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All in the Family

This Greek monster family tree was created by Eric Kowalick. He does a lot of great monster work and his drawings are always a bizarre twist on a classic. I like how you can see elements of the original monsters but they’re brought out in strange and surprising ways!

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A Monstrous Venn-ture

This barely scratches the surface but it's a good start. The way the Venn diagram weaves between the different categories to include so many monsters is impressive.

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Spawn Again

Slaad are a species of anthropomorphic toads that live in Limbo, the plane of pure chaos. They are categorized by color and reproduce by implanting their egg into living host. When the egg hatches, it's bust out of the host xenomorph style. The resulting hatchling is called a slaad tadpole.

I explain all this to point out that Wizards missed an opportunity for a great portmanteau: slaad + tadpole = slaadpole. How did they pass that up?!

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Here's a bonnacon to brighten your day!

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What’s in a Name?

I’ve been on a monster name kick lately and it got me thinking about two specific monsters: the medusa and the pegasus. These are two of many monsters that made the perilous journey from classical Greek mythology to the world of fantasy gaming. And, unlike some of their counterparts, something of their name seems to have been lost in translation. 

There are many, many Greek monsters in games like Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft, Warhammer, etc. Monsters like satyrs, centaurs, chimeras, hydras and more are ubiquitous. So what makes the medusa and the pegasus different, their names. 

See, in the myth, there were three snake-haired monster women. They were sisters and their gaze could turn any who met it to stone. Sounds familiar, right. Here’s the problem, Medusa (capital “M”) was only one of those three. They weren’t all called medusas, they were called gorgons. Which only makes matters more confusing when you learn that a gorgon is a separate monster in D&D; an iron-skinned bull that breathes petrifying gas. 

Pegasus runs into the same problem. After Medusa met her untimely death, Perseus decapitated her and a winged horse sprung straight out of her neck stump. This horse was not a pegasus, but the Pegasus. That was that specific horse’s name. The generic name for a winged horse is actually pterippus from the Greek words “pteron” and “hippos” meaning “wing” and “horse”. 

It’s kind of an odd coincidence that these two misnamed monsters both stem from the same story. Best of all, there’s actually a third creature mentioned in the myth that receives none of the same notoriety. A being named Chrysaor, variously depicted as a warrior, a giant, or a winged boar, emerges from Medusa’s neck as well. Apparently a winged boar wasn’t as cool as a winged horse because I’ve yet to find a tabletop game with stats for a “chrysaor”, which I think is a real shame.

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Medieval Monstrosities

The Middle Ages were rife with monstrous creatures. If you've ever looked at drawings from medieval bestiaries, you'll see a variety of mythical creatures mixed in with entries about deer and camels. Back then, they didn't seem to differentiate monsters from animals, they seemingly believed that these fantastical beasts actually existed. And they tended to attribute fantastic traits to real world animals as well. Many if their monstrous animals got carried into modern fantasy, whether if be Harry Potter or Dungeons and Dragons. Some; however, didn't quite make the cut. I'd like to highlight two very special entries that didn't seem fit for modern fantasy.

The myrmecoleon is an unfortunate hybrid of lion and ant. Unlike many other chimerical creatures that get the best of both worlds, the myrmecoleon gets the shaft. With the head and sometimes forequarters if a lion and hindquarters of an ant, it's a silly monster from the get go. Made much worse by it's dietary restrictions. The lion half craves meat but, based on Medieval biology, the ant digestive system could only process grain. Therefore this sad sack starved to death after a brief, frustrating existence. How it lived long enough to be observed by medieval naturalists is a mystery.

The bonacon is just awesomely silly. It's essentially a cow or some other bovine. But it's no easy prey animal. When threatened the bonacon releases a horribly surprise. It sprays it's attacker with fiery feces forcefully ejected from it's rear end. As a medieval knight this would have to be the most embarrassing death. While legends are told throughout the land of your companions noble ends met at the hands of dragons and griffons, you were felled by a steaming spray of cow dung.

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More Multitudes of Monsters

Continuing from last week’s post, I’ve got some more monstrous groups to add to my crypto-zoological lexicon. 

Knot of hydras

Eminence of lamassu

Mockery of leucrotta

Volley of manticores

Fester of otyughs

Frenzy of owlbears

Cavalcade of pegasuses 

Plunge of perytons

Gnashing of rasts

Vim of ravids

Scorch of remorhaz

Ravage of rust monsters

Moulder of shambling mounds

Cleverness of sphinxes

Moot of treants

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Demihumans of the Dark Ages

In a continuation of last week's Medieval Monday, I bring you four more humanoids to populate my growing Medieval fantasy world.

Ipotanes are a half horse/half human, but not like a centaur. The ipotanes have two horse-like legs, ending in hooves, and a pair of horse ears. They likely live in nomadic groups, traveling from town to town, bringing revels with them. I imagine they also mingle with other hooved humanoids like satyrs and centaurs, who may not be as welcome in human settlements.

Arimaspi are a group of one-eyed humanoids. While superficially resending the much larger cyclops, they share neither their divine origins nor their taste for human flesh. They dwell near gold-rich hills guarded by fierce griffons and their mining efforts are constantly hindered by the winged beasts.

Woodwoses are a group of savages dwelling in the deep forests and wild places. They have only limited contact with the other humanoids, probably having more in common with the plants and animals of the wilderness. They're often depicted in combat with humans and each other, wielding massive gnarled clubs. I think the use of these clubs is two-fold. First, they're readily available in their woodland home. And second, while painful, they make for a good non-lethal weapon for honor duals, with a use similar to a shillelagh.

Astomi are an island dwelling group distinguished by their distinct lack of mouth. They do not eat in the conventional sense, instead they subsist on the smell of flowers and other pleasant aromas. Noxious smells can be deadly to them. It's not very medieval,but their appearance reminds me of a certain group of mouth-less badasses...

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Multitudes of Monsters

I’ve always liked how groups of animals get their own special names: a tower of giraffes, a charm of hummingbirds, a gaze of raccoons. Those names are so evocative and interesting. It’s a shame to me that when monsters are listed in groups in the Monster Manual, they rarely have such interesting names to accompany them. 

It’s a small, trivial thing, it doesn’t change anything about the encounter, but I’d like to see it. So, I’ve compiled a list of terms I would use to refer to groups of monsters. 

Excavation of ankhegs

Strike of arrowhawks

Blight of basilisks

Furrow of bulettes

Craven of cockatrices

Splendor of couatls

Wrath of chimeras

Bluster of air elementals

Rumble of earth elementals

Blaze of fire elementals

Cascade of water elementals

Savagery of girallons

Writhe of gricks

Prominence of griffons

Absurdity of hippogriffs

That’s all I’ve got for now. Check back for more in the future.

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Monsters Incorporated

Monsters are a staple of almost every fantasy setting. Even those that set out to be more realistic (no fantasy races, no magic, etc), often find themselves giving in, I’m looking at you Game of Thrones. Some games, like Dungeons and Dragons, are a full-blown fantasy kitchen sink. Anything and everything is running around somewhere in the world. So with so many monsters, and especially, so many intelligent monsters, why aren’t they having a bigger impact on the world?  

D&D has had intelligence scores for monsters since the 1st edition, with some having scores as high as super-genius. While being very intelligent, many of these monsters have no society of their own and no place in the fantasy society either. Now I’m not talking about the humanoid monsters like mind flayers, hags, or medusas. These monsters often get at least a passing mention of how they work together or where they fit in, with mind flayers getting entire modules and books written about them. I’m talking about monsters like the sphinx, lammasu, manticore, the ones animalistic in appearance but humanoid in intelligence. 

Where do they fit in? Often they’re just hanging around in out of the way places, minding their own business until the PCs butt in on them. To me, this doesn’t really make sense. They’re intelligent living creatures with wants and needs, and some of those needs likely would be met by people. Sphinxes crave information, wouldn’t they make an excellent librarian, curator, or professor? I would think a magic academy would be elated to have a sphinx on staff. Manticores crave power and control and they’re fairly petty. As the PCs fend off a bandit ambush, they see something winged fly down from a nearby hill. Is it a predator, or the bandits’ monstrous backup? Nope, it’s their boss and he’s angry they’re doing so poorly. Never send a human to do a monster’s job. 

As I describe these things, they sound fantastical. But this is a world where humans adventure with dwarves, githyanki, and dragonborn and there’s fourteen official elven subraces. Is it such a stretch that the monsters would be more integrated into society? I don’t think so.

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No Elves

Anyone who’s played Dungeons and Dragons can see the similarities between it and Lord of the Rings. It’s no secret Gygax was heavily influenced by the series. It’s especially obvious in his choice of races for D&D. Before LotR, elves were Santa’s helpers and orcs and halflings weren’t a thing. Now, they’re ubiquitous in almost every fantasy setting. Elves are nigh-immortal archers with a penchant for magic and dwarves are axe-wielding, grudge-bearing badasses. That was Tolkien. D&D is also frequently set in a pseudo-Medieval world, populated by the usual elves, orcs, etc. But what if you wanted a Medieval setting with races that were more, well, Medieval. Here’s a handful of races/heritages/bloodlines (whatever you prefer) that come straight out of the Middle Ages, ready for your fantasy world. 

Panotti were a group of people with huge ears. Not like elf huge, like elephant huge. They hang down from the sides of their head like floppy sheets. They could use them like a cloak, wrapping their body to protect from the cold. 

Blemmyae were easily distinguished by their lack of head. Their facial features are all on their chest. Traditionally, they were said to be cannibals but I would cut this out if they were to be a suitable player race. Maybe they encourage this rumor though, to make their warriors seem more terrifying. 

Cynocephali, literally meaning “dog-head,” were a group of otherwise normal people, save for having the head of a dog, or sometimes, a jackal. The combination of human and animal, especially wolves/dogs is common through human legend. That, along with the therianthropic gods of Ancient Egypt may have inspired belief in this group. Their pictures look friendly to me. I’d lean into the dog-like personality, making them good companions and loyal friends. 

Monopods, sometimes called skiapods, are one-footed humanoids who got around by hopping. In the heat of the day, they would lay on their backs and hold their foot overhead, giving them shade from the sun. They go around barefoot, leading me to believe they have very tough soles. They also strike me as shorter than the average human, but that may be overlap from C.S. Lewis’ dufflepuds. Either way, I think monopods could be a fun replacement for halflings in a Medieval fantasy setting. 

Those few are just scratching the surface. There’s so much traditional, mythical, and pre-Tolkien material, one could easily populate an entire fictional world. I might expand on them in the future for a more Medieval-style setting of my own creation. I think it would be cool to flesh them out, providing detailed race options that replace the standard: dwarf, halfling, etc…

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Dire Lions and Tigers and Bears...Oh My!

Dire animals have been in D&D since the 1st Edition Monster Manual. And, to me, they’re a classic example of “why is this here?” I get it, giant animals don’t exist in the real world, and that could be reason enough to include them in a fantasy world. But where do they fit into this D&D world. They should be cool, maybe rare or special, but the first time a PC squashes a dire rat with their mace the word “dire” loses some of it’s edge. They’re not monstrous prehistoric throwbacks or terrible beasts to be slain, they’re just bigger animals with more hit points… and I think that’s a real shame. 

Legends, myths, and folklore are filled with huge, terrifying animals: the Nemean Lion, the Beast of Gevaudan, the Eyrmanthian Boar. Hercules alone spent a lot of time battling dire animals. So, if they’re worthy of heroic deeds, why are they so bland in D&D? To remedy this, I’ve thought up  a couple explanations to make dire animals more interesting to me. 

Greatest of Beasts: dire animals are not a separate species of animal, they’re the most powerful example of one. These are the dire animals of Herculean legend, the scourge of the countryside. These dire animals probably have a name that strikes fear into the peasantry and even those who may come to hunt it would be right to feel fear. Whether they’re notorious because of their size or their growing legend fuels their size is unsure. It seems possible that through metamagical means, a particularly vicious but otherwise mundane tiger, could grow into a dire version. 

The Darkest Wilds: humanity has scoured their domain of any animals that can oppose them. They may have conquered the surrounding areas, but there are still dark, tangled, wild corners of the world where the hand of civilization has not reached. In these places, great beasts from more savage times still stalk, hunt, and kill. Dire animals would be much rarer, and most people would not believe they even exist any more. Woe to any foolish explorer or game hunter who doesn’t believe local stories of towering apes or hundred foot serpents. 

Warbeasts: dire animals were not naturally occurring, they were bred from the largest and most ferocious of the original stock. The resultant dire animals were used as terror troops and exotic mounts, typically by monstrous humanoids or giants. This is why different dire animal species frequently show up in encounter groups with certain humanoids such as kobolds and dire weasels or dire badgers and gnomes. Inevitably, some escaped into the wild, breeding among themselves or with mundane members of their species, leading to wild populations of dire animals around the world.

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Commoner-Killing Cats

I’ve read explanations of how a housecat can easily kill the average D&D commoner. While at first this seems far-fetched, maybe there’s some folklore and backstory that could make this weird coincidence into something interesting. 

Cats have long held a place of mystery and fear in human culture. In many cases, cats are seen as evil in some way. At best, their presence is a bad omen, at worst they’re witches’ familiars or fiends in feline form. But I think for this, it might be interesting to go with the good side of cat lore. 

In ancient Egypt, cats were sacred. They were associated with the cat-headed guardian goddess Bast, the protector of Ra’s solar barge. Pop culture references also embrace the cat as a defender. In The Mummy, the villainous high priest, Imhotep, is terrified of cats, so much that their presence is enough to drive him away. And in the movie Sleepwalkers, the vampiric werecat antagonists have a similar hatred and fear of them, as cats are one of the few things that can cause them serious harm. A particularly interesting story by Lovecraft called, “The Cats of Ulthar” tells the tale of a town in which it is illegal to kill a cat. Without going into too much detail, it strongly implies that cats can most definitely fend for themselves against humans. 

I think it might be interesting to take what was probably an oversight or quirk of game stats and make it into something more. Maybe cats do carry more clout than their size and appearance should afford them whether because of their role as guardian animals or their mysterious nature. I don’t think it’s too far off the mark to let cats be borderline magical creatures in their own right and it might make your players think twice before crossing one.

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Medieval Medicine in a Fantasy World

Medieval Monday everyone. After a year+ pandemic, I can’t help but have disease on my mind. But, in my usual fashion, it’s through the lens of fantasy. In the Middle Ages, disease was a major problem, the Black Plague alone was a massively deadly pandemic with a sweeping impact on society. In D&D, you rarely see disease being such a major issue, and it’s one that’s handled in an oddly modern and scientific way. 

Fantasy diseases exist in D&D, things like cackle fever and mummy rot show up in monster entries, at least as far back as I can remember from 3rd Edition. But what’s odd is how the monsters carry the disease, acting more like vectors. Supernatural diseases have natural causes. High Constitution or Fortitude can save you from the ravages of plague and illness. I think it would be interesting to have disease be not only more serious, but also more mysterious. 

Foul miasmas waft in from fetid swamps and haunted crypts, brought into town on cold winds that chill like death. Townspeople are fearful of contracting diseases, which carry not only physical, but spiritual implications. The intertwining of disease with morality and purity can make the idea of catching a cold a scary one. If people see you spiritually bankrupt, you could quickly become a pariah. 

This is made all the worse if the diseases in question are treated more like a fell taint or corruption, not something brought on by a virus or weakened immune system, but something more metaphysical. The idea that the illness needs to be cleansed draws clerics (or other divine casters), to aid the afflicted and stop the spread. 

Divine means aside, the common barbers and chirurgeons utilize more mundane methods: leeches, blood-letting, and other painful forms of medicine, which in this fantasy world, would be perfectly logical and effective forms of healing. Not to mention druids and hermits in the woods, gathering herbs for poultices and salves. 

The idea that a disease is more than just a saving throw and failure is more than a handful of penalties could really change the way heroes view their world. It’s definitely a step away from power gaming and toward the dung ages, but knowing that these strange, out-dated methods actually work might make your players more likely to take and use skills like Heal or Medicine, that often fall by the wayside any time Cure Wounds is available.

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The Dire Platypus

Australia is full of weird animals that aren’t found anywhere else on Earth. Because of their environment and isolation, they evolved to fill a wide variety of roles and forms. Animals like the Tasmanian tiger/wolf were more closely related to koalas than they were tigers or wolves. But, they filled a similar predatory role. 

Even stranger than marsupials, are monotremes. Monotremes are egg-laying mammals unique to Aussieland. Arguably, the best known monotreme is the platypus. Which brings me to the point of this post: the owlbear. 

Traditionally, the owlbear is blamed on who else but a mad wizard. But what if it wasn’t? If monotremes radiated out like marsupials, filling different roles, maybe some ancient branch of monotreme evolved along very different lines. 

Moving into an omnivorous, terrestrial lifestyle, the platypus-like ancestors of the owlbear continued to grow. Perhaps, being similar to a wolverine at first, a vicious animal able to drive back competitors much larger than itself. Its electro-receptive beak gave it an early warning that prey or competition was near. When it sensed another creature approaching, it whipped itself into a frenzy. It rears up on its hind legs and emits a hooting roar while slashing at the air. Between its bizarre noises and razor-sharp claws (talons?), it was able to make most competitors think twice about challenging it. 

As it continued to drive other predators out of its territory, early owlbears were able to control more and more of their available food supply. Size, muscle, and ferocity were naturally selected as smaller, more timid members had trouble securing mates and holding territory. Through convergent evolution, it settled into its familiar, bear-like form and role but maintained the avian hallmarks of a monotreme: its beak and egg-laying.

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A Wizard Did It!

It’s a staple in D&D to blame a wizard for the weird animal hybrids wandering the land, preying on the common folk. I’ve always found this to be a cop out. I’ve never really understood the distinction between animals and magical beasts in D&D. Is a griffon really that magical? Sure they don’t exist in the real world, but so what, they’re probably pretty normal in a fantasy one. And, while being a hybrid of lion and eagle, the griffon’s existence isn’t blamed on a mad wizard. It seems like the mad wizard theory is mostly reserved for explaining the origins of monsters Gygax made up after he bought a bag of five cent toys made in China to use on his gaming table. 

I can’t help but wonder: “what is normal?” in Dungeons and Dragons. How are certain monsters explained, how are they different from animals? If it has animal level intelligence, lives in the wild, occasionally harasses humans that wander into its territory… Basically, if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck… 

For the sake of this post (and some in the future), I’m going to look at fantasy monsters through the lens of evolution. Is it possible that some of these monsters aren’t so far-fetched after all? Just because the world is full of magic doesn’t mean a wizard has to be blamed for everything.