The Beast of Lepidstadt

Defense

Offense

Statistics

Description

Flesh golem barbarian 6

Before Combat: The Beast tries to avoid combat if at all for her creations has had an unforeseen side effect—with the souls of the condemned trapped inside Razor Jenni, Erszebet’s golems have a much lower chance of going berserk than normal. Sample Flesh Golem It is not known for sure who built the golem now known as the Beast of Lepidstadt, but those who have studied the creature believe it to be the creation of Dr. Henri Moritz, a promising student of alchemy and magic at Lepidstadt College and the first victim attributed to the Beast. Over the past 20 years, the Beast has been blamed for a series of brutal murders, including many notables of the Palatinate, all butchered with the Beast’s signature weapon, a jagged ogre hook. Strangely, a few witnesses to the Beast’s attacks have claimed to hear it reciting poetry before its rampages. The Beast of Lepidstadt is that rarest of all flesh golems, one who has gained intelligence, having achieved consciousness after it killed its creator in a berserk rage. Ashamed of what it had done, but curious about the wider world, the Beast attempted to make contact with the citizens of Lepidstadt, but its appearance frightened the people it met. When the city Facets of Fear Flesh golems can be viewed as a warning against unhindered progress, representing both the fear of magic gone amok and—especially in magical societies—of unchecked scientific discovery. There are some things that human beings were not meant to understand, such as the boundary between life and death, and tampering with such forbidden subjects treads on the domains of the gods themselves. And if magic or science can animate dead bodies without divine intervention and control them like puppets on a string, might they not also be able to do the same to a living, thinking person? In another sense, flesh golems also reflect humans’ intolerance toward one another, for it is easier to fear and hate than to love and accept. People have a tendency to make anyone different from them an “other”—an object, not a person, something to be feared, hated, and reviled. Flesh golems represent this prejudiced and narrow-minded part of ourselves, the little voice inside that whispers incessantly and cannot be ignored. To a lesser extent, flesh golems also embody a fear of death, or more specifically what happens to a person’s remains after death, the dread that one’s deceased loved ones can be used to create something unnatural and horrid. And while other terrors of the night have their weaknesses—the undead can be repelled with holy symbols or even something as simple as garlic or running water, and silver can be used against werewolves—what can stand against the brute strength and mindless, implacable rage of a golem? Flesh Golem possible, unless hunting a particular foe.

During Combat: The Beast begins by attempting to demoralize its target before attacking with its ogre hook. If faced with multiple opponents or ones who seem able to bypass its damage reduction, the Beast rages. While raging or berserk, the Beast has little grasp of tactics, pummeling a single enemy with its fists until it stops moving.

Morale: With no way to heal itself except its renewed vigor rage power, the Beast flees from battle if reduced to less than half its hit points. If berserk, the Beast fights until destroyed.

Base Statistics: When not raging, the Beast’s statistics are as follows: AC 25, touch 8, flat-footed 25; Will +8; Melee ogre hook +19/+14/+9 (3d6+5/×3) or 2 slams +19 (2d8+5 plus 1d6 electricity); Str 21; CMB +21 (+23 bull rush); CMD 30 (32 vs. bull rush); Skills Intimidate +16 (+20 against Medium or smaller creatures)

Berserk (Ex) When the Beast enters combat, there is a cumulative 5% chance each round that it goes berserk. This increases to 10% per round when using its rage ability. The uncontrolled golem goes on a rampage, attacking the nearest living creature or smashing some object smaller than itself if no creature is within reach, then moving on to spread more destruction. It takes 1 minute of inactivity by the golem to reset its berserk chance to 0%.

Immunity to Magic (Ex) A flesh golem is immune to any spell or spell-like ability that allows spell resistance. In addition, certain spells and effects function differently against the creature, as noted below.

• A magical attack that deals cold or fire damage slows a flesh golem (as the slow spell) for 2d6 rounds (no save).

• A magical attack that deals electricity damage breaks any slow effect on the golem and heals 1 point of damage for every 3 points of damage the attack would otherwise deal. If the amount of healing would cause the golem to exceed its full normal hit points, it gains any excess as temporary hit points. A flesh golem gets no saving throw against attacks that deal electricity damage.

Knockback (Ex) The Beast can make one free bull rush attempt against one target hit in melee this round. The Beast does not need to move back with the target if successful. This power is used as an immediate action after the attack roll is made.

Open Mind (Ex) Unlike other constructs, the Beast is susceptible to mind-affecting effects (charms, compulsions, phantasms, patterns, and morale effects).

Rage (Ex) The Beast does not gain a bonus to its Constitution while in a rage, nor does it gain any extra hit points. Likewise, it is not fatigued after rage.

Pathfinder Chronicles: Classic Horrors Revisited “I was walking through the sculpture garden on my rounds late one night, watching for anything unusual, just like any other shift. But I had the queerest feeling that night that some of the statues were watching me. I looked real hard at one of them, kind of a winged, blindfolded angel, but it was just a statue. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was going crazy, and when I opened ’em again, I swear that statue had moved. I turned around and walked as quick as I could back toward the gate, but I thought I heard a noise, so I whirled around. The statue was right behind me! I walked backward all the way to the gate, never letting that thing out of my sight. I ain’t been back since.” —Havred Alocius, retired night watchman at the Statue Garden of Porthmos, Oppara Chapter Three Gargoyle Gargoyle S inister hunters of living stone, gargoyles perch high on the rooftops of towns and cities, appearing for all the world like harmless stone sculptures, carved in the likeness of demons, devils, or other hideous humanoid creatures. As still as statues, they patiently wait through the daylight hours, watching the city come to life and hungrily eyeing the unwitting passersby below. When dusk falls, the statues come alive and fly into the night sky, silently soaring above the darkened streets on stony wings looking for prey, snatching up unsuspecting walkers, never to be seen again. Those “civilized” races that make their homes in cities foolishly think their stone walls and patrolling guards protect them from the dangers of the wild, often not realizing that vicious natural predators lurk above their heads every day, and these urban inhabitants are the gargoyles’ favored prey. In such a city, the gargoyles are the top of the food chain, not the unsuspecting humans and other residents. When dawn finally breaks, the handiwork of these nocturnal hunters can be discovered: an unidentified mutilated body in an alleyway, the corpse of a suicide who apparently jumped from the bell tower, and all the people that never came home the night before, whose disappearances are never explained. Wise city dwellers simply nod knowingly and make sure their chimneys are blocked, their shutters closed tight for the night. Gargoyles are not restricted solely to urban environments, however. They can be found almost anywhere, though they prefer hills, mountains, and rocky badlands where they can use their natural camouflage to great effect. So-called “wild” gargoyles do not have the sculptured appearance of their urban brethren; their bodies are rougher and more jagged, more akin to natural rock. They do not limit their activities to the night, either. Away from the trappings of civilization, wild gargoyles have little fear of organized reprisals, and so hunt whenever the mood strikes them, or whenever choice prey appears. Some half-bury themselves in the earth, sand, or snow to pretend to be mysterious statues.

Wild gargoyles tend to prey on isolated travelers, though a wing of gargoyles will attack a caravan if it doesn’t look too heavily guarded. Food is not the object of such hunts, but rather the thrill of the chase, so most local wildlife is safe from the gargoyles’ depredations. A gargoyle will harry and toy with a lone traveler for hours, first appearing high above, then reappearing again and again, closer each time, to heighten the fear of its chosen prey. As the traveler becomes more panicked and seeks to escape his pursuer, the gargoyle swoops in to claim its prize. Such travelers usually fail to reach their destinations and are never heard from again, their fates unknown. Most often, the gargoyle kills its prey at the conclusion of a hunt, dropping it from a great height onto sharp rocks below, but occasionally a gargoyle will take a prisoner back to its lair to torture and abuse until the poor victim finally dies. Few travelers marked as prey by wild gargoyles ever escape to tell the tale.

Source: Classic Horrors Revisited, p. 15