Temperate Swamp

Muckdwellers have long tails that allow them to swim rapidly through the water or maintain their balance when standing upright. They sometimes associate with lizardfolk, forming allied settlements, but rarely living in the same community. Still they work and hunt together for mutual benefit. Most muck dwellers stand 3-1/2 feet tall and weigh 70 pounds.

Lizardfolk are proud and powerful reptilian predators that make their communal homes in scattered villages deep within swamps and marshes. Uninterested in colonization of the dry lands and content with the simple weapons and rituals that have served them well for millennia, lizardfolk are viewed by many other races as backwater savages, but within their isolated communities lizardfolk are actually a vibrant people filled with tradition and an oral history stretching back to before humans walked upright. Most lizardfolk stand 6 to 7 feet tall and weigh 200 to 250 pounds, their powerful muscles covered in scales of gray, green, or brown. Some breeds have short dorsal spikes or brightly colored frills, and all swim well by moving with flicks of their powerful 4-footlong tails. While completely at home in the water, they breathe air and return to their clustered mound-dwellings to breed and sleep. As their reptilian blood makes them sluggish in the cold, most lizardfolk hunt and work during the day and retreat to their homes at night to curl up with other tribesmen in the shared warmth of large peat fires. Though generally neutral, lizardfolks’ standoffish demeanor, staunch rejection of civilization’s “gifts,” and legendary ferocity in battle cause them to be viewed negatively by most humanoids. These traits stem from good reasons, however, as their own slow rate of reproduction is no match for warm-blooded humanoids, and those tribes who don’t defend their wetland territories to the last breath quickly find themselves overwhelmed by the mammalian hordes. As for their tendency to consume the bodies of dead friends and enemies alike, the practical lizardfolk are quick to point out that life is hard in the swamp, and nothing should go to waste. The lizardfolk presented here dwell in a swampy environment. Lizardfolk tribes can exist in other environments as well, but they lose their swim speed and instead gain a climb speed of 15 feet.

Boggards resemble anthropomorphic frogs or toads, complete with webbed hands and feet, large eyes, and overly wide mouths. These creatures make their homes near large rivers or deep in marshes. There they make small villages composed of mud mounds on the banks. Boggards start out life as tadpoles in breeding ponds, eventually growing to a length of 3 feet before sprouting arms and legs and becoming capable of terrestrial living. Acceptance into the clan then depends on the young boggard’s successful hunt to kill a sentient humanoid. Those who fail are exiled from the clan. As boggards age, they continue to grow and lose their coloration. Exceptionally old boggards bear completely white skin covering massive corpulent bodies. Some of these boggards rank among the caste of priest-kings and enjoy a life of grotesque pleasures ruling their clans. Though often hunched over, boggards stand 5 feet tall and weigh close to 200 pounds. These creatures live for 50 years, though the harsh swamps and infighting usually cut these years short.

This small, carnivorous stinging nettle commonly grows in mires. It preys mostly on amphibians, fish, and small mammals, though they have been known to attack and kill much larger prey, especially when hunting in groups. Mire nettles are infamous for their hollow, needlelike thorns, which contain a natural toxin that causes extreme pain. While not lethal in and of itself, the pain caused by the toxins is intensely overwhelming.  Those who are actively on the lookout can attempt a DC 12 Knowledge (nature) check to identify them by their triangular, jagged-edged leaves.  While most consider mire nettles a nuisance, certain humanoids make use of them. Some cultivate the plants to mark territorial boundaries, while others repurpose the toxic thorns to make blowgun darts or use them in snares or traps. A few tribes incorporate them for rituals in which young members of the tribe must endure hours of pain from the nettle’s toxin as a rite of passage into adulthood. A creature can harvest 1d4 doses of mire nettle toxin from a freshly slain plant with a successful DC 20 Survival check. Mire nettle toxin retains its potency for 6 hours after the plant’s death, but certain alchemical processes (requiring a successful DC 20 Craft [alchemy] check, 30 minutes of work, and the expenditure of 50gp of reagents per dose) can extend the potency of the toxin to 1 week.

Fey creatures resemble the mundane creatures they derive from, but with brighter colors, delicate features, and elegant wings such as those of a pixie or sprite. Despite their fragile-seeming appearance, fey creatures are every bit as hardy as their non-fey relations, though they sacrifice raw might for grace and the ability to fly. They live long lives, barring death by misadventure, and rarely show outward signs of age. Some fey creatures owe their nature to fey ancestors interbreeding with mortal beings, while others are races in their own right. Still others began life as ordinary creatures and were infused with fey essence through the magic of learned spellcasters or the influence of ancient powers of nature. As a rule, fey creatures rarely dwell in civilized lands, both by preference and because the conditions that give rise to the fey rarely occur in urban surroundings. If not already born into realms of primeval wild or areas touched by great fey powers, fey creatures soon seek them out. Though more prone to mischief than mayhem, fey creatures run the gamut from inimical to sprightly in behavior. Those inclined toward play and jest take a dim view of interlopers lacking in good humor. Such foul-tempered intruders risk humiliation at best if they insult the fey, and much worse if they raise arms against them. More aggressive fey still possess a well-developed though sadistic sense of humor. Such wicked fey use their inborn powers to lure outsiders to their doom, rather than into mere inconvenience. Fey creatures generally have cordial relationships with animals, allies of nature such as druids, and other fey. Exceptions exist where rival communities of fey dwell in proximity to one another. In these cases, any fey creatures in the vicinity ally with one side or the other according to their own inclinations, only rarely standing outside such conflicts. Fey creatures derived from horses and the like often serve as mounts, though only to other fey or to allies of nature who acknowledge them as at least near-equals, if not full partners.

Some hags create hag eye oozes to serve as scouts and spies, favoring them over humanoid servants due to the ease with which they can be controlled. With hag eye oozes’ ability to blend in and climb nearly any surface, they are ideal for patrolling the hag’s lair and territory. Hag eye oozes seem to be imbued with a sliver of caution, watching intruders from a distance and avoiding combat unless directed to attack. Once given a command, these creatures mindlessly pursue their goals.  Hag eye oozes can sometimes grow larger than 5 cubic feet, though most are smaller, taking up roughly half that space.

Kawa akagos are plants that were spiritually fertilized by fragments of the restless spirits of drowned children, becoming carnivorous creatures that inhabit marshes and riversides. They resemble lily pads with a mouthlike opening guarded by fibrous strands like those of a flytrap plant. A kawa akago’s gourdlike skin ranges from maroon to crimson when it is well fed, but more often, creatures encounter a kawa akago when it is hungry. In this case, it instead takes on the same hue as other lilypads in the area, usually an innocuous green.  Carnivorous and cunning, kawa akagos hunt riverbanks and waterways for both animals and travelers on which to feed. Kawa akagos’ thorn-tipped fangs excrete a pain-inducing sap that mimics the feeling of intense, burning heat. Though they prefer to fight in water, kawa akagos usually ambush from land, using their dangerous sap to drive would-be prey toward the nearby rivers or streams that will soothe the painful effects of their fangs. Once the victim immerses itself, the plant creatures swarm their target if attacking in numbers, or a single plant strikes from the depths to wear down the victim. Although a kawa akago has no respiratory system, it’s body is rife with pockets it can fill with air and expel as necessary. This network of hollow chambers allows the creature to speak on the rare occasions it wishes to communicate, and is the source of the creature’s terrible wail, which is capable of breaking bones and shattering glass. The sound is often described as similar to the simultaneous mournful cries of a dozen children in serious distress.

BLOOD LILY
While ordinary kawa akagos feed on any prey that pass by, some kawa akagos that remain engorged with the blood and flesh of sentient creatures for a long period of time become blood lilies. Blood lilies are much larger and are red at all times. They crave the blood of sentient creatures above all other food, and their alignment changes to neutral evil. They gain the advanced and giant simple templates as well as the psychic magic ability, with spells that vary but generally include magic that can lure their desired prey into their waiting maws.  Particularly tenacious blood lilies that continue to feed on sentient creatures may evolve further, gaining greater powers and even class levels. Fortunately, most blood lilies overstep themselves before that point and are destroyed by prey that proves too much for the plants to handle.

Often mistaken for a vampire in gaseous form or an unusual type of air elemental, the vampiric mist is in fact a strange form of aberrant life. With an amorphous body that consists as much of fluid as it does of air, this creature dwells in swamps or moist underground regions where its vulnerability to heat isn’t as much of a concern. Although somewhat intelligent, vampiric mists do not form societies. They sometimes form into small gangs, but even then they show little interest in working together. Much of a vampiric mist’s time is spent seeking prey—a pursuit that the monster often shows great creativity in accomplishing. The creatures’ propensity for taking on vague, skeletal forms of the creatures whose blood they drink only further adds to their mystique and fuels rumors that they have connections to the undead. Indeed, many vampiric mists enjoy using this common misconception to their advantage, causing foes to use foolish tactics—such as tricking spellcasters into using positive energy against them as if they were undead monsters.

Malicious and furtive, boggarts are believed to be brownies that were mistreated or somehow corrupted. Unlike brownies, who sometimes form mutually beneficial relationships with particular families and take up residence within those families’ houses, boggarts rarely occupy homes. Instead, they lurk in swamps, in marshes, and on riverbanks, favoring areas where people have vanished or drowned. A boggart’s relationship with nearby households and homesteads is almost always disruptive. It frightens livestock and breaks valuable objects, and even goes so far as to follow victims who move their households in an attempt to escape their tormentor. Despite these habits, boggarts rarely cause serious harm to their chosen families, preferring simply to sow fear and misery. Even though these relationships are characterized by animosity, they seem to stabilize the boggarts somewhat. Boggarts that lack households to terrorize are far less benign.  A boggart is rarely spotted unless it wishes to be seen, and it has little interest in fighting fair. When preying on its victims, a boggart uses its familiarity with its home terrain to its advantage, preferring to induce foes to struggle against the natural environment rather than against the boggart. A boggart has very long arms, which it uses to pull creatures into water or onto marshy ground; it then psychically paralyzes its victims and allows the creatures to drown. A boggart is also quite skilled at setting traps and dragging its opponents into them. It sometimes uses aversion to keep people away from its home, but more often uses this power to prevent anyone from helping its chosen prey.  A boggart’s magic is drawn from the excess psychic energy in an area. Boggarts cause mischief in order to heighten negative emotions near their homes and thus fuel their powers. It has been theorized that if a boggart were isolated from such energy for long enough, it could eventually revert into a brownie.  A typical boggart stands 3 feet tall and weighs 70 pounds.

Often viewed as vicious and corrupted creatures, harpies know how creatures think and act. This understanding gives them an advantage when it comes to finding their favorite meals. While creatures of the wild easily fall victim to their captivating songs, these vile bird-women prefer their meals spiced with complex sentient thoughts. Easy prey makes for a boring meal. While ultimately savage and without remorse for their actions, a number of harpies live close to humanoid societies and enjoy parlaying with creatures that they see as potential meals. Harpies tend to wear baubles and trinkets stolen from their victims, as they like to indulge in the shiny ornaments of mankind. Up close, these creatures reek with the stench of consumed victims, and they rarely let creatures not yet captivated too near, lest they smell the gore and decay upon their feathers. For this reason, many harpies wear perfumes and scented oils. Harpies appear wildly different in different lands. Some seem like an amalgam of vultures and women, while others bear the regal markings of hawks or falcons in their feathers. Rare clutches of harpies in isolated and tropical parts of the world even have colorful feathers akin to parrots.

You can make more powerful hydras by increasing their Hit Dice—each added HD increases the hydra’s statistics as appropriate, but also gives it one additional head and a +1 increase to its natural armor. A hydra’s CR increases by +1 for each Hit Die it gains.
Cryohydra/Pyrohydra (+2 CR): Variants of the standard hydra, the cryohydra lives in cold marshes or on glaciers, while the pyrohydra prefers deserts or volcanic mountains. A cryohydra gains the Cold subtype, while a pyrohydra gains the Fire subtype. Each of its heads has a breath weapon (15- ft. cone, 3d6 cold damage [cryohydra] or 3d6 fire damage [pyrohydra], Reflex half ) useable every 1d4 rounds. The save DC is 10 + 1/2 the hydra’s HD + the hydra’s Con modifier. Although fire attacks cannot prevent a pyrohydra’s neck stump from growing new heads (since it is immune to fire), 5 points of cold damage does. Acid works normally on both hydra variants.

Terrifying crones known to haunt foul swamps and tangled forests, green hags harbor an intense hatred for all beauty and purity. Making use of their varied deceptive abilities, these crones delight in murdering innocents, unhinging noble minds, and debasing the pure of heart. They are particularly fond of using disguise self to assume the forms of alluring young maidens and then seducing young men away from their lovers or families. In this form, they can infect such noble and upstanding citizens with all manner of debauchery and scandal. Some green hags prefer to reveal their true natures to their lovers at a moment precisely engineered to drive the man mad with horror and shame. Others drag out their dalliances and do what they can to utterly ruin the lives of the men they seduce before showing the broken shell that remains the truth. In the end, the luckiest of these unfortunate lovers end up being eaten by their green hag companions—for the unlucky, their final doom can be much worse, for the cruel imagination of the green hag is vast. A typical green hag stands between 5 and 6 feet tall and weighs just under 160 pounds.

HAG COVENS
When three hags of any type gather, they can form a coven to gain increased magical ability. Any combination of hags can form a coven, but green hags are the most common members of such foul gatherings. Whenever all three hags of a particular coven are within 10 feet of one another, all three of them can work together to use any of the following spell-like abilities: animate dead, baleful polymorph (DC 18), blight (DC 17), bestow curse (DC 17), clairaudience/clairvoyance, charm monster (DC 17), commune, control weather, dream, forcecage, mind blank, mirage arcana (DC 18), reincarnate, speak with dead, veil (DC 19), vision. All three hags must take a full-round action to take part in this form of cooperative magic. All coven spell-like abilities function at CL 9th (or at the highest CL available to the most powerful hag in the coven). The save DCs are Charisma-based, and function as if with a Charisma score of 16 unless one of the hags has a higher Charisma score, in which case the spell-like ability DCs are adjusted by that hag’s Charisma modifier. At the GM’s discretion, certain more powerful hag covens might have additional spell-like abilities.

Ochre jellies are animate masses of protoplasm hued a sickly combination of yellow, orange, and brown. At rest, their flat, pulsing bodies stand roughly 6 inches tall and can stretch out to a wide diameter— in motion, they often ball up into quivering spherical shapes and almost seem to roll as they move. Their malleable bodies allow them to seep through cracks and holes far smaller than the space they fill. Creatures dwelling below ground often attempt to seal up any such cracks to fortify their lairs against ochre jellies. An ochre jelly’s highly specialized acid only dissolves flesh. This discovery has led many poisoners and hack alchemists to search out specimens for their tinkering. Some specialized weapons have resulted from these experiments that target the living body in wicked ways. Rumors of a slow-release poison that breaks down the cellular walls in living creatures surfaced a few years ago, but its creator guards the secret with his life. Notes in a long-forgotten tome mention a burial practice used in faraway places that resembles cremation. Instead of burning the corpse to ashes, the practitioners seal the body into a stone sarcophagus with an ochre jelly so it can dissolve the body. Afterward, the morticians place the ochre jelly into a large canopic jar, complete with a bronze plaque naming the deceased. This practice protects items entombed with the body (which is quickly reduced to nothing but a polished skeleton), and the creature’s essence, it is believed, still rides along with the living jelly. Ochre jellies stand about 6 inches tall, spread out to a little over 10 feet in diameter, and weigh upward of 2,600 pounds. When in combat, they tend to pile up upon themselves and exude long, dripping pseudopods to slam and grapple anything that moves. Although the typical ochre jelly has stats as presented here, in the deepest reaches of the underground world these mindless predators can grow to enormous sizes. Perhaps more disturbing, though, are rumors of ochre jellies that have developed additional methods of capturing prey. Adventurers speak of jellies capable of poisoning foes with a touch or exuding clouds of noxious gas that burns the eyes and throat, leaving those who draw too near helpless as the immense protoplasmic beast slithers over their bodies and begins to feed.

The tizheruk is a vicious freshwater predator that wreaks havoc in the lakes and rivers it inhabits. To make matters worse, tizheruks also frequently travel inland via smaller streams where animals and humanoids might think themselves safe. When a tizheruk swims upstream in such waters, it naturally compresses its muscles and organs, enabling it to remain in water less than a foot deep. It explodes to its full size as soon as it attacks, swallowing smaller prey or dragging larger creatures into the water before swimming away with its meal, crushing and potentially drowning its victim.  Though tizheruks subsist mostly on aquatic prey, they often supplement their diets with creatures caught on the shore, particularly sizable mammals such as deer or wild boars. To capture such creatures, a tizheruk extends its tightly coiled, whiplike tongue to snare one of its prey’s legs, then retracts the appendage to pull the creature to its mouth, where it can seize the creature and drag its prey into the water.  A tizheruk’s skin is nearly transparent, granting it natural camouf lage beneath the water, where its rust-colored organs and tissue can easily be mistaken for the bed of a creek or stream. After gorging itself on fish or on land animals that wander near the shore, the tizheruk compresses itself on the bottom of a lake or river while it slowly digests its prey. Until then, its stealth is compromised, as the ragged chunks of flesh within its gullet are clearly visible, even if the tizheruk itself remains unseen.  An adult tizheruk is 15 feet long and weighs 200 pounds, though a tizheruk that has just fed may weigh up to two or three times as much. Larger tizheruks with the giant template are threats to even bigger prey.

As stout as a bull with a reptile’s scaly, spiked body, hodags are legendary forest predators that hunt along the edges of civilization in thick woods. Green, gray, and black scales cover the beasts, helping them blend in amid underbrush, and sharp spikes stand along their backs and run down their powerful, dangerous tails. Loggers share stories of being followed by hodags and seeing their glowing red eyes in the otherwise oppressive darkness of the deep forest. In the wintertime, when snow and ice blankets the region, hodags grow a foul-smelling coat of greasy, dark brown fur that sprouts in tufts from between their scales. Many believe that hodags are not simply strong beasts but rather unique and specific terrors that have lived and hunted certain woodlands for ages. Others living near such wildernesses, however, consider hodags a myth, nothing more than the sort of tall tale that is typical of excitable rural folk. A male hodag measures 10 feet long and weighs 700 pounds.

Chuuls are armored, crustacean-like predators that lurk beneath the surfaces of shallow ponds and mires, bursting from concealment to snatch up prey in their chitinous pincers and then paralyzing them with their mouth tentacles before eating them alive. Chuuls are excellent swimmers but prefer to attack land-bound creatures or those wallowing in shallow water. Once they seize their victims, chuuls often drag grappled foes back into deep water to drown them. Lizardfolk are by far the chuul’s favorite prey, though those pale chuul breeds that live underground prefer morlocks, duergar, unwary drow, and other unfortunates who get too close to their subterranean waterways—with the exception of troglodytes, whose flavor chuuls find particularly offensive. Chuuls are surprisingly intelligent, leading many to speculate fruitlessly on their origins and motivations. They speak a chittering, burbling dialect of Common, but few are inclined to speak to those outside their race, and if chuul society exists beyond their frenzied mating season, humanoids have yet to record it. Instead, chuul intellects seem entirely devoted to seeking out the perfect ambush sites to attack other intelligent creatures and decorating their elaborate lairs with trophies from their kills. Though the chuuls themselves seem uninterested in using tools of any kind, they have an almost compulsive need to collect keepsakes from their victims. A typical chuul is 8 feet tall and weighs 650 pounds.

Medusas are human-like creatures with snakes instead of hair. At distances of 30 feet or more, a medusa can easily pass for a beautiful woman if she wears something to cover her serpentine locks—when wearing clothing that conceals her head and face, she can be mistaken for a human at even closer distances. Medusas use lies and disguises that conceal their faces to get close enough to opponents to use their petrifying gaze, though they like playing with their prey and may fire arrows from a distance to lead enemies into traps. Some enjoy creating intricate decorations out of their victims, using their petrified remains as accents to their swampy lairs, but most medusas take care to hide the evidence of their previous conf licts so that new foes won’t have advance warning of their presence. Used to concealing themselves, medusas in cities are usually rogues, while those in the wilderness often pass themselves off as rangers or trackers. The most notorious and legendary medusas, though, are those who take levels as bards or clerics. Charismatic and intelligent, urban medusas are often involved with thieves’ guilds or other aspects of the criminal underworld. Medusas may form alliances with blind creatures or intelligent undead, both of which are immune to their stony gaze. Spellcasting medusas often serve as oracles or prophets, usually dwelling in remote locations of legendary power or infamous history. Such oracle medusas take great delight in their roles, and if presented with the proper gifts and flattery, the secrets they offer can be quite helpful. Of course, the lairs of such potent creatures are liberally decorated with statues of those who have offended them, so the seeker of knowledge is well advised to tred carefully during such meetings. All known medusas are female. Rarely, a medusa may decide to keep a male humanoid as a mate, usually with the help of elixirs of love or similar magic, and is always careful to not petrify her prisoner—at least until she grows tired of his company.

Uintatheriums are large browsing herbivores that move through marshes, plucking aquatic plants from silty water with their large front teeth. They also use these front fangs for defense when confronted with a predator, and males—who have larger fangs—use them in mating displays. Females also fight with their teeth, though they prefer to intimidate foes into leaving them alone.  While an uintatherium has a large, formidably protected skull, its brain is rather small. Dull-witted and slow to act, uintatheriums are not particularly dangerous to those who don’t intentionally provoke them, and they can be domesticated more easily than most megafauna.  Uintatheriums stand nearly 6 feet tall at the shoulder and weigh over 2 tons.

Standing over 9 feet tall and weighing in excess of 4,000 pounds, a gray render is a solitary and savage predator. Renders are gifted with immense strength, and some reports claim to have witnessed a gray render uprooting a fully grown tree and tearing it to splinters in order to catch prey hiding within. Gray renders actively avoid forming groups or communities with their own kind, and perhaps only tolerate the presence of other renders when it is time to mate. Some sages claim they are asexual, but it is more likely they are hermaphrodites able to self-fertilize, and reproduce only rarely. Despite its solitary existence, a gray render often develops an affectionate bond with other creatures, typically a herd of herbivores or a small tribe of humanoids, but in some cases a solitary denizen of its swamp. The render acts as a guardian for this creature or creatures, never straying more than a mile away, running to protect them if they are attacked, and providing an offering of meat once each day, as might a domesticated cat. A gray render never harms its protected creatures, and retreats in confusion if they attack it. Most animal “pets” grow to accept its presence, and primitive humanoid “pets” often believe their guardian is a sign of favor from the gods. A render’s bond may last from a few months to as long as 10 years, after which it wanders to a new territory and ignores its former favorites. Renders are generally not malicious, and only attack if hungry or if they or their pets are threatened. A render protecting its pets fights to the death.

Hideously ugly, marsh giants dwell in the most desolate of swamps— preferably those that share a sodden border with the sea. Marsh giants typically use a hooked club called a gaff (wielded in both hands) in combat—treat these weapons as flails, save that they do piercing damage. Marsh giants are hateful thugs bound together by a common zealotry. Powerful opponents and beasts are the most prized of meals, though many marsh giants are also cannibals—they often attack fellow tribe members just to gorge on a particularly fearsome or delicious-looking relative. Some marsh giants mingle with abominations from the deepest seas, creatures they believe are sent by their god. This has further contributed to their racial degradation, but the immediate offspring of these unholy unions are powerful. Deformed with tentacles, scales, and other aquatic traits, these marsh giants are known as “brineborn.” They are advanced marsh giants with the aquatic subtype, a swim speed of 40 feet, the amphibious special quality, and the following additional spell-like abilities:
Constant—speak with animals;
3/day—contagion (DC 15), confusion (DC 15), quench (DC 14).

The typical intelligent mind exists as a war of aspects— primitive survival urges and base wants opposing intellectual reason and high-minded goals. Some of these aspects dominate the mind, defining a creature’s personality, while others are shackled away. Sometimes psychic injuries can loosen these shackles, revealing aspects a creature would normally control and suppress. When a creature dies from a psychic injury, its conscious mind may shear away, leaving only those subconscious aspects—the creature’s animus—behind. Called animus shades, these spectral undead are gripped with feral rage and lash out at the living. Individuals who engage in psychic combat are particularly prone to succumbing to this form of undeath, and their shades sometimes seek out their former opponents, not content until their one-time adversaries are slain.  Animus shades always bear a superficial resemblance to their former, living selves, but manifest in death as wild brutes, made powerful by their anger and feral by their long suffering. They often appear hunched and contorted after a lifetime of being crushed beneath the weight of the dominant psyches, and can sport wicked claws, overlong limbs, cracked flesh, severed (but still present) body parts, and other nightmarish deformities reflecting the fears their living selves harbored about the dark corners of their own minds. Any gear or items the creature had appear rotted, cracked, and torn in spectral form, though it may carry ghostly versions of the weapons it used in life, deadly implements still capable of harming the living.  Most often, animus shades linger near the sites of their deaths or wander without any specific purpose. As many psychic contests occur in mindscapes or on far-flung esoteric planes, animus shades are frequently found roaming such realms, endlessly raging over the sometimes centuries-old defeats that resulted in their demises. Even when not consumed by such losses, animus shades commonly target those they happen across who remind them of the dominant selves that repressed them in life—whether because of similarities in physical appearance, personality, or activity. However, some rare animus shades have greater clarity of focus and are gripped with the need to undo the accomplishments they achieved in life, taking pleasure in destroying those things they once loved or took pride in.  Because they’re created through psychic violence, animus shades usually appear among intelligent races and beings known for mastering occult forces. Among such races, these undead prove far more common within cultures and groups that cultivate psychic prowess. They’re easy to mistake for ghosts or other undead—often to tragic ends. Fortunately, in lands that value physical strength over mental prowess and in strictly martial cultures, animus shades are almost unknown. Members of races such as hobgoblins, kobolds, and orcs, which seldom give rise to psychically talented individuals, almost never return as animus shades.  Poisoned by the psychic violence that spawned them, animus shades rarely, if ever, cooperate. In death, even animus shades created from former allies slain by the same foe viciously strike out at each other. The mental trauma that fills them and holds them to the world scars these undead deeply, but ultimately makes them most resentful of themselves—they know it was their own weaknesses or distraction that resulted in their deaths. Much of their rage is thus pointed inward, and they take particular satisfaction    in viciously unleashing their hatred on those who resemble them, especially if the resulting conflicts remind them of the battles in which they died.

Morbid-minded and wretched to look upon, spirit nagas are the witches of the naga race, hateful outcasts long shunned for their dark powers and loathsome ways. A typical spirit naga is slender, with the scales of a venomous serpent and a tangle of greasy hair framing their pale faces. Most measure 14 feet long but weigh less than 300 pounds. Spirit nagas delight in places of death and desolation. Battle-scarred ruins, untended graveyards, despoiled forests, and tangled swamps all attract these repulsive creatures. Where guardian nagas favor places of innate sanctity, spirit nagas seek out places of fundamental corruption, sites they believe to be imbued with dark magics. The crypts of long-dead tyrants, the death places of great heroes, and the ruins of nefarious keeps all attract these wretched serpents. Most spirit nagas believe themselves to be the inheritors of some mysterious dark favor, seeing their innate magical talents as evidence of such. Most commune with vague powers of death and devastation, working profane rites and seeking grotesque auguries from cultic forces. To aid them, spirit nagas often use their enchanting gaze, changing victims into fawning fanatics and would-be sacrifices. Spirit nagas occasionally band together in small groups—some seeming to mimic the covens of hags. While a particular plot or foe might bring these deadly serpents together for a short time, spirit nagas are loyal only to themselves, and such alliances always end in deadly betrayal.

Long ago, in the wake of terrible calamity, some populations of sasquatches embraced terrible rites and dark bargains to protect their homes, becoming fen maulers. While sasquatches only resort to violence when threatened, fen maulers revel in bloodshed and vindictive belligerence. All but invisible within their shadowy domains, fen maulers stalk victims for hours or days at a time, until they corner their lost and panicked prey and force a final, deadly confrontation.

A hardy plant that grows in areas with poor soil but abundant animal life, this dangerous predator is an immense version of its more common (and much smaller) kin. Whereas the smaller flytraps supplement their growth by catching insects, the giant flytrap does the same with animals, humanoids, and anything else foolish enough to draw too near. Local legends call this plant names like “mancatcher,” “snapperjaw plant,” “dragonleaf plant,” “cowbiter,” and “green gulper,” but adventurers know it simply as the giant flytrap. As the giant flytrap’s prey are generally much smarter than insects, this huge plant has evolved into a much more aggressive hunter than its smaller brethren. It can lumber slowly along the ground, using its writhing roots like tentacles to relocate to more populous hunting grounds, and is quite canny at blending in with the surrounding foliage. A giant flytrap’s jaws and stalks are swift-moving—it reaches out and snaps at passersby with lightning speed. The plant itself even has a modicum of intelligence, and is capable of limited tactical choices, such as knowing when to break off an attack against a powerful foe. While most giant flytraps have four sets of jaws, some can have as few as one, and others eight or more. As a general rule, you should increase a giant flytrap’s HD by 2 and its natural armor bonus by +1 for each additional bite attack you give it, increasing its CR by +1 for each time you increase its attacks and HD in this manner. If you increase the plant by more than 3 or 4 bites (and thus by more than 6 or 8 Hit Dice), consult Table 1–1 on page 291 to make sure that the plant’s CR remains appropriate. A giant flytrap’s stalks are 20 feet long, but generally sprawl relatively close to the central mass—a set of full-grown flytrap jaws is 7 feet across. A giant flytrap weighs 9,000 pounds.

Huge and hungry, mobogos merge the features of gigantic toads and swampy dragons, and lair in the deepest, oldest swamps. Here, whole tribes of boggards serve the beasts’ fickle, capricious whims. Mobogos reside in the most primal swamps of the world, grotesque eldritch wildernesses unchanged for centuries. Boggards believe that in ancient times, after their fecund demon goddess deposited her frogspawn in the muddy morass of the world’s still-forming continents, mobogos were among the first creatures to emerge. Ever since, the mobogos have slept and fed, preying upon the beasts of their fetid meres, growing huge and lethargic, and dreaming inscrutable amphibious dreams of their godly mother’s return. Nearly all mobogos are attended by tribes of boggards. Mobogos care little for matters of origins and philosophies—they care only for the endless sacrifices of food, victims, and pleasing swamp art brought to them by their obedient tribes. A mobogo is 18 feet tall and weighs 12,000 pounds.

Unlike its smaller, insect-eating cousin, a giant sundew actively seeks out prey using its shallow but sturdy roots to slowly pull itself through its boggy environs. When a giant sundew attacks, it does so by slamming targets with its thick, leaflike fronds, each of which is covered with globules of sticky, acidic goo. The giant sundew exudes an unmistakable scent of honey—an attractive odor that often proves irresistible to nearby creatures.  Although the giant sundew is not quite a mindless monstrosity, its intellect is barely more than instinctive, and it has little ability to discern between allies and enemies. If it attacks a creature that is immune to acid or adhesive qualities, the sundew is smart enough to avoid attacking that foe in future rounds (although it continues to slam such targets with its fronds in self defense, if needed). Despite sundews’ inability to form alliances, many more intelligent forest-dwelling creatures take advantage of the sticky plants and use them as organic traps to help gather prey. Will-o’-wisps in particular are quite fond of the methods a sundew uses to capture and consume prey, for the anguish and fear of creatures stuck to a plant that is slowly dissolving and digesting them form quite a delicious tonic of horror for the wisps to feed upon.  A full-grown giant sundew can reach a height of over 20 feet and weighs 4,000 pounds.

A corpse lotus begins life as a small flowering plant that blooms near carrion, and if given enough time, it grows into an incredibly large and dangerous monstrosity. This terrifying plant possesses grasping vines capable of pummeling opponents before dragging them toward its maw. Always found where carcasses are abundant, corpse lotuses have been known to grow in dungeons, ruins, graveyards, and battlefields in addition to more typical wooded or marshy locales.  Every corpse lotus has a single bulbous flower in its center, similar in shape to a lotus flower. The blossom’s petals are blood-red, and hide an acidic maw at the flower’s center. Corpse lotuses in different regions tend to resemble the dominant plant species in the surrounding area (with the exception of their distinct red petals), thus granting the plants natural camouflage and enabling them to hide among native foliage. Their vines are thick and writhe madly when reaching for potential prey. Corpse lotuses gain their name from the gardens of dead bodies that frequently surround these large, predatory plants—usually of animals and humanoids that strayed too close to the lotus and met their deaths within its gullet.  While at rest, a corpse lotus can reach 8 feet in height and splay its leaves nearly 15 feet wide.

Thankfully rare, the froghemoth is one of the deep swampland’s most ferocious and monstrous predators. Capable of catching and eating dinosaurs and even dragons, the froghemoth is a frighteningly effective ambush hunter. When lying in wait for prey, the immense creature secrets itself in deep marsh pools and mud so that only the top of its eyestalk emerges from the surface. The froghemoth’s eyes are incredibly keen, but even more impressive is the monster’s tongue. Like a snake, a froghemoth can “taste” its surroundings with extraordinary accuracy. Scholars have long debated the origin of this strangely immense predator, arguing that its unusual senses, physiology, and resistances make it something more than an animal. Druids and other servants of the natural world agree—the froghemoth may act like an animal, but it never seems fully “comfortable” in its environs. Perpetually ill-tempered, a froghemoth often seems to kill simply for the sake of killing—vomiting up partially digested meals in favor of new prey when it encounters such. It’s not unheard of to find these strange creatures far from their normal habitations, as if the marsh didn’t agree with them and sent them wandering in search of a new home. Some sages argue that the froghemoth isn’t from this world at all, and that these wanderings are instinctual urges to seek out its true home—a home not represented by the strange world in which the beast finds itself trapped. A froghemoth is 22 feet tall at the shoulder and weighs 16,000 pounds.

For those unfortunate enough to get in an ypotryll’s way, the thundering rhythm of its hooves is the sound of doom. These creatures are pure savagery and destruction incarnate. A bulk of muscle and hate, a charging ypotryll can be slowed by few things. Bodies and viscera are strewed about when this powerful boarlike juggernaut hits a shield wall, and pikes splinter on its armored plates as if they were twigs. Given enough momentum, a charging ypotryll can rip apart a drawbridge or even the crash through a keep’s walls. Powerful savage tribes corral these beasts and unleash their carnage on the battlefield. Giants and powerful troll chiefs prize ypotrylls, and spend much time and resources to break them, though ypotrylls’ volatile nature ensures such domestication is rare. When it does happen, they make truly frightening steeds. In the wild, ypotrylls spend their time roaming their territory looking for enough food to support their massive bodies. While they prefer meat, these creatures are omnivores and will eat almost anything. Ypotrylls are especially fond of the scraps they can find in the trash heaps of civilized races, which can mean disaster for a settlement.

The dreaded thessalhydra is a fearsome predator that has an unexpected agility. Despite its lumbering shape and looming size, the monster’s nimbleness makes it almost beautiful as it attacks. Thessalhydras are relatively rare, though their notorious speed and savagery have featured in countless legends. They are often whispered of in fear and awe by willful children in rural areas, whose exasperated parents have warned them to “be good, or the thessalhydra will pluck you out of your bed through the window when you sleep!”  A thessalhydra is 40 feet long, with its pincer-tipped tail adding another 30 feet to its overall length.

Hailed as either protectors or plagues, glaistigs are ancient fey, tied to the earth and wielding its powers. Although not evil, glaistigs are unpredictable and hot-tempered—easily stirred to anger and possessing powerful magic to deal great harm to the objects of their scorn.  A glaistig resembles a comely human woman with greenish skin and the lower legs of a goat, similar to a faun or satyr. Glaistigs usually cover their bestial lower body in flowing robes or gowns, typically woven from leaves frozen in the colors of summer or autumn, and adorn themselves with simple but elegant jewelry. Their haunting eyes show no pupils, and every step they take seems as one move in an endless dance. They can be whimsical, but often move and act with great deliberation, especially when their anger is roused.  Glaistigs are among the oldest and most powerful fey in existence. Legends say that they were once incorporeal spirits of the earth that strove to protect early humans living the simple lives of farmers in harsh worlds, and it was through that protection and proximity that these spirits coalesced into the forms they now hold. Regardless of their origins, many glaistigs still protect swaths of rural countryside, forests, and swamps, as well as the people who live therein. Their protection is often unobtrusive; they prefer to manifest their power and protection from the camouf lage of foliage, making it seem like the wilderness itself is acting against interlopers. In times of great need, however, or when they become very angry, glaistigs confront dangers in the open. Inhabitants of places protected by a glaistig often leave food, drink, jewels, and crafts at a designated place of honor, or gather to sing songs or tell tales for the glaistig to hear from the shadows. Such communities tell stories of the green maiden who lives in the forest or some other stretch of pristine wilderness, and relate a number of cautionary tales about their fickle protector. Such tales have twofold purpose: to keep the favor of a local glaistig and to protect the young and foolish from doing something that angers the green maiden, which can often mean death. In return for such cautious reverence, those under the elder fey’s protection often find furrows dug and earth mysteriously moved for them, troughs and barrels filled with fresh water during droughts, or even marauding monsters driven far away. But such harmony is often tenuous, and those that leave tribute for a glaistig do so as much to placate her as to praise her. For the same glaistig that brings water and turns earth can blight an entire countryside or cause the ground to tremble. A glaistig’s mere presence can incite others to uncontrollable fits of dancing and demented antics, and those that move a glaistig to rage earn themselves a powerful foe indeed.  In combat, a glaistig moves with ease and grace, typically targeting those under the effects of her aura with debilitating hexes before withdrawing to summon earth elementals to aid her, and bombarding her opponents with leaves and dirt. The living link of her body to the earth and its plants and trees makes a glaistig vulnerable in the air, and she does what she can to stay grounded. Even at the height of anger, however, a glaistig can still sometimes be reasoned with. A glaistig will typically pause to parley, and can be swayed to cease hostilities in exchange for some valuable, preferably magical, item of sufficient value, particularly a wooden or stone item. While glaistigs themselves have no compunction about bending the truth or flagrantly dissembling, they take extreme offense when others lie to them, and are quite adept at sniffing out falsehoods. When a glaistig deduces that someone has lied to her, even if the untruths were spoken in an attempt at flattery, her outrage is such that she is unwilling to even speak with that person again.  Among some of the most prevalent cautionary tales involving glaistigs is that they sometimes lure young children deep into their wilderness homes, kidnapping them and even replacing them with some form of fey impostor. In truth, these fey enjoy the innocence, honesty, and playfulness of children, and usually keep them only to chat and dance with for a short while before sending them home unharmed.