The abatadire should be swimming through the cold, lifeless gap between spheres instead of poisoning the material plane with its presence; yet it is. The fifteen-foot-long atrocity resembles an armored, prehistoric fish with plates of polished meteorite, scales of space-dust, and a core of swirling stars. Being entranced by its alien beauty risks missing the aberration's reinforced jaws until it is too late. Non-Euclidian sigils sizzle across its asymmetrical fins and shift as the abatadire rains arcane fury on its foes. Thawed Terror. Pulled along by an uncanny force, the Groom returns to the frozen wastes of the world again and again. The living golem feels like the hole in his incomplete soul lays somewhere underneath the timeless ice. On one of his forays, the Groom found the remains of the first abatadire but was unable to free it from its frigid tomb. He returned the next summer with a fresh nepethe cult to dig it out. Most of the anarchists perished from the elements du...

There are certain personalities that are attracted to the cold, beautiful abomination known as Groom ; the dispossessed, the lost, and the suicidal. Once in the construct's orbit, their minds warp as they are exposed to the dead shard of divinity within the stoic destroyer. Their already fragile grasp on reality melts away and they become obsessed with garnering the Groom's acceptance and love. Unfortunately, the living golem is capable of neither. However, the Groom will use their infatuation to fulfill his aims. Often that is destroying the order and peace in a region so he can usurp control, or just because he loathes the honor and love the local powers represent. From time to time, the Groom mobilizes them against his hated creator and foe, the Relict. Lineament. If the cult exists for more than a couple of months inevitably a handful of its members improve their oblivion connection to the point where they become lineaments. No longer strictly mortal creatures, their b...

Encased in a rime-kissed cage of sigil-stained iron, the fleshless skull screams with the voice of the tundral wind. Pale curls of necrotic energy lick from the undead's empty sockets. Its teeth have been replaced with icicle fangs. A hint of the numbskull's spine remains but only as an ethereal afterthought dangling from the cage's bottom as the horror floats along. Desolate Soul. The numbskull was born from self-inflicted torture. It once belonged to one of the nihilistic nepenthe cultists who worship the Groom . The now-dead cult believed that existence is a worthless endeavor and one day entropy will drag it all back to the frigid void between the stars. The soon-to-be numbskull slipped into a runic head cage of its own volition and relished every tormented moment as the device burned away its identity and soul until only an instrument of oblivion remained. Ceaseless Hunger. The numbskull not only seeks to devour the living but all sources of heat. The icy nature...

There are certain personalities that are attracted to the cold, beautiful abomination known as Groom ; the dispossessed, the lost, and the suicidal. Once in the construct's orbit, their minds warp as they are exposed to the dead shard of divinity within the stoic destroyer. Their already fragile grasp on reality melts away and they become obsessed with garnering the Groom's acceptance and love. Unfortunately, the living golem is capable of neither. However, the Groom will use their infatuation to fulfill his aims. Often that is destroying the order and peace in a region so he can usurp control, or just because he loathes the honor and love the local powers represent. From time to time, the Groom mobilizes them against his hated creator and foe, the Relict. The fates of these gatherings are always the same though, those are not expended for the Groom's interests are willingly eliminated with his blade when the construct eventually tires of their presence. The typical n...

This flagon-shaped plant grows amid the slow-rotting meat of a frozen humanoid's corpse. Its outer layer mimics the appearance of leathery flesh with a ring of putrid pink along the rim. Many a hapless adventurer has mistaken a nepenthe for a cadaver's exposed organ. That is, until, the plant's ruddy roots tear free of its putrescent soil and the carnivorous creature skitters toward the soon-to-be victim. Sinister Sacrament. These plants are primarily cultivated by the cult of its namesake, the Nepenthe. The growth sucks the spiritual residue from a corpse and produces a psychically-charged sap. The cultists willing imbibe the viscous fluid gathered in the nepenthe's pitcher-like core and relish the way it burns away their passions and personality. The dangerous draught tastes somewhat like a strong wine and produces a similar intoxication if the drinker survives. This repeated rite is eventually terminal and that's what the cultists prefer. Each member hopes the...

A ghost without definition or personality, the lethe is a pitch-black silhouette save for reflective, lifeless eyes. It is all that remains of a suicidal nepenthe cultist intent on bringing the rest of reality down with it so it might please the stoic Groom . Accompanying the lemure is a moist, grey fog that quickly gets under the skin and dulls one's wits. Curse of the Lethe. A lethe is driven by a single task; wiping all sense of being from the world. Through its actions the apparition hopes to bring about a state of nothingness for everyone and everything. This intense focus grants the lethe the ability to wipe away the memories of its victims in a deluge of necromantic energy. Most heroes shake off this temporary fugue, but should they succumb the victims find their minds permanently impaired until treated with magic. Lethe medium undead, chaotic evil Armor Class 13 Hit Points 49 (11d8) Speed ...

The bridge's railing caught Gregory as he collapsed. It failed, however, to catch his arm. The severed limb bounced one of the ancient, dwarven visage carved into a bridge pier before splashing into the rapidly-running river. He felt nauseous, both from shock and blood loss. The trader heard one of his caravan guard's scream, and be cut short. Gregory sucked in a breath and fought to maintain focus. Using the rail for support he pushed along for the road. A line of gore was left across the ancient stonework. This didn't make any sense! They'd stopped and talked to the knight protecting the Old Dwarf Bridge a handful of times this season. Ser Silvercrown had been amicable every time, asked after their families, and for news of the rest of the kingdom. Now, the knight was hewing the caravan apart without as much as a word. Gregory rolled off of the railing and hit the ground with his remaining shoulder. Pain blurred his already dimming vision. He could make out a pil...

Sometimes fey knights so catastrophically fail to uphold an oath their unsettled spirit lingers after death. Unable to rest, the brume is an ethereal creature of fallen leaves, pine needles, burs, and other forest debris. When actively interacting with the world the brume forms itself into a silhouette of its former body. The conglomerate wields a blade made out of necrotic-tainted gorse that mars the wounded with a carpet of blinding thorns. On the move, it becomes a cloud of dead grass, nettles, and scrub that flows around and through obstacles in its path. Sinisterly, the disgraced fey can appear to be a pile of woodland’s detritus until ready to strike down fresh victims. Fettered Soul. While not a true undead, but rather the essence of the fey’s magic, the brume shares many psychological traits with the restless. Some obsessively and repetitively attempt to fulfill the broken oath out of the hope of release from their torment, but their minds are too fragmented to realize...

A long-lived direfly hive transforms the oldest of trees into terrifying deadwoods ; lumbering husks enveloping a network of blood-red honeycombs. While this is certainly a grisly result, the transformation of a dryad attached to an infested tree is far worse. The fey resembles the plant she’s bound to; hollowed and on the verge of death. Her bark-like skin is riven, with blood honey dripping from the wounds. The dryad’s malformed mouth hangs open with more cloying crimson fluid streaming out. This leaves the fey’s chin and chest ruddy and sticky. The top of the dryad’s head is broken open by a honeycomb crown complete with lazily buzzing direflies. Hollowed Mind. It’s not only the dryad’s body that has been eaten from the inside but her mind as well. The burrowing of direfly larva has left the fey’s brain riddled with holes resulting in a greatly diminished intellect and sapped will. This allows the autumn court to hold sway over the afflicted dryad when normally they’d balk at th...

Riddled with white rot, the armillaria dryad is a pitiful creature driven to madness by insidious contagion. Her once-verdant physique is riddled with dense clumps of sallow white mushrooms. The fungus drips a viscous ooze and becomes an adhesive mess when struck. Hints of the dryad’s veins can be seen within the base of the mushrooms wherever they rupture from her bark-like skin. Her hair, somewhere between mangy strands and withered vines, frames feverish features. The infected dryad’s eye sockets are more like swollen knots than anything else, forever weeping spore-clogged pus. Leprous Luminescence. While the mushrooms tormenting the armillaria dryad slightly glow, the tortured fey can expel the glowing particles into the air around it. The spore cloud produces an effect similar to that of faerie fire but also sickens creatures who get too much of it on their skin. Many of those stricken by the fungal foxfire report the feeling of something crawling under the skin. This has led ...

A gloom bloom is not much to be concerned about, at first glance. The cloud of sentient spores drifts through a thick forest with the appearance of morning mist along the ground or a dusk-born patch of fog. The shadows around the swarm lengthen and twist with a threatening air. Once the gloom bloom sets upon prey its nature becomes clear, the mass writhing through the air as to a single, living creature. Within the swarm, its individual spores become distinct, barbed balls of ashen fungi intent on boring into a creature to feed its life cycle. Unnatural Blight. A gloom bloom doesn’t form without the cultivation of sinister fey influence, such as by a hag’s hand or a direfly infestation in the forest. Though, it can be grown by a cultist of Zuggtmoy. Imbued with a rudimentary intelligence the fungus serves the will of its tender. Often, the swarm is given an area to graze and an order to slow any intruders; kill them if able. This befouled nature also grants a mystical edge to the s...