Oozes

Skincrawlers are parasitic oozes that feed on the fluids of living hosts. They stalk isolated prey, but due to their mindlessness, skincrawlers do not recognize that feeding on a host already infested by other skincrawlers can swiftly shorten the lifespan of their food source.  When a skincrawler’s host dies, the ooze detaches and crawls into the host’s body through a convenient orifice, whereupon it enters the last stages of its life cycle. As the host decays around it, the skincrawler suffuses the host’s flesh; 24 hours after the host’s death, the host’s skin splits apart into a rash of up to a dozen skincrawlers that then slither away to seek new prey.  When unattached to a host, a skincrawler appears to be a protoplasmic blob of flesh with visible veins and capillaries.  A skincrawler is about 1 foot square in size and weighs 3 pounds.

An amoeba swarm is a mobile group of amoebas, each about the size of a coin. Giant amoebas may cleave off tiny portions of their substance, which can then become amoeba swarms. At other times, a giant amoeba can spontaneously transform into a swarm, usually if the giant amoeba is starving or in an area with a high concentration of magic. Likewise, a well-fed amoeba swarm may fuse into a single giant amoeba. When an amoeba swarm is found in the vicinity of a giant amoeba, the two oozes ignore each other. A giant amoeba in the space of an amoeba swarm takes no damage from the swarm’s attacks and does not run the risk of becoming distracted as a result of being in the swarm.

Purulent wounds that crawl out from piles of diseased dead and areas of massive contagion, these oozes slop about thoughtlessly, quivering and ready to burst and infect anything that moves. The creatures manifest in areas wracked by plagues, where rot and ruin run rampant. Crawling from the aff licted areas, boilborn spread out in all directions to disperse their infection. Though carefully studied by healers and naturalists focusing on oozes, living boilborn are dangerous to experiment upon. This is because their death throes can sometimes be triggered accidentally, even when the creatures are handled gently and no harm has been done to them. Some posit that boilborn have only a limited lifespan, and self-destruct when that period ends. Others have labored for years under the hope that the infectious fluids contained within boilborn might somehow be used to find both cures and immunities to any number of diseases that plague the world. Though this experimentation has resulted in certain indicators that boilborn might indeed be put to such positive use, a reliable concoction has yet to be developed. The boilborn detailed here is by far the most common, but as with diseases, other mutations exist. Use the following to represent some of the other virulent strains of these disgusting creatures.

VARIANT BOILBORN
Abyssal Boilborn (CR 3): Colored in hues of bruised blue and bloody red and smelling like bile and pus, this dangerous boilborn has squeezed through a rift from the Abyss. It has the fiendish creature simple template and the advanced creature simple template, and infects its victims with demon fever.
Blindborn (CR 1): Pale greenish gray in color and slightly luminescent, this boilborn transmits blinding sickness (Fortitude DC 14) to creatures affected by its slam attack or death throes ability.
Infernal Boilborn (CR 3): Accompanied by the smell of brimstone, this black-skinned boilborn has the advanced creature simple template and the fiendish creature simple template, and infects victims it slams or splatters upon with devil chills.
Plagueborn (CR 2): Sickly yellow and wracked with perpetual palpitations that emit a fine mist, this boilborn has the giant simple template. Any creatures within 5 feet of a plagueborn must succeed at a DC 16 Fortitude save or contract cackle fever.

A giant amoeba is a shapeless mass of living, liquid protoplasm. Though naturally translucent with darker interior spots, its surface is slightly sticky and tends to collect dirt and other debris from its environment; therefore, a moving giant amoeba looks like muddy water. A weaker cousin of creatures such as the gray ooze and black pudding, a giant amoeba is actually a mutated version of a harmless creature too small to be seen by the naked eye, grown dangerously large in size. Although happy to prey on creatures smaller than it, the giant amoeba’s constant hunger often drives it to attack larger prey, such as humanoids.

Bizarre oozes born from magical mishaps, slithering pits use their naturally occurring extradimensional spaces to attack and trap prey. An extradimensional breach coats the top surface of these oozes, and the creatures prowl lazily, hunting for well-traveled routes and then quietly lying down for hours—or even days—until tasty morsels literally fall into their waiting grasps. Like most oozes, slithering pits lack true mouths and any digestive organs. While they can trap creatures within their extradimensional wells, they must wait for their prey to dissolve in digestive acids before they can absorb any nutrition. Luckily, slithering pits can survive for weeks between feedings, and in lean times they can even hibernate for months, appearing to be nothing but a slick spot in an alleyway or a shallow puddle.  Slithering pits frequent ruins and neglected urban areas, where their transparency allows them to blend in with the shadows of darkened alleys and crumbling corridors. No thicker than a few inches at the center, slithering pits are difficult to distinguish from natural features when immobile. Their slimy exteriors pick up debris and rubble as they stalk, further helping them blend into city streets and ruined floors. Beyond their mobility and slight thickness, slithering pits’ only revealing feature is their shiny mucus, which leaves a glistening trail wherever the creatures travel—but even this dries up and flakes away in a few hours once the ooze settles in at a favored ambush site. While slithering pits are camouflaged on top, their undersides reveal their true appearance: moist and decorated in scintillating patterns of red, green, and blue. Slithering pits are 5 feet in diameter and weigh less than 20 pounds.  As ambush predators, slithering pits are most successful when inactive. Because of their transparent appearances, most slithering pits are hardly noticed or are mistaken for shallow puddles by locals. When periods between feedings grow too long, the oozes become more aggressive. Despite their usually patient tactics, slithering pits become vicious when hungry or threatened, lashing out with a thin pseudopod from their perimeter. When desperate, they dispense with stealth and attempt to drag prey into their maws or throw themselves beneath stumbling feet. The fall into the pit is often enough to kill their prey; those who survive the fall instead die from being slowly digested if they can’t quickly clamber back out. These creatures even show rudimentary strategy, sometimes trapping a child or small animal, whose cries for help eventually draw larger victims.  A slithering pit’s inner well functions much like a bag of holding, allowing it to carry more prey than its small body could normally contain and potentially feeding it for months after a good hunting season. Anyone or anything inside moves along with the ooze wherever it travels without any sense of outside momentum.  A slithering pit can sometimes come into existence when an intelligent ooze—in most cases, a slithering tracker —consumes a bag of holding or another magic item that makes use of extradimensional spaces. The residual magical energies are infused within the ooze, and when it dies, the ooze’s remaining material is reborn as a slithering pit.  Slithering pits become dangerous urban blights as they prowl congested cities and cramped slums. They especially flourish in decaying or neglected areas, where potholes filled with water are overlooked. In areas plagued by crime, slithering pits are sometimes used to dispose of bodies. Some clever and opportunistic creatures— especially those immune to the pit’s digestive acids—sometimes use slithering pits as roaming lairs, dragging their own kills into the oozes’ cave-like interiors to share leftovers, and scavenging the freely available prey that the oozes trap. Some spellcasters consider the mucus of a slithering pit to be an ideal component for magic concerned with interdimensional travel and storage.  Those researching these oozes claim that there are different varieties of slithering pits. Scattered reports exist of slithering pits that are much larger, sometimes stretching across an entire narrow street or setting up an ambush in the opening of a wide alley. Some lurk within the darkened expanses of warehouses or beneath boardwalks in dockside settlements. Scholars are unclear whether these larger oozes are simply regular slithering pits that have fed and lived long enough to grow, or if they form when larger oozes consume more powerful magic items.

SLITHERING RIFT  
The most dangerous variant slithering pit is the slithering rift, an ooze that not only traps its prey in an extradimensional space, but also has the ability to serve as a wandering portal that can transport its prey across great distances—maybe even across the barriers of the planes themselves. Slithering rifts are much more powerful than the typical slithering pit—they are Huge, have 16 Hit Dice, and can manifest four tentacles per round to attack foes. A slithering rift’s interaction with reality creates a significant warping of space, granting it a +20 deflection bonus to its AC. These powerful and dangerous oozes are CR 14 terrors.

One of the dungeon’s most unusual and specialized predators, gelatinous cubes spend their existence mindlessly roaming dungeon halls and dark caverns, swallowing up organic material such as plants, refuse, carrion, and even living creatures. Materials the cube cannot digest, such as metal and stone, can eventually fill up the creature’s mass with such detritus, and at times the creature may excrete some of this material out of its body. Often the treasure and possessions of past victims remain inside the gelatinous cube, leaving a ghostly impression of their material remains. Sages believe these creatures evolved as a specialized advancement of gray oozes. Some beings use gelatinous cubes as protectors of dungeons and underground fortifications, trapping the immense creatures in massive metal crates and transporting them through either slave power or magic to their final guard posts. They make particularly efficient waste disposal mechanisms as well—a tribe that can trap a gelatinous cube in a pit or other area that it cannot climb out of can use it as a midden or even a deadly trap, depending only on the ingenuity of the creatures who caught it. Gelatinous cubes are generally 10 feet to a side and weigh upward of 15,000 pounds, though subterranean explorers report larger specimens trawling the deepest caves and corridors. In locations with plentiful sources of food, gelatinous cubes can exist for hundreds of years, if not thousands. However, if denied organic material for more than 6 months, a gelatinous cube begins shrinking. Eventually this stresses its walls and the creature leaks rapidly evaporating slimy liquid until its body collapses and disappears completely.

Created in a laboratory by an alchemist researching methods of regenerating human flesh, a hungry flesh is a freakish creature made of aggressive, malignant tissue. It lives only to feed and grow, and must consume large amounts of plant and animal matter to sustain itself. Each day, a hungry flesh must consume its own weight in food. A hungry flesh resists attempts to cut or pierce it, quickly repairing the damage and creating new fleshy growths. With the right food and attacks to catalyze its growth, a hungry flesh can balloon to twice its normal size in minutes. A hungry flesh can grow to Gargantuan size. A hungry flesh starts out at approximately 7 feet in diameter, and weighs 3,000 pounds.

An alien inhabitant of the dark underworld, the slithering tracker is a glistening creature of transparent ooze, typically about 3 inches thick and at least 3 feet in diameter. When still, it looks like a wet patch of stone or a patch of condensation on a wall. Comparatively slow moving, the slithering tracker relies on its transparency and knack for ambushing to surprise prey. Once a slithering tracker has paralyzed a living creature, it flows over an exposed patch of flesh, grabbing on and draining blood from the victim. A slithering tracker can drain a human-sized creature of its blood with shocking swiftness, leaving only a desiccated carcass behind. A slithering tracker can go some time between meals, but never turns down easy prey. The larger a slithering tracker grows, the more voracious its appetite becomes, until, after a particularly large feeding, the creature splits into two smaller slithering trackers that eventually go their separate ways in search of feeding territory. Slithering trackers are not harmed by bright light, but still prefer to avoid areas of intense illumination or natural sunlight, and so only venture aboveground at night. They prefer the cool, damp environment of their native caves and tunnels. Although intelligent and cunning, slithering trackers are entirely alien creatures. They do not possess any language of their own, although they can usually understand the dominant language of the region they dwell in—usually Undercommon. Some underworld inhabitants do manage to forge alliances with slithering trackers, or at least exist with them in symbiosis by providing the creatures with easy and regular prey, but as one can never truly know a slithering tracker’s desires or motivations, such alliances are dangerous to rely upon.

In their natural form, doppeldreks are pale blobs, with an appearance akin to sea foam. However, doppeldreks habitually mimic other creatures that they detect with their blindsense, taking on not only their shapes but also some of their innate abilities, and even some of their intelligence. A doppeldrek using its change shape ability believes itself to be whatever type of creature it is currently mimicking, and its behavior matches the behavior typical of that type of creature, as far as its intelligence allows. When a doppeldrek attempts to copy a creature with substantially greater intelligence, such as the average humanoid, it attempts to follow the creature around, constantly copying its behavior and making vocalizations that are too imprecise to be recognizable as speech. An isolated doppeldrek eventually reverts to its natural form.  Occasionally, through exposure to potent magic or other means, a doppeldrek gains a persistent intelligence and personality, becoming an awakened doppeldrek. An awakened doppeldrek possesses an Intelligence score of 6 or higher, and can use its change shape ability to mimic an Intelligence score up to double its own. An awakened doppeldrek must still put a number of skill ranks equal to its Hit Dice in Disguise, but can allocate its other skill ranks as it sees fit each time it assumes a new form.

Truly bizarre and alien creatures, emotion oozes are made of ectoplasm that has somehow been granted the spark of life. Though they can’t be categorized as intelligent, emotion oozes have a unique emotional empathy, allowing them not only to respond and react to the emotions of nearby creatures, but also to psychically shape and alter the emotions of others.  Though they are carnivorous, emotion oozes prefer to seek out victims with strong emotions, on which they also feed. As a part of their unnatural biology, they gain a physiological benefit from being exposed to strong emotions. Each emotion ooze is attuned to a specific emotion, and the cause of this connection is unclear. The most commonly accepted theory is that the oozes imprint on the first strong emotion that they are exposed to or that the emotion is imprinted in the ectoplasm, though others believe that the creatures have some control over this bond, and can even change the emotion they’re attuned to given enough time. In addition to their coloration ref lecting their attuned emotions, emotion ooze takes on forms that befit the emotion to which they are tied, making it fairly easy for those with knowledge of the creatures to determine each one’s particular emotional attunement on first glance.  Creatures that encounter an emotion ooze find that it mimics their expressions and movements in an unnerving manner, sometimes even duplicating the facial features of the creature as it mimics a smile or growl. The ooze’s reactions get more extreme when creatures around it express the type of emotion to which the ooze is attuned. The ooze begins to noticeably ripple, pulsing in a sympathetic rhythm and reshaping itself more rapidly than it does when it is on the search for emotional creatures. An anger-attuned ooze might form its pseudopods to look more like jagged spikes, and a despair ooze might reach out fitfully like a creature struggling to escape from a pool of quicksand.  Most animals and unintelligent life forms find an emotion ooze’s imitation and emotional echoes terrifying and flee as quickly as possible. Though some sentient creatures have this same reaction, others find the phenomenon fascinating, and attempt to either experiment with or capture emotion oozes, putting themselves within reach of the hungry oozes’ grasp. These intelligent creatures are the most common victims of emotion ooze attacks.  Pitched battles draw the attentions of emotion oozes attuned to anger, fear, hatred, or zeal. Such an ooze might join a nearby battle it senses so it can feed off the emotions generated there. The desire to continue causing and absorbing such strong feelings causes the ooze to try to prolong the battle, spreading out its attacks among multiple targets and paying little attention to creatures that aren’t affected by its ability to compel emotion. In the end, the ooze’s hunger might actually be its downfall.  Emotion oozes often dwell in places where strong emotions were felt in the past, suggesting the creatures might have latent psychometric ability. Hatred oozes might live at the sites of massacres, zeal oozes in old temples or political offices, despair oozes in ancient prisons, and so on. If stuck in one place or deprived of emotional connections for a long time, an emotion ooze begins to lose its coloration, becoming a dull white, and eventually hardens and cracks into pieces.  The typical emotion ooze has about the same volume as a human, but its composition makes it significantly lighter, weighing only around 50 pounds.

A magical compound of pitch and alchemist’s fire, roiling oil is a volatile and dangerous ooze. It hunts in subterranean tunnels and even city sewer systems and waterways for animal and vegetable material to consume. Thick, viscous, and resembling a glistening spread of black wax, roiling oil moves slowly across flat surfaces and up walls to find prey it can batter with its greasy pseudopods. When a patch of roiling oil attacks, the process of stretching and shifting its form to strike exposes portions of its interior mass to oxygen. This interaction creates a pungent odor of oil and rancid fat. A roiling oil’s strikes slather its targets in an equally malodorous film capable of overwhelming victims with nausea. A roiling oil prefers to fully coat its prey in this substance before it kills and devours them. Even more dangerous, however, is the fact that creatures attempting to burn away a roiling oil only make it more lethal. Even the smallest spark or flame can turn this voracious ooze into a moving inferno against which only cold or strong wind act as any protection. The ooze itself feels no pain from the flames and isn’t impeded by them, but such attempts can result in burns to everyone and everything else in the area.

Black puddings are the scavengers of the underworld, constantly on the lookout for a meal. They can sense organic or metallic objects within 60 feet and mindlessly attack such items or beings until they are dissolved or the ooze is killed. A black pudding reproduces by breaking off a piece of its body and forming a new, smaller black pudding, which grows to full size in 1 month’s time. Some of the more intelligent creatures in the underworld use black puddings as natural garbage disposals, creating stone pits to house the pudding and throwing organic refuse or foes in as needed. Larger specimens of black puddings have been encountered in the deepest parts of the world, with Gargantuan individuals having up to 30 HD.

A brain ooze (sometimes known as a “killer brain”) resembles almost precisely the raw brain of a human, save for the eldritch energy surrounding it and the twin tentacles extending from its sides. The creature’s thought patterns are unusually powerful, and cause painful mental feedback in the minds of other conscious beings. Other intelligent beings are nothing more than cattle and playthings to brain oozes—victims to be tormented, thought patterns to be consumed. Brain oozes prefer to manipulate their prey from the shadows. Rather than assaulting openly, they provoke fights and conflict within groups, or lure one or two victims away for the kill. Brain oozes derive particular satisfaction from forcing an individual to commit terrible acts, then wiping away all knowledge of the crimes from the victim’s memory. They torment such hapless puppets again and again, forcing them to commit ever greater atrocities. Once weary of their sport they return the modified memories with dispel magic, and feast upon the delicious misery of the victim’s final despair. Brain oozes feed through their tentacles by extracting the thoughts of living creatures. Animals and less intelligent creatures provide little nourishment, but they prize fey, outsiders, and spellcasters as delicacies. After several feedings, a brain ooze divides into two nearly identical brains, each retaining only a portion of the knowledge and experiences of the parent. The similarities between intellect devourers and brain oozes have not gone unnoticed, but the two species appear to have little in common beyond appearance. Some theorize that brain oozes are actually the result of an ancient race’s failed attempt to achieve immortality by preserving their minds via alien technology or magic.

A deathtrap ooze is a disgusting mass of brown-orange sludge that moves and hunts of its own volition. It exists only to feed. Thought to be related to ochre jellies, the deathtrap ooze is up to 12 feet wide and 6 inches deep in its normal, mobile form. While moving, it shrinks a foot or two in width, gaining about 6 inches of height, and rolls forward in a quivering mass. Deathtrap oozes are less inclined to look for prey than are other oozes—they prefer to hunt by ambush. Their ability to assume the form of simple mechanical traps has long intrigued scholars, but this ability is not something born out of intellect as much as by supernatural cunning. A deathtrap ooze lacks any creative ability—it can only mimic traps that it has encountered during its wanderings, and even then, the repertoire of trap designs it can draw upon is limited to just the last few it has encountered. These oozes surely have an origin rooted in magical meddling. Countless ancient crypts have such oozes within, lurking patiently in ageless trap form, awaiting would-be tomb-raiders for a first-in-centuries breakfast. Those who have studied the deathtrap ooze suppose that wizards of some lost culture altered ochre jellies into perfect guardians. Like ochre jellies, elder deathtrap oozes can grow to be enormous. Rumor holds that some can also duplicate even more complex traps that release toxic fumes, spray acid, or contain poison. Some even claim there are oozes so huge that they can duplicate traps that fill entire rooms with multiple moving parts.

Shard slags are living mounds of magic-infused iron. They dwell within the iron-rich molten cores of worlds, the hearts of active volcanoes, or any location where the borders of the Material Plane and the Plane of Fire are thin. Though they’re not sentient, shard slags are skilled hunters and have developed a bizarre method of hunting and defending themselves. When a creature is near, a shard slag spontaneously alters its molten body to produce a number of razor-sharp blades. The shard slag then mindlessly attacks until the other creature is stabbed, burned, and then consumed.

When an ochre jelly infiltrates a colony of giant bees or wasps and consumes a queen egg, a strange reaction sometimes occurs between the jelly’s fluids and the egg, resulting in a tyrant jelly—an intelligent ooze using an immature insect as a primitive brain. The tyrant jelly has unusual powers over vermin, and quickly takes control of the colony, sending its drones to gather food to sate its unnatural hunger. Other vermin are attracted to the scent of these creatures, and then fall under the tyrant’s sway—a colony often has giant bees, centipedes, spiders, and wasps working together. A tyrant jelly’s primary interests are food and survival. Magic or telepathy might allow a creature to bargain with it, exchanging food for its cooperation. Some insect cults hunt tyrant jellies, believing their strange substance has properties similar to a giant bee’s royal jelly or can increase the intelligence of other vermin.

Royal jelly has remarkable effects on other creatures if eaten. A pound of royal jelly provides enough nourishment for a full day, and grants a +4 resistance bonus on all saving throws against disease for the next 24 hours. If a creature sleeps enough to heal damage within 24 hours of eating at least a pound of royal jelly, it heals twice the hit points and ability damage as it otherwise would. A single pound sells for 100 gp.

The deepest, strangest parts of space hold truly alien beings—and of those, few are more notorious than the colour out of space. The lack of a physical body does little to impede this deadly alien life form’s ability to cause incredible devastation to other life it encounters. A colour out of space’s life cycle requires periodic visits to the deepest reaches of space for the creature to gestate and grow in the vicinity of powerful gravitational fields (such as those created by planets), and this custom only increases the monster’s opportunities to bring ruin to countless worlds. The colour out of space is just that—a mobile radiance. Its glow is unlike any seen in nature. The few who encounter one of these creatures and survive sometimes describe the radiance or portrayed it in art as a sinister, green-gray illumination, but these depictions are flawed reproductions. To witness the colour out of space is to know there are things no humanoid mind can fully comprehend, describe, or explain. Very little is known about the life cycle of a colour that dwells in the depths of space, for it is only when it comes to a planet to grow and reproduce that other life forms encounter it. A colour’s arrival upon a world is typically via a small meteorite strike—the colour itself infuses a meteoroid, and shortly after the falling star’s arrival, the rock crumbles away to expose the semisolid mass of a larval colour that seeps into the surrounding landscape. Although a colour is incorporeal, and thus able to move through solid objects, it can also exist as a free-f loating, eerie radiance. Natural sunlight doesn’t particularly harm colours out of space, but they prefer to dwell in darkened areas like deep caves or abandoned wells where their own radiance is the only light. Over the course of several weeks, months, or even years, the colour feeds upon the surrounding plant and animal life—the act of being fed upon is weirdly addictive to its victims, who develop a self-destructive lassitude that prevents them from fleeing the region. When a colour has absorbed enough life to grow to full maturity (usually signif ied by reaching 25 to 30 Hit Dice), it gathers its strength and erupts from its den, coruscating into the sky as it launches the majority of itself back into space. Sometimes, enough remains of the parent colour to survive on its own, and in these cases the life cycle repeats again and again. Areas blighted by a colour out of space are singularly recognizable, not only for the eerie pallor of local plant life and large swaths of blasted, barren landscape, but also by the presence of those the colour has fed on. These unfortunate, deformed individuals, known as colour-blighted creatures, never live for long, but while they do, their madness often drives them to violent behavior, be they people or beasts.

Putrid oozes are primarily made from organic mire animated with Abyssal energies. These creatures can exist near any rift or portal to the Abyss. They caustically burn through plants and animals in pursuit of their vicious, mindless hunger. Putrid oozes get their name from their disturbing habit of subsuming dead creatures into their own gelatinous bodies. Putrid oozes generally are a combination of churning, gray-and-black slurries, similar to chunky tar mixed with wet gravel, but their bodies also hold undigested portions of the creatures they consume. At any one time, they present a mixture of rotting limbs, severed heads, and entangled entrails among the miscellaneous sludge that makes up their bodies.  Most hardy materials putrid oozes consume are never completely devoured. Putrid oozes slowly break down their meals into the same gray-black, chunky morass that makes up their bodies. Although it’s rare for a putrid ooze to starve, those weakening from hunger use the last of their dwindling energy to seek out chasms or ravines where they can lie in wait, hoping for meals to wander past. In these dark places, the putrid oozes go dormant, existing as murky pools of sticky acid until a living creature draws near. Though the creatures are essentially in hibernation, all it takes is a simple touch to awaken them. In contrast, active putrid oozes are intimidating sights to behold, and rarely take anyone by surprise.  Unlike other oozes, putrid oozes don’t reproduce via mitosis—splitting into two identical, smaller oozes. Instead, they form spontaneously from corrupted rifts to the Abyss. Some cultists of Jubilex, demon lord of ooze monsters, have experimented with generating putrid oozes by exposing slurries of entrails, filth, and acid to foul energies. They see the spontaneous creation of these oozes as manifestations of the Faceless Lord.  When putrid oozes take enough damage to be destroyed, they melt into an inert pool of muck like most other oozes, though whether putrid oozes eventually reform from such remnants is a point of debate. Some say that sunlight further breaks down putrid oozes once they are destroyed.  A putrid ooze typically covers an area that measures 12 feet by 12 feet, and piles up on itself to a height of no more than 8 feet. A putrid ooze weighs about 20 tons.

Gravesludges straddle the line between oozes and undead. Primarily made of ectoplasm and grave dirt, gravesludges spontaneously arise in areas where a grave is desecrated, near strong haunt activity, and in the defiled graves of unhallowed cemeteries. Intelligent undead often entreat gravesludges to bolster their defenses, but solitary gravesludges wander cemeteries, charnel houses, and ossuaries, driven by little more than a burning jealousy and hatred for the living. Occasionally, living creatures work with a gravesludge to secure a grisly form of life after death as juju zombies.  The average gravesludge measures 6 feet across and weighs 750 pounds.

While sages debate whether the first carnivorous blobs were created by a mad wizard, formed in foul flesh-warping vats in some sinister city, or traveled to this world trapped in the core of a meteor, there is one thing they all agree on—none wish to get close enough to study the monstrosity. Carnivorous blobs move like a typical ooze, rolling out blobs of its fleshy material in haphazard directions, and pulling its bulk across the ground, up walls, and even through the water. If a carnivorous blob goes for more than 24 hours without a source of food, it drops into a sort of hibernation, resembling nothing so much as a pool of gelatinous blood. The creature springs to life quickly and hungrily as soon as any living prey comes within range of its senses.

Common where wild magic and gunpowder are prevalent, gunpowder oozes are the combination of these two dangerous and unpredictable elements.

ADMIXTURE OOZE  
Sometimes, when gunpowder mixes with unpredictable wild magic and alchemy (a frequent pairing in places where alchemical cartridges are common), an admixture ooze arises. These oozes include additional horrifying elements that were not present in their parent substances. An admixture ooze has the advanced simple template, as well as a unique ability depending on its alchemical admixture. For instance, an admixture ooze with the power of an entangling shot cartridge entangles foes with its slam attack (Reflex DC 27 negates), whereas flare cartridge oozes can emit blinding flashes as a free action, dazzling sighted creatures within 20 feet for 1d6 minutes (Fortitude DC 27 negates).

Massive and devastating, plasma oozes are mysterious, extraterrestrial beings made of superheated electromagnetic sludge. While their origin is not fully known, it is widely accepted that plasma oozes are not from this world. Some scholars believe they dwell in the sun, while others maintain they hail from the Plane of Fire. That plasma oozes have been encountered in both of these locations does little to help solve the debate. A plasma ooze flies by somehow interacting with gravity and magnetic waves, drifting through the air in a manner similar to the way a jellyfish swims in water. This creature’s only real purpose is to consume, and it prefers to do so by drawing prey into its fiery, electrified core. Scholars find it curious that while a plasma ooze can only attract metallic substances, the thing can only digest organic matter, and rather slowly at that. Survivors of plasma ooze attacks are rare, but such victims describe the pain of being struck by one’s rays as like being pulled apart piece by piece. Wounds left by a plasma ooze’s touch resemble hideously melted burn scars. A plasma ooze is 20 feet in diameter and weighs 6,000 pounds.

Cave blights are radioactive oozes that dwell in immense networks of caverns deep below the surface of the world. There, they seek to ruin underground societies—especially svirfneblin settlements, for deep gnomes particularly enrage these oozes due to their ancient links to the primal realm of the fey. Cave blights alone among their kind are adept at magically compelling aberrations to aid them in their wars against other intelligent life.  A cave blight measures 7 feet across and weighs 600 pounds on average.

Although even lunatics and doom-saying prophets desperately claim the monstrous shoggoth is nothing more than a drug-induced vision or thankfully unreal nightmare, the truth is altogether more dire. The shoggoths exist, although they keep to the deepest of ocean trenches or the most remote of forgotten caverns and ruins, emerging only rarely to spread madness and destruction in their slime-caked wakes. The first shoggoths were created in eons past, long before the first gods turned their attentions to the Material Plane. Some hold that the aboleths engineered them, while certain strange texts hint of a race even older that engineered the first shoggoths as slaves. Eventually, these dread beasts developed enough intelligence to rebel against their creators, and now they lurk, patient but potent, in the lightless deep.