(Monsters) The Abominable Horrors of Nerath

Hanged Man (by QD_Mitch)

8 HP, 2 armor, Group, Terrifying

A noose, supernaturally strong (d8 damage) Close, Near, Ignores Armor

Special Qualities: Its neck hangs at a terrible angle, swinging wildly

They still hang people in these parts. It's an awful thing, I don't cotton to it, but…that's our way. Sometimes folk does something that you just can't take back, and no amount of fining or jailing makes it right. If they're lucky their neck breaks right away and they don't hang there, choking away. If they're lucky they die quick. If we're lucky, they stay that way.

Instinct: Wait in feigned death

  • Strangle mercilessly

  • Appear behind a foe

  • Hang lifelessly, for as long as it takes

Grave Scrambler (by lichkicker1)

6HP, 0 armour, Group, Terrifying, Stealthy

Prying fingers, (w(2d6)), hand, close

“What’s that shape at the end of the way? It looks almost… Ready your weapon! Quickly now, they are upon us!”

You might have mistaken their frame for human, once. A mess of spiderlike limbs that bend in all the wrong ways, and a face full of eyes; these creatures skulk around the graves and crypts of the once-devout. One walks upright and bow legged, another vaults itself along the ground, one scuttles on five legs. Each is subtly different, but each moves at an alarming pace. Their long fingers grasping and prying up-and-over walls, along the cobblestones towards you, ready to drag the pieces of you to some dark corner.

Instinct: To scuttle

  • Pull them apart

  • Climb over and under

  • Move at an alarming speed

Glee-man (by lichkicker1)

16HP, 1 armor, Solitary, Large, Intelligent, Hoarder

Long claws, gnashing maw, (d10+3), 1 piercing, close, reach, messy

Special Qualities: Leaper


Silly Jack, Silly Jack,

Went to school without his hat.

Hurry home, hurry home,

Before the gleeman takes your clothes.


A creature from a child’s nightmare, wrapped in the clothes of its parents. It loves to wear the garb of man, though its sickly mantis claws tear the garments to shreds as it adorns its enormous frame. It bounds towards prey in the dim streets, which it bites and savages with childlike joy. No face, save for a spreading grin of daggerlike teeth that stretch from shoulder to shoulder. Better to hide, not run; it will catch you.

Instinct: To collect

  • Chase down prey

  • Steal and wear a valuable item

  • Gibber with glee

Grimcleaver (by the_savvyhead)

25HP, 7 armour, Solitary, Magical, Stealthy, Divine, Devious, Intelligent, Hoarder, Planar, Construct, Terrifying, Amorphous

Special Qualities: Blood-soaked armor, Shadow mist, Stunning gaze, Nightmare aura

Grimcleaver (b[2d6+6] damage 2 piercing), close, forceful, messy

Seven-foot-tall suits of blood-drenched armor wreathed in unnatural shadows, these terrible creatures were born of some dark god in times forgotten. Their purpose is to terrify and brutalize, before killing their prey. Their true names long forgotten, they're called now after their massive blades which cut not just flesh, but hopes, thoughts, memories, and bonds.

When a grimcleaver approaches you, roll+wis. On a 10+, you overcome it's aura with nothing more than base uneasiness. On a 7-9, the GM picks one. On a miss, both.

  • If you immediately flee, mark XP

  • If you don't flee, take -1 ongoing while you're near it

When you look right at a grimcleaver's face, roll+cha. On any results, it knows what you fear. On a 10+, it's also locked in gaze with you, fascinated, doing nothing for a moment. On a miss, you're overcome by visions of your fears.

Instinct: To terrorize

  • Sever something

  • Vanish into or appear from shadows

  • Pursue beyond all odds or bounds

  • See fears

Pamoon (Stone Gardeners) (by ginkomortus)

20hp, 4 armor, Group, Intelligent, Organized, Construct

Rake (w[2d8] damage, +3 piercing, Messy, Close, Reach)

Special Qualities: Made of stone, covered in runes

Far, far south, the Daloong build their swaying villages suspended over the deepest mountain chasms. They will only cut into the living rock to build their anchor temples, surrounding the dark basalt towers with charms and offerings, all to keep them safe from the silent, placid Pamoon and the sublime destruction the Stone Gardeners leave in their wake.

The Pamoon are cut from the heart of the mountain, their rocky flesh engraved with histories and prophecies in a thousand different pictographs. The youngest of them are still roughhewn and trailing grit, while the oldest are polished smooth by thousands of years of wind and rain and work. Their bodies are doll-like, made of rounded stone dowels jointed with braids of raw silk, with a featureless spherical head that spins to "look" at any who address it. The silent mountain spirits are not violent, rarely raising their hand against those foolish enough to chip a blade on their engraved stone bodies. Every Pamoon dresses in pale green robes, and carries with itself a three-tined rake of petrified wood, the end a gnarl stone hammer.

What makes the Daloong fear the coming of the Pamoon is the prayers the Stone Monks make: the Pamoon are mandala builders, crafting massive wheels of breath-taking beauty across the sides of whole mountains. Decades or centuries may pass without a holy day for the Stone Gardeners, but when their unknown calendar calls for celebration, ten thousand of them will descend upon a valley. Their rakes will reduce the stone and soil and ice and flesh of everything within reach to the glistening, multi-hued sands they need, and then they will begin building their mandala. The process can take weeks, and they leave the wonder to the winds and rains as soon as it is completed, returning to wander the mountains until their stony mother calls them to worship again.

Instinct: To contemplate

  • Grind and crush to sand and grit

  • Trace secret geometries

  • Curate the secrets of the stone

Voice-Snatcher (by UnsealedMTG)

12hp, 0 Armor, Solitary, Devious, Intelligent

Iron Grip (d6 damage, close)

Special Qualities: Speech Forcing

Everyone knows the dangers of the wilds come not just from outside but within. Tales abound of the stoutest companions who turned on each other over petty complaints in the wilds. Fewer know that it is not just the pressures of the darkness that turn friends to bickering foes.

A hunched creature with bits of flesh constantly dripping. It flings these pieces of flesh toward you. Once they reach you, these bits of flesh wriggle themselves inside you–through mouth, through ear, or through eye. Once the Voice-snatcher has a piece of itself inside you, it knows you as you know only yourself. And you will hear yourself say things you never thought. Or things you thought but never meant to say….

Instinct: To sow discord

  • Fling pieces of flesh

  • Force a character who has consumed its projectile flesh to speak

Lattice Workers (by sterbl)

3hp, 0 Armor, Hoard, small, organized, devious

Mandibles (d4 damage, Near)

Special Qualities: Climb walls and ceilings, secrete glue

A week after the town of Sohra fell an odd structure started to form in its place. A scaffolding formed from small interlinked pyramids rose up above the trees, there were several at first but they grew and merged until a large three sided pyramid jutted out from where the town once stood. When Byron's resistance came to retake the town, they encountered the structure. It was made from all kinds of debris, crusted in an odd epoxy like substance that bound it all together. The beams were made from tree trunks cemented to cobblestones, parts of wagons and building walls. Small objects filled in the gaps: rocks, coins, beer steins and broken glass. But the worst part were the bodies incorporated into the structure, placed haphazardly as if they were no different from any of the other debris.

There was not much time to inspect the lattice pyramid, the men called out and pointed up the structure. Swarming the beams overhead were tons of dog sized insect like creatures, they had long thin bodies and legs. When they got close each creature would pause to launch a fist sized ball of sticky goo at the troops. It clung to the men's armor and weapons and slowly hardened into the same glassy glue that held the pyramid together. The hoard flowed into the troops, the individuals were cut down effortlessly but they kept coming, the men were weighed down more and more by the secretions hanging off their gear and started to fall. The cowards broke and fled and when Byron called the retreat he was hit in the mouth. He died clawing at the stuff clogging his airways as his men dragged him away.

Instinct: to build

  • Throw a glob of glue

  • Build from scavenged materials

  • Signal for help

Psyche Devourer (by Riiku25)

12 HP, 0 Armor, Solitary, Devious, Intelligent, Organized

Devour the mind (d8, Close, Near, Ignores Armor)

"Tales tell of a soulless being that reflects our own nature. It sees with eyes and speaks with a voice like ours. Be not disarmed by its appearance, for it is no mere man! It will eat away at your mind before you even notice, and it will leave behind your hollow body. Be wary of random acts of violence and crime, for the violence may be symptomatic of these horrors." -An old man, found as a beaten and mangled corpse the next day.

Instinct: To destroy the mind

  • Wipe out a memory

  • Turn a peaceful mind violent

  • Scramble the senses

  • Telepathically call on the violent and the psychotic

The No-Faced Ones (by the_imagesmith)

6 HP, 3 Armor, Group, Stealthy, Intelligent, Terrifying

Dual Sharp Kukri Knives (b[2d8] damage, 1 piercing, Close, Near)

Special Qualities: Blending – Allows a No-Faced one to change their look, attackers must Defy Danger (Wisdom) to notice them.

There are rumours in the grand cities lies a secret organisation that puts even the assassins' guild's best to shame. The No-Faced Ones are a small group of assassin's who have gained a reputation for killing targets at any time without ever being caught. It's rumoured they are able to kill a target and flee by blending into the crowd. The rare few who do get away, tell rumours of how they are able to change their face, hence the name No-Faced Ones.

Instinct: To kill a target, To blend into the background, To prove oneself in Combat

  • Strike without notice

  • Manipulate their face with Illusion magic

  • Disarm

Eye Eaters (by Raifnw

3 HP, 0 Armor, Hoard, Small, Stealthy, Intelligent, Organized, Devious, Magical.

Claws (d3 damage, Hand)

It is said that they once were the happiest creatures in the world, it is said that the once roamed the lush forests of midland, singing songs of joy, ever playful and ever plentiful. They were once called the sunshine pixies, the guardians of the sun and the summer forests. But their forests are no more, they all sank into the ground when the great calamity hit, shaking the earth and dragging down with it the happy pixies of a forgotten age.

After millennia in darkness, with no sunlight to sustain them, the sunshine pixies of old, has lost their song of joy and has been twisted into vile and hateful creatures of the dark. Hating and envying all that has been lucky enough to see the sun and feel its heat upon their face.

Now their only joy, is to suck out the eyeballs, of all the sunlight creatures that dear to enter their dark domain, luring them into traps with visions and darkness.

The eye eaters are small, pale creatures, with big black eyes, bat-like wings and monstrous claws and sharp pointy teeth. They retain some of their illusionary magic of old, but it has been twisted to darkness and filled with hate.

Instinct: To eat the eyes of those that have seen the light.

  • Distract or lure with shadows and visions

  • Swarm the enemy

  • Spring a trap

Snark (Pixie) (by notmy2ndopinion

12 HP, 0 armor, Solitary, Magical, Devious, Hoarder

Small Traps: 1d6 damage + humiliation or mockery

Instinct: to harry foes on a quest or mission

  • Stay out of sight

  • Obtain an item of value

  • Daze and confuse a victim

Grumkin (Dwarf/Gnome/Leprechaun) (by notmy2ndopinion)

12 HP, 2 armor Solitary, Magical, Devious, Intelligent, Hoarder

Smithing hammer and shield (1d8, close)

Instinct: Create wildly dangerous items of power

  • Destroy something valuable

  • Remake an item, perverting its purpose

  • Grant a wish with a spiteful twist or archaic condition

"Your wet nurse told feywild tales full of snarks and grumkins, wights and wargs, dragons and demons. Thief: what are three items that the snarks are fond of stealing? Bard: What are the three wishes that grumkins are loathe to grant?"

Snarks are small fey pranksters that prey on travellers through the weirwoods or who settle near their outskirts. Many villagers leave small offerings outside their door like a boiled egg or a bag of tacks in hopes that more valuable items are not stolen in the dark of night. As the tales go, three small items vanish, stymying a task or quest in an inconvenient fashion or at an inopportune moment. Each time, a small figure can be spotted in the corner of one's eye, accompanied by a mocking giggle or rude gesture. If pursued, clever traps are set up to humiliate or spite their target, made from the items from the answers of the feytales or if they were previously stolen. If the snark is defeated, it possesses one notable item — a small leather satchel which smells of brimstone and ash. If the snark dies, the satchel contains all of the stolen items, some of which are broken beyond repair.

If the snark is captured alive, the velvet satchel opens up to a portal, revealing the view of a velvet curtain window of a weirwood cabin. The portal faces outwards in the day and inwards at night. A small creature can wiggle through the opening while a human can only poke their head through. The house contains several rooms with small artisanal workshops where a grumkin labors away, destroying the valuables stolen by the snark. It works to make the world a more dire and dangerous place. Many of the items in the house are wild and magical. the strongest items are trophies, perversions of the wishes named by the bard. If the grumkin is slain, the cabin crumbles to ash, leaving only the items of legend. If the grumkin is captured, it begrudgingly grants up to three wishes but at a terrible price.

Quantum Ogre (by st33d)

1HP, 3 Armour, Solitary, Scientific, Stealthy

Quantum Club, (b(D4/D12) Hand, Close)

Special Qualities: Superposition

There's no escaping the Quantum Ogre boy, it's inevitable. At the end of your quest, no matter what you do, no matter the precautions, it'll be waiting there. You can kill it sure, but it'll be back, it always comes back.

Instinct: To railroad.

  • Give no warning of its arrival.

  • Confound precautions taken to avoid it.

  • Appear at the end of a quest.

Zantient (by Ahnonym)

16 HP, 4 Armor, Solitary, Stealthy, Magical, Devious, Intelligent

Magic blasts (d8 damage, Near, Far, Ignores Armor)

Special Qualities: Levitates


"This, son, is the proper definition of 'Being consumed by magic'. Better stay away from these creatures, they're even more insane now than when they were alive."

A Zantient is a magical creatures born from the greed of an ancient great mage. The lust for greater power lead said mage to dive deeper and deeper into the user of dark art, only to be totally absorbed by the flow of dark magic. The Zantient is a human-like creature wearing long worn out robes, usually with a breast plate displaying the coat of arms of their kingdom. Its limbs seem surrounded by clouds of dark energy and its head is hidden behind an intricately decorated mask.

Instinct: To drive them crazy 


  • Alter reality through illusions / change the scenery

  • Phase through walls

  • Paralyze with fear

  • Talk in their head

Copse Corpse (by Slow_Dog)

6 HP, 1 Armor, Solitary

Scratch (d6 damage, Close)

The dead of Devil's Copse don't stay dead. The come back. They get organised. They sharpen their fingers, polish their skulls 'til they shine, and are ready to kick your sorry ass.

Be glad there's just the one. For now.

Instinct: To shape up, and ship out

  • Be first to the fight

  • Call for backup

Copse Corpse Corps (by Slow_Dog)

6 HP, 1 Armor, Horde, Organised

Scratch (d6 damage, Close)

"Undead Legions, that's what they always say. But there's, like, ten legions in that there Devil's Copse. What are you going call that?"

Instinct: Honor, Courage, Commitment, The Death of Life

  • Control the field

  • Overwhelm in force

Copse Corpse Corps Cops (by Slow_Dog)

6 HP, 1 Armor, Group, Organised

Nightstick (d4 damage, Close)

Hitting the town, cruising the bars, and eyeing up the ladies doesn't lose its attraction just because you're a highly polished militarised skeleton, even if the drink falls through your rib cage and you've got no eyes. Someone's there to round you up, chew you out, and get you back to the base copse in the the back of a van; there's no policeman like and undead military policeman.

Instinct: To have seen it all before

  • Keep the peace

  • Break it up

  • Stop for coffee and donuts

Shadow Blob (by bms42)

4HP, 0 Armour, Group, Stealthy, Organized, Magical

No damage capabilities

Special Qualities: Immune to mundane attacks, Emerge from real shadows, Combine or Separate with others, Consume man-made objects.

"The shadows grew at an unnatural angle, and then "pop! pop! pop!" they started to detach themselves. They swarmed us, moving in one coordinated attack, surround us. They started to bulge up out of the ground, forming blobs of shadow with gaping blacker-than-black maws. The ones near to each other started to morph together, growing into larger blobs that consumed yet more! And when they attacked? Chaos. They devoured swords, shields, armor. Belts, shoes and everything else, too. Money! Men were screaming not in pain but in consternation. How do you fight off something that'll just eat your sword?"

Instinct: to consume physical constructions

  • Consume a man-made object

  • Combine with another blob (adding its HP to together)

  • Burst into a dangerous spray when destroyed

Bloodletter (by Spyger)

20 HP, 1 Armor, Solitary, Intelligent, Terrifying

Bare Hands, Blood Weapon (b[2d10]+2 damage, Ignores Armor, Hand, Forceful)

Special Qualities: Blood Weapon, Sustained by Blood

"He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

A man, completely wrapped in drab traveling clothes (often with a brimmed hat) strolls quietly into town. If he speaks with anyone, it is only a short, monotone question. Then he heads off to find the beast, seemingly navigating by smell, though it's hard to tell with his face covered up.

The beast? The one that's been plaguing the region: a ravenous werewolf, a massive troll, or even a dragon. Anyway, a curious maiden or a mischievous youth follows him out of town and returns late that night, horrified having seen it…

The monster emerges from its lair into the moonlight, where the man is waiting. Suddenly, he moves with incredible speed and strikes with super-human strength. His bare hand plunges through thick leather or scales, ripping out the innards of the beast and starting the blood flow. He takes a shuddering breath, clearly enjoying himself. The blood comes alive, traveling along the man's body and forming into a great red weapon like a mace covered in spikes or a serrated greatsword, anything to draw more blood.

The two monsters trade blows, knocking each other away before clashing like lightning over and over, painting the forest floor red. Eventually, what's left of the creature lies dead on the ground, and the true monster leaves without so much as a limp even after taking immense blows and loosing pints of blood.

That's the classic tale, anyway…

Whether they are demons in human form, the result of some dark ritual or experiment, or even planar warriors sent by the gods, no one knows. In any case, bathing in the blood of beasts can't be healthy, for the tale always has a sequel where a crazed Bloodletter returns to town hunting men instead of beasts. 

Instinct: To hunt.

  • Make a weapon of blood

  • Heal by drawing blood

The Firstborn (by PrimarchtheMage)

16HP, 3 Armor, Solitary, Intelligent, Terrifying

Cursed Ebon Greatsword or Shearing Claw (b[2d10]+2 damage, Close)

Everyone knows that the warrior who opened the vault never returned. But they didn't die…. 

You hear it first; the hoarse, continuous screams of crazed agony sound terrifyingly human as they echo through the woods. Then the silhouette of tall too-thin armor, scratched and mangled by claw and sword. One hand wields a wicked ebon greatsword with unnatural ease while the other appendage may have once been a hand but now belongs to three massive scythe-like claws. As it viciously sprints towards you, it screams at you to run or begs that you might end its blighted existence.

 Some have claimed to defeat the creature, but the screams always return the next night….

Instinct: To hunt in the night.

  • Beg for oblivion

  • Return from death

Shadowcrawler (by Kee_Oth)

11 HP, 1 Armor, Group, Stealthy, Amorphous

Shadowblade (d8, Ignores Armor, Close)

Special qualities: Absorbs all light in surroundings

In the darkest pits of the world these creatures were born. They abhor life, light and warmth. In shadows and forlorn places they lurk, waiting for lost travellers to ambush. Their hollow, red eyes inflict fear to even the fiercest warriors. It is told that anyone who has looked into the eyes of a Shadowcrawler and lives to tell the tale, is plagued by dark thoughts for a long, long time.

Instinct: To control the minds of the living

  • Vanish in shadows and reappear

  • Isolate a victim

  • Control mind

Control mind: When a shadowcrawler looks into your eyes and tries to penetrate your mind, roll +WIS

  • On a 10+, You ward off the psychic attack and function normally

  • On a 7-9, You ward off the psychic attack but you're dazed by the mental effort

  • On a 6-, You fall prey to the darkness and lose control of your mind until someone or something helps you regain control

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