Fantasy NPC: Peeping Hob

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Peeping Hob

A distorted figure made of translucent ectoplasm, composed mostly of large head with big eyes and rather stupid smile, followed by comically undersized torso. His limbs extends into indistinct trails of smoke.

CR 2; 600 XP

CN Medium Undead (augmented human, incorporeal)

Init +1; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +5

Defense
AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 11 (+1 deflection, +1 Dex, )
hp 13 (3d6+3)
Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +0

Defensive Abilities channel resistance +4, incorporeal, rejuvenation; Immune undead traits

Offense
Speed fly 30 ft. (perfect)

Melee corrupting touch +2 (2d6)

Statistics
Str —, Dex 13, Con —, Int 13, Wis 9, Cha 13
Base Atk +1; CMB +1; CMD 13
Feats Hover, Run, Skill Focus (Stealth)

Skills Fly +9, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +5, Stealth +6
Language Common, Duc

SQ nocturnal existence

Nocturnal Existence (Ex) Peeping Hob exist only at night. He ceases to be during the daytime, only returning when the sky turns dark again, free of any effects with duration shorter than 1 day or longer and with full hit points. During the day, he can't be targeted by spells and effects.

Peeping Hob was too lazy to be a real nuisance in his life, and he is too lazy to be a real menace after death. He was an unskilled laborer, living day to day, shirking work when he could, and spending his nights peeping on others, especially favoring watching the more... Racy situations. That was his vice, and that was the cause of his death—one day a sorceress caught him spying on her and started uttering a terrible curse. This scared him to death... Both metaphorically and literally, for in his bout of panic he fell from the roof while running away.

Instead of passing away, he stick around—not that it was his conscious choice, it just sort of happened (or maybe the curse caught with him), but he found it to be a change for better, at least for him. Without stomach to feed, he no longer needs to earn his living, and peeping on others was never as easy as is now.

He is not really bad, and he occasionally feels a bit ashamed of what he is doing but he is not going to stop (though a particularly harsh berating might get him to avoid particular target of interest for a few days). He could be possibly convinced to share some insight on the local denizens and events, or even to spy on someone with promises of particularly risque performances and other mild naughtiness.

Some folks might want him gone—because they are tired of his peeping, or maybe because he saw things he shouldn't and they want to keep them secret, no matter the costs.