever seen again...
Cheerio,
Stu.
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