Temperate Forest

Kobolds are creatures of the dark, found most commonly in enormous underground warrens or the dark corners of the forest where the sun is unable to reach. Due to their physical similarities, kobolds loudly proclaim themselves the scions of dragonkind, destined to rule the earth beneath the wings of their great god-cousins, but most dragons have little use for the obnoxious pests. While they may speak loudly of divine right and manifest destiny, kobolds are keenly aware of their own weakness. Cowards and schemers, they never fight fair if they can help it, instead setting up ambushes and double-crosses, holing up in their warrens behind countless crude but ingenious traps, or rolling over the enemy in vast, yipping hordes. Kobold coloration varies even among siblings from the same egg clutch, ranging through the colors of the chromatic dragons, with red being the most common but white, green, blue, and black kobolds not unheard of.

Sprites gather in groups deep in forested lands, aligned to the cause of defending nature. Whole tribes of sprites deem themselves protectors of a certain person, place, or creature of importance in their lands, even if the being doesn’t actually want or need protecting. A sprite’s body is naturally luminous, although the sprite can vary the color and intensity of its body as it wishes. Shortly after death, a sprite’s body simply melts away to a twinkling vapor. Sprites are among the smallest of fey, standing just over 9 inches in height and rarely weighing more than 1 or 2 pounds. Sprites are more primitive in many ways than most fey. They enjoy each other’s company, but tend to be distrustful of other fey and assume any humanoids and any other creatures that they haven’t expressly chosen to protect mean to do them ill. Even animals are generally regarded as dangerous. Much of this is due to sprites’ diminutive size, which makes them popular targets for predators. As a result, a sprite’s initial reaction to danger is typically to flee—it uses its spell-like abilities to delay or distract pursuers, and relies on its speed in flight and its size to allow it to escape in the end. While sprites themselves are relatively uncultured and savage in nature, they do have a healthy curiosity for all things magical in nature. They are particularly drawn to sites of great but latent magical power, such as the ruins of ancient temples. This curiosity makes them unusually receptive to roles as familiars as well. A 5th-level chaotic neutral spellcaster with the Improved Familiar feat can gain a sprite as a familiar.

These strange and insatiable fey prowl bubbling brooks, sauntering streams, and slow-moving rivers in a constant pursuit of food, but the extremely lazy creatures often tire of hunting. Alpluachras find it much easier to slip down a sleeping creature’s throat, fall asleep, and dream of fantastic feasts and warm bubbling pools while its host does the eating for it. Because of this, alpluachras always keep an eye on riverbanks, looking for creatures napping near waterways. Once they find potential hosts, alpluachras stealthily slither up and slide down their snoring gullets. Once inside, an alpluachra rests along the walls of the esophagus and devours all the food that comes down the host’s throat. The host often starves to death in the process, as the parasite becomes more ravenous over time. Despite their propensity to slowly kill their hosts, alpluachras are slothful rather than cruel. They have no concept of the harm they are doing, lazily enjoying the benefits while the host is still alive.

The squat, burrowing badger is plentiful in most temperate forests. Most species are carnivorous, though some eat a variety of meat, insects, and vegetables. The badger possesses a fierceness and natural tenacity, while its stubby legs and wide, seemingly portly stature belie the creature’s actual strength and speed. A typical badger has dark brownish-gray fur highlighted with white markings, such as bands or striped masks about the eyes. These markings are distinct and vary by species. While generally friendly, if threatened or otherwise provoked, badgers can become fierce combatants. Once engaged with an opponent, they typically fight until slain. In combat, they fight with their sharp, needle-like teeth and long, curved claws, which they otherwise use for digging.

Though great horned owls seem large, most of their apparent bulk comes from their particularly fluffy feathers and rather large heads. Great horned owls have wingspans of up to 5 feet and weigh up to 4 pounds. Great horned owls primarily hunt at night, locating prey through their excellent hearing. Their diet consists of rodents supplemented by smaller birds and rabbits.

Originating from the Shadow Plane, wayangs are pixie-like in stature with extremely gangly limbs and skin the color of deep shadow. They follow a philosophy known as “The Dissolution,” which teaches that in passing they again merge into shadow.

Brownies make their homes in the trunks of hollow trees, small earthy burrows, and even under porches and within the crawlspaces of farmhouses. Often attired in clothes that appear to be made of plants or leaves, brownies wear belts lined with pouches and tools. Whatever language they choose to speak is often is riddled with odd pronunciations and colloquialisms. Brownies stand barely 2 feet tall and weigh 20 pounds. When facing danger, brownies rarely engage in combat, preferring instead to confound and confuse their attackers in order to buy enough time for escape. Content with honest toil and the love of their kin, brownies maintain a pacifist nature, only harassing creatures to run them off or punish them for an insult. Despite this nature, all brownies carry a blade. They refer to their swords with a hint of disgust, and jokingly call their blades the “final trick,” using them only in the direst of consequences. Honest to a fault, brownies take freely, but always repay their debt through work or leave something behind as an offering. They may eat an apple from a farmer’s orchard, but will harvest the entire tree as repayment. A brownie might eat an entire pie left on a windowsill, only to straighten up the kitchen or wash the dishes. A brownie can share a home with a family for years and years while avoiding detection. A family that is aware of a brownie usually finds this a beneficial relationship and leaves dishes of milk, pieces of fruit, trinkets, and sometimes even wine as gifts. In exchange, the brownie keeps the home clean, mends clothes, repairs tools, and shoos away vermin and small predators. Bragging about having a brownie in the house is the best way to lose one. Brownies distrust foxes and fear wolves, and tend to avoid farms with dogs. A 5th-level neutral spellcaster with the Improved Familiar feat can gain a brownie as a familiar.

Often mistaken for satyrs, fauns are far more benevolent than their unpredictable cousins. Many people use the two names interchangeably, a fact that irritates both fauns and satyrs. The vast majority of fauns are male, although unlike satyrs, females of this species do exist— they’re simply less common than male fauns. While satyrs breeding with their seduced victims always produce full-blooded satyrs, fauns are the result of a willing pairing between satyrs and goodly fey or kindhearted humanoids such as humans or elves. Even in this case, the babies of such unions are usually stolen away and raised by their fey parent or some other sylvan foster family. Like satyrs, fauns enjoy wine, music, dancing, nature, and carnal pleasures. Gentle hedonists, fauns also have a dedicated connection to the countryside, helping hardworking humanoids who make peace with the land and take little more than they need. They help these frontier folk by fighting off significant threats and keeping less savory fey creatures away from their settlements. While they prefer to go unnoticed, in dire times a band of fauns may present themselves to villagers to warn their neighbors of an upcoming threat. Fauns find nymphs exceptionally attractive, more so than all others who dare view them. Nymphs find beauty in fauns’ good nature and steadfast dedication to the natural world, and often humor their advances before almost accidentally falling in love with them. As tall as a human, a faun stands on stark white goat legs and has short horns protruding from its head. It also has a short tail that swishes playfully when it is excited or entertained, and its hair falls gracefully around its horns and ears. Its humanoid torso is always lithe but chiseled because of its constant activity and play—fauns rarely laze about too long. Fauns stand nearly 6 feet tall and weigh little more than 150 pounds.

In areas where large creatures like megafauna or dinosaurs dwell, the giant tick behaves much like its smaller kin—it lies in wait in the undergrowth, and when a suitable host passes by, it drops onto the body to feed. In other areas, these vermin are much more aggressive, and actively hunt smaller prey like dogs, livestock, or even humanoids. A giant tick drains blood quickly, but once it has caused 6 points of Constitution damage, it drops off, sated, to crawl away to digest. A giant tick is 3 feet long and weighs 50 pounds.

Loathed by men and beasts alike, goblin dogs are ugly, stinking, craven, and foul-tempered. It’s no surprise that goblins find kindred spirits in these shunned, disgusting beasts. Constantly itching, afflicted with a species-wide mange exacerbated by prolific dander, even the healthiest goblin dog looks sickly and starved. Despite its name, the goblin dog is in fact a species of rodent grown monstrously large. Their long-legged shape and proclivity to hunt and run in packs earned them their popular name, a name that many goblins take issue with, as it galls the average goblin to consider these, their favored mounts, having anything at all to do with actual dogs. Of course, being goblins, they haven’t bothered to come up with alternate names for goblin dogs. Perhaps they don’t realize they can. Contact with a goblin dog’s infested, mangy hide causes most other creatures to break out into hives, a condition known as “goblin rash.” Goblinoids seem to be immune to this affliction, and are fond of keeping goblin dogs as guardians and mounts. Despite their skin conditions and disorders, goblin dogs are highly resistant to disease. Their favored food is carrion—the riper, the better. That many goblin tribes let their goblin dogs run free in their lairs is the single reason most goblin dens aren’t filthier than they actually are; constantly hungry, a goblin dog eats anything it can chew that it finds left behind by other, more discerning palates. A goblin dog is 5 feet long but weighs only 75 pounds.

Grigs are tiny fey with the upper bodies of elf-like sprites and cricket bodies below. Their humanoid features vary wildly in individual appearance, but they usually wear their brown, silver, or green hair long and uncombed. In most cases, grigs’ skin bears gold or green stripes or markings, and their legs are brightly colored. They prefer to eschew clothes entirely, wearing clothing only when such apparel has desirable magical effects. Grigs stand 1-1/2 feet tall, and weigh just under 10 pounds. Grigs make their homes in thick woods alongside rolling hills, often near bodies of water. In every grig community may be found a clearing where the group observes the moon during its many lunar holidays. Despite their tiny size, grigs are eager to confront evil and vanquish ugliness—as a result, grigs often find themselves in trouble. They rarely attack directly, instead preferring the element of surprise. In combat, grigs maintain their distance and either depend on their spell-like abilities or fire their longbows from afar. Grigs use their movement to their advantage, frequently jumping about their enemies or flying beyond their reach. Gigs excel at music, and can create lively ditties simply by sawing their legs against their bodies. Grig music often stirs people to dance, even when the grigs don’t enhance their music with supernatural compulsions. In addition to loving music, grigs enjoy the visual arts, especially paintings and sketches, and they often decorate their homes with bright colors and delightful images.

Gryphs are bird-like creatures usually found underground, but they also favor dark and tangled forests. Gryphs normally survive on carrion and small animals, but take on larger game when driven by hunger or if they feel threatened. Most disturbing is their means of reproduction. Gryphs are hermaphroditic and mate frequently, such that their egg pouches are rarely empty. When they encounter a suitable host—a warm-blooded creature of size Small or larger, ideally alone—the gryphs swoop down, latch on to the target, and implant their eggs directly into its flesh. As long as the target is conscious, the flock continues its assault, though if the target flees the area, the gryphs return to their nest. The eggs quicken swiftly once implanted, and gryph chicks hatch forth mere minutes later in a bloody birth that is often fatal to the host. Gryphs have a strange affinity for vermin, often lairing in close proximity to one or more insect swarms or vermin of Medium size or smaller. The insects avoid the gryphs instinctively, feeding off the remains of the flock’s meals and on creatures too small for the gryphs to bother with. Most gryphs have six legs, but some have four or even eight. Individual flocks are always made up of gryphs with the same number of limbs. A gryph is 3 feet tall and weighs 45 pounds.

Pseudodragons are tiny cousins of true dragons, and are playful but shy. They often only vocalize in chirps, hisses, growls, and purrs, but can communicate telepathically with any intelligent creature. If approached peacefully and offered food, they are usually willing to share information about what they’ve seen in their territory, but threats or violence make them f lee. Pseudodragons are carnivores, devouring insects, rodents, small birds, and snakes, though they sometimes eat eggs, and most also enjoy butter, cheese, and fish. They either hunt on the ground like lizards or look for prey on the wing like a raptor. As smart as a typical humanoid, they do not enjoy being treated as pets and prefer being treated as friends. They are wary of evil folk but can bond with sorcerers and wizards as familiars, and some have befriended druids and rangers or partnered with good dragons as scouts. Pseudodragons will serve as familiars if they approve of a spellcaster’s personality (and if the spellcaster takes the Improved Familiar feat), but often also bond with those whose company they enjoy or who have proven themselves true friends. A pseudodragon might follow another character in this manner for days, weeks, years, or even a lifetime if the creature is treated well, provided with food, and generally well-loved. Upon reaching adulthood, a pseudodragon’s body is about 1 foot long with a 2-foot tail, and weighs about 7 pounds. A pseudodragon egg is the size of a chicken egg, but leathery and spotted brown, and a mating female lays 2–5 eggs every spring. A clutch of pseudodragons (the collective noun—not to be confused with pseudodragons from the same brood of eggs) usually consists of a mated pair and several near-adult offspring.

A relentless predator, the violent and territorial dire badger hunts frequently, killing and devouring a variety of easy prey such as rabbits, deer, and occasionally livestock. These creatures are unafraid of attacking creatures larger than they are, drawing upon an almost legendary tenacity that has won them honor and respect among many races, particularly forest-dwelling gnomes. Dire badgers reside in deep burrows and warrens dug with their monstrous claws—but unlike typical badgers, a dire badger’s claws are capable of tunneling through solid rock. Dire badgers possess little patience for disturbances or interruptions. Utterly fearless creatures, when confronted they attack brutally, and if injured, they violently erupt into a killing frenzy. Dire badgers stand 4 feet tall at the shoulder, and weigh 500 pounds.

Leprechauns are small, fun-loving tricksters. They are most commonly found in forests and share the close connection with nature that is possessed by most fey creatures. Leprechauns love playing tricks on unknowing passersby—almost as much as they love a fine bottle of wine and a plateful of hot food in their bellies. They often steal something of worth from adventurers just to provoke a chase. Using their ability to disappear at will to its full potential, they wait until their victims appear to be about to give up the chase before reappearing once more to let the chase resume. They are not greedy creatures, and eventually drop what they’ve stolen, slipping away while their angry pursuers claim the lost property. The exception is gold— leprechauns love gold and often hoard it in secret, hidden places. It is rumored that a person who finds a gold coin in the forest and returns it to the leprechaun that dropped it will be granted a wish as a reward. Unfortunately, these rumors are false—likely perpetuated by the leprechauns themselves in order to trick others into bringing them gold. Leprechauns prefer not to kill other creatures unless the ones attacking them are malicious or known enemies of the forest or fey. They often use their powers to befuddle and annoy evil folk, tricking creatures such as goblins and orcs into thinking a forest is haunted.

Slime molds are revolting oozes that wallow in rot and decay. A perfect example of symbiosis, each slime mold is covered in a thick garden of fungi, mildew, and toadstools, which helps it blend in with the surroundings. As ambush hunters, they can lie silently in wait for days at a time, surging into frenzied movement as soon as prey comes within reach. Most commonly encountered in deep forests, variations have adapted to life in caverns and sewers as well. They lack any ability to digest food, and rely entirely on their symbiotic fungal gardens to break down any organic matter they find into easily absorbed compost and decay. The molds and mushrooms that coat the ooze in turn receive ample food supplies, and over countless generations, many have developed into deadly variations of the forest or cave fungi from which they evolved. This fungal breakdown is in many ways akin to a disease—known as fungal rot, it can kill if allowed to progress for long. Those who succumb to fungal rot become tired and listless. Eventually, paralysis sets in and the victim’s flesh begins to blacken and decay, running from the body in liquid streams that the slime mold can easily absorb. In a somewhat nauseating turnabout, certain creatures find the unusual fungus that grows upon a slime mold to be quite tasty, and these creatures actively hunt slime molds to devour their gardens—although they take care to avoid actual contact with the mold itself unless they happen to be immune to disease. Slime molds are ovoid in shape, growing up to 12 feet in length and weighing more than 600 pounds. Their substance is normally a sickly greenish-brown, with the coloration varying depending on their environment and how recently they’ve fed. They instinctually keep their coating of fungus and other vegetable detritus exposed above them, granting the slime mold a distinctive, undulating gait rather than the fluid movement of most oozes. To reproduce, slime molds split off small patches of their bodies whenever they encounter thick beds of fungi or mold. Over several months, these tiny blobs acclimate to the rot and absorb each another, until a single slime mold (with the young creature simple template) sprouts its own garden and begins hunting live prey.

The assassin vine is a carnivorous plant that collects its own grisly fertilizer by grabbing and crushing animals and depositing the carcasses near its roots. These remarkable plants can see minute movements in the earth and air and detect changes in light and heat through their broad leaves, giving them exceptional awareness of the area around them. Possessing no intelligence or agenda, they lash out at whatever living things pass nearby, regardless of the target’s size, sentience, or potential deadliness. A mature plant consists of a main vine, about 20 feet long; smaller vines up to 5 feet long branch off from the main vine about every 6 inches. These small vines bear clusters of leaves, and in late summer they produce bunches of small fruits that resemble wild blackberries. The fruit is tough and has a hearty and typically bitter flavor, although some say the berries change in taste depending on what victims composted a given plant’s roots. The most murderous assassin vines supposedly produce the sweetest berries. An assassin vine can move about, but usually stays put unless it needs to seek prey in a new vicinity. The plants use simple tactics, lying still until prey comes within reach and then attacking. Once an assassin vine is engaged, it pursues prey (albeit slowly) in order to catch and compost the creature. The plants prove tenacious, as long as their quarry remains within sight. Once a creature moves beyond the plant’s ability to perceive it, the unthinking vine falls still and lies in wait for the next passerby. Assassin vines lurk within dense forests and swamps, but some might encroach upon poorly tended fields and vineyards. The vine’s seeds might be spread far by birds swift enough to pluck them and escape. Tales often tell of assassin vines appearing in f lower beds or infiltrating greenhouses, murderous surprises planted by rivals and enemies or arbitrary doom dropped by unsuspecting wing

Digmauls are stealthy ambush predators, and their victims often catch a hint of their musky odor just seconds before the beasts leap upon them. In many places, only hermits, pioneers, and adventurers come across these feline hunters as they press into uncharted wildernesses, but in areas where humanoid populations have recently expanded, communities encroaching into formerly pristine forests may also have to contend with these cunning killers. Some tale-spinners warn that humanoids are the preferred prey of digmauls, and charlatans use this falsehood to stir up fear and get people to buy charms and unguents said to ward against digmaul attacks.  Digmauls make their homes in remote woods, where they climb up into trees to leap down on unsuspecting prey, tackling their victims and beating them to death with bulbous, spiked tails. When actively hunting and not simply relying on opportunity, digmauls stalk their prey for hours, sometimes even days, keeping a safe distance and making use of their superior stealth to remain unnoticed. They use their keen noses to follow their quarries’ trails when they lose sight in the thick, dark forests. Some stories claim that humanoids native to the forests where digmauls hunt have been successful in training these ferocious cats to guard their secluded domains, though such feats may rely on druidic magic.  Though only having animal intelligence, digmauls communicate with one another in a manner similar to bird calls. They also use their tails to drum on logs to warn of danger, and to attract mates during mating season. These drumming sounds can be heard at distances of 1 to 2 miles.  A digmaul stands nearly 3 feet tall at the shoulder, is 6 feet long, and weighs 180 pounds.

SILVERCAT  
Even rarer than ordinary digmauls are those specimens referred to as silvercats, whose lustrous, blue-gray pelts shimmer in moonlight. Silvercats are digmauls with the advanced simple template. Their ball tail lacks the spikes of a digmaul’s but has greater force behind it. While the tail deals only bludgeoning damage, the racial bonus on trip and bull rush combat maneuver checks with the tail increases to +6.

Dryads are tree-fey who prefer secluded woodlands far from humanoids in need of lumber. Dryads’ main interests are their own survival and that of their beloved forests, and they have been known to magically coerce passersby into aiding them in tasks they cannot complete. They are more likely to be friendly to non-evil druids and rangers, as they recognize a mutual respect for or empathy with nature. Dryads are benign guardians of trees, and though they can do little in the way of direct violence, they can trap and disable threats to their homes or turn enemies into allies. Some keep one or more charmed humanoids in their territory to fend off or lead away attackers. Incapacitated foes are typically dragged to the edge of the forest by the dryad’s allies and left there, but evil or overtly hostile ones are killed once combat is over.

Ettercaps are typically 6 feet tall and weigh about 200 pounds. They are solitary creatures and rarely group with others of their kind, even to mate. When they do group, they tend to attract a variety of different spiders, forming a strange collective of ettercaps and arachnids. Ettercaps are known for building cunning traps out of webs and other natural materials, using them to trap prey. They build shelters out of webbing, often high up in the trees away from other ground-based predators, and use monstrous spiders as lookouts and guardians. Ettercaps are not brave creatures, but their traps often ensure that the enemy never draws a weapon. When an ettercap does engage its enemies, it attacks with its claws and venomous bite. It usually refuses to come within melee reach of any foe that is still able to move, and f lees if an opponent gets free.

Known to many as the giant praying mantis for the way the creature’s deadly front limbs fold under its head as it lies in wait for food, this creature is well feared along caravan tracks that pass through dense woodlands. The giant mantis, a master of hiding in dense undergrowth, is almost unnaturally patient as it lies in wait, striking with unsettling speed as unsuspecting meals wander by. In many savage societies, the giant mantis is particularly feared—in regions where these vermin are common, they are often regarded as messengers of death sent to the world by angry gods. Their swift speed, alien appearance, and near-invisibility in forests give rise to many legends— that the giant mantis can become invisible, that it can smell fear, and that the souls of those who it slays and eats are digested and kept from moving on to the afterlife. While the giant mantis is nothing more than an efficient and deadly vermin, the numerous legends and whispers regarding its supposed powers and alien intellect have inspired some spellcasters to work such features into their constructs as a way to make them even more fearsome. There are even stories of entire societies of assassins who worship an immense mantis as a god, and who have taken to heart the mantis’s style of murderous ambush, fighting with twin serrated rapiers. The giant mantis presented here stands 7 feet tall and 15 feet long, and weighs 650 pounds. Larger giant mantises exist in the deepest, darkest forests of the world, where they might prey upon things as mighty as giants or dragons. Known by various names, such as the drake-eating mantis, the tree-bender mantis, or simply the deadly mantis, these immense behemoths average more than 60 feet in height and have a terrifying habit of destroying entire villages or towns in order to satiate their ravenous appetites. A deadly mantis is a giant mantis advanced to Colossal size, 16 Hit Dice, and CR 14.

Much larger than their passive cousins, giant skunks are an aggressive lot. Having a greater bulk to maintain, giant skunks feed on creatures beyond just grubs and insects, often hunting small mammals and reptiles by night in addition to giant versions of insects. While giant skunks are dangerous to nearby settlements, farmers find a positive aspect in their presence, valuing the creatures’ taste for giant insects and other more dangerous vermin.

Giant wasps nearly always form nests, though not like their much smaller cousins. Each nest functions with one leader (the queen), a few workers, and several soldiers. The workers and the queen produce offspring while the soldiers protect the nest and hunt for food. Giant wasp nests are typically found in caves, abandoned houses, or any complex large enough to fit a dozen 10-foottall insects. Giant wasps attack when hungry or threatened, stinging their prey to death. They take dead or incapacitated opponents back to their lairs as food for their unhatched young—the experience of lying in a wasp nest, paralyzed while its grubs feed, is one of nature’s cruelest inventions. Even when part of a nest, giant wasps tend toward solitary hunting, and it’s rare to see more than one at a time.

Few creatures can match the speed of a quickling. These malicious fey creatures delight in striking with blinding speed and accuracy, often killing their victims without ever fully revealing themselves; the victim simply spurts blood and falls over dead, with no witnesses to the quickling’s deed. Though related to brownies and grigs, quicklings share none of their kin’s generosity or merriment, choosing instead to live a life of cruelty and viciousness. Quicklings pride themselves on insults and brutality, and frequently stalk and harass their quarry until the victim gives up the chase. While quicklings are naturally invisible when motionless, they rarely contain themselves, and bob and twitch while standing and talking to other creatures. Quicklings hate every other race of creature, particularly elves, gnomes, and other kinds of fey. They barely tolerate their own kind, and rarely work together for longer than a few weeks. Quicklings stand just over 2-1/2 feet tall and weigh 15 pounds.

When the gnomes first traveled to the mortal realm from the distant land of the fey, some found the Material Plane so strange and terrifying that they lost their sense of joy. Seeing only the threats of the new world but none of its wonders, they grimly resolved to survive no matter the cost. Their innate magic responded to this twisted goal by reshaping them in mind and body over the course of many generations, transforming them into the creatures known as spriggans. Love, happiness, and beauty have no meaning for these poor souls, so they lead lives of violence and malice. The best they can manage in place of positive emotions is a muted satisfaction when they make another suffer. Spriggans resemble ugly gnomes with an alien, feral appearance. Many are gaunt and haggard. When magically enlarged, they look the same except much more hale and muscular.

Deep in old-growth forests, twigjacks spend their time tormenting intruders and wreaking havoc on settlers. Maladjusted protectors of the wood, these malicious fey constantly threaten any attempts to civilize the wild. Twigjacks delight in breaking wagon wheels from expansionists’ caravans, snapping hunters’ bows, and sabotaging isolated cabins and villages. Although they possess a keen intellect, few creatures, even other fey, can tolerate these twig-born creatures for long. Treants especially find twigjacks bothersome, and resent any suggestion that they are related. Equally, twigjacks resent being considered plants, and are proud of their fey heritage. Twigjacks sometimes go out of their way to impress dryads, an effort that is rebuffed almost every time. But some spriggans, quicklings, and other evil fey associate with twigjacks, and while goblins fear and distrust the creatures, bugbears often bully them into service. Gnarled sticks bundled by vines and brambles form a twigjack’s entire body. Atop its head, a mossy growth not unlike hair sprouts. The creature’s eyes appear as vacant dark knotholes, and its mouth is just a canyon of splintered and broken sticks bisecting its face. Leaves and sprigs of new growth randomly sprout from the creature’s body.

Unicorns are fierce, intelligent creatures of the forest, noble beasts who keep their own counsel and typically appear only to defend their homes against evil. They universally shun all creatures except for good-aligned fey, good-aligned humanoid women, and the woodlands’ native animals, though they may fight alongside other good creatures against common enemies. A typical unicorn is 8 feet long and 5 feet tall at the shoulder, weighing 1,200 pounds. Unicorns mate for life, and the pairs generally make their homes in specific glades or dells within the vast forests they protect (these regions can cover anywhere from a few dozen square miles to hundreds). They allow good and neutral creatures to pass through, hunt for food, or reside in their woods unharmed, but evil creatures and those who damage the local ecosystem more than necessary through sport hunting or commercial logging are swiftly driven out or killed. On rare occasions, lone unicorns without mates or whose partners have been slain have been known to adopt young women of exceptionally pure virtue as surrogates, allowing the women to ride on their backs and becoming their guardians and protectors for life. This bond generally ends amiably if the woman becomes more committed to someone else—such as a lover or child—giving rise to the myth that unicorns only befriend virgins. A unicorn’s horn is the focus for its powers, and in order to use its spell-like abilities on other creatures the unicorn must touch them with it. Evil creatures greatly value unicorn horns as reagents for healing potions and other dark rites, and a single powdered unicorn horn counts as 1,600gp when used as a component for crafting healing magic.

A wasp swarm is a flying mass of thousands of carnivorous wasps. In such large numbers, they become voracious hunters, capable of taking down large creatures with their venom-filled stings. While a wasp swarm is capable of inflicting hundreds of stings, its true danger arises from its insatiable appetite for meat. Wasp swarms surround and attack any living prey in their paths, and are swift to seek out new prey once their anger is aroused. An enraged wasp swarm often loses track of its hive or the original source of its anger, and presented with a constant series of new targets to swarm and sting, a swarm can continue its rampage nonstop until it is destroyed or dispersed.