Rumor has it that this abandoned manor has eaten more than a few unwary souls who entered it never to return. Some claim the disquiet dead got them, others demons roaming the dark halls. Either way, you meant to put an end to it. Searching from bottom to top yielded little more than giant rats and in the upper library, roofless and thus open to the sky, the search ended. Exhausted and with little else to go on, you sunk into a wingback chair. Oh, it was so comfortable. So easy to fall asleep in. Mm, time to roll a new character. This mimic sought an elegant and sophisticated form to match its wise sensibilities and homebody nature. In turn, it also needed a tempting target to lure meals in. A simple chest or door would not do, and eventually, the monstrosity settled on a wingback chair. Humanoids found them universally comfortable and ever so easy to fall asleep in. A sleeping meal is easier to eat than a fighting one. An odd thing happened, though. Not only did the mimic develop the

Pleasant smoke filled the temple, blanketing over the gore-smeared altar and throwing the cultists present into a trance. This was the right time to strike, take down the priest that had corrupted these otherwise normal people, and bring the horror to an end. Something else waited in the smoke, however, or rather produced it. As soon as your party breathed the gas with ill intent in your hearts, the parishioners snapped out of their haze and into a murderous frenzy. You managed to drive your blade through the priest's back... but then the censure he carried whipped around and bit you in the face. Fight's not over yet, boyo. Polyps of the deadly idolatrous mimic , the censer mimics also use religion to their advantage. The smoke they produce lulls the unwary into a strange manner of worship. No matter what deity they serve, their rituals become bloody affairs to keep the mimic well-fed so it might bloom into a greater terror. The self-same smoke can suss out those full of ill

Your backpack suddenly developing teeth and tentacles was surprising to say the very least. You've been using it for months and the idea of it being a mimc is just unfathomable. But, now it's time to fight for your life. The same for the barbarian whose trusty ax has bent back to try and gnash him to pieces. The paladin's gear seems unaffected and now he's bellowing for a fiend to show itself. Is that chandelier dripping down to form something horned and a bit too spongy? Oh, this is going to be rough. Roll for initiative. A strange creature spat from the bowels of Hell, the mimic mimic doesn't have a properly demonic name. Hell, it doesn't even have a sense of identity beyond finding itself onto the mortal play to make malicious mischief. Essentially a demon-shaped puddle. It can assume the form of any object and shares many traits a mimic does. It can also share the ability to become a mimic with a nearby object for a short time. Perhaps it was formed by m