Cloaker

God, I love it when creatures with seemingly weird ecology and biology have decent chunks of lore behind them. And cloakers definitely do have some in the mix - and it paints them as paranoid, borderline delusional lunatics hiding away and scheming. Keep in mind that despite their monstrous appearance and skewed perceptions of the world, your average cloaker is mentally superior (at +2 int, +3 wis, and +1 cha) to your average humanoid.

An ancient cloaker vizier has become convinced that the strange mutterings of gibbering mouthers are actually key to surviving the impending apocalypse. To that end, he "farms" the insane creatures in his vast subterranean domain. Any unlucky travelers who happen to trespass are given a choice - either help him decipher it, and save the world from impending doom (at least according to him) or fight endless hordes of aberrations in the deep, narrow tunnels of the world below.

Several members of the Inner Circle of Bogsdale underworld have been mysteriously murdered in their own homes. An investigation by a group of unaffiliated thieves, hitmen and enforces reveals that each and every one of them had received a gift wrapped in a weird, dark material. Furthermore, those gifts appear to have been sent by a mysterious figure figure who calls himself "high priest of the Whisperer From Below".

Eons ago, a cloaker named Swirlmaw cast a spell on himself to make him believe to be a mere manta ray. Thus, he reasoned, he would be free of the influence of any dark gods who wished to use his vast intellect and impeccable knowledge of the Underlands. Unfortunately, the spell was set to break if any artifact of said gods came within close distance of him - so that he could react and defend. An unlucky group of scavengers carrying a yet unidentified monstrous claw across a subterranean river full of dark life are those unlucky enough to finally wake him.

Clay golem

Honestly, despite many generations of dungeons and dragons and its derivatives offering many different varieties, the original clay golem remains my favourite. Given its classic origins, i think classic stories of hubris and overly literal adherence to commands suit these things more than any other construct.

In the thrice-blessed city of Kragooy, almost every temple has clay golem guardians, with heads ornately carved to resemble their patron deities. In the past few weeks, there have been several instances of these faces melting off. After that, the golems, with newly featureless and perfectly smooth faces all went into a rampage, killing innocents out on the streets of the city. If the source of this vile magic isn't found soon, the city will undoubtedly go into chaos.

In an attempt to keep his village safe, a now famous wizard left a clay golem to stand guard over it. The golem was popular for a while, keeping wolves and the occasional basilisk or ankhrav at bay, but then one day, mysteriously disappeared without a trace. Several months later, he returned, carrying an enormous quantity of bottles of philosopher's brew - the famed potion of eternal life. As it turned out, the maker told his golem to "never harm or kill anyone in the village, or allow anyone to be harmed or die through inaction".
Unfortunately, the sheer amount of the extremely rare and valuable brew makes the little village a target for much greater threats than before, and the wizard and his compatriots must rush back to its aid.

On his deathbed, King Grzegorz the Greedy commanded his personal golem (crafted in his likeness) to guard his crown until a worthy heir appears. Several days later, when all the king's heirs fell, trying to wrestle the crown from the mighty construct's clay hands, the kingdom fell into disarray. Desperate to keep the peace, the remaining great lords issued a proclamation: whosoever manages to beat the golem, shall be crowned the new rightful king of Polithania.

Chuul

Chuuls are just weird.
Intelligent, but uninterested to actually converse with you.
Evil, but not really petty or grandiose or anything like that - they're just out to eat your face and then spit on your grave.
While their monstrous appearance and their penchant for irredeemable evil make them perfect one-off faceless villains, I'd suggest actually playing up their weirdness, making your players not just scared for their characters' lives, but also creeped out by the very existence of these buggers.

The docks of the port city of Gulibash are infested with chuuls, to the extent that almost no-one is allowed to go there at night. Smickersmacker was a famous gnome children's poet that lived in the city, but after going missing one day, was presumed to have been eaten by the waterfront. A recent series of attacks has fueled some wild rumors though - an old and heavyset chuul female has appeared, that apparently sings lullabies to its victims before devouring them. At first, those songs were Smickersmacker classics, but oddly, new songs are appearing - so stylishly impeccable as to be indistinguishable from Smickersmacker originals.

For millennia, humans have shared the planet with chuuls, sadistic, monstrous crustaceans who live in underground waters, and occasionally sewers. Due encounters with chuuls always ending in violence, no real attempt was made to decipher their weird language. That is, until one day, a group of brave teenagers decided to record it, and then played it in reverse.
What they ended up hearing, in perfect english, was "in a week, the reckoning comes. Time starts flowing back in another direction, and who once were chuuls, shall now walk as humans, and who once were humans, shall be monsters again".
The kids not only face scorn from their parents for risking their lives so foolishly, but now need to convince the world at large that action is required.

For ages, people have been freaked out by chuuls devouring all flesh from the bodies of their victims, and leaving perfectly clean bones in their wake. But when even bones started going missing, the panic only grew. Returning from a spice run to the north, a captain of a merchantman swears to have spotted a towering structure made entirely out of bones on an island just off the coast.

Choral

Chorals, or choir angels, are the archetypical harp-wielding cherubs sitting atop a cloud. While their ferocity in battle increases with their numbers, granting them access to higher-level spells, actually ending up fighting six angels probably means your campaign went sideways at some point.

The Quantum Quintuplets are a wildly successful choir who have achieved worldwide renown. Except for their conductor, Master Mazzio, the members of the choir all perform under masks, and their identities are a closely guarded secret - leading to wild speculations about them, from those claiming that they sold their souls to Mephistopheles in exchange for perfect talent, to those that say they are instead all children of one of the Primordial Beings Of The First World. The truth, instead, is that they are all chorals, bound to service in a dark ritual by Master Mazzio, an infernalist who has no real agenda - instead, only enjoying in the irony of using the purest beings in existence for purely selfish means.
What Mazzio doesn't know, is that the angels are secretly looking for help - reaching out to a bard known to fraternize with a group of adventurers widely known for their distaste for slavery.

Silenius is a weird case among choir angels - while most angels sing serious and ceremonial tunes, they still impart a dose of optimism into them. Unlike them, this gloomy choral sings somber melodies, almost dirges. An overly zealous Solar has accused him of treachery, mistaking such breaking of tradition for treachery. While solars wisdom is almost infinite, it is not infallible - and the poor little depressed lad is looking for someone to petition the heavens in his name.

Boldegard is a choral angel who is never content with his songs. He often roams to the mortal realms, seeking out musicians and performers, trying to find new, different approaches to music. Those who manage to impress him are given one feather from his wing - and rubbing it will summon him to remove a curse, disease, or fear from the petitioner.


Sorry for the late entry today, my home game took a fair bit longer than i expected. No regrets, really.

Chimera

The chimera, as printed in the first bestiary, doesn't really have much of a story to it - which makes sense from a book layout perspective, given how much stuff there is in its actual stat block.
What this means for you, as the GM, is that you're given a lot of leeway on how these creatures behave, where they come from, etc. I'd also suggest toying with the types of dragons that go into it (especially as the bestiary two gives us a few more).

On the dragon-ruled continent of Netraxia, many different varieties of chimeras can be found. While people have almost gotten used to the intelligent, almost civilized gold and silver dragon chimeras, myths persist about the Great Chimera, that apparently resides in the primordial Bonelands to the far north. If the stories are true, this chimera that is twice the size of the rest, has the body and one head of an enormous saber-toothed tiger, another head of a great ram (or in some stories, a woolly rhino), and its draconic head is that of an ancient linnorm. If anyone could bring back proof of its existence, they'd be showered with riches and fame - but a scant few would dare venture forth to those lands, chimera or no chimera.

Chimeras may appear as dumb beasts to most, but while limited, they do posses both an intellect and the ability to speak. Gro'Ktollah - an old and vicious chimera that styles himself the King of the Ironspike Mountains - does not much like the recent inclusion of hypogriff rider patrols in his domains, coming from the nearby Fort Strygvyr. To that end, he has kidnapped the governor's firstborn son, and taken him to his hidden lair high in the mountaintops. His demands are simple - if the governor swears a blood oath to draw back the hypogriff riders, the boy will be returned (mostly) unharmed. However, if his demands aren't met in a week's time, the boy will be sent tumbling down to his death.

Lord Himmelshire used to be known for his wild, excessive parties, where every bodily pleasure was given into, but hunger more than any other. One day, an old, rugged man dressed in rags appeared on his doorstep, urging him to give up his wasteful ways, instead funneling resources into helping local communities of dirt-poor woodworkers, miners and fishermen. The lord had the old man flogged to death for insolence, and would have thought nothing of it, had a silver-headed chimera not appeared in his gardens the next day. The chimera uttered a single word - "repent" - and then flew off, taking one of the beautiful trees from the lord's garden on its way out.
Ever since then, the chimera has appeared every week, every time uttering the same word, and ever so slightly damaging the lord's property.
The old noble is in the market for some dragonslayers, though more religiously and morally inclined adventurers might first want to investigate the circumstances bringing forth such punishment in the first place.

Changeling Exile

Apparently, changelings are supposed to be a whole family of creatures, but we only get one so far - the exile, spawn of night or dreamthief hags.

The isolated, secluded town of Blackhornshire has long been a safe haven for changelings. For several decades, the secret was well kept, and the changelings' hag mothers had not shown up. Recently, however, there have been whispers of infiltration and betrayal - apparently, some of the changelings may have changed sides, and could be working to not only break the cover, but indeed, convert the rest of their brothers and sisters. A trusted group of investigators, who have helped the town before, are called in to sniff arround - but discretion will be of utmost importance.

Misfortunate Mariah was doomed to become an evildoer from the very beggining of her life - as a tiefling changeling, evil was bound to be woven in the fabric of her being. And yet, she chose a life of quiet devotion to the Emerald Gods, becoming a druid.
When the nearby town is struck with tragedy - in the form of a series of apparently ritual killings - the townsfolk are quick to accuse the poor woman. While the druid's small band of friends discover clue after clue, the people become increasingly violent towards Mariah, pushing her to lash out.
On the brink of her radicalization, as she is becomes increasingly open to the idea of unleashing her powers on the terrified people, it is revealed that the person behind the killings is none other but then her own night hag mother.

Stendra Sourheart is a changeling who takes resisting hags to a whole new level - having long ago slain her mother, she poses as a naive and lost soul looking for sisterhood, infiltrating covens, and then using her unique talents to slay the hags who form them.
A few months ago, she ended up finding something too much even for her - a coven consisting of exactly thirteen dreamthief hags, hiding in the Shard mountains. She is looking for a group of people good with swords but great with sneaking -as she intends to draw out the hags, while her allies ambush them.

Ceustodaemon

The ceustodaemon, the mook by design, always obedient but never subservient foot soldier of the daemonic armies.
The fluff suggests using these evil outsiders as guardians is common, and its statblock does support the idea - it has a decent reach, some nice supernatural senses to keep it alert.

While three ceustodaemons are a tough combat encounter on their own, it is not F'Nuk, G'Nuk, and Ch'Nuk's job to kill intruders - rather, it is to keep them from running away, while their conjurer master comes back. The conjurer needs merely a minute to dimension door back once the alarm in the tower has been set off - but a lot can happen in a minute.

Ceustodaemons might be obedient, but they aren't exactly loyal. A ceustodaemon named Blagnach is in the market for a new master - as he stands no chance breaking the bonds created by his summoner, Ser Mortimer The Vile, on his own. While a valuable ally, Blagnach is almost certain to eventually betray his new master(s) as well.

The Bloodbath is a gory, bloody event in the arenas of the warlock-run emirate of Thuum. The unlucky men who participate in it are tasked with defeating a ceustodaemon without ever drawing a weapon - instead relying on the fiend's vicious wounds ability to wear it down as the fight goes on. While only a rare few contestants pull of this insane and suicidal feat, the reward is a wish granted by the emirate's dark and enigmatic patron deity.
The fact that many of the contestants end up in the event twice - once as mortals, and once as daemons (as these vile creatures are often formed from the souls of those who intentionally hasten their own demise) doesn't seem to bother the general populace, only out to see more blood spilled in the arena.

Centipede

You know, spiders are something of an overlooked cliche these days, and other creepy crawlies just don't have as much of a squick factor to them... except for centipedes. Want to make your players skin crawl? Describe in excruciating detail the tactile sensation of a gajillion of these little buggers swarming over their character.
If you, for some reason, dislike swarms, you can also throw a big ole giant centipede at them.

Under the city of Garkhanas, in the ancient sewer system, the giant ootyugh known as the Sludgemother reigns. While she could easily get such things of her own accord, as payment for keeping the canals running and the surface world (mostly) odourles, she demands thousands of tasty centipedes be delivered to her daily - and it is the city's many squires who most often end up having to collect those.

The kobolds of Hollow Mountain Clan carefully choose where they build their tunnels - choosing terrain that attracts large colonies of giant centipedes. While these vermin aren't too dangerous encountered in the open, fighting them while crawling through the tight, low tunnels is hard even for the most experienced speleolgists. The clever kobolds, annoyingly, keep the recipe for a balm whose scent repels the creepy critters a close-guarded secret.

Killing giant centipedes is an easy enough task. Killing them, but preserving their venomous glands intact, calls for a bit more finesse. The local alchemist guild is paying a decent sum for every intact set of glands they can get their hands on.

Centaur

Hell yeah, centaurs.
The fluff in the bestiary essentially makes them a blank canvas for you to use.
I'd say that also encourages experimenting with their stat blocks (a cleric ability or two for a spiritual tribe, maybe some barbarian options for a more feral one, etc), but that's just me.


The zebrataurs of the N'Tongo expanse rarely tolerate intruders in their vast territory - but they are famously fond of creatures light on their feet. Someone who brings them a live cheetah, raptor, or any other speedy critter, can easily trade it for their life.

Centaurs are notoriously scared of crossing bodies of water - be it on boats, rafts, or any other way. Unfortunately, Old Ogord is the last centaur in the Ikothrad expanse, cut off from the world by seas on the north and west, and by a great river to the south and east. The great old centaur's last wish is to die surrounded by his kin, but he knows not of a way to achieve it. Anyone who helps him is sure to learn the many secrets of the plains his tribe once roamed, as well as earn his friendship and gratitude.

In the utilitarian and pragmatic Bo'hag empire, every species has their use. While some of them serve as scouts and rangers, most centaurs born under the imperial banner are conscripted to become harbingers - an elite, centaur-only military unit, that acts as both heavy and light cavalry. Squads of five centaurs each will first harass their foes from afar with barrages of arrows from their longbows, but then switch to lance and shield as they enter melee, fully using their speed to their advantage.
While they are, thankfully, a rare sight, harbingers are a cruel lot. Anyone not in possession of imperial identification when they meet a squad is almost certain to be attacked.

Cauthooj

Well, its been a while.
The global pandemic kinda drastically changed my rhytm of life, so beastfinder had to go on hold for a while - but I'm back now, and should start posting (semi)regularly again.

For the creature that opens this new season, we have the cauthooj. One of the first beasts to catch my eye in the first skim through the book, before i knew the system too well, two campaigns later this feathered asshole intrigues me at least as much. It seems hellbent on forcing parties to reconsider their tactics, which always makes for an interesting encounter.

Durdenshire was hit by a terrible tragedy - the many hobbits of the settlement often went missing in the woods. Luckily, a group of merry daredevils happened upon the quiet town, decided to help the poor fellows, and found the culprit - an eerie bird called a shrill shrike, that lurked on the outskirts of town and preyed upon the weak. The townsfolk asked the creature be delivered to them alive, so they may exact justice on their own terms. When the heroes left the town, the beast was scheduled to be publically beheaded.
Unfortunately, at the long-awaited beheading, the executioner's axe missed its mark, for the first time in the fifty years he has been on duty - instead, it hit his apprentice, standing a mere foot away.
The town took to this as an omen from dark gods, signifying that the bird is one of their chosen beasts, and have since let it reign free, and leave it sacrifices and offerings.
When the heroes return to the town, what they find is radically different from what they left. The beast obviously needs to be slain once for all, but how will the townsfolk react?

In the gladiator pits of Ghoulipoll, shrill shrikes free for alls are one of the most popular events. Dozens of mighty warriors are set upon each other... and then the hellish bird is released in their midst. While they more often then not try to cooperate to bring down the larger foe, the bird's redirection of attacks and telepathic abilities make short work of such temporary alliances. The inevitable backstabbing, be it of sound mind or directed by the bird's cries, is considered the highlight of the battle.

The Weeping Wetlands have always been an area most sane people avoid or outright consider to be cursed. Recently, a few people previously to be missing or dead, have returned from the swamp, and they all keep muttering things about the "feathery apocalypse" and "cracking the world-egg".
It is of note that the area is rumored to be home to a population of Puppet Master Birds intelligent enough to converse in common.