The Campaign Builder's Guild

So here's the exercise:

1)   Grab a roleplaying bestiary.  It can be any edition of D&D Monster Manual, or something from Call of Cthulhu or Shadowrun or the World of Darkness, or anything you want, so long as it has stats and abilities.  If you don't have a physical book handy (or are too lazy to go dig one up), you can find some online bestiaries  here (http://www.dotd.com/mm/MM00000.htm) or here (http://www.d20srd.org/indexes/monsters.htm) or here (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/bestiary/monster-listings).

2)   Pick a monster.  It could be one you don't like, or think could be improved, although monsters you like are OK too, if you have a good idea for a different take on them.

3)   Re-skin that monster.  Write a new description of the monster – its appearance, habits, ecology, culture, perhaps even its name.  Adding new abilities is fine, but try to stick to the abilities the monster already has, but retooled.  If the monster was lame or boring before, make it interesting.  The important thing here is that you're not inventing a new monster from scratch, you're adapting the existing monster into something new and awesome/grotesque/horrific/fun/weird.  The monster might be reskinned with a particular setting in mind, or not.

4)   Post it here, and I'll add it to an index of such creatures.  Ideally, include a link where the monster's stats can be found.

If the mods want to make this an "official" contest of some kind, awesome.  Otherwise we'll just end up with an index of cool monsters!

I'll start:

[ic=Sinslime]Base Monster: Black Pudding (http://paizo.com/PRD/monsters/blackPudding.html)

The potent black liquor known as Witchwine is traditionally consumed during the fell Sabbats of Hags and their ilk, though in Nachtheim the stuff has become a popular drug among certain of the city's decadents.  Brewed from grey grapes harvested from the haunted foothills of the Bonespur Mountains, then mixed with the blood of mortal sinners (commonly suicides), Witchwine opens the eyes of the imbiber to the invisible world, that sepulchral, twilit realm that lies abreast of our own, in which the shades of the unquiet dead drift like aimless lepers or else cling like jealous lovers to the places of their deaths, guarding their rotting bodies like loyal dogs.  Other than the gift of this eerie ghost-sight the wine has other effects as well, inciting in its drinkers dark ecstasy mingled with cruel lasciviousness, an impulse to profanity and perversion, to pleasures both subtle and base but always vile in nature.  Those who partake of the profane drink become darkened and strange, their hair curling, eyes dimming, lips stained black.  The over-indulgent, however, meet a decidedly more sinister fate.  Those who over-use the tenebrous liquid, who drink too greedily or too often, find the black stain on their lips spreading beneath the skin of their faces, their necks, down across the breast and shoulders, a creeping subcutaneous blight along their backs and limbs, coursing with uncanny power.  Then comes pain, and obscene joy, as the intoxicated drinker's innards deliquesce, and the poisonous ooze – the Sinslime – that has been fermenting within them is vomited forth, slithering out of the skin of its host like liquor squeezed from a leather flask.

Some say the umbral, oozing Sinlime is the evil within a person made hideously corporeal, others that Witchwine is actually brewed with some demon's seed, that the putrescent sludge that writhes forth from a drinker's sloughed-off skin is the fruit of a grotesque impregnation.  Whatever the case, Sinslime is amongst the most abominable sights this world holds.  Formed from a frothing, bilious slurry of liquescent viscera mingled with noisome, mucilaginous slime darker than pitch or a moonless midnight sky, the red-black and throbbing mass of Sinslime occasionally assembles itself into a kind of twisted parody of its former self, a man- or woman-shaped caricature, misshapen and shambolic, which manages a few lurching steps or a moan of torturous bliss before once more collapsing into a tarry, viscous pool; others times, a semi-solid limb or face may form itself, for a moment, from the gelatinous muck.  When sitting very still, Sinslime can resemble a pool of half-congealed blood or stagnant, filthy water.  The merest touch of the sticky ooze stains bare skin black and burns with a pain more terrible than flame.  Sinslime is not intelligent as typically conceived but acts with a mindless malice, an all-encompassing urge to evil stripped of any reflection or self-awareness.  Though it attacks any who happen upon it, it seems especially attracted to innocents and those pure of heart, seeking them out unerringly, hoping to caress them with greasy, quivering tendrils of incarnate malevolence.

Notes and Modifications: Sinslime possesses the Fiendish (http://www.d20pfsrd.com/bestiary/monster-listings/templates/fiendish) template.  Sinslime can cast Detect Good at will as a free action – effectively it always acts as if detecting Goodness.  It always prioritizes targets of Good Alignments.  Sinslime is Neutral Evil.  You may which to reduce a Sinslime's size down to Large.  If you think Sinslime was probably inspireed by Arthur Machen's "The Novel of the White Powder"and Poe's "The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar," you'd be right.

For those who want mechanics for Witchwine: the drink endows its drinker with +1d4 Charisma and allows them to Detect Undead for 1 hour, but requires a DC 15 Will save or shift the drink'ers Alignment to its "Evil" version (i.e. Lawful Good characters become Lawful Evil, etc).  This latter effect lasts 1 hour for every point failed.  Those who fail by 10 points or more have become host for a developing Sinslime, which incubates in their body dealing 1 point of Charisma and Constitution damage per day; only a Remove Disease spell or Heal spell destroys the developing Sinslime.  When the drinker's Constitution or Charisma reaches 0, the Sinslime is birthed, killing the host.[/ic]

Index

Argeist (http://www.thecbg.org/index.php/topic,209931.msg224364.html#msg224364) (by Seraphine Harmonium)
Earthmaw (http://www.thecbg.org/index.php/topic,209931.msg224418.html#msg224418) (by Hippopotamus Dundee)
Marshcleaner (http://www.thecbg.org/index.php/topic,209931.msg224360.html#msg224360) (by Llum)
Neap and Spring Guardians (http://www.thecbg.org/index.php/topic,209931.msg224568.html#msg224568) (by beejazz)
Obsidian Hunter (http://www.thecbg.org/index.php/topic,209931.msg224426.html#msg224426) (by sparkletwist)
Sinslime (http://www.thecbg.org/index.php/topic,209931.msg224333.html#msg224333) (by Steerpike)

[ic=Marshcleaner]
Base Monster: Otyugh

Marshcleaners are leftover servants from pre-Degradation times. These three-legged omnivores cleaned the cities, castles and waterways of the ancient Marsh Kings and Tidal Lords. Using two of their tentacles these creatures will sweep any refuse or litter into their mouths to be devoured. Their third eye-embossed tentacles give them great vision both above and under water. Since the cleaners were bred to filter and deal in refuse they are extremely resistant to poisons and disease, but a quirk in their anatomy allows them to be hosts to a myriad of disease without suffering any ill effects. Marshcleaners do not age, although growth slows dramatically after the first decade of life.

The oldest marshcleaners are still incubators for diseases not seen in hundreds or even thousands of years, from pre-Degradation times. While reasonably intelligent the Marshcleaners were bred to be servants, as such they are most content when they are able to serve other more powerful amphibious masters.  Older marshcleaners are usually found around the ancient ruins of the Marsh Kings and Tidal Lords, cleaning and greatly slowly the decay, leaving the sites remarkably well preserved. Conversation with these beings is easy and can be used to ferret out details about the long extinct kingdoms. Only the younger cleaners venture into the tidal flats, rivers and marshes near modern settlements, being more adventurous than their tradition bound ancestors.

Cleaners have very little of their own culture or traditions, save for a small group of stories passed down by oral tradition. Mostly these concern the Marsh Kings and Tidal Lords, how to best serve them and who their enemies were.

The Marshcleaners are known to be extremely adverse to the sound of hooves, often entering into berserk trances upon hearing the sound.

Notes and Modification: Marshcleaners are aquatic creatures, meaning they have both a swim speed and land speed, as well as being amphibious. Larger and older Marshcleaners have stronger diseases, with the oldest being so ancient that no modern person has ever encountered them, making them accidentally deadly and dangerous to the modern adventurer.
[/ic]

Bringing some horror to one of the more dismissed fey
[ic=Argeist]
Base Creature: Pixie

Deep in the Düsterwald, among the scraggly trees bowed like aged sentinels whose myriad arms were all broken and wrongly set, left to heal at hideous, tortured angles, there is a road.  The Königstrab they call it: the old king's road.  Those were evil times, and evil times breed evil deeds.  What the old king had done in those days is not fit to speak of.  It is enough to say that the forest was well acquainted with horrors.  Spirits are born from that kind of pain--no, not born: wrought.  Twisted, scarred, and mutilated.  That which was once purity and wonder becomes the image of its tormentor.  Such was the fate of the Argeister.

Folk of the kingdom warn their children against venturing into that forest.  The Düsterwald is permeated by a dark essence, and it watches all that happens within its borders with invisible eyes and mad silent smiles.  The Arngeister are the eyes of the forest: tiny, and roughly humanoid creatures, with crude insectile wings and craggy, bark-like skin.   Naturally camouflaged, they can disappear entirely at will, dissolving into a cackle on the wind, or a hiss at the ear.  They keep watch for the vulnerable and circle like hounds, waiting to make the kill.  It starts with an eager giggle, like a child's, but it soon develops into taunting, goading, and threatening.  They bestow a supernatural confusion on their prey, often working in tandem with another Arngeist, creating illusions to distract or fright their foes.  They do this for some time, in a sick game of cat and mouse.  Driving their human quarry into a dense thicket, they use their fell magic to ensnare them beyond all hope of escape.

Argeister who have cornered their prey are reported to perform all manner of horrendous acts to them, seeming to revel in the horror, disgust, and pain of their victims.  They make use of specially coated arrows which often put the subject into a deep state of relaxation in which they are highly suggestible, and incapable of resisting the perverse desires of the Argeist.  There are too many tales of defiled travelers left with no memory of their ordeal--only the signs of their abuse left on their bodies and clothes.  Many never return, perhaps killed, or made to be the unfortunate playthings of the Argeister. 

An Argeist is rarely encountered alone.  They typically form hunting parties of 2 to 6 to take their sport with human victims.  They try to avoid targeting groups if they can, preferring to remain invisible, but if they have been starved for their pleasures of late, they may act in desperation.  They much prefer single targets, and the weaker and more vulnerable the better.

Notes and Modifications: The Argeist's special arrows induce a state of deep relaxation, which renders the body physically limp, as in sleep, but also makes the semi-conscious victim incredibly agreeable to any suggestion, (as in the pixie's charm arrow).

The Argeist is Neutral Evil. [/ic]

I love the Argeist!

Great entries guys!  Seraphine, is it Argeist or Arngeist?  Or are both acceptable?

Quote from: Steerpike
Great entries guys!  Seraphine, is it Argeist or Arngeist?  Or are both acceptable?

Argeist.  The n was a typo i missed.

Quote from: Tangent_Jaerc
I love the Argeist!

Thanks Jaerc!  I missed this comment before.  Yeah, it's meant to be...dark.

[ic=Earthmaw]
Base Creature: Tarrasque

In most of the civilized world there is a legend among the peasants and common people who work farms and factories where ancient groves and mountains once stood. Huddled together in the shadow of the machines and state-wizards that pollute and plunder the landscape, they whisper stories (there are, after all, always stories) of those distant places where the air is grown thick with magic and the ley-lines now flow strong.

The people of those lands were once like us, the story goes; they pillaged and plundered and tortured the landscape until nothing was left but cruel industry and the ruined ash of the natural world – and fearful glances are cast at the desolate wasteland their once-verdant homeland has become – and then the earth Herself cried out "ENOUGH! No more!" and in seven days and seven nights She conceived a child grown terrible and fierce with her pain to trample their artifice into the ground to make it fertile once again.

The Earthmaw is a creature of wild magic, created instinctively by places of natural power and beauty where mortal artifice and industry threaten to devastate the fertility of the area and health of the local power-flows beyond repair. For seven days and seven nights, once the damage becomes so great that if left unchecked the land might not recover, the Earthmaw is carried deep within the nurturing womb of the soil and is fed with every trickle of power left untainted.

The withdrawal of the wild magic from the rest of nature is unmistakable - animals flee, plants shed their leaves and prepare for a winter that is not coming and food crops rot where they are let fall. If the mortal world recognizes the coming danger by these warning signs and abandons their activities, then the Earthmaw crumbles back into the soil and all the magic that fueled it is released to rejuvenate and revitalize what was devastated.

Should the depredations of man continue and no such change occur then the wild magic acts; the earth splitting open with a devastating quake as the Earthmaw emerges and begins to feed, driven by a mindless fury and hunger to devour both those resources - wood, metal, stone - that were taken and the flesh of those species responsible. Deep inside the cavern-like stomach of the Earthmaw these raw materials, along with the flesh and spirits of those who committed these crimes against the natural world, are broken down and transformed into wild magic that will, when the land is safe once more or a full seven days have passed and the Earthmaw finds the centre of the damage and lays down to die, will be used to fuel the restoration of the vitality and fertility that was lost.

An immense creature that towers over most buildings, the hulking form of the Earthmaw bears some chimerical resemblance to many predators - it has the build of a monitor lizard (though there is also something of an ursine quality in its sheer mass), the jaws of a big cat, the front paws and claws of a great bear, the back legs and talons of a bird of prey, the spines of a porcupine, the tail of a mighty dragon and the scaled armor of a crocodile and the shell of a tortoise - all in a creature the color of rock and wood and earth with diamond-hard skin that stands just under the size of a small keep.

Notes and Modifications: In addition to the normal Spell Resistance of a Tarrasque, the Earthmaw is simply immune to all magic that affects existing parts of the natural world (Horrid Wilting is fine, Earthquake and Whirlwind are out) or of Druidic (or Ranger) origin and is healed by any such effects that would deal damage.

[ic=Obsidian Hunter]
Base Creature: Balor

From a plane of the abyss far beyond our own, a race of strange hunters periodically send one of their number to civilized lands. Its only purpose seems to be the hunting of prey: men, elves, dwarves, and orcs are preferred. It seems to be summoned by heat waves and wars, and, when it comes, it seeks out only the mightiest warriors, attempting to engage them in melee combat. Upon victory-- for these hunters are almost always victorious-- it takes their heads as its trophies. Those that do not interest it are typically ignored, so the best tactic to survive an Obsidian Hunter is to simply not appear to be worthwhile prey.

Over twice the height of even the most sturdy warrior, the Obsidian Hunter is clad entirely in a suit of black armor. The armor resembles obsidian, hence the name, but it is far less brittle, and seems to have many of the properties of chitin, as well. Many academics suspect the armor is not physical material at all, but simply unholy energy given substance. None have ever seen the actual face one of those creatures, if they even have one; all of them wear a black mask, through which only a pair of glowing yellow eyes are visible. Around its neck hangs a necklace of skulls: its trophies. However, even seeing this much is a rare sight, for they are typically completely invisible, stalking their prey unseen.

Little is known of their social order or their customs. All this is known, really, is that Obsidian Hunters live for the hunt. The greatest thrill for one of these warriors is melee combat, at which it excels, cutting foes down with a cruel, serrated blade of pure black that extends from its wrist when needed. Its favorite mode of combat is a straightforward battle of blades. Against more crafty (or reluctant) prey, it uses its telekinetic ability to pull them into its reach, ensnares them with telescoping electrified tendrils that it can launch from its other hand, or simply teleports itself to their location. Enhancing its melee prowess, its whole body coruscates with unnaturally blue arcs of unholy electricity, delivering a substantial shock at a mere touch.

So little is known about the Obsidian Hunters largely because, even in death, they reveal no secrets. Those few times one of these horrific hunters has been bested, it managed a hideous revenge upon the victors. As it collapsed, bleeding a strange green ichor, it laughed maniacally, its arcing electricity reaching a sparking crescendo, at which time it exploded with enough force to level an acre of land.

Notes and Modifications: Rather than dealing fire damage, the Obsidian Hunter deals electricity damage, except its death throes. Instead of 1/day summon, it has at-will invisibility. Its alignment is Lawful Evil.
[/ic]

[ic=Neap and Spring Guardians]Ten years ago, the tower appeared in the midst of an awful storm. We're not really sure whether it rose from the depths or fell from the sky, but there it stands on a reef about a half a mile out to sea, where it rises and sinks depending on the tides. Occasionally, a spring or a neap will take the water so low that a man could stand or wade atop the reef, combing it for the strange treasures that appeared with the tower. Few take the chance, however. On these neap and spring tides, a door is revealed at the base of the tower, and a gang of faceless, featureless, rubbery blue men appear. These neap and spring guardians search about the reef looking for artifacts. They discard most of what they find, tinker with a few pieces, and bring whatever pleases them most back to the tower.

Captain Sef tried to kill the neap and spring guardians, in order to collect the treasures of the reef and trade them with a strange caravan from somewhere out of town. He built a contraption for spraying oil from the side of his boat and lit the lot of them on fire. He defeated them quickly enough, and their corpses littered the dry reef. But it wasn't long at all before the tide came back in. And when it did their charred corpses started moving again, until it was as if the fire had accomplished nothing. When Sef's crew used the oil again, the currents carried it back to the boat, where it caught fire. The guardians dragged Sef into the tower. Most of his crew died. Only Adam here survived, and he doesn't much like to talk about it.

But I've managed to squeeze something interesting out of him. He's found a partial map of the tower on a stony slab. And I've made contact with this strange merchant fellow. If you're as good as your reputation, that should be enough to earn us a hefty sum if we storm the tower.[/ic]

Reskinned merrow (aquatic trolls that can regenerate from dead if their bodies are submerged in water) used as the occupants of something like a crashed space ship. These guys are probably not the original pilots, but might have been prisoners, service-constructs, or something similar.