5 Wholesome Monsters

 

by Andrea Lavery

In a very-not-OSR very-not-halloween twist, here’s some monsters that aren’t tortured abominations. No duplicity, no trickery, no murder-mimic-shaped-like-a-tree-stump-with-a-bunny-on-top, just good vibes and cute monsters.

Kisse Bird

A very circular bird with watercolor-on-canvas plumage. It’s extremely friendly, and will happily ride on your shoulder (it actually prefers it to the little gilded cage it comes in) and eat assorted seeds out of your hands. It can’t fly because it only has a single, disproportionately large wing, which has no apparent effect on its limitless avian cheer.

Kisse birds are extremely rare treasure. Each one is worth 200gp to collectors and lovestruck nobles. A mating pair of Kisse birds is worth a king’s ransom, but they must be kept in separate cages lest they ascend together.

When two Kisse birds to meet, they will huddle close to one another and coo. At that point they become inseparable, having bonded on a molecular level, and can fly by coordinating their wingbeats. As soon as they have a clear path to the open sky, they will grab the party member who has treated them best by the collar and ascend into the clouds with their powerful wings. The abducted PC will fall from the sky within view of the party 1d4 hours later, wearing/carrying 3 magic items from your second-best loot table and, invariably, a Ring of Feather Falling.

Nightmare Gliders

Long-haired, parasitic sugar gliders. They eat bad memories by clinging to their host’s skull and sipping harmlessly from the brain with their long, anteater-like proboscides. They generally start from the most recent memories (like when a sugar glider suddenly landed on their head, unless you’re cool with that).

A PC with a nightmare glider on their head loses Stress (or Trauma, Mania, Insanity, or whatever system you use for mental fatigue) every night. If you run out of prevalent bad memories or try to put on a helmet, the glider jumps to a new PC (or leaves, if no desirable hosts are available).

When a nightmare glider parasitizes a wizard, they are likely to steal spells directly from the caster’s brain. Necromancy and damage dealing spells are always the first to go. If a nightmare glider drinks too many spells, it grows rapidly and becomes a Dire Sugar Glider (refer to your Monster Manual of choice).

If you eat a nightmare glider, you’ll get your memories back, as well as all the worst emotions of all the glider’s previous hosts (debilitating nightmares prevent you from getting a good night’s sleep for 1d4 weeks, plus Stress/Trauma/Insanity/etc., no Save). It’s a shitty idea for many reasons (including a 4-in-6 chance of insanity from sleep deprivation) but could teach you a handful of terrible secrets.

Glowpig

Headless glow-in-the-dark dungeon boars who look like the rear ends of 2 swine stitched together. They’re cute/wholesome, and I don’t have to explain myself.

by Jessica Fong

 Affirmation Sphinx

Q: “What is wrong with you?”
A: “Nothing.”

The answers to this sphinx’s riddles are all some variant of positive affirmation. This is because the sphinx can read minds, and is genuinely concerned about your mental health. However, all sphinxes must talk in riddles, and besides, you wouldn’t heed a sphinx’s advice anyway unless you came to the conclusion yourself.

The affirmation sphinx is warm and matronly. She is often bundled up in many layers of furs and hides, adding to her comfy vibe. She can light a campfire with a whisper and is willing to share a leg of fresh elk with hungry adventurers in exchange for stories. The sphinx won’t protect you from wandering monsters however; she can’t help but root for both sides equally.

Besides being just a cool person to talk to, the affirmation sphinx can detect magic and see invisible creatures. She is guarding something, probably a treasure hoard, but she can’t let you pass until you answer her other riddle: “What is the password?” The answer is long and case sensitive.

Dragon Caterpillar

A regal purple caterpillar with a proud display of horns, from which it derives its name. It uses its front-most claws like hands and begs for food with its enormous eyes (it’ll eat anything it can fit in its mandibles, but prefers small berries).

If you give it a large sum of gold, it will chew it up and spin it into a hoard-cocoon over the course of 1d4 weeks. The cocoon is worth 1.5x the gold you put into it to seamstresses and nobles, who can unravel the cocoon into true golden silk with ephemeral properties.

If you hold on to the cocoon for 3d4 years, the caterpillar will emerge from its metamorphosis as a dragontail butterfly, who grants a single wish before disappearing into fae space. The scope of the wish is proportional to your relationship with the caterpillar.

happy just-after-halloween y'all
by Wylie Beckert