Monster Monday: Jabberwock

Jabberwock
No. Encountered: 1 (1)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 90’
Armor Class: 3
Hit Dice: 10
Attacks: 4 (Bite/Stomp/Stomp/Tail)
Damage: 1d10/1d6/1d6/1d4
Save: F10
Morale: 8
Hoard Class: XV but see below
XP: 3,100

The Jabberwock, or perhaps Jabberwocks though only the most pessimistic of men would entertain that idea, is a hideous monstrosity native to the isles of Kars.  It is known to attack travellers along the road near the Tulgey Wood, setting upon them from seemingly out of nowhere.  Rumor has it that the great beast hordes treasure, not unlike a dragon; however, its lair has never been found.

The Jabberwock appears as a large, clumsy, wyvern-like creature with tattered, useless wings, a long neck, and a misshapen, bulbous head.  Accounts of its color vary - leading terrifying credence to the idea that there may be more than one - but it is the general consensus that it is either a mottled grey or a musty yellow.

The Jabberwock is only hit by +1 or better weapons.  It is surprisingly stealthy and has a 3 in 6 chance of surprising opponents.  The Jabberwock is incredibly stupid and speaks no known language, instead it burbles out a hideous noise that causes a morale check in any NPCs encountering it.

Monster Monday: Angels of the 1st Order (Tetraphim)

Angel of the 1st Order (Tetraphim)
No. Encountered: 1d3 (1d6)
Alignment: Lawful
Movement: 240’ (Fly)
Armor Class: 0
Hit Dice: 8
Attacks: 4 (light-beams)
Damage: 1d8 each
Save: F8
Morale: 10
Hoard Class: XXI
XP: 2,560

Tetraphim are the lowest order of angels and they typically serve as emissaries to the World on behalf of the God of Law.  They are said to reside at the foot of the Mountain of Heaven, but most agree this is best taken metaphorically.  Tetraphim appear as tetrahedrons of solid light, and their voice is said to sound like the panging of a great bell.

Tetraphim attack by emitting sizzling beams of differing colors of light from each of their corners.  They may use Detect Invisible and Fear   at will as well as transform themselves into a human form of incredible beauty capable of wielding weapons, wearing armor, and fighting as an 8th level fighter.  This form lacks any secondary sexual characteristics, and Tetraphim are incapable of concealing its panging voice.  If a Tetraphim is ever threatened, it will attempt to Gate another Tetraphim (30% chance) or a Octaphim (10% chance).  

Tetraphim are only hit by +1 or better weapons.  Like all angels, slain Tetraphim reform in heaven within 1d6 days.  The only exception to this is certain diabolical weapons created during the War in Heaven. These weapons of made of the blackest evil will permanently slay any angel.

Monster Monday: Beast-men

Beast-men
No. Appearing: 2d6 (1d6x10) [30-300]
Alignment: Neutral or Chaotic
Movement: 12
Armor Class: 6 [14] <16>
Hit Dice: 1
Attacks: Weapon
Save: 17
Morale: 9
Hoard Class: XIX
HDE/XP: 1/15

Beast-men are horrid combinations of man and animal originally created by the demon prince known as the Horned One; however, the secret of their creation has spread throughout the World and thus they are found in the service of cultists, wizards, and Old Gods.

They appear as wiry humanoids with the heads of animals.  They often roam the wild places of the world stark naked.  They seem to either have sickeningly withered genitals or no genitals at all, and it would appear that there are only beast-men.  Some scholars theorize that the process by which they are created masculinizes any women unfortunate enough to be put through it.  If beast-men do wear clothing, it is typically bloodstained and scavenged or made from tanned human skin.  They’re weapons and armor are also either taken from human victims or made from sharpened bones.

The most common varieties in the Dark Country are deer-men, goat-men, and pig-men.  It is rumored that horse-men exist, but reports of this type are relatively scarce.  Beast-men divide themselves into tribes based on the type of head they have, and thus deer-men will not consort with pig-men and vice versa.  Each tribe is either headed by either some sort of conjurer - perhaps an Old God, diabolic cultist, or magic user - or a Beast-man with 4 HD.  For every 10 beast-men in a tribe, there is a 30% chance that one of them will be an anti-cleric or druid, depending on the alignment of the tribe.  These have 1d4 HD and can cast spells as an anti-cleric or druid of a level equal to its number of HD.

There are two possible ways to create beast-men.  The first is the spell Create Beast-men. The second are strange, ink-black pools scattered throughout the Dark Country.  Anyone submerged in these pools must make a saving throw each round or become a 1 HD beast-man with no memory of their former life.  Beast-men not in the service of a sorcerer or cult tend to make their lairs near these pools.  The pool always turns the victim into a beast-man of the same type as the tribe that lives nearby.  The origin of these pools remains a mystery, but most scholars agree that it must be one of the horrid bodily fluids of the Horned one.

Create Beast-men
Spell Level: C6 M6
Range: 240 ft.
Duration: Permanent

The caster may either select either a single target of any level/HD or a group of targets of a level/HD of 4 or lower.  If a group is selected use the chart below to determine how many are affected.

Victim’s HD	Number Affected
>1 to 1	2d6+3
1+ to 3	2d6
3+ to 4+1	1d6

Targets affected must make a saving throw or undergo a sickening transformation that will turn them into 1 HD beast-men in 1d6 rounds.  If a Remove Curse spell is cast on them before this process is completed, they can be saved.  Otherwise, the effect is permanent.

Newly created beast-men have no memory of their former lives and are filled with the desire to fulfill their master’s sickening will.  Whether their master is the caster or the power which he or she serves is left to the referee.

Monster Monday: Vortlup

Note that this Monster Monday entry contains spoilers for the Clark Ashton Smith story "The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis."  If you haven't read that story, I cannot recommend it highly enough.  It is one of Smith's best works - some would say the best - and it along with "The Tale of Satampra Zeiros," "The Tomb-Spawn," "The Weaver in the Vault," and several others are very adaptable to D&D.

Vortlup
No. Appearing: 1d6 (4d6)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 120’*
Armor Class:  7 [12] <14>
Hit Dice: 2
Attacks: see below
Damage: 1d6 (automatic)
Save: F2
Morale: 8
Hoard Class: XX
XP: 47

Vortlups are a horrid race of fungus-things that brought doom to a Martian civilization that was born and died millennia before the Martians known to the Uzites.  These malevolent creatures made their way to Earth on Martian ships in the time after the Deluge, and they have remained here ever since.

These fungal-horrors appear as small sheets of night-black moss.  They move in a manner similar to that of an inchworm - folding unfolding rapidly and at an unnatural speed.  They are capable of crawling across walls and ceilings just as easily as the ground, and indeed they prefer to do so, though those that have just fed must stick to the ground and move at half-movement.  

The vortlup attacks by dropping on its victim, making an attack roll to see if it lands on the victim’s head.  If it does so, it will deal automatic damage each round until the victim is slain.  This is how the creature feeds, growing bloated and filling with blood, hair, and the gelatinous residue of melted bones.  Creatures slain in this manner immediately come under the control of the vortlup, which uses them for their own nefarious purposes.  Such bodies are only usable by the creature for 3d6 days, after which point the body is too decayed to be propelled in any fashion.  Vortlups will typically remain on the victim until another passes by.

Killing the vortlup will cause its grip to slacken and its cowl-like body to slump to the floor.

Creatures that manage to survive being attacked by a vortlup must make a saving throw or become the victim of a poison used by the vortlups.  This poison infects the brain and causes the victim to perform whatever actions the vortlups desires.  It takes effect regardless of whether or not the vortlups is still alive.  This is the same chemical that vortlups use to pilot the bodies of the dead.

An ancient Martian chronicle states that the vortlups were originally created by a race known only as the Necromantic Ones.  The precise nature of these beings is unknown, but they seem to have survived from the dim antiquity during which the solar system was born.  While perhaps more common on Mars, Necromantic Ones are believed to exist on Earth as well, and the vortlups chief goal seems to be their reawakening.  To accomplish this, they lead their victims to strange vaults in order to perform rituals best left to the referee’s imagination.

Monster Monday: Devil Men

Devil Men
No. Encountered:  1d6 (4d6)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 90'
Armor Class: 5 (4 with shield)
Hit Dice: 2
Attacks: 1 (Weapon)
Damage: As Weapon
Save: F2
Morale: 8
Hoard Class: XXI
XP: 25

Devil men are diabolic servants of the demon lord known to men as the Horned One.  In places in which the Horned One's presence is felt in the material plane, his taint acts like a radiation that twists and deforms the unborn in the womb.  Such infants are typically either directly killed by their communities or left in the wilderness to die of exposure.  However, sometimes the parents will seek to disguise their children so that they might live.  This rarely ends well, for creatures touched by such demonic taint will always seek to sow evil into the world, regardless of whether or not they are shown mercy.

This is not the only way devil men come into this world.  The Horned One is known to appear to women and tempt them to engage in all sorts of sexual perversions.  The result of these awful meetings are often devil men, though some have been known to give birth to jackals, goats, and other animals with diabolic intelligence.  Devil men can also propagate their own vile race by mating with human women in the usual fashion.  Even exposed infants have a chance of surviving, for a devil child reaches full adulthood in 1d6 days.

Devil men typically congregate in old ruins known to possess terrible histories.  If the ruin is remote enough and if enough devil men gather there they will form a small village.  These villages will often have mixed populations, with small numbers of humans and beastmen whose clan is closely associated with the Horned One - such as deer or goats - also present in the population.  The vast majority of the humans will be female, and many communities of devil men are led by a human witch or hag.

Devil men are roughly the size and shape of normal humans, but they possess two great, curving horns, yellow fangs, and either red or metallic grey skin. They are typically well equipped, with mail, shields, and expertly crafted weapons.  These are typically gained through trade with sympathetic humans.  Devil men without these contacts will gain their equipment through raiding, in which case their AC should be adjusted to represent the poorly made and ill fitting armor they have scavenged.

They possess a crude form of telepathy that can allow them to communicate silently with other devil men; however, they usually prefer speech as this telepathy requires too much concentration and they will only rely on it when stalking a potential victim.

Devil men speak Common, Pig Latin, and Crowleyian.

Monster Monday: Rawhed

Rawhed
No. Encountered: 1 (1)
Alignment: Chaotic
Movement: 60’/240’ (fly)
Armor Class: 2
Hit Dice: 5 + 4
Attacks: 2 Claw/1 Bite or Gore
Damage: 2d6/2d8
Save: F6
Morale: See Below
Hoard Class: VIII, IX, XVIII (in lair)
XP: 1060 + 6/hp

Rawheds are a form of undead created when a powerful and especially malevolent wizard is slain but his familiar is not.  If the familiar is able to reach the body of the wizard, it will fuse horribly merge with the corpse to create a Rawhed.  Once finished, the creature resembles a human skeleton roughly 7’ in height with rotting, fleshy head resembling whatever animal served as the familiar.

Rawheds desire to eat the flesh of human victims.  They will not range far from their layers, which are usually the remnants of the tower or dungeon in which the mad wizard once housed himself, but being undead they will never starve and can go centuries without the flesh they desire.  However, doing so makes them extremely violent and aggressive.  When encounter with a Rawhed occurs, roll 1d6.  On a roll of 1 the creature has eaten recently enough that it will let the party pass without attacking (Morale of 4).  On a 2-4 the creature has eaten recently enough to have its wits, but it is still hungry and will waylay passersby (Morale of 8).  On a roll of 5-6 the creature has not eaten in years and will attack wildly and frantically with no sense of self preservation (Morale of 12).

Their favorite meal is lying children, and the Rawheds of the World are in luck because children always lie.  Rawheds can hear a lie from 24 miles away - he maximum amount they will range from their lair.  They can then know the exact location of their quarry for up to 24 hours after they spoke their last lie.  This includes any lies said after the Rawhed became aware of the target.  It will pursue the target using its magical flight until it either catches it or the target moves further than 24 miles from its lair.

Rawheds can mimic the sound of any animal, including humans and demi-humans.  If it has heard a person lie, it can mimic the voice of anyone that person has met.  Rawheds can also cast invisibility at will, which it will do before approaching anyone unless its wits have been taken by hunger.  They are also only damaged by magical or silver weapons.  Finally, they possess all the normal immunities and weaknesses associated with intelligent undead.


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The reason I haven't posted one of these in a while is that this one has been really hard to write.  I'd like to thank Brandon and Cole for giving me some of the ideas that made it in the final version.


The monster itself is based on the Rawhead and Bloody-Bones boogeyman that supposedly originates in Britain but is most know to me by way of the American South.  I first encountered the creature in the pages of a Short & Shivery volume probably sometime around age 10.  The version I have rendered is a mixture of what I could remember about the monster after not having read that story in 14 years and some stuff I thought was neat.

Monster Monday: Boggy-Man

Boggy-Man
No. Appearing: 1 (1d6)
Armor Class: 14
Hit Dice: 3
Move: 120'/240' (swim)
Attacks: 2 (claw 1d4) or 1 (grab)
Morale: 5
Alignment: Neutral

Boggy-men are loathsome creatures that make their lairs in marshes, swamps, and bogs.  They appear as emaciated humanoids with shockingly funeral features, despite the fact that they are not undead.  Their skin is sickly green and rubbery.  Their eyes are glimmering marsh lights.  Their mouths are foul holes, toothless and suckered.  Scholars, who are the only ones who concern themselves with such things, believe boggy-men to be one of the many hideous types of fairykind.

Boggy-men await their prey in muddy streams and other murky waters.  When a hapless victim strolls near, they lurch out and attempt to grab them.  The bogg-man makes a to hit roll and if successful the creature is grabbed and can take no actions other than attempting to break free.  The boggy-man will then plunge its victim into the water, and thereafter the poor sap will take automatic damage each round (1d6) as his or her lungs quickly fill with water.  Humans and demihumans thus slain become boggy-men within 1d6 hours.

An extremely cowardly and craven race, boggy-men will usually try to avoid fair fights.  Once they have an opponent grabbed, they will try to take him or her out of the reach of any companions who might be able come to the rescue.  If the creature finds itself cornered and isn't currently engaged in drowning a victim, it will fight with its claws or attempt to flee to its lair.  Boggy-men typically lair in rotten trees or mucky holes far away from the more frequently traveled areas of the swamps they haunt.  Here they may be accompanied by their wicked progeny.  They will also have an amount of treasure taken from unfortunate passersby, for they live all things that glitter and shine.

Monster Monday: Orknies

Orknies are creatures most commonly encountered in the stories told in the courts, taverns, and brothels of Kars.  These tales most commonly concern unlucky women who marry a rich noble from the Northern Isles only to find out he's a blubbery, murderous thing whose castle is under the sea.  This is what counts in Kars as satire.

Fishermen in the Northern Isles know better.  Tales of Orknies, or as they call them the Sea Things, in those regions take a far darker turn.  It is said that the fiends waddle up to seaside houses at night and peer in through the windows.  Many say they've heard them muttering in some incoherent language which sounded both soothing and frightening.  Whenever a child or young maiden goes missing, Orknies are almost always blamed.  Some of the more disreputable and mad sailors claim they've sen a vast, underwater city in which the Orknies play with drowned children, but who can believe those drunkards.

To avoid being taken, coastal villages will often leave animal sacrifices on the beach in the hopes that those carcasses will satiate whatever dark pleasures the Orknies wish to indulge.  The Church has placed a ban on such action, believing that it is a Pagan rite whose days are long past.  Surely the God of Law would protect the innocent from molestation, say the priests.  The peasants are less convinced.

Those few who know of Orknies in the Dark Country primarily know them as a heraldic device.  Noblemen from the Northern Isles often ironically adopt them as their colors, a habit the majority of the West finds quaint at best and that the peasantry of Kars finds sickening.

Orknies
No. Appearing: 1 (3d6)
Armour Class: 14
Hit Dice: 2+2
Move: 60'/120' (swim)
Attacks: 2 (flipper 1d4 and see below), or Gaze (see below)
Morale: 6
Alignment: Neutral

Orknies are bloated, blubbery monstrosities possessing a vaguely humanoid shape and terrifying appetites.  They stand roughly half a head taller than a man, and  their gate is a gross, undulating waddle.  Some scholars claim they are sexless, but others claim that the presence of something resembling facial hair on some points to a difference between male and female creatures.

Despite their generally clumsiness on land, Orknies can be eerily silent when they want to be.  At night or in other dark places they gain surprise on a 1-3 on 1d6.  They are found of dragging off victims -- usually young children or beautiful maidens.   Their beady, imbecilic eyes posses a strange power, and any human or demihuman 1 or less hit die must save vs. paralysis or be unable to move or speak for 3d6 rounds.  The Orkney may make two attacks with its flippers.  If both hits are successful, the target is grabbed and silenced (since Orknies always make sure to wrap one of their flippers around the victim's mouth).  Before entering the water they employ an air-tight bag made of an unwholesome, leathery material that both muffles the victim and provides he or she with what scholars believe to be an endless amount of breathable air.  These devices, when captured, do not seem to work in the hands of non-Orknies.

Orknies are cowardly beasts, and will usually flee at the first sign of armed resistance; however, if they have any victims grabbed they will not release them unless slain.  What they do with the poor women and children they take to the depths is best left to the imagination, for the reality is far too terrible for this blog post to relate.

EDIT:  It has come to my attention that I have neglected their unnerving habit of tapping on windows during stormy nights.  There. Now you know they do that.

Monster Monday: Groans

Groans
No. Appearing: 1d4
Armor Class: 16
Hit Dice: 5+5
Move: 90'
Attacks: 1 (claw 1d12)
Morale: 7
Alignment: Neutral

Groans are immense anthropophagi that lurk in the benighted forests of the Dark Country.  They appear as immense bulks roughly 10' in height that terribly combine the aspects of both men and trees.  They stalk through the forest searching for their favorite food: man-flesh.

Groans loathe humans but love their meat.  Their hatred comes primarily from the practice of farming, which groans feel is the equivalent of genocide or slavery.  To the groan, digesting any vegetable matter is murder.  This is not to say that groans are moralists, for they are slow witted creatures whose primary pleasures in life involve disemboweling human victims.

In their natural environment, groans are incredibly stealthy.  When in a forest at night, they surprise opponents on a 1-5 on 1d6.  They will occasionally parley with potential meals, but only if it is very clear that the party in question has not recently eaten fruits or vegetables.  Otherwise, they will attempt to devour any humans or demihumans they see on sight.  Even if there is no evidence that the party in question has eaten any vegetable matter, on a reaction roll of Uncertain or worse the Groan assumes they have and attacks anyway.

Groans fear fire and they fear the sun even more.  Groans always take full damage from fire-based attacks and always catch fire if that result is possible.  When hit by the rays of the Sun, a groans feet bury deep into the ground and the groan becomes little more than a dried up dead tree.  It is said that the White Lady knows the ancient magic by which these trees can be turned back into groans, but most woodsmen agree this is a rare event.  It is also the general consensus that this solar problem, combined with their general slow-wittedness and their small numbers, that keep the groans from attempting to stamp out all of human civilization.

Monster Monday: Vault Weaver

Vault Weaver

No. Appearing: 1d3 (0)

Armor Class: 18

HD: 3

Move: 120'

Attacks: Special

Morale: 6

Alignment: Neutral

Vault weavers subsist on a diet of decaying flesh, but are also known to attack and devour unfortunate living beings that happen to cross their path.  They appear as luminescent orbs roughly two feet in diameter.  The color of these orbs is difficult for the human eye to comprehend, and when combined with their great speed this makes them incredibly difficult to hit.

When feeding, the vault weaver protrudes thick, goopy strands of phosphorescent ectoplasm of the same color as their unnatural bodies.  These protrude out from the creature 10’ in all directions, and victims must make a Save vs. Breath Weapon or take 1d4 points of damage.  Afterwards, the vault weaver selects one target that it will continue to feed on.  This target is randomly selected, but must have been damaged in the initial burst.  Every round thereafter until the creature takes damage or until the victim is slain, whichever comes first, the victim takes 1d4 points of damage. 

Characters or creatures killed in this manner have all of their organic matter dissolve into a strange dust that then flies into the vault weaver’s body.  Once the creature has thus eaten, it immediately makes a morale check.  If successful, it once again sends out strands to find a new victim.  If it fails, the creature is full and will flee from combat.

Due to the fact that their body is composed of an otherworldly energy, vault weavers are not only immune to energy based attacks but are healed by them.  This includes magical attacks of various sorts.  If the creature is healed in this manner when it has full hit points, it gains extra hit points above its normal maximum.  Strangely, physical attacks do harm vault weavers, but only deal half damage (minimum 1).

The origin of vault weavers is a mystery, and they can be found in tombs and underworlds throughout the Desert of Demons.  They are most often found in the ruins of Old Jerah where the catacombs – along with a constant stream of foolhardy adventurers – provide a nigh inexhaustible food supply.  However, those who believe this is their only haunt are often surprised to find themselves spending the last moments of their life as the victim of one of these blasphemous orbs. 

Monster Monday: Meat Animals

Meat Animals were genetically engineered by Earth's scientists in the years before the Deluge.  Initially they were created to provide a more humane alternative to traditional animal-based food products, and as such they were simply piles of cloned meat without any nervous system or appendages.  At some point before the Deluge, a scientist came to believe that these piles of ugly meat were the key to humankind's survival.  Since he knew most cloning facilities would shut down in the face of the oncoming catastrophe, he altered the DNA of the cloned meat such that it could be herded and bred in a post-apocalyptic world.

To our eyes, Meat Animals appear as nothing so much as an enormous, boneless pile of flesh.  Closer inspection reveals the rudimentary flippers used by these loathsome creatures to scuttle about, the gash of a mouth they use to consume whatever slop their masters can muster, and the small, dim eye spots that provide them with only the barest semblance of sight.  They move at a frightening, if uneven, pace.  They possess several calls that can alert the herdsman to various positional problems with the meat.  Meat Animals also provide a source of "dairy."  They sweat a sweet smelling, viscous liquid which tastes like a combination of honey and cream.  The herdsmen who deal with these animals are usually knowledgeable in the creation of several cheeses from this bizarre residue.

If not for their stupidity, they would be the perfect source of food; however, they are extremely difficult to control and manage.  While the creatures themselves are bred to be docile, they are stubborn to a fault, and they often charge headlong off of cliffs or sink into bogs despite their herders' orders.  They have few defenses against predators and are very vulnerable at night since they have difficulty seeing.  Some genetic defect also causes the creatures to desire to wander aimless, and when combined with their stubbornness this causes them to be difficult to raise except by either the most easy going pastoralists or the most organized cities.

This being so, Meat Animals are most commonly found around large urban centers like Uz and Almodad.  The few villages which dot the arable land in the Desert of Demons usually rely on more conventional fare for their food.  The Meat Animals size combined with the amount of their flesh that is usable in the production of food makes them perfect for those urban centers that can more or less protect them.  They are also often used as sacrifices, and it is said that beneath the city of Uz whole hecatombs are cast into the Fuel-less Fire at the direction of Moloch.  Those in the know are quick to point out that Moloch generally prefers humans to "meat."

While the Uzite tongue is well acquainted with the taste of "meat," our modern tongues would perceive the flavor as a riotous cacophony of pork, beef, lamb, chicken, white fish, salmon, catfish, and other as yet unnamed meats which will be invented in the centuries to come.  If the unlikely event were to pass that a modern or pre-modern human found themselves eating one of these creatures they would have to Save vs. Poison or become immediately addicted.

No stats are provided based on the assumption that they will not fight any PCs.  In the event of a sacrifice, a Meat Animal has 5HD.

Monster Monday: Mu-Tant

Here is another Uz monster usable in Old School campaigns:

Mu-Tant

No. Appearing: 2d6
Armor Class: 17
Hit Dice: 3
Move: 90’
Attacks: 2 (Claw, 1d4)
Morale: 8
Alignment: Neutral

Mu-Tants are a degenerate, servile race often employed by the various extraterrestrial entities which haunt the Desert of Demons.  They approach 7’ in height, and are covered with a thick, blue-grey carapace.  Their hands are malformed and have fused into pincers.  Their misshapen heads appear to have large, exoskeletal brains; however, Mu-Tants are only slightly above an animal in intelligence.

It is possible that Mu-Tants were once a highly advanced race, and that whatever entities first enslaved them removed their capacity for creative thought.  As it stands, Mu-Tants make somewhat effective body guards and laborers, but they can become irritable and often strike down overconfident masters.

Monster Monday: Children of Stone

Few claim to have witnessed one of the Children of Stone in person, and those that have rarely know them by  that name.  They are rare creatures, and in the Dark Country they are most commonly found in the various ruins left by the Sword Brothers.  How they came to be there, none can say.

They appear as stunted, vaguely humanoid figures with a passing resemblance to an overgrown baby.  Their heads are universally misshapen, and their features roil and contort to make new, hideous faces that most find difficult to look at.  Their bloated form is composed of a bizarre mixture of broken stones, burning cinders, and smoke that all somehow clings together to give this terrible entity the appearance of solidity.  The dim light they cast and their horrid wails can be seen and heard long before the creatures themselves are upon you.

Their precise nature is somewhat of a mystery.  Since their bodies disintegrate into ash upon death, none have been able to study them for any length of time. Their manner of procreation is the subject of much controversy and speculation.  Some have postulated that they are physical manifestation of the psychic trauma created during the events that cause edifices to become ruins.  Others claim that they are demons summoned by terrible diabolists to do their bidding, but since no one has every seen them directly in the employ of such a magician this hypothesis seems unlikely.  The most popular, in the most literal sense of the word, theory is that these mewling creatures are the result of too much old stone being too close to too much fire.  The mixing of the two substances in large quantities, such as often happens when old churches or castles burn down, creates them in the way meat creates maggots.

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This is the first in what I hope to be the resurrection of my Monster Monday articles, as I discussed in an earlier post.

The Children of Stone is an idea I've been throwing around since the very early days of 4e, when I ran a mediocre Wilderlands game using that system and the map of the Elphand Lands.  Originally, they looked a bit more like silicon breast implants that had been crudely molded into babies, but I decided to change them when I saw this image.  They've cropped up in a couple of campaigns since then, and I rolled some of my background for them into my version of the Mite when I ran the Labyrinth Lord version of the Dark Country. While I thought Mites added quite a bit fun to the game, it was mostly in the form of comedy.  These guys, I think, are a bit creepier.

Only two ConstantCon expeditions have bumped into them, and both of those expeditions lost a hireling as a result.

Monster Monday: Gnolls

Gnolls are terrible canine headed humanoids live somewhere to the East of the Desert Lands.  They are cruel beyond imagining and delight in torture of all forms.  The men of the West first discovered their existence during the crusades, and ever since they have been a constant terror to those living in civilized lands.

Gnolls occasionally make their way into human lands with peaceful motivations.  They often hire themselves out as mercenaries, where their feared reputation is best put to use.  Lawful men and women would seldom hire such beings, but the sinister cults of the Anti-Church frequently utilize these vile beings to serve their own ends.

Few superstitions surround Gnolls as they are quite rare within the Dark Country itself.  In the West men say that Gnolls were once humans.  Ruled by the great king Prestor John they built a city larger and more beautiful than the world had yet seen.  But they soon became decadent and immoral.  Their king begged them to renounce their wicked ways.  Infuriated, they stormed his palace, ripped him to shreds, and devoured his flesh.  For their crimes the God of Law gave them faces to match their hearts, turning them physically into the predatory creatures they had become.  

Supposedly, the God of Law then returned Prestor John to life, and placed him in a city on the opposite side of the world.  There he reigns in glory as an example that subjects should always listen to their kings, or so the chancellors in the kingdoms of the West are quick to remind men and women who have not payed their taxes.

The people of the Dark Country have little time for such nonsense.  Gnolls are not unknown; in fact, they are more likely to be seen in its brooding forests and dark mountains.  The natives claim that the fanciful tale of Prestor John is merely a product of the West's lack of contact with these fiends.  No creature that savage could ever have been human.  Besides, the people of the Dark Country are capable of creating equally fantastic and nonsensical stories without the aid of outsiders.

I Did it Before it Was Cool

It being this.  I changed the name of the feature about half way through it so heres the listings for my...

Monster Monday posts
Creature Feature posts

Sorry I've dropped off on Monster Mondays, but I've had less time to sit and hypothesize sense the campaign started.

EDIT: ;)

Monster Monday: Gibberlings

Gibberlings are horrible creatures who lair in the deep places of the world.  There they spring forth fully-formed from great, black pools.  When they emerge they are already armed with a strange sword that bears no resemblance to anything made by a human culture.  These weapons are horrible to look upon and bear strange patterns and etchings that seem to be a mockery of human art.

Their faces are bat-like, like the demon Azazel who they serve.  Their bodies are covered in a blue-black fur that makes them difficult to see in the darkness.  They are rarely seen outside of their lairs, and since there exist few people brave enough to enter the dark places in which they dwell they are rarely seen at all.  They communicate using only chaotic meepings.  They whine and gibber and cackle and pop and smack and screech.  Due to the large numbers in which they are encountered, the noise they make can be deafening.  Many a brave warrior or noble follower has fled even before the creatures came into sight.

Due to the fact that they seldom venture out of their dark lairs, the are the subject of scant few folk tales.  Those that exist are used to caution naughty children.  There is one which breaks this mold however.  Though the Gibberling connection is tenuous, some bards sing of a town that made yearly sacrifices to some force out in the forest.  One day a wandering priest entered the town and demanded that the good folk stop this demonic practice.  The next day the town was barren.  Not man nor beast was seen in the town or the woods around it for miles.  All was stillness.  And all still is, or so the stories say.  The legend places the town as whatever nearby ruin the bard finds convenient to scare his patrons. Still, stories start somewhere.

Monster Monday: Dragons

Dragons are terrible things who lack any kindness or empathy.  They are the physical embodiment of sin: Humankind's evils made flesh to stalk the world and devour their victims.  They are avaricious, slothful, prideful, envious, wrathful, lustful, and gluttonous.  They are almost as wicked as demons, and some even believe they are demons.  This can neither be confirmed or denied, but few sages actually associate Dragons with Hell.

Dragons are rare beasts.  There does not exist a "race" of Dragons, rather there is a handful of highly unique individuals.  No two dragons are alike, though certain lineages seem to exist that pace down traits from Dragon to Dragon.  Still, Dragons resist all attempts to categorize them into types, much to the chagrin of the various scholars of the World.  There are several books on the subject, but all are wildly inaccurate, sometimes laughably so.  Other times they are dangerously so.

One cannot accurately say that Dragons are encountered more frequently in the Dark Country than the West. This would imply that Dragons may be encountered frequently in the first place, which is a patent falsehood.  Most agree that you could count on one hand the number of adult Dragons lairing in the foreboding mountains of the Dark Country.  These make their homes in caves which they make more comfortable with strange beds made of the gold and bones of dead kings and warriors.

They sleep for centuries on these morbid pallets.  Indeed, many have slept for so long that the natives of the Dark Country wonder if they are still there.  It has been centuries since leathery wings brought fiery death to the squat villages and hamlets that dot the hills and valleys.  No one alive has seen a Dragon, for more reasons than one.  Despite the dangers, it is not for lack of trying.

Knights from the West often seek to test their mettle by slaying a Dragon.  Many knights dedicated to the Church believe that defeating a Dragon represents the defeat of their personal sins.  Many seek salvation this way, for the life of a knight is usually fraught with sin.  Most do not ever find a Dragon and those that do seldom live to relate their adventure.  Still, many songs, plays, epics, etc. have been written about knights on such quests.  They range from the darkly tragic to the comical, but they rarely end with the night achieving what he desires.

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EDIT: I forgot to put my design blurb.

I realized I'd been writing a Dungeons & Dragons blog for almost two months and I had only used the word dragon once.  That just could not do, so I had to figure out how to incorporate Dragons into The Dark Country.  I've decided not to use the different colored Dragon types in my setting, instead each Dragon shall be built on an individual basis.  Their offspring will be more or less identical, and most likely many of the Dragons will be similar to the different types, but you can't find Green Dragons in every forest you ever enter. They will only show up on Wandering Monster tables if there is a lair nearby, and then its a specific Dragon.  They should be special (though they are meant for killing).

Monster Monday: Mites

Mites are wicked little creatures found in old buildings throughout the world.  Their origin remains uncertain, but many people are keen to guess.  They seem to have no gender differentiation and therefore probably are created some other way than the regular route for reproduction.  The most common theory is that stones in old castles or dungeons or whatever other edifice of a certain age just achieve a kind of rude sentience after hundreds of years and becomes a Mite.  This explanation conveniently explains why ruined castles are generally in a state of disrepair, lacking various stones or doors or what have you, without requiring the local innkeeper to explain where he got the stone he used to make the base of his tavern or the fireplace.

Mites rarely appear in uninhabited buildings, no matter how old they are; however it is not unknown to have one hiding in the darker corners of one's house.  This is not to say that Mites are merely common house pests.  They are quite dangerous, and even a lone one has a fairly good chance of killing a normal person.  Compound this with the fact that they are found in great numbers in their ruinous homes, and one can see that Mites pose more than a nominal threat.

They are quite fond of traps, tunnels, and other things that general range from minor annoyances to deadly perils.  Ones found in peasant houses, or in their own terrible context, will seek to jam doors,  stall machines, remove axles from carts,  and a number of of other things that could spell doom in the right, or wrong, circumstances.  Often they use these methods as a way of subduing an victim so that they may rob them blind.  What they do with the items they steal is unknown, and it seems as though they steal for the sake of doing so.

Mites  seem to lack the power of speech.  They are to make no noises at all.  They bob their heads at each other and point and gesture as though they were talking, but they never open their mouths or utter a squeak or a murmur.  This fact greatly perplexes scholars.  Some believe that these are merely the tales of those madmen who are willing to travel to places where Mites could be found in the first place.  Who would listen to such imbeciles?  Others believe they have some primitive telepathy, but if so they never use it to communicate with those outside their own species.

Peasants have attached a strong social stigma to Mites.  Husbands who feel their wife should step up their cleaning often wonder out loud if a Mite might be living in their house.  Wives who observe what their husbands do when they return home are sure there is one.

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I'm more than a little tired of Kobolds.  Since I started with 3e, I'm too use to the little buggars being associated with dragons and I can't seem to separate the two in my head.  As such, I needed a replacement, and I found it in Mites and Pesties.  I've combined the two for world building purposes because there is little to distinguish the two from each other, and a I gain nothing by doing so.

Monster Monday: Mummy

The Dark Country is not the only land that has seen the Sword Brothers.  Almost two centuries before the founding of Nightwick Abbey, the Sword Brothers fought a series of terrible wars in the Desert Lands.  They carved out a small kingdom for themselves, but eventually were forced to leave and abandon the kingdom they had won.  Scholars say that this is when the first Mummies appeared in the lands where the Church holds sway, but pagans say that they had seen the creatures much earlier.

Apparently, the Sword Brothers learned a strange embalming technique during their time across the Sea.  They reserved this rite for those exalted among them who died due to the workings of the Adversary.  The exact qualifications for this are hazy, and most Sword Brothers were placed on a shelf in the catacombs once their life was finished.  Even most High Masters only received a sarcophagus to hold their bones and not the full embalming process they took from the Temples in the Sand.  

For whatever reason, though the Church firmly believes it is due to the unholy nature of the embalming itself, these cadavers are prone to being possessed by the spirits of the dead.  Usually the spirit is of the body's former inhabitant but it is not uncommon for a mummy to be possessed by a strong willed individual who died decades after the body saw the rites of burial.  When this happens, the mummy is filled with a sort of base intelligence.  It is as malevolent and brutal as it is stupid.  They seek revenge on those who wronged them in life.  This is, for most mummies, a very long list.  They carry out this revenge in the most blunt way possible.  They crash into the house of their betrayer and throttle him or her before leaving into the night air.

Unfortunately for the mummies, many animate after all of their foes are long dead.  Though they sometimes carry their revenge out on the descendants of their enemy, most have intellects that are too dim to be able to determine who these descendants might be.  Instead they attack any creature who roughly resembles those they knew in their past life.  This can be as simple as sharing a hair color, or being a bit taller than average.  Mummies always mistake such minor similarities for the real thing, and act accordingly.

Or at least they would if they were able to.  Most mummies are buried in catacombs and barrows and remain there unable to escape.  These mummies are so full of anger that they attack any living creature who crosses their path.

The natives of the Dark Country know that the meticulously embalmed creatures brought from the Desert Lands are not the only form that mummies take.  For centuries, perhaps even millennia, worshipers of the Old Gods have made terrible sacrifices in bogs and lakes.  If the god is displeased by such a sacrifice, the corpse animates and becomes a creature that resembles a mummy in everything but appearance.  These creatures are commonly used in folk medicine and witchcraft, though the Church frowns upon such things if they find out about them.  Across the Sea, the Desert Nomads tell of mummies of great magical strength and intelligence.  These mummies are still guided by the powerful hate which grips their kind; however, they enact their revenge more slowly and methodically.  These creatures, it is said, wish to revenge themselves upon the whole, living World and will not rest until it is tramped beneath their linen-wrapped foot.

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Today is the saddest day of the year.  I've always hated how the showing of horror movies and the general Halloween spirit come to a dead stop on November 1st.  In honor of this fact, I will more slowly ease out of the Halloween spirit on this blog.  The above entry is designed to take some of the typical conventions of a mummy movie and place them in a context that works for Medieval Europe.  

I'm an idiot by the way.  First, other blogs have been using Creature Feature as a title for articles on monsters.  Second, I missed a chance for alliteration by not tying the name into the fact that I make these posts on Mondays.  This has been corrected.