It was strange to find a crystal ball among the vine-smothered ruins, but there it was dim and lifeless atop a thin, spiraling pedestal of verdigris​ and tarnished silver. Held in place by a four-fingered claw, surely this valuable treasure was trapped, you suspected. However, a close examination should render any such devices inert. Spindly legs ending on sharp points popped out the sides as you approached. The construct skittered back and forth unsure, the crystal ball rotating toward you as a wither, yellow eye blazed to life in its depths. Roll for initiative. Built by long-dead arcanists, Crystal Mauls entrapped the soul of a condemned prisoner in a crystal sphere. At the time, the belief was they could repay their debt to society in the form of a servitor designed for demolition. As such, the constructs can conjure a bolt of pure necrotic energy ideal for clearing unwanted plant growth, ruining objects, and slaying the unsettled masses as the need arises. However, the soul...

Sneaking into the warlord's keep through the garbage chute provided the stealth you desired. Guards and their war dogs were avoided. An ever-building stench was not. Finding a body part or two was a bit disturbing, but rumor had it that his torture victims were unceremoniously tossed out with the refuse. Finally, you emerged by the waste bins and the smell was so bad it was hard to think. In fact, you hallucinated that a bin lid was sprouting teeth. Well, it's not a hallucination. Sorry. Roll for initiative. Bred in the squalor of urban waste, the garbage mimic grew fat on the drek and dregs of the teeming masses. This gave it a filthy, noisome gullet no matter what object it mimicked. Thus, it settled on the form of a trashbin such a smell was expected. It soon weaponized that stench to better catch juicer prey. As it didn't have many meals of this sort, it learned how to make the most of them. It also developed a biting, sarcastic personality even though it couldn'...

Climbing the mountain pass in winter has proved as treacherous as you imagined. Yet, your party forged on because the barony needed to be saved and you were the only one to do it. The elf scouted up ahead, but now they've disappeared amid all the white. What could have happened to them? Fanning out to search, you ran across a splotch of reddened snow... and then the pure white snow next to it came tumbling down with icy tendrils flailing. Ok, maybe this was to be much more treacherous than you imagined. Roll for Initiative. One of the oddest mimic variations, this mimic adapted to a harsh environment where winter runs long and deep. Even though the mimic became immune to the cold, It found that it stood out amid the all the white no matter what object it pretended to be. Its presence struck prey as being 'off' and with the pickings already slim, the mimic began to starve. Then, it struck on an idea, what if it could be snow itself. Once it figured this feat out, the mons...

Something tore apart the bandits you've been tracking, but it's not obvious what chewed and in some cases melted them. Maybe there's a wyrmling in the area? Either way, all that remains alive in the camp is a pair of oxen burdened by their cart. Though, they are quite nonplussed given the violence that must have occurred around them. Surely these simple beasts couldn't be the case of the carnage, could they? As you ponder this, the oxen start plodding away, pulling the cart of goods with them. Trying to stop them was the logical thing to do... their yoke coming undone with twin, yawning mouths not so logical. You know what that means... initiative rolls, please. Relatively benign, for a mimic, the yoke mimic was cultivated by an industrious farmer. They didn't see the point of wasting an animal that came into their care, even a strange monstrosity such as this one. It became a valuable tool not only to get fields plowed, but also kept the animals attached to it d...