Stonewall Sentinel

Size/Type: Large Construct (Good, Extraplanar)
Hit Dice: 12d10+30 (96 hp)
Initiative: +0
Speed: 20 ft. (4 squares)
Armor Class: 24 (-1 size, +15 natural), touch 9, flat-footed 24
Base Attack/Grapple: +9/+22
Attack: Slam +17 melee (2d8+9)
Full Attack: 2 slams +17 melee (2d8+9)
Space/Reach: 10 ft./10 ft.
Special Attacks: Aura of solidarity, interposing bulwark, shatter tyranny, rally the fearful
Special Qualities: Construct traits, damage reduction 10/adamantine, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, immunity to fear, immunity to compulsion, memory of the fallen, spell resistance 22, steadfast presence
Saves: Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +8
Abilities: Str 28, Dex 10, Con —, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 20
Skills: Diplomacy +10, Intimidate +10, Knowledge (history) +15, Knowledge (religion) +15, Listen +19, Sense Motive +19, Spot +19
Feats: Awesome Blow, Great Fortitude, Improved Bull Rush, Iron Will, Power Attack
Environment: Any land or urban
Organization: Solitary or accompanied by a community in need (special)
Challenge Rating: 11
Treasure: None
Alignment: Always Neutral Good
Advancement: 13-18 HD (Large); 19-24 HD (Huge)
Level Adjustment: —

Special Attacks

Aura of Solidarity (Su): A Stonewall Sentinel radiates a 30-foot aura of courage and mutual support. Allies within the aura gain a +4 morale bonus on saving throws against fear, charm and compulsion effects. Any ally who succeeds on such a saving throw may immediately grant another affected ally within the aura a new saving throw against the same effect as a free action.

Interposing Bulwark (Su): Once per round as an immediate action, the Sentinel may move up to 10 feet to place itself between an ally and an incoming attack, spell or ranged effect. The attack is resolved against the Sentinel instead. This movement does not provoke attacks of opportunity.

Shatter Tyranny (Su): Three times per day, a Sentinel may strike the ground with a slam attack as a standard action. All hostile creatures within 30 feet must succeed on a DC 21 Will save or lose any morale bonuses, fear-inducing effects and command-based supernatural abilities for 1d4 rounds. Creatures with the lawful subtype take 4d6 points of sonic damage from the shockwave. The save DC is Charisma-based.

Rally the Fearful (Su): Once per day, the Sentinel may emit a resonant call audible for 300 feet. All allies who can hear it immediately end any fear effect affecting them and gain 15 temporary hit points for 10 minutes.

Special Qualities

Memory of the Fallen (Su): The Sentinel bears countless names, symbols and inscriptions carved into its stone form. Whenever an ally within 60 feet is reduced to 0 or fewer hit points, the Sentinel gains a cumulative +1 sacred bonus to attack rolls, Armor Class and saving throws for the remainder of the encounter (maximum +5).

Steadfast Presence (Su): Allies within 30 feet are treated as if under the effects of protection from evil against attempts to magically compel them to act against their beliefs or loyalties.

Spell Resistance (Ex): A Stonewall Sentinel possesses SR 22.

Description

The Stonewall Sentinel appears as a towering figure fashioned from weathered gray masonry blocks mortared together by faintly luminous silver seams. Across every surface are thousands of carved names, handprints, prayers, poems and memorial inscriptions. Some are ancient and worn smooth by centuries of rain, while others appear freshly etched despite no hand ever touching the stone.

Its face lacks distinct features, consisting instead of a smooth stone mask illuminated from within by soft rainbow-hued light. When it speaks, its voice emerges not from a mouth but from every stone simultaneously, carrying the weight of countless remembered voices. Flowers often bloom in cracks between its stones regardless of season, and lantern-like lights flicker around it during moments of great danger.

A Stonewall Sentinel is not a soldier, conqueror or executioner. It exists solely to stand between oppression and those who suffer beneath it. Communities under threat sometimes report seeing the Sentinel appear silently at the edge of town, standing motionless for days before vanishing once the danger has passed.

Lore

Legends claim the first Stonewall Sentinel was not built by kings, churches or archmages, but by ordinary people who refused to abandon one another. According to the oldest stories, every stone in its body once belonged to a different wall - prison walls, city walls, barriers, fortifications and boundaries erected to separate one group of people from another. Through forgotten divine intervention, those stones were gathered and transformed into something entirely new: a guardian dedicated not to division, but protection.

The carvings upon its body change over time. Scholars have documented names appearing that correspond to individuals who died defending their communities, while others seem to belong to people who have not yet been born. Priests argue endlessly about whether the Sentinel is a construct, an angel or something entirely unique. The Sentinel itself offers no answer, merely stating that "memory survives where stone endures."

Unlike most divine servants, the Stonewall Sentinel does not concern itself with alignment in the abstract. It is drawn specifically to persecution, cruelty and abuse of power. It has appeared in defense of peasants against tyrannical nobles, refugees fleeing conquest, falsely accused prisoners and isolated communities targeted by monsters or zealots. The Sentinel shows no interest in politics or ideology beyond a simple principle: those who wield power bear responsibility for how it is used.

Stories consistently describe a peculiar phenomenon surrounding its appearances. Individuals standing near the Sentinel often find themselves capable of acts of courage they previously believed impossible. Cowards become defenders. Bystanders become protectors. Grief becomes determination. Many who survive such events later insist that the Sentinel's greatest power was never its immense strength, but its ability to remind people that they were never as alone as they feared.

Among celestial beings, the Stonewall Sentinel is regarded with a mixture of admiration and mystery. It answers to no known deity, appears without summons and vanishes without explanation. Yet wherever its footprints are found, hope tends to endure long after the giant guardian itself has departed. Some theologians therefore teach that the Sentinel is not merely a creature, but a manifestation of a universal truth: that when enough people stand together against fear, even stone itself may learn to walk.

Brackish

Medium Humanoid (Aquatic)

Hit Dice: 2d8+2 (11 hp)
Initiative: +1
Speed: 20 ft. (4 squares), swim 50 ft.
Armor Class: 15 (+1 Dex, +4 natural), touch 11, flat-footed 14
Base Attack/Grapple: +1/+2
Attack: Bite +2 melee (1d4 plus swamp fever) or harpoon +2 melee (1d6+1)
Full Attack: Bite +2 melee (1d4 plus swamp fever) and slam +0 melee (1d3)
Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.
Special Attacks: Swamp fever, marsh ambush
Special Qualities: Amphibious, darkvision 60 ft., marsh stride, slippery hide
Saves: Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +3
Abilities: Str 13, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 9, Wis 11, Cha 8
Skills: Hide +8, Listen +4, Move Silently +6, Spot +4, Survival +5, Swim +13
Feats: Alertness
Environment: Warm marshes, drowned forests, blackwater rivers, estuaries, and swamp ruins
Organization: Solitary, patrol (2-5), hunting party (6-12 plus 1 swamp speaker of 3rd level), or village (30-200)
Challenge Rating: 1
Treasure: Standard
Alignment: Usually Neutral Evil
Advancement: By character class
Level Adjustment: +1

A vaguely humanoid figure rises soundlessly from the black water, its algae-slick skin glistening beneath lanternlight. Moss hangs from its shoulders like drowned hair while pale reflective eyes stare without blinking. Its wide mouth twitches with strange clicking noises as murky water drips steadily from hooked teeth.

Brackish are amphibious swamp-dwellers native to the flooded waterways, drowned estuaries, and blackwater margins surrounding Ville des Marais and countless lesser marsh settlements. Though commonly mistaken for savage river predators by outsiders, Brackish society possesses ancient customs, territorial laws, and deeply ingrained flood rites tied to survival within unstable wetlands. They dwell within stilt-villages built atop submerged ruins, tangled mangrove roots, and slowly sinking wreckage reclaimed by moss, rot, and tidewater.

Their skin coloration varies depending upon region and water conditions. Some appear deep mud-brown with fungal growths along the spine, while others possess pale gray flesh marked by algae-green streaks beneath translucent skin. Hanging sensory tendrils around the jaw and throat twitch constantly in response to nearby vibrations, allowing Brackish to detect movement through water with unnerving accuracy. Many decorate themselves with shell jewelry, carved driftwood charms, polished riverbone fetishes, or salvaged trinkets recovered from drowned boats and flood victims.

Brackish settlements are partially living structures. Entire villages groan and sway gently with shifting currents, connected by rope bridges, floating platforms, and warped boardwalks slick with moss and fish oil. Territorial markers are subtle but unmistakable to those educated enough to recognize them - arrangements of reeds tied in symbolic knots, shell chimes hanging from dead trees, carved driftwood faces staring toward specific channels, or lanterns suspended above water at carefully measured heights. To ignore such signs is considered either profound ignorance or deliberate insult.

Though capable of trade and negotiation, Brackish remain deeply suspicious of drylanders. Most encounters begin with prolonged observation rather than open contact. Travelers often notice ripples beside their boats, pale eyes within reedbeds, or distant clicking sounds carried through fog long before a Brackish chooses to reveal itself directly. Their reputation for violence stems less from cruelty than territorial certainty. The swamp belongs to those capable of surviving it, and the Brackish have survived there far longer than most human settlements.

Combat

Brackish prefer ambushes and environmental warfare rather than direct confrontation. They strike from beneath dark water, hidden mudbanks, or hanging roots before retreating into terrain that favors their mobility and patience. A Brackish patrol often stalks prey for hours before attacking, studying movement patterns and weaknesses with unnerving discipline.

A Brackish commonly fights with hooked spears, harpoons, weighted nets, and crude river knives fashioned from sharpened shell or scavenged metal. They attempt to isolate enemies and drag wounded targets into deep water whenever possible.

Swamp Fever (Ex): A Brackish’s bite carries swamp-borne bacteria and mild venom. Any living creature damaged by a Brackish’s bite must succeed on a DC 11 Fortitude save or take 1 point of Constitution damage. One minute later, the victim must make a second DC 11 Fortitude save or become sickened for 1d4 rounds. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Marsh Ambush (Ex): A Brackish gains a +2 bonus on attack rolls against opponents denied their Dexterity bonus to AC while standing in swamp, shallow water, mud, or heavy marsh vegetation.

Amphibious (Ex): Although Brackish are aquatic, they can survive indefinitely on land.

Marsh Stride (Ex): Brackish ignore movement penalties caused by shallow water, mud, heavy reeds, and natural swamp terrain.

Slippery Hide (Ex): The oily mucus coating a Brackish’s skin grants a +4 racial bonus on Escape Artist checks and to resist grapple attempts.

Brackish settlements are frequently encountered near forgotten waterways and flood-prone districts where civilized authority weakens beneath humidity, isolation, and fear. Some fishing villages maintain cautious trade agreements with nearby tribes, exchanging lamp oil, preserved food, or metal tools for safe passage through dangerous marsh channels. Others simply vanish during flood season, leaving behind only drifting debris and strange carvings etched into cypress bark.

The relationship between Brackish and humanity remains deeply unstable. To fishermen and swamp laborers, Brackish are dangerous but understandable neighbors shaped by the same merciless wetlands governing everyone along the delta. To inland nobles and merchants, however, they are often regarded as living symbols of everything the swamp refuses to surrender to civilization’s ambitions.

Kelwyn’s Notes

I once traveled through a drowned reed territory under the guidance of Gibupgagool, who spent the better portion of two days warning me - with increasing irritation - not to mistake silence for absence. At the time I assumed he referred to predators. I later discovered he meant the Brackish themselves. One does not encounter them in the conventional sense. Rather, one slowly realizes they have been observing from the waterline for quite some time and simply had not yet decided whether acknowledgement was necessary.

The first Brackish village I witnessed appeared less constructed than accumulated. Walkways drifted slightly with the current. Lanterns swung from half-submerged pylons wrapped in moss and fishing cord. Entire structures leaned at angles that suggested imminent collapse, yet somehow endured with the stubborn balance unique to things built by people who understand water better than stone. Gib navigated the settlement with cautious respect, lowering his voice instinctively despite no visible threat presenting itself. It struck me then that the swamp teaches manners more effectively than civilization ever has.

Contrary to popular belief, the Brackish are not mindless marauders lurking in the reeds awaiting opportunities for murder. They are territorial, suspicious, and unquestionably dangerous, certainly, but no more inherently cruel than any other people shaped by generations of survival against hostile conditions. Their restraint simply manifests differently. Drylanders announce emotion loudly - through raised voices, threats, and theatrical outrage. The Brackish communicate through stillness. One learns very quickly that if a Brackish stops moving entirely, careful reconsideration of one’s recent decisions becomes advisable.

Gib later explained that many riverfolk quietly maintain informal agreements with nearby Brackish settlements whether noble authorities approve or not. Marsh channels change too frequently, floodwater hides too many dangers, and too many travelers vanish each season for practical cooperation to be ignored. Civilization often pretends it dominates the wetlands surrounding Ville des Marais. In truth, most settlements survive because older inhabitants occasionally permit them to.

There is a tendency among educated society to classify anything unfamiliar within the swamp as either monstrous or primitive. The Brackish fit neither category comfortably. They possess memory, ritual, territorial law, grief, humor, and community just as surely as humanity does. The difference lies primarily in perspective. Humanity views the marsh as hostile terrain to be endured. The Brackish view it as home. History suggests the swamp itself may agree with them.

Marais Dream Eel

Marais Dream Eel

Tiny Animal (Aquatic)

Hit Dice: 1/4d8+1 (2 hp)
Initiative: +3
Speed: Swim 30 ft., land 10 ft.
Armor Class: 15 (+2 size, +3 Dex), touch 15, flat-footed 12
Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-10
Attack: Bite +5 melee (1 point of damage plus venom)
Full Attack: Bite +5 melee (1 point of damage plus venom)
Space/Reach: 2-1/2 ft./0 ft.
Special Attacks: Hallucinogenic venom
Special Qualities: Low-light vision, scent, slippery body, anguilliform resilience
Saves: Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +1
Abilities: Str 2, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 1, Wis 12, Cha 2
Skills: Escape Artist +13, Hide +15, Listen +3, Spot +3, Swim +15
Feats: Weapon Finesse
Environment: Warm marshes, blackwater rivers, and flooded cypress swamps
Organization: Solitary, pair, school (6-30), or spawning knot (40-100)
Challenge Rating: 1/3
Treasure: None
Alignment: Always neutral
Advancement: —
Level Adjustment: —

Hallucinogenic Venom (Ex): Injury, Fortitude DC 12, initial and secondary effect identical. A creature failing its save experiences severe sensory distortion, emotional instability, and vivid hallucinations for 1d4 hours. While affected, the victim takes a -2 penalty on Wisdom-based checks and skill checks, cannot take 10 or take 20, and must succeed on a DC 13 Will save whenever exposed to stress (combat, loud sounds, sudden movement, taking damage, and similar circumstances) or become confused for 1 round, as the spell. This is a poison effect. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Slippery Body (Ex): The Marais Dream Eel’s heavy mucus coating grants it a +8 racial bonus on Escape Artist checks. Creatures attempting to grapple or hold a Marais Dream Eel take a -4 penalty on grapple checks unless wearing protective gloves or gauntlets. Any creature maintaining physical contact with the eel for more than 1 round must immediately attempt a DC 12 Fortitude save against the eel’s venom.

Anguilliform Resilience (Ex): The Marais Dream Eel’s elongated flexible skeleton, fused fin structure, distributed organ layout, and thick slime coating make it unusually resistant to injury for its size. The eel gains Damage Reduction 2/bludgeoning and a +4 racial bonus on saves against being pinned, crushed, or stunned. In addition, the eel may survive out of water for up to 1 hour so long as its skin remains moist.

Skills: A Marais Dream Eel has a +8 racial bonus on Swim checks and may always choose to take 10 on Swim checks, even if distracted or endangered. It may use the run action while swimming in a straight line.

Physical Description

The Marais Dream Eel is a true eel belonging to a bizarre marsh-adapted lineage of anguilliform fish native to the blackwater wetlands surrounding Ville des Marais. Long, ribbon-bodied, and almost serpentine in appearance, the creature lacks visible pelvic fins entirely, while its dorsal, anal, and caudal fins merge into a single continuous undulating membrane running nearly the full length of the body. Adult specimens typically range between three and five feet long, though ancient females dwelling deep within isolated marsh channels have reportedly reached nearly seven feet.

Its skin is smooth, scaleless, and perpetually coated in an unusually thick layer of translucent mucus that smells faintly of wet moss, river silt, and bitter medicinal herbs. Beneath lantern light, this slime reflects oily iridescent blues and greens reminiscent of spilled alchemical fluid floating atop water. The coating serves several purposes simultaneously - protecting the eel from parasites, reducing friction while moving through mud and reeds, preventing dehydration during brief periods on land, and making the creature maddeningly difficult to restrain.

The head resembles that of a small moray eel, narrow yet powerfully muscled, with recurved translucent teeth designed primarily for grip rather than tearing flesh. Along the underside of the jaw rest paired venom glands visible beneath the thin flesh as faintly glowing blue sacs. When distressed or aggressive, these glands pulse visibly before secreting an oily psychoactive toxin across the creature’s teeth and gums. Experienced marshfolk learn quickly to recognize the glow. Inexperienced marshfolk become stories told by experienced marshfolk.

Unlike many fish, the Marais Dream Eel is capable of surviving outside water for surprisingly long periods provided its skin remains damp. During flood season, they have been observed writhing through submerged streets, drainage canals, and flooded graveyards in search of prey or spawning grounds. Their movement across wet earth is deeply unsettling - less like a fish flopping and more like a length of living rope pulling itself forward with terrible patience.

Lore

The Marais Dream Eel occupies a deeply uncomfortable place within the ecosystem and culture of Ville des Marais. To fishermen, they are pests that foul nets and occasionally poison careless handlers. To physicians and ritual practitioners, they are dangerous but potentially valuable biological curiosities. To goblin smugglers, however, they are entrepreneurial opportunity given flesh and slime.

Natural philosophers remain fascinated by the species’ extraordinary durability. Unlike many fish, the eel’s elongated anatomy distributes vital organs across a flexible body structure that tolerates blunt trauma surprisingly well. Their skeletons bend rather than break, their organs sit recessed behind thick musculature, and their mucus coating makes them difficult for predators to grip securely. Marsh hunters often complain that injured Dream Eels continue writhing long after lesser creatures would have died. Several frustrated trappers have described the experience as “trying to stab wet rope possessed by a curse.”

The creature’s hallucinogenic venom remains the primary source of both fascination and civic concern. Properly diluted doses are occasionally employed during funerary rites, trauma rituals, ancestor communions, and certain mystical ceremonies intended to confront grief or buried memory. Users frequently describe hearing impossible music drifting through fog, witnessing drowned relatives speaking from riverbanks, or perceiving the world as though viewed through rippling water. Whether these experiences represent spiritual truth or simple neurochemical chaos is debated endlessly throughout the city’s academies and shrines.

The illegal venom trade surrounding the species is extensive. Smugglers transport living eels inside water-filled barrels disguised as fish stock, medicinal cargo, or “agricultural drainage specimens,” whatever those are allegedly supposed to be. Improper refinement is catastrophically dangerous. Victims of poorly distilled venom mixtures have wandered naked into swamp water believing themselves immune to drowning, attempted conversations with statues, or spent hours convinced they themselves were riverboats. One particularly infamous incident involved an intoxicated goblin dockmaster attempting to issue legal permits to a decorative coat rack.

The city’s Ministry of Civic Health technically regulates all venom extraction and transport permits, though enforcement becomes increasingly theoretical the farther one travels into the outer marshes. Goblin import syndicates continue attempting to circumvent restrictions with admirable creativity and horrifying consistency. The phrase “medicinal swamp eels” has, over the years, become less a legitimate trade classification and more an immediate warning sign that someone nearby is about to make a truly terrible decision.

Le Cavalier Sans Tête

Medium Undead (Augmented Humanoid)

Hit Dice: 14d12+28 (119 hp)
Initiative: +7
Speed: 40 ft. (8 squares)
Armor Class: 26 (+3 Dex, +13 natural), touch 13, flat-footed 23
Base Attack/Grapple: +7/+14
Attack: Rusted executioner’s falchion +16 melee (2d4+11/18-20 plus mooncurse)
Full Attack: Rusted executioner’s falchion +16/+11 melee (2d4+11/18-20 plus mooncurse)
Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.
Special Attacks: Mooncurse, lantern of remembrance, dreadful charge, sever the living memory, lantern harvest
Special Qualities: Damage reduction 10/blessed silver, darkvision 60 ft., undead traits, marsh stride, regeneration 5, moonbound manifestation, impossible rider, scent of grief, turn resistance +4
Saves: Fort +4, Ref +7, Will +13
Abilities: Str 24, Dex 16, Con —, Int 12, Wis 18, Cha 22
Skills: Hide +16, Intimidate +23, Knowledge (local) +18, Listen +21, Move Silently +18, Ride +24, Sense Motive +19, Spot +21, Survival +15
Feats: Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Improved Initiative, Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-By Attack
Environment: Flooded roads, drowned cemeteries, canals, and marsh outskirts of Ville des Marais
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 12
Treasure: Double standard
Alignment: Always lawful evil
Advancement: 15-20 HD (Medium)
Level Adjustment: —

Le Cavalier Sans Tête appears as a broad-shouldered rider clad in ancient blackened cavalry armor swollen with marsh rot and flood residue. Though unmistakably humanoid in size and shape, the creature’s proportions feel subtly wrong, as though the body beneath the armor has swollen and tightened from prolonged drowning. Its neck ends in a ragged stump of wet flesh and dim lunar radiance from which pale vapor constantly escapes like chilled breath on winter glass.

The Horseman carries no severed head upon its person. Instead, an iron funeral lantern hangs from chains upon the saddle of its mount. Within the lantern’s fogged panes flicker distorted human faces that weep, scream, pray, or stare silently outward. Witnesses claim the expressions belong to those who died abandoned during flood seasons, their names forgotten by the city they once served.

Its mount, Miséricorde, resembles a lean marsh warhorse stitched together from drowned cavalry remains. River moss hangs from its flanks, and stagnant water spills from its mouth whenever it exhales. The beast’s hooves make almost no sound upon stone, yet the echo of its approach carries unnaturally far through flooded streets and narrow alleys.

COMBAT

Le Cavalier Sans Tête hunts with terrifying patience and ritualistic precision. It prefers isolated roads, drowned bridges, funeral paths, and mist-covered canals where escape becomes difficult. Victims often hear distant hoofbeats for hours beforehand, slowly realizing the sound is approaching no matter which direction they flee.

The Horseman rarely speaks. When it does, witnesses describe hearing multiple overlapping voices emerging from the empty space above its shoulders, as though the dead imprisoned within the lantern attempt speech all at once.

Mooncurse (Su): Any creature struck by the Horseman’s falchion must succeed on a DC 22 Will save or become afflicted with the Curse of the Drowned Moon. Afflicted victims hear phantom hoofbeats whenever left alone and suffer vivid dreams of drowning canals and moonlit executions. Each week the victim fails a secondary DC 22 Will save, they suffer 1 point of Wisdom drain. The curse may only be removed by both remove curse and hallow. The save DC is Charisma-based.

Lantern of Remembrance (Su): As a standard action, the Horseman may open the shutters of its lantern. All creatures within 60 feet must succeed on a DC 21 Will save or become shaken for 2d6 rounds. Creatures already shaken instead become frightened for 1d4 rounds. Those who fail also experience fragmented memories belonging to drowned dead trapped within the lantern.

Dreadful Charge (Ex): Whenever Le Cavalier Sans Tête successfully charges while mounted, the target must succeed on a DC 24 Fortitude save or be knocked prone and stunned for 1 round.

Sever the Living Memory (Su): Whenever the Horseman reduces a creature to 0 hit points or lower, all witnesses within 30 feet must succeed on a DC 21 Will save or temporarily forget the victim’s face and voice for 24 hours. Family members experience this effect as profound emotional distress and hollowness.

Lantern Harvest (Su): Any humanoid slain by Le Cavalier Sans Tête has its soul immediately drawn into the iron funeral lantern hanging from the saddle unless the creature succeeds on a DC 22 Will save. Creatures whose souls are imprisoned within the lantern cannot be raised, resurrected, or contacted by speak with dead so long as their soul remains confined. While trapped, the soul experiences an endless procession of floodwater, funeral bells, distant hoofbeats, and fragmented memories belonging to countless other dead.

As a full-round action, the Horseman may force one trapped soul to manifest briefly within the lantern glass. This functions as fear upon a single creature within 30 feet (DC 22 Will negates). Victims who fail the save glimpse imprisoned dead screaming behind the lantern panes, often recognizing friends, relatives, or forgotten citizens of Ville des Marais among them.

The lantern may contain a maximum number of trapped souls equal to twice the Horseman’s Hit Dice. Whenever the lantern reaches maximum capacity, its light becomes visible through heavy fog and flood rain at distances of up to one mile, accompanied by faint funeral music and distant crying audible only to creatures currently grieving a lost loved one.

If the lantern is shattered upon consecrated ground during the conjunction of Le Père Lune full and la Mère Lune dark, all imprisoned souls are immediately released to the afterlife. The destruction unleashes a catastrophic scream of accumulated grief, however, forcing all creatures within 300 feet to succeed on a DC 24 Will save or become permanently shaken until receiving greater restoration or meaningful emotional reconciliation determined by the DM.

Marsh Stride (Su): Le Cavalier Sans Tête and its mount ignore difficult terrain caused by mud, reeds, shallow water, swamp vegetation, and flood debris. The pair may ride across still water as though under the effects of water walk.

Regeneration (Su): Blessed silver weapons deal normal damage to the Horseman. If destroyed, its body collapses into black floodwater and funeral moss before reforming during the next conjunction of Le Père Lune full and la Mère Lune dark unless the lantern is shattered upon consecrated ground.

Moonbound Manifestation (Su): Le Cavalier Sans Tête may only physically manifest during nights when Le Père Lune is full while la Mère Lune is absent from the sky. Outside this period the creature exists as a distant spiritual presence incapable of direct violence.

Impossible Rider (Su): Mundane means cannot forcibly dismount the Horseman. If separated from Miséricorde, both instantly reform adjacent to one another at the beginning of the Horseman’s next turn.

LORE

Among the oldest districts of Ville des Marais, Le Cavalier Sans Tête is not spoken of as a mere monster. It is discussed more like weather - dreadful, inevitable, and woven into the city’s emotional architecture. Elder marsh families still nail black lilies above their doors whenever Le Père Lune rises full against the empty heavens of la Mère Lune, hoping the rider passes them by.

According to the oldest funerary records, the Horseman first appeared after one of the city’s great flood famines centuries ago. Entire neighborhoods drowned beneath uncontrolled canal surges while civic authorities argued endlessly over blame and responsibility. Bodies floated unclaimed through the Rivière Tumultueuse for days. Funeral rites failed. Names vanished from ledgers. Grief remained unresolved.

Something answered that failure.

Whether the Horseman was once a real executioner, cavalry officer, or drowned citizen no longer matters. Centuries of sorrow and civic shame have transformed it into something larger than an individual identity. It has become the city’s memory of abandonment given shape and purpose beneath the moonlight.

Many secretly believe the creature targets those who violate the sacred communal obligations of Ville des Marais - corrupt officials, grave robbers, murderers who deny burial rites, and opportunists who profit from flood catastrophes. Unfortunately, like floodwater itself, the Horseman’s justice does not always stop where intended.

Kelwyn’s Notes

One of the most dangerous lies civilization tells itself is that remembrance is optional. People imagine funerary rites, mourning songs, ancestor records, and memorial lanterns to be sentimental decorations draped upon society after the important work has already been completed. Ville des Marais understands better. Here, memory is structural. It is mortar. It is floodwall. It is the fragile architecture preventing grief from escaping into the streets with teeth.

Le Cavalier Sans Tête is what occurs when that architecture fails catastrophically enough for the city itself to remember the wound. Observe carefully that the creature does not merely kill. Countless undead kill. Countless horrors butcher indiscriminately. No - the Horseman punishes abandonment. It is grief weaponized by neglect until it no longer seeks comfort, but enforcement.

The lantern possesses no proper name because the city refuses to grant it one. That distinction matters enormously. In Ville des Marais, names are acknowledgements of belonging. They imply relationship, familiarity, and place within the emotional architecture of civilization. The people will speak of the Horseman with fearful reverence, certainly, but the lantern itself remains deliberately unnamed - a thing too dreadful to comfortably incorporate into communal language.

Most horrifying of all is the implication hidden beneath its function: the souls trapped within are not consumed. They remain aware. They remember. One can scarcely imagine a more distinctly Ville des Marais form of damnation than becoming part of an eternal procession of grief endlessly carried through floodwater beneath the watching moons.

Doll Devil (Arusity)

Small Outsider (devil, evil, extraplanar, lawful)
Hit Dice: 2d10+2 (13 hp)
Initiative: +2
Speed: 30 ft.
Armor Class: 15 (+2 Dex, +2 natural, +1 size), touch 13, flat-footed 13
Base Attack/Grapple: +2/+1
Attack: Slam +2 melee (1d3)
Full Attack: 2 slams +2 melee (1d3)
Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.
Special Attacks: Draw Essence, spell-like abilities
Special Qualities: Darkvision 60 ft., see in darkness, telepathy 100 ft., resistances, immunities, inert
Saves: Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +5
Abilities: Str 10, Dex 15, Con 12, Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 17
Skills: Acrobatics +7, Appraise +6, Bluff +8, Disguise +8 (+18 while inert), Escape Artist +9, Perform (dance) +5, Stealth +13
Feats: Stealthy
Environment: Any (Hell, urban)
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 1
Treasure: Standard
Alignment: Always lawful evil
Advancement: 3–4 HD (Small); 5–6 HD (Medium)
Level Adjustment: —

A Doll Devil, known among infernal scholars as an Arusity, appears as an exquisitely crafted porcelain doll - delicate, pale, and eerily lifelike. Its proportions are childlike, its features soft and inviting, yet its glassy eyes possess an unsettling awareness that betrays its true nature. Though most manifest in feminine forms, rare masculine variants exist, often exhibiting more overtly cruel tendencies.

Doll Devils do not speak aloud. Instead, they communicate through telepathy, their voices slipping directly into the mind as soft, reassuring whispers. These voices are never random - each is carefully shaped to match the listener’s expectations, desires, and emotional vulnerabilities.

Rather than relying on brute force, Doll Devils specialize in subtle psychological manipulation. They embed themselves within environments of comfort and quiet dissatisfaction, most often among children who possess material abundance but lack emotional fulfillment. From this position, they begin their work.

Over time, the Arusity nurtures selfishness, envy, and emotional isolation. It rewards cruelty, excuses harmful behavior, and gently erodes empathy. By the time its influence is fully realized, the victim is often unrecognizable from who they once were.

Combat
Doll Devils avoid direct confrontation whenever possible. They rely on deception, misdirection, and their ability to remain unnoticed. If forced into combat, they use their spell-like abilities to confuse and unsettle opponents while seeking opportunities to withdraw.

Draw Essence (Su): Once per day, a Doll Devil can draw out the emotional and spiritual vitality of a living creature with an evil alignment. The target must succeed on a DC 14 Fortitude save or take 1d3 points of Charisma damage. The save DC is Charisma-based.

Inert (Ex): A Doll Devil can enter a dormant, doll-like state as a standard action. While inert, it is indistinguishable from a normal doll at a casual glance and does not radiate an evil aura. A creature examining the doll must succeed on a DC 20 Perception check to recognize it as alive. While inert, the Doll Devil gains a +10 bonus on Disguise checks and cannot take actions.

Spell-Like Abilities: Caster level 2nd. The save DCs are Charisma-based.
At will - giggle (DC 13)
1/day - friendly face (DC 14), hot foot

Ecology
Doll Devils are not summoned through conventional magic. Instead, they are drawn to the Material Plane by emotional imbalance - specifically, the hollow craving that arises when desire outpaces need. This phenomenon creates a subtle metaphysical resonance that these devils can perceive across planar boundaries.

When such a resonance becomes strong enough, an Arusity manifests nearby, often in the form of a toy or cherished object. From there, it integrates itself into the victim’s life with disturbing ease.

Once the victim has been sufficiently corrupted, the Doll Devil begins feeding directly, using its Draw Essence ability over time to drain emotional and spiritual vitality. This process typically ends in death or a coma-like state, at which point the Arusity claims the soul and returns to Hell.

Lore
Characters with ranks in Knowledge (the planes) can learn more about Doll Devils.

DC 11: Doll Devils can disguise themselves as toys or comforting objects to approach victims unnoticed.
DC 16: They feed on emotion and personality, gradually eroding empathy and strengthening selfish tendencies.
DC 21: While inert, a Doll Devil does not radiate evil and is extremely difficult to distinguish from a mundane object.
DC 26: They are most commonly found in wealthy households, where emotional neglect creates ideal conditions for their manifestation.

Originally from here and modified

Thrasher

CR 1/2

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Size/Type: Medium Undead

Initiative: +2

Senses: Darkvision 60 ft.; Listen +0, Spot +0

Armor Class: 14 (+2 Dex, +2 natural), touch 10, flat-footed 12

Hit Dice: 2d8+2 (12 hp)

Saving Throws: Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +3

Damage Reduction: —

Immunities: Undead traits (see below)

Speed: 40 ft.

Melee: 2 slams +4 melee (1d6+4)

Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.

Special Attacks: Leap Attack, Quick Strikes

Abilities: Str 17, Dex 14, Con —, Int 3, Wis 10, Cha 10

Base Attack/Grapple: +1/+4

Attack Options: Power Attack

Feats: Toughness, Power Attack

Skills: Climb +6, Hide +6, Jump +6, Move Silently +6

Languages: None (understands only the urge to hunt)

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Undead Traits (Ex)

Thrashers are immune to mind-affecting effects, poison, sleep, paralysis, stunning, disease, death effects, critical hits, nonlethal damage, ability drain, and ability damage to physical ability scores. They are immune to fatigue, exhaustion, energy drain, and any effect requiring a Fortitude save unless it also affects objects. They cannot heal damage naturally and are not subject to death from massive damage. They are immune to raise dead and reincarnate.

Leap Attack (Ex)

A Thrasher prefers to ambush prey from above. If it begins its turn at least 5 feet above its target, it can attempt a Jump check to launch itself downward as part of a charge.

If the Jump check succeeds, the Thrasher may immediately make a full attack at the end of the charge and takes no falling damage. The jump height must not exceed 30 feet.

If the Jump check fails, the Thrasher takes normal falling damage and resolves its attacks as normal for a failed charge.

Quick Strikes (Ex)

When making a full attack, a Thrasher may make one additional slam attack at its highest base attack bonus.

DESCRIPTION & LORE

Thrashers are grotesque undead abominations that resemble emaciated humanoids stretched taut over brittle, gray musculature. Their limbs are long and sinewy, ending in hooked claws capable of rending flesh with alarming speed. Their most unsettling feature is their eyes - large, luminous, and capable of appearing to “shut off” behind a thick, opaque inner lid, allowing them to remain perfectly still and unseen even when observing prey.

Thrashers are not known to be created by any single necromantic rite. Instead, they are believed to arise from sites of prolonged suffering, mass death, or ritualistic cruelty where negative energy lingers and coalesces into something predatory. Necromancers who have attempted to replicate them report that the process is… unreliable - and often fatal.

These creatures are apex ambush predators. They prefer to perch high in trees, ruined towers, or cliff faces, motionless for hours or even days. When prey passes below, they drop without warning, striking with terrifying speed. Their Leap Attack is not merely instinct - is the defining tactic of their existence.

Though not mindless, Thrashers possess only a dim and alien intelligence. They do not communicate, bargain, or negotiate. Attempts at diplomacy invariably fail. They recognize only hunger, movement, and opportunity.

After a kill, Thrashers consume their victims slowly and methodically. Remains that cannot be eaten are often arranged or scattered in unsettling patterns. Some necrologists speculate that this behavior is not random, but a form of primitive, undead “art” - a theory that has yet to be proven, though disturbing evidence persists in abandoned lairs.

Habitat & Behavior: Thrashers are most commonly encountered in remote wilderness, ruined battlefields, or places marked by repeated slaughter. They avoid sunlight not out of weakness, but because their ambush tactics are less effective in open, well-lit terrain.

Combat Tactics: A Thrasher will almost always attempt to ambush from above. If forced into a direct confrontation, it relies on rapid full attacks and brute strength, attempting to overwhelm foes quickly before they can react or coordinate.

Krowljing

Krowljing, Mire-Mother of the Crooked Fen

Female Green Hag, Medium Fey

Hit Dice: 9d6+27 (58 hp)
Initiative: +2
Speed: 30 ft., swim 30 ft.
Armor Class: 19 (+2 Dex, +7 natural), touch 12, flat-footed 17
Base Attack/Grapple: +4/+7
Attack: Claw +7 melee (1d4+3)
Full Attack: 2 claws +7 melee (1d4+3)
Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.
Special Attacks: Spell-like abilities, horrific insight, corrupting brew
Special Qualities: Amphibious, damage reduction 10/cold iron, darkvision 60 ft., mimicry, resistance to fire 10, spell resistance 18
Saves: Fort +6, Ref +5, Will +9
Abilities: Str 16, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 14, Cha 18
Skills: Bluff +16, Concentration +15, Disguise +16 (+18 acting), Hide +14, Intimidate +16, Knowledge (nature) +13, Listen +14, Move Silently +14, Sense Motive +14, Spot +14, Swim +15
Feats: Alertness, Combat Casting, Deceitful, Iron Will
Environment: Temperate marshes and fens
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 8
Treasure: Standard
Alignment: Always chaotic evil
Advancement: 10–15 HD (Medium)
Level Adjustment: —

Special Attacks

Spell-Like Abilities: At will - disguise self, ghost sound (DC 14), invisibility, pass without trace; 3/day - charm person (DC 16), deep slumber (DC 17); 1/day - suggestion (DC 18). Caster level 9th. Save DCs are Charisma-based.

Horrific Insight (Su): Krowljing can see into the insecurities and prejudices of those around her. As a standard action, she may target one creature within 30 ft. That creature must succeed on a DC 18 Will save or be overwhelmed with self-loathing and disgust for others, becoming shaken for 1d6 rounds and taking a –2 penalty on attack rolls and skill checks. If the creature already harbors prejudice or disdain for others, it instead becomes frightened for 1 round and shaken thereafter.

Corrupting Brew (Ex): Krowljing carries foul concoctions brewed from swamp rot, blood, and worse. Once per day, she may force-feed or trick a creature into consuming the brew (usually via deception). The target must make a DC 17 Fortitude save or take 1d4 points of Constitution damage and become afflicted with a creeping revulsion toward others unlike itself, taking a –4 penalty on Diplomacy and Sense Motive checks for 24 hours. Repeated exposure can cause long-term personality degradation at the DM’s discretion.

Special Qualities
Mimicry (Ex): Krowljing can perfectly imitate voices and sounds she has heard, gaining a +10 bonus on Bluff checks to deceive via auditory means.

Description

Krowljing is not merely cruel - she is fundamentally repulsed by difference. Where most hags delight in suffering, Krowljing fixates on sameness. She despises variation in form, thought, culture, or identity. In her warped worldview, anything that deviates from her own nature is inherently foul, offensive, and deserving of eradication or correction.

To that end, she collects victims not only to torment them, but to “improve” them. She forces captives through degrading rituals meant to strip away individuality - shaving heads, marking skin, drowning personalities beneath fear and repetition. Those who resist are broken. Those who comply are discarded, as their transformation is never truly enough to satisfy her twisted ideals.

Her voice is a constant weapon. She whispers judgments, comparisons, and insidious observations, breaking down her victims psychologically before ever raising a claw. She does not scream or rage - she dissects, critiques, and erodes.

Lore

Krowljing is said to have once been part of a coven that rejected her. Not for her cruelty - that was expected - but for her obsession with uniformity. Where the others reveled in chaos and contradiction, Krowljing sought to impose a singular, suffocating identity upon everything she touched. She viewed even her fellow hags as “impure” for their differences.

After her exile, she retreated into the deepest reaches of a choking fen, where she began shaping her domain into a reflection of her ideals. The swamp itself has grown unnaturally still and repetitive under her influence. Trees grow in unnatural symmetry. Animal calls echo in identical patterns. Even the mist seems to move in uniform waves.

Travelers who stumble into her territory often report an overwhelming sense of being watched - not by something hunting them, but by something judging them. Those who escape speak of hearing their own flaws whispered back at them in the dark, twisted into accusations.

More disturbing still are the remnants of those who did not escape. In the deeper parts of her swamp, one can find figures - silent, unmoving humanoids with blank expressions and identical features crudely forced upon them. Whether these are victims, constructs, or something worse is unclear. What is certain is that Krowljing does not see them as failures… but as progress.