Monster Monday: Crystal Unicorn - The Prancing Prism

Today's Monster Monday is the crystal unicorn, a dazzlingly brilliant construct hewn from solid rock crystal into the shape of nature's most beautiful creation - the unicorn. This creature filters light into a dazzling array of magically enhanced colors, and its flawless facets are able to reflect spells back on their casters. The crystal unicorn is at once a deadly foe and a wealthy wizard's prized decoration. And don't be to hasty in celebrating your victory over this overgrown knick-knack - when defeated, these unicorns explode in a shower of crystal shards.

© Jennifer Petrie, Creative Commons Licence, via geograph

Like the arachnocalliope, I originally created this monster for my current campaign. The party was fighting their way through the lair of an old witch who, aside from having a lot of stereotypical old lady habits, was also a bloodthirsty murderer who built the bones of her victims into necromantically animated puppets. In one of her rooms, the adventurers had to fight off her private puppet circus which included a wind-up ballerina with a wicked kick, a mechanical magician marionette, and a crystal unicorn.

The best part about the crystal unicorn is, if you grew up in the household of a fantasy enthusiast during the 1980s, you probably already have a suitable miniature. All that's left now is to stat up little pewter wizards and ceramic dragons.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2018 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Arachnocalliope - Musical Doom Construct

Today's Monster Monday is the arachnocalliope, a mad construct that is like a magical cross between a spider and a pipe organ. Piping atonal, demoralizing notes with every movement of its many brass legs and every contraction of its armored bellows-abdomen, the arachnocalliope is a true visual and aural horror.

This eccentric contraption functions as a sort of anti-bard in combat, laying down de-buffs on its enemies with sonic effects. Not that it is helpless on its own, with two sword-like forelegs and a sonic breath weapon (no one is resistant to sonic damage!).

The genesis of this creature lies in my Graverobbers campaign (which I have not posted an update on in about 3 years, but it's still going). In one session, the players were fighting some constructs made by a creative witch whose chosen artistic medium was bone sculpture. Among the odd bone creations they fought was this arachnocalliope. I decided it worked pretty well as its own stand-alone monster, so I re-worked it a bit to be made out of normal materials and here we are. Some of those other bone creations, like the ballistocentaur and the triskeliettin may make an appearance here in the future, but for now you'll just have to use your imagination to wonder what those polysyllabic monstrosities might be.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2018 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Termite Mound Guardian, a Swarm-Filled Construct

Today's Monster Monday is the termite mound guardian, a druidic construct full of swarming, biting termites. Crafted from the gigantic termite mounds found in the tropical regions of the world, these stalwart defenders are often created to protect villages, natural resources, or sacred spaces. From a distance, they appear to be ordinary termite mounds, but when interlopers approach, they rise out of the ground, taking on a roughly humanoid form. A flood of angry termites pours from a thousand tiny tunnels throughout its body, massing against the enemy, while other warrior termites take up defensive positions along the mound's body, ready to bite any who make contact with it.

via Wikimedia

5 meter high Cathedral Termite Mound - Litchfield National Park, Northern Territory, Australia

I like the idea that there is a whole range of naturalistic constructs that only druids can make. Like, if a wizard saw a termite mound guardian, they might think, "Why not just make a clay golem?" But druids see these as something that augments and complements nature, where golems are something that contravenes the natural order.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2018 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Mummy Wraps - The Embalming Construct

I approached the door with some trepidation, my earlier discourse with M. H-- on the subject of curses weighing heavily on my fevered mind. As a man of science, I held myself above such superstitions, but in that dark sandstone tunnel, choked with the dust of ages, such things seemed terrifyingly possible. Cuvier beckoned me examine the inscription on the door. Those inscrutable hieroglyphs remain a mystery to me, and I truly have no idea how my companion, learned though he was in such things, and quite more well-endowed with critical faculties than I, was able to derive meaning from them. Nevertheless, he did his best to explain. 'The room beyond must be the embalming chamber. Therein, the cadaver was prepared for the afterlife by the removal of the organs and the preservation of the flesh.'
   This gruesome fact was not new to me. I had, of course, read the MS by the renowned Mr. B-- of the Royal Society on the details of the process, which I have already laid out for you in great detail earlier in my account. But the idea that this place of ritual disemboweling lay just ahead of me through a foot of crumbling stone was, at the time, most disconcerting to my temper. Pallid though I was already, I am certain I grew more so at this news, though good Cuvier either did not notice or was kind enough not to remark upon it.
   Cuvier bade the workers make use of the great prybars which they had brought along for that purpose, and within the hour they had shifted the stone aside enough that we could make our ingress. Cuvier insisted on going first, and to my great and ongoing regret I let him do so with no small measure of relief on my part. He cast the light of his hooded lantern around the room, revealing what to the ancients must have been an impressive laboratory. Jars full of chemicals and unguents stood intact in chests of desiccated wood. An array of tools, equally at home in the hands of an anatomist as in those of a torturer, glinted in the light as if they were new, the dry desert air having preserved them for thousands of years without rust or decay. But in the middle of that cursed room - and I say cursed now, with full confidence and the benefit of hindsight - stood a solid stone mortuary slab topped with a tangle of ancient linen bandages. O that we had taken our leave then! But no.
   Fancying that I spied a scrap of writing on the bandages and fearing that my hands, moist from the fever and - I must admit - from nerves, might damage any ancient ink, I motioned Cuvier to take a closer look. When he did - O! If only this truly had been a fever dream! - the bandages rose up of their own accord and wrapped themselves around him. Helpless before these twining snakes of fabric, Cuvier at first stared in wonder, then tried to scream. His aborted scream, cut off by the living bandages as they covered his mouth, still chills me to my very core. With his last ounce of will, my dear companion reached out a shaking hand in a silent plea for help, but before I could grasp it, the bandages tightened and forced his arms to his sides. Before my very eyes, his skin grew brittle and taut and deathly dry. I could not help but turn away and, in my cowardice, flee headlong into the night.
   I know not how I made it out of that warren of ancient tunnels, the workers long since having fled and my only light source lying abandoned on the ground at the feet of my dead friend. Perhaps the instinct for survival alone carried my tired body back to my apartment on K-- Street. I can tell you that I did not sleep at all that night, as my thoughts were focused entirely on the arrangements I must make to leave this benighted country on the morrow. The full horror and the burden of guilt did not wash over me until that dark hour which lurks in the shadowy spaces between midnight and dawn. Alone with only my thoughts, I fancied that I perceived a dull scratching on my chamber door. I attempted to dispel the notion, but the sound grew only more persistent, its terrifying reality intruding even on my fevered and terror-stricken mind. At last, in a misplaced attempt to assuage my fears, I went to the door and opened it.
   There stood Cuvier, wrapped in those ancient linens, his skin browned with naptha and pulled tight across his bones. It is his face that still haunts me - cracked and sunken, with hollow eye sockets that could only be sightless and yet seemed so terribly perceptive. His papery lips pulled back into an accusing sneer, revealing yellowed teeth and a black tongue. I slammed shut the door immediately, and pushed my steamer trunk in front of it as a barricade. The scratching at the door came again in earnest, quickly becoming an insistent rap, and then a pounding that echoed in my ears. Abandoning my earthly possessions, I made my egress through the shuttered window and went by barge that very night to the port, with the intent of catching a ship bound northward at first light.
   I write this account from within the walls of St. S-- Asylum for the Criminally Insane, in the hopes that someone might read my words and know that, while I did not kill Dr. August Cuvier, I most certainly do not hold myself blameless in the story of his death. If his mummified body is ever recovered, I pray that whosoever finds it has the sense not to touch the bandages. 

Today's Monster Monday is mummy wraps, a dangerous construct that takes the form of spell-inscribed linen bandages with the power to wrap themselves around their victims, embalming them and turning them into mummies. While the victim's companions are presumably trying to figure out how to hit the bandages without harming their friend, the mummy wraps can control their cohort like a puppet, attacking them with their body as the victim watches helplessly.

The above vignette is written in the style of Edgar Allan Poe, albeit with fewer wordy and tortuous digressions on substitution ciphers, the value of inference, and the details of 19th century Parisian police-work. Don't ask me why, it just seemed fitting. Call it a tribute to my first DM, who kept a volume of the complete works of Poe on his shelf and insisted that it was "good fucking literature for Dungeon Masters."

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2018 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Sword Golem, a Thousand Angry Blades

Today's Monster Monday is the sword golem, a magically animated guardian that is forged, Iron Throne-style, out of thousands of swords. This noisy construct can slice and dice its way through any obstacle, launch individual swords at distant targets, blast groups of enemies with an explosion of blades, and even discorporate and transform its body into a wall of spinning swords. In short, this is a versatile monster that can provide a challenge to seasoned adventuring parties, and which fits in well in nearly any dungeon.

The origins of this monster lie in my childhood. I distinctly recall walking through the neighborhood at night and hearing loud scraping and clanking sounds coming from the neighbor's garage, like someone was shaking a sack full of scissors. Obviously, it was just the neighbor digging through his toolbox or something, but because it was dark out (I lived in a wooded area with no streetlights) and because I was young and easily spooked, I imagined a terrible monster whose body was made out of hundreds of swords and blades, all of them scraping rustily together as it moved. The image stuck with me somehow through the succeeding decades, eventually manifesting itself in this monster.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2017 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Living Grimoire, the Animated Spellbook

"That's no librarian," Jhonto whispered, gesturing with the point of his blade at the brown-robed figure slouched over the writing desk, steadily scribbling away at a tremendous manuscript.  "No one's set foot in this library for a century."

"I didn't mean... it could be a, like, librarian golem.  Or undead.  Or just a really old wizard.  I'm just saying, it couldn't hurt to ask."

"It can always hurt to ask," Jhonto muttered.  But looking around, it was clear that the party had already decided.  As the party's face, it was his responsibility.  He took a tentative step toward the desk and cleared his throat.

"Shhhhhh!"  The librarian didn't even look up from its book.

He tried again, taking two more confident steps forward.  "Excuse me, I was wonderi-"

"SHHHHHH!"  The librarian looked up, one skeletal finger pressed against its lipless mouth, glowing yellow lights burning in its cracked eyesockets.  In a rush of air, the skeletal monk and his desk and the bookshelves and Jhonto's companions all disappeared.  Jhonto clasped his head and stifled the urge to vomit - that queasy feeling he got every time he teleported.  The only light now came from his glowing sword, its pale blue nimbus flickering across the spines of hundreds of dusty tomes and scroll cases.  So he was still somewhere in the library.

"Guys?" he gave an exploratory shout.  Then louder: "GUYS?"  No response.  "All right, I guess I'm on my own then.  Just you and me, Nightcleaver."  He flicked his sword lightly through the air as if it were responding to him.  A glimmer of reflected light caught his eye.  One of the books was bound in silver with inset gems.  "Is this...  Did that crusty old librarian send me to the right place after all?"  He reached out for the book, but just as his finger brushed the spine, it shot off the shelf, its ornate cover flapping like the most awkward pair of wings.  Reams of yellowing paper - seemingly more than the book contained - flew out of the book and swirled about it in a whirlwind, expanding to engulf Jhonto.  The paper edges cut at his face and hands like knives.  The book was glowing from within now, brighter than Nightcleaver.  Abruptly, it turned to face Jhonto and opened to a specific page.  Swirling orange runes lifted off the page and hovered in the air before exploding in a blast of force that knocked Jhonto back against a stack, sending lesser scrolls showering off the top shelf.

"Oh, your gonna get it now, book!"  Staggering to his feet, he clasped his amulet and thrust it forward.  Seven glowing pink missiles shot out, arcing toward the hovering book, but seven floating sheets of paper moved automatically to block them.  "What the... Oh come on!"  He squared himself, took Nightcleaver in both hands, and charged the book.  It blasted him with a spray of clashing magical colors, but he ploughed through, bursting into the storm of swirling pages and cleaving into the offending tome.

When the rest of the party found him, he was fire-scorched and bleeding from a hundred shallow cuts, hunched in the middle of a mess of old papers, his sword thrust clean through a bejeweled grimoire.  The ruined shelves around him, blasted apart with countless spells, spoke of a long and furious battle, but all he said when they appeared was, "Couldn't hurt to ask, huh?"

Today's Monster Monday is the living grimoire, an animated spellbook that flies in a swirling cloud of paper and unleashes the spells inscribed on its pages.  Included below is an example Caster Level 1 living grimoire, along with rules for creating any living grimoire from Caster Level 1 to 20.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2016 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Iron Maiden, an Animated Torture Device

"I just don't feel comfortable staying in Grandfather's house.  You know what they say about him in town..."

"We don't put stock in the opinions of peasants and shopkeepers, dear sister."  Gavish adjusted the buttons on his red velvet sleeve.  "The small-minded have no appreciation for real science."

"But what if they find out you intend to continue his work?  What if the mob comes knocking down our door with torches and hay forks?"

"Unlike Grandfather, I won't be taking subjects from the village.  At least not often.  Goblins, travelers, and the like should nicely make up the difference.  And besides, this manor is heavily warded.  We can sleep in safety and luxury."

Juvenia looked uneasily around the large bedroom, with its massive four-poster bed, leaded glass windows, centuries-old armoire, and towering oak doors.  The furniture was too big for her, and too small for the room.  "Luxurious but lonely.  The story of my life."

"Hush now, you won't be lonely.  I'll be just in the next room."  He started walking toward the smaller of the bedroom's two doors.  "The house will seem more alive in the morning, when the servants arrive.  You'll see."  He stepped through the door into his adjoining bedroom and vanished with the click of a latch.

Juvenia changed into her night clothes, spoke the command word to extinguish the candles, and wrapped herself in the bed's voluminous blankets.  She tried not to think of all the suffering that had taken place in this house.  All the death.  "For the greater good," she thought to herself.  "Grandfather's research... all for the advancement of knowledge."

She awoke with a start, not remembering having fallen asleep.  Gavish was knocking at their shared door.  She got up slowly, spoke a word that set the candles alight, and called out, "What do you want, Gavish? Why do you disturb me at this hour?"

The response from the other side of the door was muffled.

"Say again?" she threw open the door, only to be greeted by a towering iron figure rather similar to a mummy's sarcophagus.  Something about its unmoving, emotionless face froze Juvenia to her core.

"Blood will pay for blood," it said.  A seam opened up down its center, opening to reveal a shriveled corpse in red velvet, impaled on hundreds of iron spikes.  Only when Gavish's bloodless husk slid out and flopped onto the rug did Juvenia muster up the breath to scream.  She bolted across the room, threw open the main door to the hallway, and slammed it shut behind her.  Up and down the long, dusty hall, candles flickered to dim life.

Two wickedly spiked chains burst through the door behind her and tore it off its hinges.  Juvenia sped barefoot through the unfamiliar house, the iron maiden relentlessly scraping along the floor behind her, chains flailing madly against the walls.  "Blood will pay for blood!" it called after her.

She spotted her escape.  A flight of stairs up to the third floor.  That thing had to weigh a ton, and there was no way it could climb up steps.  She pounded up the flagstone steps, pausing at the top to catch her breath.  In a burst of curling purple smoke, the iron maiden appeared before her.  She shrieked and fell backwards down the stairs, knocking her head hard against a step.  Her vision blurred and darkened.  A spiked chain dug into her bare leg and began to drag her back up the stairs.  Another wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her upright.  All she could see was a chamber lined with of eager spikes.

"Blood will pay for blood!"
~~~~~~

Today's Monster Monday is the iron maiden, a magically animated torture device that grabs its victims with chains and shoves them into its spiked chamber where it drains their blood.  This monster will fit easily into any mid-level dungeon, but it is especially suited to gothic horror castles and the lairs of mad wizards.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2016 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Leather Golem, the Roguish Construct

At the sound of something expensive shattering against the floor above them, Alonzo set down the dice cup.

"Gods dammit, not again!  What kind of damn fool keeps a faerie dragon as a pet?"

"The kind of rich eccentric that pays well for guard duty," Iermo reminded him.  "I think it's your turn to check."

"Don't you dare take a single sheqel from the pot," he teased, rising to his feet with visible reluctance.  "I know exactly what I've wagered so far."
"I wouldn't dream of it."  When Alonzo was halfway up the stairs, Iermo started loudly rummaging through the pile of small coins on the table.

"Ha ha, Mister Funny Man.  Be quiet, I'm trying to do our job."  Alonzo disappeared up the staircase.  There was a jangle of keys, the click of a lock, and the faint creak of the old door, followed immediately by a heavy thud, and then silence.  

"Alonzo...?"  Iermo was on his feet, hand on his scimitar hilt.  He rushed to the base of the stair.  Alonzo was at the top, dark blood still burbling from a gash in his neck.  Iermo took the stairs two at a time, scimitar held in front of him apotropaically.  He grabbed a wyrd-lantern from its peg on the wall, stepped over his fallen comrade, and nudged open the blood-spattered door.  

The green wyrd-light caught a figure clad head-to-toe in black leather just as it was sliding the Grimoire of Jobor Kha into a pouch on its chest.  Iermo lunged forward, bringing his scimitar down in a silvery arc with all his strength.  The blade sheared through the thief's arm just above the elbow.  It fell to the floor without a single drop of blood.  The burglar leapt back, unfurled a whip from its remaining arm, and struck at Iermo.  The tip of the lash wrapped around his ankle, and with one quick pull the thief toppled him backward.  Iermo got up in time to see the intruder leap out the open window.  He scrambled to his feet and bolted to the window.  Four stories below, the dark figure bounded across the courtyard, whipped itself up onto the parapets, and disappeared into the city's midnight streets.

Speechless, Iermo stooped to examine the thief's severed arm.  The thing had the form of a man's arm, but instead of flesh and bone it was layer upon layer of leather all the way to the core.  Braided skeins of leather extending from the wrist formed a long whip which was wound around the forearm like a bracer.  As Iermo twisted and turned the arm this way and that, a long blade sprang from a slit between the middle and ring fingers, its keen edge dripping with black poison.  "What is this abomination?"

Today's Monster Monday is the leather golem, a versatile construct made of solid leather, built for skulking, stealing, and stabbing.  It has whips and poisoned blades built into its arms, retractable thieves' tools and secret loot pockets built into its body, and it smells like a new briefcase.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2016 Jonah Bomgaars.

Monster Monday: Mithral Spider, A Gleaming Drow Construct

Today's Monster Monday is the mithral spider, a gleaming magical construct employed by the nefarious drow in patrolling the deep caverns of the Underdark and in slave-taking raids on the surface world.  Like any good spider-shaped construct, it can stab with its bladed legs, bite with its poisoned fangs, shoot crossbow bolts out of its face, and fire alchemical spider webs out of its butt.

I created the mithral spider for my campaign in the Guns of the Western Kings campaign setting, only there it could shoot bullets out of its face.  You will be able to read more about that campaign here soon.  I'm afraid I'm a bit behind on my work for d20 Despot because I am currently recovering from a bout of food poisoning.  I blame sewer slicks.

The following text in gold is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2016 Jonah Bomgaars.

Crumbling Construct - A Template for Ancient Golems

First off, wow, I am way behind on my posts.  Sorry about that.  Things are pretty hectic at d20 Despot HQ right now (currently a hotel room down the street from Beaumaris Castle on the Isle of Anglesey).

Moat may contain otyughs

I know I said recently that you would be seeing a new PC class here soon, but that has been delayed due to technical difficulties.  As soon as Kent sends me the awesome illustration, I'll post that new class for you, no matter what day of the week it is (there is a complete PDF of the new class, minus illustrations, on my Patreon available for $1+ patrons).  Updates over the next few weeks will be sporadic or entirely absent, as they have been for most of this month.  I happen to be moving to a different continent soon, so please forgive my irregular schedule.

For today's update, inspired by a recent trip to the British Museum, I've created a 'Crumbling' template that you can apply to any constructs to nerf their power, making them appropriate for lower-level parties, and giving them that ancient feel which you might expect them to have from waiting around in an eroding tomb for 3000 years or so.  Due to my aforementioned hectic schedule, I've only been able to test this new template on the stone golem and caryatid column, so the CR adjustments might need some tweaking (determining Challenge Ratings is an inexact science in any case, especially so when working with templates).

The following material given in gold text is available as Open Game Content under the OGL.  Open Game Content is (C)2014 Jonah Bomgaars.  Crumbling stone golem and crumbling caryatid column are based on material published in Pathfinder Bestiary 1 & 3, (c) Paizo.