There are three things that abandoned mines are full of: old tools, loot, and monsters. Your party decided to clear out a local one supposedly containing all three. Of course, treasure hunters who went in never came out. You've yet to figure out why. Sure, you've run across old, eaten carcasses and rusting tools but after hours of looking around no loot or monsters. Maybe your luck was changing though, as a corroded cart creaked into view at the edge of the torchlight. Loaded with glittering ore, something had to have pushed it but nothing is near it now. The party fanned out, approaching the abandoned cart and searching for whatever propelled it. Suddenly, the cart rocketed forward of its own volition, growing teeth and eyes as it jumped off the tracks, slammed into the wizard, and started spitting rocks at the rogue! The truth's unfolded, now it's time to roll initiative. The skip mimic was fostered by miners who discovered the mimic polyp abandoned in their mine....

You always thought being the party rogue was an easy gig. Sure, when fights erupted things could get hairy but most of the time you focused on unlocking doors and working on simple traps. What could be more simple than a hidden snare? It was almost embarrassing when you ran across a few on the floor. Getting rid of them should have been child's play, but your tools and hands got stuck to one just in front of the next door. Then it wrapped around your arm like a living thing, and now it's pulling you toward a hole... no a mouth in the wall! Roll of initiative. This mimic breed came into being because the first such monstrosity saw a roper and thought, I can do that and do it better. It took some work, but eventually, the mimic settled on becoming a wall section and extending pseudopods to wait. This meant weakening its overall tentacles, but the passive trap worked as expected. To compensate for the lost strength, the mimic evolved a more powerful bite than its peers. Its la...

Another week, another encounter with the shambling dead. No one ever said being an adventurer was clean nor glamorous- but it pays well. Clearing out a zombie infestation came with a good payday, but damn it proved harder than expected. The blame lay on one particular zombie carrying a rusty, old scythe. Every time it cut down a hero, the shamblers around got stronger. So, you decided to take it out. Killing the lead zombie wasn't easy, they were as tough as they come, but when it fell another zombie shambled from the scythe. You snatched the weapon up only to find it sticking to your hands. Its blade sprouted teeth, its shaft eyes. Roll for initiative. A true terror, the reaping mimic is driven by the same instincts as the zombies it controls - hunger. The first of its ilk developed in a region plagued with undeath and thus bereft of the living. It grew sick of rotting food and shifted its focus on locomotion instead of ambush tactics. The mimic fostered a connection with the ...

The rash of zombie attacks throughout the city baffled both the guard and its heroes, but your party thought they tracked its source down. True enough, at the docks they ran across an undead dockhand and followed it into a run-down warehouse. Inside though, the zombie just wasn't there, only sparse, ramshackle crates. Maybe it was hiding in one of them? When you lifted the nearest lid, your skin shriveled as moisture leached from it. Glassy eyes and rotten teeth sprouted from the wood. Roll for Initiative. It's rare indeed when a mimic suffers the curse of undeath. Rare, but not impossible. The necrotic monstrosity which results remains a dangerous ambush predator. Sure, it loses its sticky nature but drains the bodily fluids from its victims instead. On top of that, it gains the ability to mimic undead creatures and proves just as hard to put down as any other zombie. Dead Mimic Medium undead (shapechanger), chaotic evil Armor Class 9 (natur...

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...