Happy Halloween! Brain in a Jar

The brain in a jar is considered an undead creature. I guess the process that involves yanking a brain out of someone's noggin and sticking it in a goopy container will kill the brain at some point. Temporarily at least. The brain is a good deal more potent in the jar than in the head, since the alchemical whatsits gives it some psychic juju to mess around with. It can communicate telepathically, implant suggestions, squeeze minds and float itself and its container around. It isn't that happy about its situation though, and anybody who tries to read the brain's mind will share its madness (Wisdom drain, yo).

Honestly, I find the fact that it has a fly speed a little disappointing. I really dig the idea of this seemingly inanimate object hidden somewhere in the room that's dealing damage. Or what if you have a whole room filled with these fellas, all dealing 2d10 damage in one go. I think that sounds neat.

This seems like a considerably less powerful version of the elder brain and the demilich, to make things accessible to low-level characters.

My favourite "brain in a jar" story is a certain Lovecraft tale. Roald Dahl also wrote a short story ("William and Mary") with an extracted sentient brain that was also quite unpleasant.

Happy Halloween, peeps.

Tomb Mote

Necromancers would do well to switch graveyards on a fairly regular basis after their rituals, lest they end up with a minor infestation of Tomb Motes. Necromantic magic generally animates bodies or large body parts, but in the decomposition process a lot of dead matter falls to the side, magically imbued but in too diluted a form to actually do anything. But when enough hair, skin flakes, bone fragments, rot ooze and grave dirt are gathered up together, the combined dark magic is enough for the different parts to fuse into a single vaguely humanoid creature. Essentially, a Tomb Mote is a sentient dust bunny of graveyard detritus.

The Tomb Mote is small --about the size of a cat-- and weak. But they still possess enough intelligence to know swarming tactics, and are quick enough to strike many times in a short period (gaming translation: they get an extra standard action). Wash any wounds received from this creature immediately or risk sepsis. Soap is a handy adventuring tool.

Angel of Decay

The Angel of Decay is not a true angel -- it's not any sort of extradimensional. Nor is it a true angel that has succumbed to some vicious corruption. The Angel of Decay is a physical manifestation of rot and gain nourishment from the decay of others. It's almost always in flight, but upon touching the ground, a pool of oozing putresence will form around it.

Sorry about the delay in updating. We've been quite busy and drained lately. But thanks to all of you who visit the site and to those who have purchased our book.

The Angel of Decay is a much more interesting creature that the original illustration led me to believe. In that image, the flesh of the angel seems to be dry and torn away from its bones in ragged strips. An while that's a valid way to potray an undead creature, it doesn't seem quite adequate for something symbolizing the decomposition of flesh. I ended up doing a fair bit of research on the spoilage of carcasses which is, needless to say, fascinating but gross. There are various stages to decomposition. First there's bloating as gases build up and various frothing liquids are expelled. Then the soft exposed tissues (eyes, mouth, wounds...) are consumed by insects -- a few videos I've watched had the heads of the experimental pig carcass dissolve into nothingness before there was much of a mark on the rest of the body. Then the body goops up until all the moisture leaves the body, and sometimes the stuff left after evaporation leaves a dark strain behind. Finally you have remaining dry tissue and bone. Decomposition changes according to the environment (see mummification).

So I decided to make the angel really goopy. The physical body of angel is in that state of decay where all the flesh is runny and blackened and being consumed by maggots. The angel's path is strewn with its own cast off rotting meat.

I also took inspiration from Biblical sources. I originally was looking as Pestilence of the Four Horsemen, but in the end I wanted to emphasize the angelic shape of the creature more. At the same time, I still wanted it to look alien and wrong. In the end I decided to make it look like a rotting seraphim. Seraphim were depicted as having six wings hiding the rest of the angel's body from view, save sometimes for a glimpse of the face, and covered in divine flame.

Carcass Eater

The Carcass Eater is a small animal a rat and a hound. As an animal whose main diet is comprised of carrion, its common haunts are graveyards, battlegrounds, abbatoirs and any other sort of place that would be home to heaps of rotting flesh. The Carcass Eater has a sharp sense of smell and can detect the smallest drop of blood, the scent of which drives it into a shark-like feeding frenzy. Its jaws are especially big, useful for tearing hunks of meat and breaking bones.

This was a blind image, given to me by Joe. I was kinda panicky when he gave it to me when I saw that it was an animal type creature. Animals tend to be, well, actual real creatures that either exist or have existed in the past; creatures of little intelligence and no magical ability. Sometimes there's bigger than usual. I was worried that he'd given me an actual animal and was worried that I was going to represent a real creature in a way that didn't represent it in reality. Which may have been interesting, now that I think about it, like how giraffes were drawn when the description was "camel-like creature with leopard spots".

Skirr

Skirr are massive undead flying creatures. The appear as vaguely humanoid avian creatures with long-toothed bull heads, often covered in funeral wrappings, like a mummy would. The question is what are these creatures? Who mummified them? Why would they do that? Are they an ancient intelligent race? Demons? Corporeal gods? A physical manifestation of evil?

Whatever they were, the evidence is long gone. Now they're animal-like monsters, crawling from their ancient tombs and flying in vast empty places where someone might be stranded. They swoop down on their unfortunate victim and snatch them up in their talons. They fly up as high as they can then let the victim drop...

Joe picked this monster for me to draw this week. It might be something we do to challenge the other person to step out of their comfort zone. Normally I don't go for skeletons. I can draw skulls okay, but the complicated-ness of the rest of the bone structure muddles my head up some. But I'm quite happy with the way the bones in this look, especially the rib cage, especially considering the extra weird-shaped bones that birds have.

Lich

Wo Jia, Illustrious Scion of the Divine Kingly Bloodline and Peace-Loving Defender of the Sacred Light, reigned over the great Lowland kingdoms the better part of a century. His reign was an eventful one - he oversaw many great changes during his lifetime to which he always adapted in a way both harmonious and supremely willful, with the interests of the common man ever at heart. 

Despite the Lowlands being sandwiched between the aggressively expansionistic Dwarvish Commonwealth and the fervorous hordes of Kord, his Kingdom saw no war for the entire duration of his earthly reign. Indeed, he was so well-loved by his people that when he neared his end during an illness in his 117th year, there was panic among the nobles of his court. There was no heir to succeed him! How would the Kingdom continue to prosper without Wo Jia?

An agreement was reached. The ritual was performed in secret by a wizard - better for the public not to know, really. The ruse was faultless. At first, the difference was barely noticeable, since his flesh was already wasted away. They bathed him daily in perfumes, and incense was always burned in his presence. Over the years, though, it was clear to any onlooker with eyes to see; his skin was tanned like leather now, taut over bone like some delicate drum. If the people suspected, however, no man ever spoke of it. The King yet reigned, and the Lowlands flowered under his guidance. 


So, 200 images! Well, this is the 201st, I think. Blanca and I thought we'd celebrate by posting some of the most iconic creatures in the entirety of D&D - both ever-popular villains - the Red Dragon and the Lich (neither of which, miraculously, we've done before!). So, another big soppy thankyou (the second in a row) to everyone for sticking with us.

The Lich is pretty much the go-to guy for a scheming villain these days. Whether it's the eponymous villain of WoW's second expansion or Order of the Stick's cliché-embracing Xykon, a malevolent dead sorcerer is going to tick most of your boxes. Which isn't to say the formula isn't open to reinvention - one of the most popular villains of the last decade is actually a Lich! Who, you ask? Well, a Lich's defining characteristic is that he stores his immortal soul safely in a small trinket, called a Phylactery, in order to shield it from harm, rendering him unable to truly die. Can you think of any bad guys of recent years who would do something like that? Hint: he does it more than once!

Anyway, another big post. I'm not 100% fond of the image, but the idea of a Lich made out of good intentions is something I've been rolling about in my brain for a while. Enjoy!

-Joe

Quell

The longstanding traditional enemy of all undead are the clerics and priests of good-aligned deities. Clerics of gods such as Pelor and Heironeous are blessed with the ability to cast heal spells - which, being comprised of positive energy, actually deal damage when cast against undead. In addition, they can channel a wave of positive energy to "turn" nearby undead in an attempt to destroy them utterly. These abilities make clerics an excellent addition to any band of adventurers, not least when the quest at hand will involve numerous necromantic encounters.

A Quell is physically a very weak undead creature, just CR3. Barely corporeal, its matter flows around it like cloth, surrounded by a swarm of  floating runes of blasphemy and breaking. What marks it out is its loathing for deities and their followers - a loathing that manifests in an ability to completely cut off divine spellcasters from using divine magics against it. By itself, a Quell poses little threat; added to a group of sturdier undead it can effectively shut down a party's main means of survival for long enough for its brethren to do the necessary damage. For this reason, Quells are eagerly sought out by necromancers seeking to bolster their forces.

Mummy

Happy belated Halloween, peeps. Have a mummy.

I'm sure you guys have come across one of these fellas at some point or another, and begun to crumble to dust as a result of their curse. Well, that's all your fault because what were you doing disturbing the dead.

Mummies are interesting, but sadly very varied in design, tending to stick to the Egyptian archetype. A mummy is a dead body that's had some sort of treatment to it to preserve it, so instead of rotting away into goo, it becomes withered and dessicated. The word 'mummy' comes from 'mummia', the combination of ingredients used in the embalming process. This sort of thing usually comes attached to belief that the soul can return to the body, and that it should be kept as nice as possible. Lots of other cultures practices mummification: Incas, the people of the Canary Islands, the Philippines, Buddhists... The Buddhists are the most interesting ones I think, since it's self-mummification.

Some Buddhist monks believed they knew when they were going to die. When they felt their time was coming, they changed their diet to a set of vegetation that they thought would help preserve them post-death. They were then walled alive, where they eventually starved-slash-died of dehydration, trying to do so in the lotus position. The body would be exhumed after a set amount of time, and if it was in good condition, it would become a sacred relic. Some of these mummies were cast in gold (hint: use levitating gold-clad mummies in your game). Self-mummification is now banned.

Mummification is still practiced today, though not as commonly. There's embalming, which is like mummification-lite, a way of keeping the body nice for a long period of time. There's also Summum (which is kinda exclusive). If you look up mummies, they're not hugely impressive for the whole preservation brouhaha; they all look black and shrunken, so what's the big deal. But then you look at Rosalia Rombaldo, which was a little girl who was mummified by her father in 1920, who despite a looking a little waxy and yellow, looks remarkably fresh for someone who's been dead for almost a century.

Crypt Chanter

The Crypt Chanter is music-themed wraith. They gather together in choirs and orchestras, and using their lyrical powers they overwhelm nearby creatures then slowly begin to drain the life from them. When the victim dies, he rises and becomes another member of the group under the control of a spectral conductor.

Personally, I quite like monsters whose strategy seems a little bit more mysterious than "smack the PCs with my scary-strong attacks". These fellas are incorporeal too so that's... almost like being a slighty invisible shadow? Well, if you fluff them right they can be. Just find a way to block all the exits and the PCs are now stuck in a room with some weird spooky hymns echoing around as wavering shadowy singers float above your heads.

Featured on The Going Last Gaming Podcast's May of the Dead Carnival.

GUEST WEEK: Forsaken Shell by Tony Comley

Something moves in the corners of your torch light as you enter the room. A piece of fabric? But there's no wind here. It moves again. A bundle of snakes? But it's flesh-coloured and saggy, and as it drags itself closer you see among the twisted skin tangles of boneless fingers and a skull-less human face.

Something for a horror campaign. A Forsaken Shell is an empty skin with imbued unlife, motivated by vengeance. Despite its appearance, it's horribly elastic and agile. Once it gets a horrible flaccid hand on you, it begins to wrap itself around you and squeeze. Perhaps it's some kind of feeble-minded attempt to take over your solid, structured form. In D&D campaign, skin wears you!

And then it kills you and your guts and bones dissolve as you become another awful slithering skin.

Image brought to you by Tony Comley, a director at Sherbet studios. Just lookit how gross this thing is.

Wraith (formerly Tark Skulltaker, human barbarian)

Tark Skulltaker was our party's barbarian. Due to an unfotunate set of attacks involving wraiths, he died. Also unfotunately, when you're killed by a wraith, you rise as one seconds later, so that meant we had to double kill his evil spirit.

Wraiths are one of your standard D&D monsters for horror campaigns, when you want things to get a bit dangerous. We found one that had been killing kids and slew it dead, but not before withering away Tark and my pony Butterbutt. These monsters are extra dangerous because they not only hurt you when they attack you, they also drain the life from you (in D&D language, Constitution drain, the deadliest of drains). They have an aura around them that spooks animals, making it difficult for rangers, druid or just anyone who fights from horseback to engage in combat. Third, they're not solid, making them super difficult to hit. Spackle was pretty useless in that particular combat until I remembered I'm the one with the wand of holy magic and started whacking the wraith with it.

RIP Tark.

At least this means that the guy that played him is gonna get a second character portrait now. But not for a while, so that means I get to go back to doing regular monsters!

Cassimara Raventhorn, Dhampir

Cassimara is the archer of our team, with an unusual combination of classes (ranger/rogue/inquisitor, I think). She hunts for undead with our team. What makes her unusual is that she's a dhampir, i.e. her dad was a vampire. Our team cleric is an "expert" undead killer who didn't notice this until she revealed it to us like three sessions into the game. It makes for an unusual team member since our cleric is pretty prone to accidentally hurting her with her energy channels, and always has to give her a heads up before he starts blasting things.

For healing, the first part of our adventure was pretty useful. We got these things called haunt siphons that are used to trap ghosts (think the traps for Ghostbusters). So we've got these bottles filled with unfortunate souls that she sometimes uncorks when she needs a little pick-me-up. She's never shown the whole "bloodlust" thing that dhampir are occasionally supposed to have, but I guess eating souls balances it out.

The closest thing to a dhampir in D&D is the Half-Vampire template, which is still a little bit annoying because of level adjustment things. D&D is rife with templates. I think Dragon magazine had a special issue dedicated to various templates for the offspring of the living and dead. Paizo did the Dhampir race, a much less powerful version of the Half-Vampire, so that you can play them from the get-go.

Necropolitan

When you reach the tower where the princess is held captive, you find a withered woman dressed in silks, gems and a delicately coiffed wig. Lipstick would do little to emphasize something that's long since shrunken back so close to the skull. And what would eyeliner do to eyes already so shadowed within such dark eyesockets? You'd be horrified, but your mission was to rescue the princess of Nocturnus, city of the undead.

Necropolitans were a new player race introduced in the horror-themed Libris Mortis. The idea with them is that you asked already-existing necropolitans for permission to join their numbers. If they accepted you, you go through a long and painful process where life energy is drained through your body and is replaced with negative energy. Unlike, say, a lich, another intelligent undead whose own willing transformation from living to dead involves concentrated evil, necropolitans aren't necessarily members of the dark side.

The book kinda implies that they're just really reserved, serious scholars who'd prefer to be left alone by anyone who thinks the undead are shambling abominations.