A Knight at the Opera: F Monsters at the Opera

A B C D Demon Dragon E F G1 G2 G3 H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Part of the reason for this series is because it scratches my itch for the kind of content I associate with "the Golden Age of RPG blogging" but also because it's kinda easy to write compared to my normal faire. I don't know if it's nutritious exactly, or even engaging, but I can at least be confident that my readers will find it highly encherining. Which is really all I ever aspire to.

Fairy Dragon

Is there any other monster more perfectly optimized for little girl appeal? I don't know about you, but unicorns were not the thing for little girls when I was in elementary school. Horses, sure. But for the fantasy inclined? It was 1) fairies (or possibly "dark fairies," whatever that means), and 2) dragons.

The mere pseudodragon is obviously just meant to be "pet-sized dragon" and nothing more. This at least has a hook. In fact, it's actually probably too strong to be a pet, despite its size. So just in case you have any little girls playing at your table, strongly consider letting them simply play as a fairy dragon for their character. It'll probably be a blast.

Flail Snail

This entire concept began and ended with the name. A great name. I can easily picture the moment when some 70's nerd first uttered those words and the whole room erupted in laughter. They just had to stat it up.

I do feel like there's a need for some kind of giant snail monster in D&D and maybe it's a waste that we've just settled on the joke option for that. Because honestly, have you ever really looked at a snail? Like, looked at their faces up close? They're fucking horrifying. Nightmare creatures from Hell.

Flameskull

I am unreasonably fond of the flameskull. I enjoy a flying skull just in general, and making them cackling mad and wreathed in fire only improves on a wonderful foundation. They're the perfect kind of thing to stock an evil wizard's dungeon, honestly. But looking at its CR 4 statblock in 5E, I think they could make for a decent boss fight against a level 1 party.

Unfortunately I do feel like there's just a bit too much overlap between the flameskull and the demilich. And if they had to be merged, I'd prioritize keeping the flameskull. It's annoying that the creature called a "demi-lich" is meant to be stronger than the creature called "lich." But more importantly, I'm not as interested in a flying skull that's so exceedingly powerful that I'll never be able to use it. Mid-level is about right for our flying skull monster, and if we give it those lovely demilich traits of dazzling ruby eyes and a bloodcurdling howl attack then we'll have a fine monster indeed.

Credit: William Owsley, a 3D artist once based out of CG society but now with seemingly no home on the internet that I can find

Flumph

I like flumphs and I'm not afraid to say it. Someone wanted there to be a good-aligned aberration and dammit they succeeded. Sure, some artists render it as a googly-eyed hovering pierogi reminiscent of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. But it's not hard to picture as an ethereal cosmic jellyfish. Like those aliens at the end of the first episode of Star Trek: the Next Generation. Basically just "space angels." Or maybe like a benevolent parallel to the beholder.

Fomorian

I have some very specific ideas about this monster I've developed in my worldbuilding. Strange, no doubt, for such a lesser entry in the Monster Manual. But there's a lot here that I'm really drawn to. Hear me out.

I had a major Celtic mythology phase when I was in middle school, at the same time I first got into RPGs. Which, as anyone into Celtic mythology can tell you, mostly just means an "Irish mythology" phase. The Irish mythological canon has a lot in common with the mythological cycles of other European civilizations in Antiquity. In the same way that Greek myth has a generation of wicked Titans followed by a generation of protagonist Olympians, and how Norse myth has a generation of wicked Jötnar followed by a generation of protagonist Aesir, mythic Ireland was once ruled by a wicked generation of magicians called the Fomorians before being conquered by the protagonist Tuatha Dé Danann. And just like in those other cultures, the Fomorians were later heightened to "giants" while the Tuatha Dé Danann were heightened to "gods," despite the original texts framing them much more like merely two rival tribes of people. And of course, since it's especially common to connect Celtic beings to fertility, the Fomorians thus embody blight.

So just like Titans and Jötnar, you've got plenty of descriptions of magical and monstrous giants who rival the gods that you can draw from. One of the few enduring illustrations we have for them is this 1912 painting by Scottish artist John Duncan. And as is typical for the Celtic Revival, it is oozing with a post-Christian fantasy stylization that I don't think is really anything like what the Ancient Irish were picturing but which is obviously very cool to us modern folks.

So how does D&D muck this one up? Well, it's not so bad...

If you want a culturally-agnostic name, I like to call them the "Wyrd Giant," for reasons that will become clear. But to the extent that D&D retains anything from their original cultural context, they mostly just model the Fomorian after a specific individual character from Irish myth: Balor the Tyrant King. His great weapon is his evil eye, possessed of some vaguely poisonous or incendiary gaze. And of course when you have a fantasy giant described as having a special eye, artists will depict them as a cyclops. But when you have a fantasy spellcaster described as having a special eye, artists will depict it as a third eye in the forehead. D&D decided to go with the (more interesting, I think) option of just, y'know, two eyes... but one of them is large and magic and gross and has to be kept closed by default.

From there, the Irish myth is translated into "godless enemies of the elves," cursed by the elves for their tyranny and cast out from the Feywild and into the Underdark. Their main characteristic is their ugliness and deformity, which we are meant to understand is a punishment rendered on them as a consequence for their evil ways.

Of course, the enduring trope of villainizing the disfigured is, as the kids say, problematic. I don't have a good way to defend it here. It's all well and good to say that "they're not evil because they're disfigured; they're disfigured because they're evil." But the image remains the same. I will say that, if ever there were a time to flip the moral lens around, casting the beautiful elves as the villains and the mutated Fomorians as the victims, it would probably land pretty well.

But the thing that really appeals to me about them is the idea of their curse, and their evil gaze as a way to inflict that same curse onto others. It's not a fire beam, a petrification, or a poison spray. It's a Fomorian ray. What does that mean?

Well, partly it mutates. When it opens its evil eye it appears pale and glossy, but the air around it is crackling and burning. They stare at a target and the victim's skin begins to spasm and bubble. And I like to picture this blight extends to everything it looks at. If it stares at your sword then it rusts over in your grasp. If it stares at your shield then the paint peels off and the wood begins to boil like tar.

But there's a deeper effect to the curse. The Fomorians were once mighty sorcerers, but can no longer wield magic. They no longer have gods, they no longer make art, they no longer craft, they can no longer claim a home or a destiny. They can no longer dream. What's been taken from them is that creative spark, the inner fire, and most importantly, their power over themselves. They become subjects of cold fate.

So to me, the way this should translate into their eye gaze is not merely a physical effect. It should take away the victim's spellcasting. Maybe even their ability to speak. They just gibber nonsense. And I don't just mean a feeblemind effect. Their wand or staff is drained of power, their books of spells is left blank and wordless, their journals are wiped clean.