Finjaq's Beastie-ary, Part 2

It's time fer another round o' scallywags an' ne'er-do-wells, straight from me own life experiences...

Hobgoblin – I never been much for the military (too regimented fer this rascal’s taste) but I give ‘em a healthy respect. An' every time I see Hobgoblins in action I remember why. They fight like soldiers, they do. Got better armor than plain ol’ Goblins, fight in formation with shields locked, an’ they don’t get fazed in all that battlefield chaos. They’re big, too, big as a tavern lout. For that alone you’d never mistake ‘em fer Goblins, but they also got skin colored like dried blood. Truth is, they’re like a whole race a’ soldiers - small wonder they’re the boss ‘round their Goblin an’ Bugbear cousins. Best yeh can do against ‘em is break their coordination an’ try ta split ‘em up. One-on-one (or three on one – that’s Finjaq-style!) ya got a chance. Oh, an’ hey, keep a special eye out fer their shamans. “Warcasters” they call ‘em an’ they’ll be the ones in robes. Got several tricks up their sleeves, an’ the worst by far’s a blast wave that hammers an area big as a house. Knocks every man jack on his ass an’ feels like the worst hangover ever.

Ghoul – Vile. Nasty. Rancid. I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout me table manners, friend, I’m talkin’ ‘bout them nasty cousins ta zombies: Ghouls. They got the same stomach-turnin’ desire fer flesh, but no zombie ever moved so lightnin’-fast as a ghoul. What they look like’s a bone-thin man with rottin’ flesh an’ teeth filed ta cut an’ tear. They’re cunning as the taxman, an’ just a touch more like ta outright kill ya. They’ll come at ya quiet-like from the shadows, cut on ya with claws that’ll make yer legs sieze up, and then comes the bite. They’ll near unhinge their damnable jaw for that big chomp, an’ if it hits…if it hits yeh better pray yer friends are nearby ‘cause then yer whole body’s gonna stiffen. I can’t imagine no worse way ta go. Frozen stiff, but still alive when it gets ta chewin’ on yer insides. I figure you wanna let the archers chew ‘em up a’fore ye even think of gettin’ in close, and if yeh got a holy man who lives ta smite undead bastards back ta their graves, for Pelor’s sake let ‘im!

Homunculus – Alright, here’s the thing – little impish flyin’ beasties, look like they’re made’a clay, right? Kind of bad-things-come-in-small-packages critter only some damn fool wizard would cook up, but far from the worst thing lurkin’ in most underground lairs? An’ yet…an’ yet…they got some tricks up their sleeve that’ll make ya want ta pitch the next wizard ya see into a lake. I suggest yeh do it, I really do. Their first line o’ defense is them bitey teeth – a few good chomps an’ yer walkin’ ‘bout as fast as a cripple. Plus they got some magic lets ‘em get in yer head and rattle ya good so’s ya can’t hit ‘em. They’ll even have ya swingin’ at yer own mates instead! Poor ol’ Finjaq near met his end that way, one dark day. See, this half-elven lass he used to trust near turned him into a pin cushion tryin’ ta put an arrow through one’a them little sodders. To this day I’m workin’ through me trauma.

Finjaq's Beastie-ary, Part 1

Many a monster's had a cool makeover as of the new edition, and what began as me just keeping a list of everything we'd fought is emerging as Finjaq's Beastie-ary. Simple idea: scurvy but loveable rogue, Finjaq, offers up his own bestiary based on personal experience. For me it's a way to make the monsters more "real," less a collection of stats and numbers. Plus I'm working in any notable info we've acquired on bringing these guys down, so there's some practical stuff, too. (SPOILERS for the alt. D&D group, incidentally)

Here's round one, and I'll add a few more each week. If you can imagine it in Finjaq's vaguely piratical growl it'll probably work best...

Bugbear – Goblins are wee little nasties, so when they want somethin’ flattened, they call in their big cousins – Bugbears. They’re about thick as a tree trunk an’a a full head taller than most (‘less yer a big northman like meself). What they mainly seem ta be into is knockin’ in heads with big ol’ morningstars. Worst part is, they’re not quite so dumb as they look – they’ll come at ya from the side, all sly-like, an’ they actually work with their littler cousins in a scrap. That cunning's how ye’ll know they ain’t just small ogres, that an’ their ratty brown fur. I don’t know no special weakness on ‘em, but if yeh stab ‘em again and again and again they do eventually fall over. I guess that’s somethin’.

Kobold – Ta hear some old-timers tell it, ye’d think these little buggers would die of a stiff breeze. Ol’ Finjaq thinks them old-timers need ta cut back on the Elven wine. Not that Kobolds’re much ta look at. Seem like some wee bastard children hatched from a Dragonborn, but Dragonborn got what they call “honor” and Kobolds got what they call “none.” They run in packs, see, and they’ll jump ya like a pack of bandits – shameful tactics! First time up against I thought a big man like meself would scatter ‘em, but the next thing I knew I was on the ground, all poked with holes from them spears an’ javelins they use. They’re too quick, blast their hides! All scurryin’ about and leapin’ a’fore ya can put ‘a blade through ‘em. Seen ‘em use slings too, throwin’ out burnin’ pitch or some glop ta get ya all stuck in place. Oh, they’ll fall easy enough if ye can hit ‘em and sure as hell bolt if they’re losin’ - even the bolder ones what fight with sword ‘n’ shield - but ye can’t be underestimatin’ ‘em. I guess the wretched things must even have religion, ‘cause once or twice I seen a priest with ‘em, gettin’ ‘em all puffed up ta fight harder. Fair sure I seen one spew out fire or lightnin’ once, too, so maybe them rumors that connect ‘em to dragons got some truth.

Cavern Choker – I’d tell yeh to watch for these beasties in high corners of dark dungeons, but what’d be the use? They hide like nobody’s business an’ their skin changes colors like octopi I seen in me sailor days. Blends ‘em in with the caves an’ walls they scurry up an’ down like bugs, not that ye’d want to see one up close anyway. Bit like a man, but pale as a corpse, not a shred of hair on ‘em, an’ worst of all is them overlong legs and arms they flip around like monkeys on. They bend like rubber, but they’re strong as ship’s rope an’ they’ll stretch out unnatural long ta wrap around some poor fool’s throat. Got little toothy spines all along their palms, all set ta lash ya if they ain’t chokin’ ya. I couldn’t tell ya if they got any smarts to ‘em or even know how ta talk, but they’re cunning, that they are.