The full moon shines down on the ruined farm. Bodies lie scattered across the barnyard in pools of congealed black blood. The first sign is dry rattling cracks from all around you, and then hundreds of little avian skeletons emerge from the surrounding area and move toward you, empty eye sockets implacably staring.
Doom fowl are swarms of the animated skeletons of chickens, ducks, geese, and other common barnyard fowl. Never ones to waste resources, the gnomes of Neimheim developed a variant usage of animate dead to turn the dead flocks of raided farms into a source of horrible minions. The resulting swarms of undead fowl often incorporate nearby materials into their incomplete skeletons, a feature that the gnomes quickly realized allowed them to augment their creations.
A sand gorgon is a massive metallic bull surrounded by a swirling sandstorm. Its thick hide is covered in golden plating that crackles with electricity. When angered, the beast stamps its feet and snorts blasts of salt crystals from its nose.
Desert sages believe that sand gorgons are forces of nature created by dark spirits or angry gods to punish civilization. There seems to be some truth to this belief, since sand gorgons despise the presence of humanoids. A sand gorgon will often summon lashing winds and sandstorms for weeks to drive settlers away from its territory. Those foolish enough to stay behind are rewarded with a brief glimpse of the beast before their demise: a shining bull galloping atop a storm of blinding sand.
A conversion is more art than science. Please, donâ€™t misinterpret my words. Iâ€™m not saying that maths arenâ€™t important, because they are. In fact, I teach discrete maths as part of my day job! But getting a monster, a character race, a spell, and so on from one system to another is something that canâ€™t be done properly just using a formula.
There was supposed to be a great battlefield here. Instead you find a still forest. Rusty pikes lean against its sturdy trunks. A man approaches. His flesh hangs loose, like well-worn clothing on a rough frame. From atop a nearby tree, the wind whistles through an ancient skull.
After a great battle, the damage to the land can be considerable. Poisoned rivers, charred fortresses, and diseased fields are difficult locales for the natural order to reassert itself. When the land needs a little help, the followers of certain nature icons are known to plant funeral pears to retain the balance.
Funeral pears inhabit the bodies of fallen soldiers, growing woody humanoid frames to fill their hosts. The resulting parasitic masses appear to be shambling warriors until fast-growing spines pierce their supple, pear-fertilized flesh. The pears use their new bodies to remove offending elements from the battleground. They leave small memorials of the event. It is unknown whether this is because the funeral pearsâ€™ creator wished to communicate the price of war, or because the spiritual remnants of the soldiers retain slight control.