When stars collapse into black holes, not even light can escape the surface. But occasionally, very rarely when there is not a single pair of eyes in the universe even flitting towards the newly birthed black hole, something else can escape. Something that inherits the churning, black darkness and the intense gravity of its birthplace, and speeds away faster from that sinkhole of death than anyone can follow it.
Black holes incarnate. Many people ask questions about the origins of the horizon mongrels, the creatures called after the black boundary of certain death and crushing gravity near an imploded star. Very few people have answers that aren’t an overactive imagination. Where the mongrels really come from, no one is quite certain, but it’s clear that the patch of space that spits them out is darker and emptier than any other.
Flashing nightmares. Mongrels are solitary creatures that seem to be either completely uninterested in their own kind of entirely unaware of them. Rather, a mongrel seeks out places where the flow of spacetime is warped in some way, or even broken. Powerful graviturges often find themselves hunted by a mongrel, which is capable of great destruction should it ever arrive at its unfortunate victim’s doorstep. And as fast as it appears, it is gone - since they are often not much more than a flash of jaws and choking, crushing gravity, leaving nothing behind.
Slowing down time. The mongrels that have been studied seem to live at a faster pace than most creatures, slowing down their internal clock and allowing them to attain lifetimes of aeons. The only true weapon anyone has against a mongrel is to attempt to slow it, forcing it to experience time at a different speed, which seems to draw out some of its few weaknesses. Stopping a mongrel in its tracks entirely, well... it might just kill it.
And now back to our irregularly scheduled very stupid!
~
Ch
Art by Nick Derington!
The ch look like the lower halves of giants – although with just enough propriety to wear socks and undies everywhere. They hail from a distant reality, far from the Material Plane we know and tolerate. Despite lacking mouths, ch can talk. Unfortunately, they tend to have grating personalities - typically ornery, standoffish, and lazy. Labeling ch as “chaotic evil” seems harsh, but ch often engage in acts of random and aimless destruction until they grow bored and decide to loaf around the rest of the day. Also, on the rare occasions ch make alliances, they gravitate towards chaos-worshipping cults and other powers attempting to tear down reality and build it anew. So despite their oafish personalities and lack of conversational skills, it seems the ch hide sinister ideals.
Ch’s secret weapons lie in their various smells. Unlike the pure rancidity of a troglodyte’s funk, the ch’s natural body odor inflicts heavy strength-sapping depressive episodes. No matter how dire a situation, an enemy that succumbs to the ch’s “Stench of Failure” will curl up on the floor and accept their lot. A ch’s allies – from slaadi to demons – are often seen wearing clothespins on their noses to avoid self-sabotage.
Despite their goofy and lumbering appearance, ch are surprisingly mobile and agile. Ch wade into the fray unleashing kicks, hoping to take down opponents with their Stench of Failure. Should their innate Stench fail, the ch leap around the battlefield, cutting off escape routes with stinking clouds.
Ch
Large aberration, mildly chaotic evil
Armor Class 14
Hit Points 110 (13d10 + 39)
Speed 40 ft.
STR 18(+4) DEX 18(+4) CON 16(+3) INT 8(-1) WIS 9(-1) CHA 7(-2)
Saving Throws STR +7, CON +6
Skills Athletics +7, Acrobatics +7
Condition Immunities blinded, deafened
Senses blindsense 100 ft., passive Perception 9
Languages Common, Deep Speech, Giant
Challenge 6 (2,300 XP)
Proficiency Bonus +3
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Innate Spellcasting. The ch's innate spellcasting ability is Constitution (spell save DC 14, +6 to hit with spell attacks). It can innately cast the following spells, requiring no components.
4/day each: stinking cloud
Powerful Leap. The ch’s long jump distance is 60 ft., and its high jump distance is 20 ft.
Stench of Failure. Any creature other than a ch that moves within 15 feet of the ch must succeed on a DC 14 Constitution saving throw. On a successful saving throw, the creature is immune to the stench of all ch for 1 hour. On a failure, the creature is overcome with despair and loses all motivation; the creature falls to the ground prone, becoming incapacitated and unable to stand up. The creature can only repeat the saving throw (at the end of each of its turns) once they’re outside the ch’s Stench radius.
Where Are Your Sensory Organs? The ch can’t be surprised from inside its blindsense range.
Are you also bored with the current limited number of official familiars, whether you get yours through the find familiar spell or by befriending every imp that the DM throws your way? This should help! This collection contains eight new, unique familiars that are made distinct to fit every type of character that should want one. Additionally, each familiar has a trait or two that it can share with its bonded friend - but you may have to work for that.
For better, full-page high quality imagery, take a look at the Collection: Arcane Familiars at the Homebrewery here!
“ Beast of Gévaudan, feared no sword and feared no gun,
sent from Heaven, the seventh of creatures.
Beast of Gévaudan, for the wrath of God to come,
came to sanction the mass and the preachers.
To the father and the son came the Beast of Gévaudan,
terminator, a traitor, half wolf, and half machine.
To the prior and the nun came the Beast of Gévaudan,
a redeemer, believer, all fatal, mad, and mean. “
Divine adjudicator. Some locals from the surrounding areas of Gévaudan believe the Beast to be a creature sent by the gods to root out the persistent corruption in the heart of Gévaudan. Others believe it simply to be a pest upon the lands, preying on farmers and court officials alike. Naturally, it is true that the Beast prowls the land with the most corrupt government - but to conflate the two facts to be one divine fact is madness... right?
Bloodthirst. Those who live their lives in the vicinity of the Beast’s territory are intimately aware of its presence. It often shows itself, if only to cause fear and panic amongst the peasantry, and vanishes as quickly as it appeared. It’s true that it does occasionally attack locals with lower status, but magistrates, dukes and duchesses and attendees of the court have silently but unanimously decided to reduce social appearances everywhere. With no more corrupt counts and scheming queens on the road, the Beast is becoming impatient, and ready to unleash its frenzied eradication methods upon the higher class once again.
Hybrid nature. The Beast has two creature types: celestial and monstrosity. It can be targeted by any effect if it applies to one of its creature types.
Celestial nature. The Beast requires no sleep, food, or drink.
Lyrics from Powerwolf’s “Beast of Gévaudan”, from their album Call of the Wild.
"When guardians of nature that have a personal bond with fungi, symbiotic plants and other spore-releasing agents find themselves looking up at the sky and wondering what manner of druidic growths can be found amongst the far reaches of the cosmos, something may reach out to them to help them find it. Something otherworldly, something itself made of spores and infestations. Some choose to turn away from this entity, but others embrace it, moving between the stars, finding their way to distant planes, and returning inherently changed - sometimes for the best, sometimes for worse."
Warped druidic agents. A spore presence was once a druid, human or other, who has departed on a journey of discovery and been touched by something definitively other. They lost their humanity, their appearance, but gained something else in return - considered a blessing by some and a curse by others. In whispered circles, a spore presence's unique form is said to have been caused by the spores of an otherwordly entity, a creature or apparition not quite of this world, which has itself infested the druid's mind and changed it to what it has become.
Solitary patrols. Spore presences tend to find their way back to their homeland after some time, but without the communicative skills they had before their departure. Instead of talking, they use a confusing, disorienting telepathy that consists of warped images and garbled sounds to convey their thoughts and feelings, which only builds fear into the people they attempt to communicate with. Many spore presences that have returned to their home planet instead seek out a solitary life, generally within cave systems or other dark, mouldy locations, where they can merge amongst the fungi and mildew that they themselves have become part of. A spore presence in its hibernation mode - which can last years if it remains undisturbed - merges into the surface on which it rests and becomes a formless, indistinguishable but large patch of spores that emit no sign of life.
Aberrant nature. A spore presence requires no air, food, drink or sleep.
Hybrid nature. A spore presence has two creature types: aberration and humanoid. It can be targeted by any effect if it applies to one of its creature types.
“Born from amaranthine, great form uncoiled,
ivory claws extended to the smoke-storming sky,
pale eyes blinded by immense hands,
yet no less daunting than if they would pierce each mind.”
- Excerpt from “Song of the Dragon”, a mythological account of an encounter with the Great Blind Serpent, Rilzriaduss (author unknown)
Scourge of the Underdark. Where some are lucky enough to see - and survive - an encounter with a red, blue or green dragon, those who have encountered their purple cousins are fewer and far between. Purple dragons are difficult to learn about, both because they are extremely solitary creatures, preferring the company of none in their caves and underground burrows, and because any unfortunate soul that meets one rarely escapes with their life. Purple dragons burrow out their lairs, digging it out of stone and earth, and are most often found in the Underdark, where they prey on unsuspecting passersby, which are most often drow or svirfneblin. On rare occasions, purple dragons have dealt with humanoid races through mutual agreements - purple dragons are, in fact, smart enough to manipulate, and wise enough to understand when they have been outnumbered or when escape is unlikely. They are powerful though disloyal allies, although their pure strength is often enough to make up for their rapidly-shifting alliances.
Mental masters. Purple dragons are, just moments after hatching, notoriously difficult to control, whether through mind magic or through deception. Their nature allows them a strong defense against magical effects, and influencing their minds is nearly impossible. They are well-spoken beings, capable of such mental gymnastics that they can change other creatures’ minds without revealing their intentions. However, as cousins to the chromatic dragons, purple dragons are also greatly manipulative, evil, and cruel.
For better, full-page high quality imagery, take a look at the Purple Dragons Collection at the Homebrewery here!
Under the Read More, you’ll find the purple dragon’s lair actions and regional effects.
Lair actions. Purple dragons lair underground, preferring darkness or minor fluorescence over the brightness of day. Their adaptation to their subterranean surroundings has made their lairs dangerous to any that venture within. Purple dragons enjoy hiding in loose earth or amongst crystalline rock, to camouflage themselves, and are masters of stealth, especially within their own lairs.
On initiative count 20 (losing initiative ties), the purple dragon takes a lair action to cause one of the following effects; the dragon can’t use the same effect two rounds in a row:
Thick magical fog billows around the dragon in a 20-foot radius that spreads around corners. The area is heavily obscured and creatures within it are blind. A creature with darkvision can’t see through the darkness, and light (nonmagical or not) cannot illuminate it. After 1d4 rounds, the fog becomes slightly transparent and the area is lightly obscured. The next round, the fog vanishes.
One creature of the dragon’s choice within 120 feet of the dragon is set upon by illusory imagery of attackers. That creature must succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or be frightened of these imaginary creatures for 1 minute. While frightened, the creature attempts to fight these creatures off, which appear to approach it from any area in dim light or darkness. At the end of each of its turns, the affected creature can repeat its saving throw, ending the effect on a success. A creature can’t be affected by this lair action twice within 24 hours.
The dragon’s shadow appears to start moving on its own. Until the start of the dragon’s next turn, it gains a +3 bonus to AC, and attack rolls against it have disadvantage.
Regional effects. The region containing a legendary purple dragon’s lair is warped by the dragon’s presence, which creates one or more of the following effects:
Caves and narrow passages underground begin winding in a labyrinthine, nonsensical way. Corridors connect in non-Euclidian manners, dead ends appear where a connection to another space was expected, and previously crossed spaces suddenly seem to be cut off by steep rock walls or unexpected cave-ins that were unnoticed before.
Nonmagical and magical illumination is immediately snuffed out within 1 mile of the lair, and can’t be lit again.
Twisted crystalline constructions or dimly phosphorescent mushrooms grow in great numbers within 5 miles of the lair. Areas with large concentrations of crystals or mushrooms are considered difficult terrain. A mushroom that is disrupted (such as stepped upon or destroyed) releases a cloud of poisonous gas. A creature that inhales the gas must succeed on a DC 14 Constitution saving throw or take 3d6 poison damage and be poisoned for 1 hour.
If the purple dragon dies, the mushrooms wither and die after 1d10 days, but the crystals remain indefinitely. Immediately after its death, routes within the caves no longer change randomly, and lanterns can be lit once again.
Created by the Unseelie Court in their war against the Seelie fey, bloombeasts were made to attract creatures of nature like flies to a fly trap. Their spores incapacitate, allowing the bloombeasts free reign on whichever unfortunate prey they manage to halt. They can be vicious, despite their beautiful, floral appearance.
Unseelie watchdogs. The Unseelie Court created the bloombeasts as they created their displacer beasts, except the experiments that originated in the bloombeasts were not as succesful as the creation of the displacer beasts. Bloombeasts turned out more aggressive and violent than initially designed, and their bloodthirst led to the Unseelie fey instead simply releasing them into Seelie territory. The bloombeasts procreated - through a bizarre mating ritual involving a tree or other natural growth, which dies in the process of "birthing" a new bloombeast - and spread through both fey territories, though the Unseelie fey have since taught the beasts to only hunt Seelie fey.
Natural fighters. A bloombeast's biggest weapon is the flower that grows out of its body like a fleshy head. It cannot see through the flower, but it releases a potent, sickly smell that enraptures creatures that get close enough to sense it. Additionally, the flower can erupt in golden-pink spores which, when inhaled, cause unimaginable psychic pain. Having successfully captured its prey, the bloombeast's next method of attack is simply slicing with the curled claws at the end of its legs, which produce a painful poison.
tell me, mechanist, is it true?
does none of it bother you?
once upon a time, upon a time, behind us
the Mechanist inclined clockworks of time define us
who you are, who you are
merely springs that tick the time of things away
Spatial wanderer from Mechanus. The Mechanist is a strange, unknown creature that some insist they have met on their travels, but tales are spread far and wide and real truth is often muddled with grandiose tales of the being. The few things that are clear about its identity is that it is part machine, part human and that it travels to the other planes from Mechanus - but where its origins lie, none know. What is clear about it, however, is that it possesses the great, terrible power to warp and modify time, which means it is both widely feared and admired.
Time reversals. Locations that the Mechanist has visited often suffer from strange warps or folds in time, but none of the inhabitants of such locations can tell afterwards whether the warping started before or after the Mechanist arrives. Some suggest that it is attracted to these locations because of the inconsistent timelines that are already present, others argue that the mere presence of the Mechanist causes these temporal folds. In the grand scheme of things, others believe, in the life of a time-traveling, spatial-warping immortal creature, there is no difference between the two.
Chronological immortality. The Mechanist is immune to any effect that would age it, and it can't die from old age.
Clockwork quintessence. When the Mechanist dies, its body vanishes. It returns to Mechanus, where it reforms and reawakens after 1d12 days.
Constructed hybrid nature. The Mechanist requires no air, food, drink or sleep. It has two creature types: construct and humanoid. It can be targeted by any effect if it applies to one of its creature types.
