D&D Monsters: Oozes

We reach the final post in this series with the monsters that are, anatomically speaking, the simplest of them all. The idea of monstrous slime is essentially a modern one; some antecedents may exist here and there, but generally, we're thinking of the likes of the 1958 film The Blob or Clark Ashton Smith's formless spawn of Tsathoggua, which made their debut in 1931. 

The 1E Monster Manual includes a number of creatures that could loosely be described as oozes but only four of these have consistently appeared in the core rulebooks (excluding 4E, as I usually do, which retains just two of them in the MM1). Three of these are entirely amorphous, although the one that's perhaps the most notorious does at least have a shape.

D&D Monsters: Noncorporeal Undead

The concept of ghosts or other restless spirits is an ancient one, found, in some form or another in pretty much every human culture. The details vary considerably, and ghosts may not necessarily be malevolent, or even frightening but the basic idea is essentially universal. They're the sort of thing that just had to be included in D&D, albeit with the addition of generally making them more dangerous - and thus a meaningful threat - than they usually are in legend. There are several different types in the game, arguably a different sort of being from the corporeal undead, united by lacking a physical body and with various other means of inflicting harm. Four of these types are consistently present in the core rulebooks, although their details can vary significantly.

D&D Monsters: Succubi

The word "succubus" comes from Latin, referring to a type of demon that seduces men and slowly saps them of their vitality over a series of sexual encounters. This basic concept, however, long precedes even the Romans, with the general idea of  'evil demonic seductress' being fairly common across many cultures. It may, in part, be connected with the same sort of hypnogogic phenomenon that is responsible for the night hag myth - albeit interpreted in a more pleasurable manner. Indeed, succubi were not originally regarded as being attractive in their natural form - although, as with the D&D creature, they could shape-shift - the 'sexy' form only starting to become the standard in modern times.

D&D Monsters: Mimics

The 1E Monster Manual includes several monsters that are essentially animate traps of one kind or another - floors that try to eat you, ceilings that try to eat you, stalactites that try to eat you, and so on. All of them with bland descriptive names rather than even an attempt at something atmospheric. The only one of these to remain consistently in the core rulebooks, however, is the mimic. Which is essentially a treasure chest that tries to eat you. It's certainly a contender for "silliest monster in D&D" (although it has some pretty stiff opposition) and it should come as no surprise that it's original to the game. Indeed, it's tailor-made for the "dungeon crawl" genre that D&D basically invented, since it makes even less sense in any other context than it does in that one.

So... yup, time for the mimic.

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1E

As originally described, the mimic is a living creature that, for no particular reason, can disguise itself as anything made from wood or stone. Or, given that the picture clearly shows one pretending to be a treasure chest with rivets and a lock in it, presumably anything made from metal as well. It's possible that the fact that they're only encountered in pitch-dark dungeons occasionally illuminated by flickering torch-light means that they don't need to be terribly effective at imitating things to get away with it, but the implication is that they're pretty skilled - there's no indication given of a potential victim having any chance at all of realising they're fake.

They're probably less convincing to the touch, given that they have a hide equivalent to tough leather, which is hardly going to trick you into thinking it's solid stone. But, of course, they don't need to be, because, by the time you touch them, it's too late. We're told that they attack by extruding a pseudopod, which is exactly what we see in the picture, so there's evidently some flexibility to their body. The mimic in the illustration also lacks any visible eyes, mouth, or other evident bodily features because that would rather defeat the disguise, but presumably, it can form them as and when it needs them. After all, if it doesn't have eyes at all, it isn't going to be frightened of light, which (like some real-world subterranean creatures) it apparently is.

We're also told that there are two different kinds of creature referred to as mimics. One is comparatively large and has about the same intelligence as a dog. The smaller one is as intelligent as a regular human, and can speak its own language. Why it bothers when it's entirely solitary and will therefore never, under any circumstances, have anyone else to speak the language with, is a bit of a mystery, as is how it manages to learn all the other languages it can supposedly converse in.

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2E

The illustration in 2E shows a more sophisticated form of pseudopod, ending in a pair of clawed tentacles, and has gone far enough into its attack mode to reveal a large mouth, lined with sharp carnivorous teeth and possessing a vertebrate-like tongue. On the other hand, it specifically lacks eyes, having photosensitive skin that can also sense body heat.

We're told that its hide is, in fact, stone-like and has a natural grey colour (this implies it must have a natural, resting, shape as well... but what it is we don't know). The armour class remains equivalent to tough leather, though, which may partly be because the thing can't really move about very much, but also seems to imply that the stony hide... isn't a very thick stony hide. Or perhaps it's brittle, like slate.

We're told that the non-sentient mimics are actively evil, which arguably raises some philosophical questions about the nature of evil. Oh, and mimics are immune to puddings. Which makes more sense in context than it sounds.

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3E

In 3E, the unintelligent mimics have disappeared, and the physical size stated for the creature matches that given for the smaller, brighter ones in the earlier edition. They weigh about two tons, which may sound a lot, but actually isn't when you consider that they have a volume of 150 cubic feet (4,250 litres). This works out to a density of just under 0.5 which is much less than we would expect for something made of flesh and blood... presumably, there are substantial air gaps inside it.

Their hide is tougher than before; it's hardly equivalent to plate steel, but it's on a par with mail armour, which is at least reasonably effective at warding off weapons. The text continues to describe their limbs as pseudopods, but the one in the picture is imitating humanoid arms, complete with fingers and thumbs and what appear to be claws. Indeed, the limbs look as if they have an internal skeleton... they probably don't, though, so they are likely much more flexible than they appear. Mimics are incredibly strong and physically resilient and their movement rate, while still dismal, is slightly better than it was before. They now speak Common, which at least allows some chance that somebody might be able to hold a conversation with one in its native language.

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5E

The mimic in the picture here is still pretending to be a treasure chest (we're assured they can disguise themselves as other things, but pictures of them doing so are comparatively rare). It still has pseudopods, although it isn't extruding them in the illustration, unless that's what the incredibly long tongue is supposed to be. It has far more teeth than in 2E, although, given that the form is mutable, that may not mean much. Oddly, though, it does have eyes - they must be concealed when they're closed, but that they're there at all is a change from 2E. 

The hide has dropped down to being equivalent to thick leather again, and the speed has significantly increased, even if it still can't catch a running human. (Not having legs can't be a boon there). More importantly, the intelligence rating has dropped down to somewhere close to that of a gorilla - higher than the dog-like rating of the larger mimics in the first two editions, but well below that of the smart ones. There are apparently a few exceptions that are just about able to speak with humans, but they're rare, implying quite a downturn in the braininess stakes.

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While it's just about possible to speculate as to what, say, a roper might be, a mimic, as described, is too weird to make any real stab at it. It's pretty clear that it doesn't resemble, even loosely, and real-world creature. Yet it is clearly meant to be a biological being of some kind, rather than a construct or demonic entity or whatever. In 5E, it isn't even an aberration, but merely a "monstrosity", a general term for living beings that aren't exceptionally alien.

In 2E, we're told that mimics have identifiable internal organs, so they aren't simply amorphous blobs that can take on other shapes. The fact that they're so mutable, and that their limbs are "pseudopods" counts strongly against the idea that they have an internal skeleton, and, in most editions, their outer hide isn't hard enough to be the short chitinous exoskeleton of an arthropod or calcareous shell of a mollusc, either. Not all molluscs have a shell, of course, and there are many other kinds of invertebrate in existence, some of which do, indeed, have a sort of leathery outer surface - although they don't have a habit of morphing into treasure chests or otherwise easily changing their shape.

The fact is, however, that we have nothing much to go on when considering what those internal organs might be, let alone how they might be arranged. There's a mouth, with teeth and a tongue, so there's going to be a digestive tube of some kind, although the mouth is so large that a stomach seems unnecessary. By the same logic, in addition to the orifices we know of, there must surely be an anus concealed somewhere on the body. This also implies excretory organs of some kind, although they don't necessarily need a separate opening.

The thing must breathe, and its size suggests lungs and a circulatory system with some kind of pump - although neither would have to look like the vertebrate versions. The nostrils appear to be concealed, so it's likely that the animal can hold its breath for extensive periods of time while it's inactive - something that's quite plausible when you consider that whales can do so for hours on end while swimming and actively searching for food, rather than just sitting motionless waiting for it come past.

The mimic's intelligence may vary, but it's high enough for it to require a brain and a nervous system, whether or not it also has eyes. Other organs are certainly possible, but the arrangement and/or shape may be alien enough to make some of them hard to identify.

Much of the internal body is likely composed of muscle, in addition to any air spaces to lighten its body as the 3E weight implies. But one of the things that's most notable about the mimic is its ability to change its shape, so whatever organs it possesses must be able to be compressed and re-arranged to suit its needs. There must be some limitations on a mimic's ability to, well, mimic, but we know that it can't change its overall volume or body mass, and this is significant when we consider that, supposedly, its favourite form other than a treasure chest is as a door.

Since the door doesn't need to actually open, it's probably much thicker than an actual door, extruding itself into whichever space it assumes potential prey won't be advancing from. But even so, it's surely flatter than a trunk, meaning that it can squeeze its organs into a new shape and arrangement when it needs to. Quite how far it can do isn't stated in the core rules, although something like a very long and narrow rope is probably beyond it without giving itself the equivalent of a hernia.

Mimics are said to be completely solitary - even in 1E, which often has creatures living in small groups. So they're probably asexual. 2E confirms this, and says that they reproduce by fission, which is a bit unlikely for anything so large and internally complex. However, some kind of asexual budding is a possibility, with the offspring being concealed inside the body until it is large enough to be extruded and wander off on its own.

The ecology of the mimic is, of course, completely bonkers given its extreme artificial specificity. 2E states that mimics were originally created by wizards and so were specifically designed as organic traps to place in the subterranean complexes that such people always feel the need to construct. What the heck they created them from is a bit of a mystery, but that they aren't constructs even to the extent that a flesh golem is implies that it must have been something (or several somethings merged). 

If we're willing to accept that wizards go around building dungeons and that they assume that treasure-seekers will break into them at some point and be distracted by a fake chest then... sure, making one that eats people isn't totally unreasonable. You can imagine that the Ancient Egyptians who put traps in their tombs to stop robbers might have done something like this if they thought they could get away with it... and if they could supply enough food for the mimic to survive on during the long waits between break-ins. (5E says that, looking as they do, mimics can be assured of  "a steady stream of prey". Dude, if your home is getting broken into that frequently, you should move to a lower-crime neighbourhood. We know you can afford it).

But how do mimics get from one dungeon to another? They don't seem to have the ability to pretend to be anything other than furniture, which is decidedly limiting as a form of camouflage. Yet if the things live worldwide, and aren't being created all the time, as golems and undead are (and even 5E, which is normally quite keen on this sort of explanation, doesn't go there for mimics) then travel they must. And know where to go.

Perhaps some dungeons-are-us delivery service is shipping them across the world to their clients.

D&D Monsters: Shambling Mounds

The most obvious inspiration for the shambling mound is the DC horror character Swamp Thing, a plant-based monster popular enough to appear in a rather naff '80s film and a far superior '20s television mini-series. Swamp Thing first appeared in 1971, well before the shambling mound's debut in 0E, so the timing works, although that doesn't necessarily mean it isn't a coincidence. Notably, for instance, the shambling mound is literally a mass of vegetation, which is a fair description of Swamp Thing... but only following the characters' reinvention by Alan Moore, five years after the Monster Manual. Since there isn't much further resemblance between the two, it seems likely that the shambling mound is an original creation, with no apparent antecedents in myth or legend.

D&D Monsters: Treants

Although the idea of magical and possibly animate trees does exist in mythology and folklore, the idea of a race of such beings, in the form of ents, seems to be original to Tolkein. He took the name from a variant form of  "ettin", the original English word for what we now call a "giant", and not from any pre-existing tree-person. (Other giants exist in Tolkien's world, but they are very much bit players unlike, say, the giants of Narnia). D&D 0E included ents in its original rulebook, but legal problems led to them being renamed as "treants" from 1E onwards. For similar copyright reasons, it's this newer name that has stuck in fantasy games in general, even though, really, there isn't much difference between the D&D version and their entish inspiration.

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1E

We're told that the 1E treant is indistinguishable from a tree until it moves, but this is hard to credit from the picture. Granted, if you're not looking too closely at the trees you're passing, and you're in a heavily forested environment, perhaps even in dim light... I mean, sure, you might not notice, because they're certainly camouflaged. But "indistinguishable" is a stretch, and more so for this version than any other.

Rather than having a single trunk, for instance, the lower part of the treant's body is divided into two sturdy legs, each ending in three long and splayed toes. The arms are positioned roughly where they would be on a humanoid, and of a similar shape, with clear elbows, wrists and so on. The hands have three fingers and a thumb. There is no neck, but the region above the "shoulders" includes a pair of human-like eyes and a long nose. It's unclear if there's intended to be a mouth, and no explicit statement that treants can speak, although it's what we'd expect if they're based on ents. 

All of this indicates a certain fixity of form, the sort of defined shape that (most) animals have and that trees and most other plants tend not to. The only semi-random, plantlike, part of the body form is the collection of short leafy branches arising from the upper body, creating a far smaller and shorter crown than we'd expect for a tree with a "trunk" so thick. A leafy sheet also covers the body below the nose, presumably as an allusion to Treebeard in Lord of the Rings.

Treants are remarkably tough and, while we can't compare their strength with that of giants in this edition, they're clearly intended to be in the same range. The fact that we're specifically told they can destroy buildings is surely another nod to their literary inspiration. Their armour class is better than steel, which bark and even the hardest of woods aren't. This may be intended to reflect their lack of vital organs and the general thickness of the wood compared to steel armour. Still, you'd think it would be easier to hack a branch off with an axe than it would be to damage an iron golem - and it isn't.

Whether or not they can speak, treants are as intelligent as humans. They live in groups of up to twenty, but there's no indication of any social structure, implying a very egalitarian and loose society, which fits with their stated alignment. Oddly, we're told that they live in caves - albeit caves in woodland - which is a rather un-treelike thing to do.

While the treant in 2E is still distinguishable from the average tree, it's notably less so than its predecessor. It doesn't seem to have legs at all, although there are feet projecting from the base of the trunk, with woody rootlike toes. The arms don't seem to arise opposite each other, instead taking the form of a pair of lower branches that happen to end in a splayed set of elongated finger-like twigs. These, and the toes, have the sort of irregular shape we'd expect of the branches of a tree, and the creature is entirely treelike above the face. 

The face is much lower down on the body, proportionately speaking, enhancing the non-humanoid look. The eyes are less obviously humanlike, too, and the "nose" is actually a branch, complete with twigs and leaves. They obviously do have a mouth this time, and we're told that they have their own language and have some ability to converse in others. There is also considerably more information about their biology and lifecycle... and no mention that they lair in caves.

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3E

The 3E version is intermediate between the two previous ones in form. The body is more humanoid than in 2E, with identifiable legs and hands with short, leafless, fingers, rather than twiggy branches. On the other hand, the limbs do have a more plantlike appearance, with an irregular number of joints and digits, and the "toes" being particularly twisted and rootlike. There are narrow branches jutting off from the arms a well as the larger ones on the crown, but nothing like the leaf-bearing "nose" of 2E. Most significantly, however, this treant has a neck and an approximately human-like head and face - although it does seem to lack visible ears.

The more detailed stats in this edition allow us to see that the treant is as strong as a frost giant - although it's twice as tall, and almost twice as heavy. The fact that it now has a damage reduction rating (except against things like axes) makes it harder to argue that the bark isn't really as strong as steel, since any lack of vital organs is surely covered by the reduction. One can only assume that the bark is in some way magical, at least so long as it is part of the living treant.

Treants live in much smaller communities than before, but their alignment has shifted towards something we'd expect to imply more of a social structure. Perhaps because of those smaller communities, however, we don't see that - possibly a low reproduction rate may force this on them, or their biology otherwise makes it difficult for too many of them to survive in a given area of forest.

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5E

There's something a further shift back towards the 1E look in this edition. The limbs and body are more regular in form, and the neck has disappeared again. The most notable difference is perhaps the number of arms; it has four, but they're irregularly arranged, with the implication that a specific number might not be standard. The fingers are claw-like, rather than the blunt structures of 1E and 3E or the slender twigs of 2E. Small leafy branches also seem to project from the trunk, although the main leaf-bearing branches sprout from above and behind the head as before.

The strength remains on a par with a frost giant, but the bark is no longer more impressive than steel - if probably still rather tougher than we might expect regular bark to be. The alignment has changed back to its original descriptor and, if anything, it's implied that treant society is even more nebulous and solitary than it was before. Treants speak a number of languages in this edition, but we're not told which is the one that they use amongst themselves - either Druidic or Sylvan seems likely but would presumably have to be instinctive since it's not obvious how they would be taught it, given the changes in their lifecycle from 2E.

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Whereas even demons and efreet appear to be, at least superficial, members of the Animal Kingdom, the treant is indisputably a plant. This has significant implications for how it might work biologically, although the answer to this is largely that, in the real world, it wouldn't. 

The primary issue here is that real plants lack the ability to be fully active to the extent that treants are supposed to be. It's not that they can't move, since creepers and so on can feel their way about - albeit very slowly. Some plants can even move rapidly, with the Venus flytrap probably being the next known example, but sustained motion and complex coordinated movement are a different matter. Even then, the movement is achieved in soft tissue whereas the treant is largely composed of wood. Presumably, the xylem vessels contract like muscle fibres, which would require some rather radical molecular and biochemical rearrangement of their structure to be at all plausible if it's more than just "magic". However it's done, it's likely that these woody fibres form structures similar to humanoid muscles, since they have to move in the same way, and most illustrations show some hint of joints in the appropriate places.

Getting the energy and metabolism to move these pseudo-muscles is also difficult to resolve. Treants have noses, so it's at least possible that they have lungs, composed of some soft spongy plant material full of air spaces, with which to absorb appropriate quantities of oxygen. But it's perhaps more likely that they breathe, as plants do, through their leaves, probably with some magical boosting of the effectiveness of their chlorophyll. This would leave the nose as a purely sensory organ. 

There's nothing to say that treants don't have a sense of smell, and it seems reasonable that the nose isn't purely aesthetic. The idea of the nose as a chemosensory pit with no connection to a respiratory system isn't even a unique one, since it's pretty much how fish work and, for that matter, some invertebrates.

3E states that vegetable creatures, such as treants, "eat" and if that's literally true, there has to be a digestive system of some kind. But this is more ambiguous in other systems; while the tendriculos of 3E undoubtedly eats, it's less clear that treants do so, unless we count merely absorbing nutrients from the soil. If this is so, the treant's mouth must be purely used for communication, perhaps attached to a simple set of bellows in the trunk to allow air to form sounds, but no stomach or intestines. Additional nutrients are obtained from the soil, since at least 2E and 5E agree that treants can temporarily let down roots and anchor themselves to the ground. 

Once we've got rid of both the digestive and respiratory systems, many other organs also cease to be required. We can probably do without dedicated excretory organs, with the leaves, and possibly roots/toes, taking on this function too. We certainly don't need a liver or pancreas and there's clearly no skeleton.

Whether we'd need a circulatory system is perhaps more ambiguous, given the need to transport oxygen and so forth round the body rather more urgently than sessile plant needs to. The circulatory fluid would be sap, since that's largely what sap is for in plants. and to get it around such a large body rapidly, a proper system of arteries and veins would realistically be required, which, in turn, implies a woody heart somewhere inside the trunk. But, if this is the case, sap would spray out of a treant like blood from an artery when it is cut, which just seems odd. So, again, we may have to rely on magic to explain the level of effectiveness that the sap has, and, if there's no high "blood" pressure then we can also do without the heart.

One thing we probably do need is a nervous system. We can say this mainly because treants are consistently shown as having eyes, and even if these aren't composed of what we'd expect at a cellular level, they are complex structures that it's hard to imagine aren't attached to something. These would have to be modified xylem or (perhaps more likely) phloem cells and spread throughout the body. Somewhere there must be a dense mass of such cells forming the treant's brain, and it's probably just behind the eyes. On the other hand, this need not be at all structured like an animal brain, and it could be somewhat decentralised, emphasising the general lack of vital organs that make a treant so difficult to kill with spears or maces.

The treant's signature power is the ability to animate other trees, rather like the huorns of Lord of the Rings. This is clearly a magical power, so there isn't much to say about it specifically. But we are left with the issue of treant reproduction.

We're given two different versions of this, in 2E and 5E. The latter states that treants are literally born as trees, and only later transform into the mobile, thinking, version - retaining the ability to revert if necessary.  Although it's not explicitly states, the obvious implication is that reproduction occurs when they are in tree form, using buds, flowers, seeds, and so on and that, until they begin to transform, there isn't any real difference between them and other trees.

This limits the need for "entwives" since the great majority of tree species produce both pollen and seeds and are thus (from an animal perspective) hermaphrodites. Nonetheless, some trees, such as willow and teak do have separate sexes - a given plant is either male or female - so this might be true of the relevant kinds of treant, too.

Indeed, if they are originally regular trees, it follows that all treants have an identifiable species; there are oak-treants, beech-treants, and so on. There does seem to be some limitation here as to which species are able to become treants. All the examples we see in the core rulebooks are broadleaved hardwoods and not, say, conifers. (Saying a tree is "hardwood", incidentally, really just means that it uses flowers for reproduction; the wood is usually harder than "softwood"... but it doesn't have to be and there are some notable exceptions). There's also, perhaps unsurprisingly, an apparent minimum size, since there's no indication of woody shrub treants (azaleas, say) but the typical stats imply a maximum as well. A sequoia-treant would surely be different from what's described!

2E, however, states that treants are a distinct type of being that may end their lives by transforming into a  regular tree but don't start out that way. Distinct males and females exist, with the latter bearing young by forming a stalk from the side of their trunk which eventually splits away - something not unlike pregnancy. We don't know how they mate, although pollination seems the most likely explanation. 

This means that a treant does not necessarily have to mirror a particular tree species, although they may well do so anyway. The fact that they are all broadleaved trees here may therefore be less significant, just a description of how they look. We're told that, at least in temperate climes, their leaves turn golden in the autumn, but that they don't fall out - or, if they do, they're replaced as they go, rather like a mammal moulting. If these are the organs through which a treant obtains its oxygen and most of its nutrition, it makes sense that it wouldn't lose them, although turning yellow does rather imply a lack of chlorophyll which, by rights, should have the same effect as losing the leaf. This should force the treant into hibernation through the winter, which is effectively what real-world deciduous trees are doing... but apparently, it doesn't.

So, magic again.

D&D Monsters: Xorns

Xorns are an original creation of D&D, with no particularly obvious antecedents. The name was almost certainly chosen so that the 1E Monster Manual had at least one monster for every letter of the alphabet... the same is probably true of the quasit. Which, other than that it's a monster largely built around defence rather than offence, is about all one can say about the general concept.

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1E

The original xorn has a barrel-shaped body covered with scales that basically take the form of roof slates, and are likely made of a similar, if less fragile, material. It is notable for its (mostly) triradial symmetry, something that makes it look particularly alien. It has three legs, which seem to lack knees and are similarly covered in the armoured stone scales - if anything, it's a wonder it doesn't move even more slowly than it does. The arms look to be less heavily armoured, and are clearly more flexible; they're positioned above the spaces between the legs rather than directly above the hips. 

The toes are long and seem to be at least partially prehensile, although how much this would help given the stiff legs is debatable. Both hands and feet have three equal digits each, following the triradial theme. There are three large, slightly bulging eyes positioned around the body, one above each leg. They have horizontal pupils, like those of a goat, and readily apparent eyelids. The only feature that's obviously not triradial is the mouth, which is formed from two parallel jaws similar to those of a vertebrate... except that they're positioned at the apex of the body, which lacks anything you could describe as a head. 

No other orifices or appendages are apparent.

It doesn't seem to be very strong, since its limbs do very little damage, but the bite is impressive for 1E, so the jaws are far more muscular than the arms. This may be to allow it to eat tough minerals, and it's notable that the teeth are flat and, to use the technical term, bunodont, which is exactly what you'd expect of something eating solid, crunchy, matter rather than biting into soft flesh. (We see something similar, for instance, in animals that feed largely on clams or lobsters). The armoured shell is particularly tough; superior to the hide of a red dragon or the coating of an iron golem.

While there's no hint of real society for the things, and they travel in small groups, they are of human-level intelligence and it's implied that they can communicate with at least some humanoids.

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2E

The 2E version of the xorn is ovoid, rather than cylindrical, and has much longer, thinner arms than the one in 1E. The armoured scales are still present, but are much smaller and narrower than before, giving quite a different look. The legs are positioned closer to one another than previously, so that there isn't a flat undersurface beneath them. They appear to have ankles, but still no obvious knees, and the prehensile toes have been replaced with short, stubby claws that don't look as if they'd be of much use as either pitons or weapons.

The hands appear to have three fingers and a thumb, in a clear change from the previous look, but the biggest change is in the mouth. This is now triradial, with a high triangular 'jaw' above each eye, creating an overall Y-shape. The teeth are small and sharp and would probably be less effective at crushing up rock than the previous version.

In most other respects, the xorn has not changed in 2E, although we're told that they live in "clans". Whether this is intended to mean anything more than "small group" is debatable, since it may depend on how they are supposed to reproduce, which isn't stated.

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3E

The look of the xorn has changed even more drastically in 3E. The body is squat and bulbous and gives the impression of being covered in a highly flexible, warty hide. It has lost its previous ability to camouflage itself against rock and has instead turned green. The legs are shorter than before, and while they do have both knees and ankles now, look rather uncoordinated - presumably they aren't, but the creature does look as if it hauls itself along the ground with some difficulty instead of walking in a stiff-legged gait.

There are only two fingers on each hand, and probably only two toes on each foot; the former have long claws, but the latter are back to their prehensile appearance. The eyes project out from the body on blobby projections, once again giving a very mobile appearance to the body rather than the solid rocky form it previously had. While the 2E version in particular looked like it might at least be passably effective at burrowing through rock (as it's supposed to) it's very hard to see this one doing so. The mouth is back to having bilateral jaws, but retains the small sharp teeth and a fleshy gullet with wide rubbery lips. Which seems a bit odd.

The armour has improved slightly as have the ability to use the claws as weapons - although they're still pretty feeble given the stated high strength. We're told that the xorn can sense its environment by detecting vibrations in the ground, which sounds a lot more useful on the Elemental Plane of Earth than its visual senses would be. 

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5E

The shape of the xorn's body in 5E is closer to that in 1E than to either of the other versions. However, the legs are no longer stiff, and the toes are stubby with strong claws. Rather than being positioned radially, as in the first two editions, the toes all point outwards, and there is a declaw facing inwards on the opposite side, as if it had evolved from some four-toed creature. The claws on the hands, which are more effective than in previous editions, are heavy, and the central finger is larger than the two to either side.

The eyes are proportionately smaller than before, and have vertical pupils, rather than horizontal ones. The hide of the creature is pebbly rather than scaled (or slated) and, while the camouflage ability has returned, the one in the picture looks more of a rich earthy brown than a rock-like colour, so perhaps it has emerged from soil or mud... or some kind of ore like limonite or bauxite. The mouth retains the traditional two-jawed shape, but the teeth are sharper and longer than before, looking even less useful for the purpose for which they're intended - great for biting into flesh, less so for grinding rock.

In many respects, the xorn in 5E has been toned down. Its base statistics are broadly similar, but the bite is noticeably weaker than it used to be and the creature has lost most of its ability to resist injury. It's also lost the automatic ability to speak Common that it had in 3E although this isn't really surprising given how rarely xorns are going to interact with humans.

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Xorns are earth elementals and, as such, do not necessarily follow the rules of physics and biology that apply in our own universe. Having said that, their appearance, particularly in the form of their eyes, does suggest that they are at least partially biological as we would understand it, and may be composed in a similar fashion (in a way that, say, a regular earth elemental clearly isn't). 

But if so, their internal anatomy is certainly going to be odd.

With the possible exception of the 1E version, the limbs of the xorn appear to be constructed in such a way that they must have an endoskeleton, with muscles attached on the outside, as in vertebrates. Indeed, the structure of the limb is very similar to that of a vertebrate, especially in the later editions. Assuming that that's the case, there's probably a skeleton in the torso, too, but that obviously isn't going to be similar to our own. One possibility is a ribcage with three sterna, one above each leg/between each arm, connected by hoop-like ribs, some of which are modified to function as pectoral and pelvic girdles. The jaws at the top are presumably also bony (except possibly in 3E), but there may not necessarily be bones equivalent to a skull or spinal column.

Perhaps the most significant constraint on the layout of the internal anatomy is the fact that, in the absence of a head, the mouth is at the top of the body, with a centrally located digestive system below it. The anus, most likely, is in between the legs. A starfish is a good parallel here, since that has its mouth in the centre of its underside, from which food passes up into the stomach, and then out through a hole in the top. The xorn, of course, is the other way up, but the principle is much the same.

The xorn, however, has the additional problem that it must have a brain, and the lack of a head is a bit of an issue here. The most plausible solution to this is that the brain is doughnut-shaped, and wrapped around the throat. Most likely, it's somewhat triangular, with a lobe behind each eye and thick nerve cords connecting them, as well as others running down to the legs and across to the arms. There's no single spinal cord which is why I say it doesn't really need a spine (the nerve cords to the legs would be protected by the sterna anyway). This, again, has some resemblance to the neural layout in a starfish, although calling what it has a "brain" is probably stretching the definition a bit. 

There is no evidence of nostrils on any picture of a xorn, but it's worth noting that they're always shown with their mouth open, so possibly they breathe through that - and, per 3E, even most outsiders do need to breathe. Under this theory, the nostrils are located somewhere in the throat; most likely three of them, each connecting to a separate lung rather than there being a single trachea.

Most other organs do not need to be present in triplicate although there's also no reason why they can't be, especially where, such as with kidneys, they are paired in most bilaterally symmetrical animals. The heart is an example of an organ that probably wouldn't be; you really don't need more than one. True, octopuses are often said to have three hearts and this is sort of true, but it's more accurate to say that the parts that make up the vertebrate heart are, in octopuses and squid, spread between three organs: a central one that performs the function of the ventricles, and two accessory ones that act like our atria. 

If a xorn had an arrangement like this, it would actually have four "hearts" in total. This isn't impossible, but a single heart is equally likely, albeit, perhaps with six chambers in total rather than the four of mammals and birds.

On the other hand, it's also possible that it doesn't actually have blood, distributing energy through its body using metallic fibres or something of that sort. We certainly know that its body isn't composed of what we'd normally think of as flesh, even if it may have anatomical structures that are loosely like our own. The absence of blood would, for instance, explain why the 5E version is resistant to cutting and piercing weapons but not to blunt force trauma.

In earlier editions, xorns are also unaffected by extremes of temperature and can't be burned, and they're also resistant to electricity. The latter is probably them earthing themselves effectively, and the former to their alien composition which may be silicon rather than carbon-based. While this resistance is gone in 5E, it remains the case that xorn eat, not carbon-based lifeforms, but rock, much of which is comprised of silicates.

Crystals such as quartz may provide xorn with the basic nutrition needed to build their rocky bodies, but a possible use for the copper, silver, and gold that they crave is that these are what their nerves are made of, conducting electrical signals through the body in a manner that may, in some respects, outperform squishy organic neurons. Gemstones may provide them with rarer elements not commonly found in basic rock - beryllium from emeralds, chromium from some garnets, and so on. These may fulfil a function for xorn similar to that of vitamins in organic lifeforms.

How xorn reproduce is not stated in the core books. If they are sexual beings then telling the difference between males and females is likely tricky at best, but it could well be that they are not, reproducing parthenogenetically. Live birth and egg-laying are equally plausible from the little that we know although, since xorns do have some sort of culture, if only by sharing a common language, parents must raise their young rather than simply depositing them somewhere to do as best they can.

D&D Monsters: Salamanders

Salamanders are, of course, real creatures - long-tailed amphibians with a vaguely lizard-like appearance. The Ancient Greeks and Romans attributed a number of magical abilities to them, some of them related to fire, but it's clear that they were describing the real animal when they did so. In the Middle Ages, however, there's more of a split between the amphibian and the fantastic creature, with the latter taking on more exotic forms and powers. This culminates in the 16th century with Paracelsus adopting the name for what he termed "fire elementals" and it's this that's most likely the inspiration for the D&D monster.

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1E

The salamander in 1E is roughly humanoid from the waist up, with the legs replaced by a single tail that keeps the creature in broadly human proportions. A series of narrow frills extends along the back, and also down each of the arms; these are partially erect, but whether they are buoyed aloft by hot air or are self-animated tendrils isn't something we can determine from the picture. The head has a flattened cranium and a triangular jaw with sharp carnivorous teeth. The ears are significantly elongated, with further frills on them and a pair of branching tendrils project out from either side of the nose, which we might suppose to be sensory. The creature has a partly striped and partly mottled pattern, with the background colouration shading from yellow to red along the length of the body.

The salamander is very difficult to injure without the use of magic, being invulnerable to regular weapons (unless wielded by someone with 'great strength', which isn't clarified). Assuming that an attacker can get past this admittedly significant obstacle, the tail of the salamander has the equivalent of plate armour on it, presumably in the form of resilient scales, and even the rest of the body is as tough as mail. 

Salamanders are more intelligent than humans, although there's not much indication of any society. This could well be explained by their chaotic alignments, although it's notable that, in this edition, they are never encountered alone, always travelling as at least a pair. Sociable then, but not hierarchical or inclined to follow any social rules. On the other hand, it's also possible that their inhospitable native environment has prevented anyone from finding out much about how they live their lives.

And inhospitable it certainly is. Salamanders become uncomfortable below 150°C (300°F) although it does take a few hours for temperatures too low for the inside of an oven to actually kill them. Even this level of heat isn't their preference, however, because what they really like is a steady 260°C (500°F). That's hot enough to melt tin, although admittedly it's well short of, say, making iron glow red. But it's impressive for something that at least superficially appears to be organic.

The 2E version has semi-rigid spines instead of the mobile frills and has a pair of large antlers sprouting from its scalp. The tendrils on the face are more bushy than branched and may be more hair-like than anything else, since this salamander also has a beard. The ventral surface of the tail and abdomen have especially heavy scales, not apparent in the earlier version, but suitable for crawling along rough ground like a snake. We're told the creature is seven feet long (215 cm) which, since the tail now makes up about three-quarters of that length, would make the upper body closer in size to a halfling than a human...

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3E

The tail is even longer in proportion to the body 3E, despite the fact that the overall creature doesn't seem to have become any larger. The frills are now jagged claw-like projections, sticking out of the lower body more or less at random with far fewer on the arms than before. There is some form of head ornamentation, although it is more palmate than before and doesn't seem to be paired. There's an actual burst of flame where the beard was previously, but otherwise, the salamander is duller in colour, tending more towards brown than orange, and with a black, rather than coppery, face.

There is more information given on salamander society in this edition and it turns out to be fairly sophisticated. That may partly be because they're no longer automatically "chaotic", although they are always cruel to other lifeforms. Having said which, they aren't normally encountered in large groups, and power seems to be based on physical strength and the ability to work magic. The magic they use is, of course, all flame-based, which, when you think about it, must be almost totally useless on their home plane... if probably easy to learn.

The exact temperature range that salamanders prefer is no longer given in this edition. However, it does imply that the salamander's own body heat is sufficient to make their spears glow red, which would put it at at least 460°C (900°F) and implies that their natural habitat is at least somewhere in that ballpark.

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5E

The 5E salamander is closer to the original 1E version in some respects, although the colour is comparatively uniform, and the tail is about 90% of the body length. Salamanders are now larger than humans, however, so this doesn't have quite the same implications for how large the humanoid part of the body is. They now have just four fingers on each hand, but it's their head that has changed the most. This is now more reptilian than humanoid, lacking the prominent nose of earlier editions, and with a pair of long, mobile and unbranching tendrils projecting backwards from it. There are no antlers, just a profusion of fleshy frills rising from the top of the head. The text describes these, and the other projections on the body as "spines", which would fit with 2E and 3E, but the illustration shows something much closer to the flexible wafting flaps of skin apparent in 1E.

Salamander intelligence has dropped significantly in this edition, putting them on a par with the average human, although they are physically much stronger (which is fair enough, given that they're also larger). The hide over the whole body is equivalent to mail now, rather than some of it being closer to plate steel. Perhaps to fit in better with the way creatures are described in this edition, we're back to a single alignment for salamanders, which is less chaotic than it was in 1E, although they're still hardly what you'd call companionable.

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There is every indication that, unlike efreet, salamanders are physical beings composed of much the same sort of matter as those native to the material plane - for instance, they don't simply vanish in a puff of fire when they die. In this context, it's interesting to note that the Elemental Plane of Fire is usually depicted rather differently than its three regular counterparts. Those consist of an essentially infinite expanse of whatever their element may be, with the odd other thing floating or embedded in it. But the Plane of Fire is typically shown as a blasted landscape, with plains, mountains, and all the other features we'd expect... only burning. 

That is, the Plane of Fire seems to have substantially more earth and air than the other planes have of the equivalent elements there. Which makes it easier to see how salamanders could be composed of something at least analogous to regular matter even though fire itself is more energy than it is a physical substance. Having said which, "analogous" is about as far as we're going to get since it's clear that the basic laws of physics and chemistry can't work in the same way on the Elemental Plane of Fire as they do in the material world.

Nothing organic is going to survive temperatures that will melt tin, let alone those that will make iron red hot. Furthermore, one thing the Plane of Fire does seem to lack is water (except, conceivably, as steam) so salamander biochemistry is not a thing as we'd understand it, or uses some entirely different substrate as a solvent - liquid sulphur is a possibility here. And, at least in 3E, being outsiders, salamanders don't need to eat, perhaps getting their energy directly from the environment (where, to be fair, there's plenty of it).

Anatomically, salamanders appear to have both reptilian and amphibian features, although they're weird enough that their internal organs must at least function differently, even if they aren't in different locations. For instance, the frills of 1E and 5E are reminiscent of the crests of newts - which are, technically speaking, a specific kind of real-world salamander - but the underside of the body in the 5E illustration appears to be scaled like a snake. 

The mix of reptilian and amphibian features is especially clear when it comes to reproduction. The different editions are contradictory as to how this works. 2E states that females exist, and have some humanoid feminine features, although not necessarily to the extent of having a mammalian chest. 3E, however, states that salamanders are sexless and parthenogenetic. 5E is silent on the matter, although the look of the salamander in that edition implies that it might be hard for humans to tell.

Crucially, however, salamanders are said to lay eggs with shells made of volcanic glass. The presence of the shell is reminiscent of reptile eggs (and, for that matter, birds and monotremes) and real-world amphibians are, in part, defined by its absence. It does raise the question of what, besides the embryo, is inside the egg, taking the place of yolk and albumen. Is it liquid sulphur? Some kind of plasma? Or perhaps an organic material that doesn't quite follow the physics and chemistry of our world?

While the egg may appear reptilian, the salamander that hatches out of it is notable for having a snake-like body and lacking any limbs. It is, in effect, a tadpole, although the nature of the Elemental Plane of Fire means that it isn't aquatic or anything equivalent to that. They grow up remarkably quickly, developing their arms and reaching full size in just a year although, to be fair, we don't know how long the adults live. These larval "fire snakes" are unable to speak, which is true enough for humans at that age, too, although they're apparently able to understand the language of their parents without difficulty, which is perhaps less so.

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At this point, there are just seven more entries to go in this blog series. So it's as good a time as any to explain what didn't make it in. I used two basic criteria in deciding what to include. Firstly, a creature had to appear in the core Monster Manual books for 1E, 3E, and 5E. This cuts out a lot, keeping the total down. So no Gith, perytons, or tarrasque, among many others.

But there also has to be something to say once the descriptive parts of the post are out of the way. A creature could fail to meet this standard for a couple of reasons. It could be too similar to something else I had already done, so that I'd just be repeating myself. For instance, having done both gorgons and medusae, there was no reason to include cockatrices or basilisks. Others, however, failed to make the grade because there isn't anything much to say that would fit within the themes of the blog. Ogre mages, for instance, are distinctive largely because they use spells and there isn't much to say about that, so out they went. Night hags suffered a similar fate, along with such things as rakshasas and imps. Nor did I feel there was much to say about vampires that hasn't been said elsewhere.

So, seven still to go, although they'll probably slow down again for the next few months. And then we'll see what happens next.

D&D Monsters: Efreet

Ifrit are a type of demon in Islamic folklore, associated with the jinn, and in some cases having similar powers (such as the ability to grant wishes), although their exact relationship is nebulous. They are associated with the underworld, fire, and smoke, and are generally hostile. This explains many of the attributes of efreet in D&D, which are specifically described as the fiery counterpart to djinn. (The idea that therefore must be watery and earthen versions of the same thing does not appear in the original Monster Manual, although it was introduced later during the 1E era, with the name "marid" being borrowed from another kind of Islamic demon, and "dao" seemingly being original to the game).

D&D Monsters: Djinn

The djinn originate in Middle Eastern mythology; they are typically associated with Islamic beliefs today, but pre-date that religion. They were originally human-like beings with magical powers, perhaps associated with a creation preceding that of humans and, at least by Islamic times, were regarded as neither inherently good nor evil. In modern western culture, they are mainly thought of as granting wishes and being trapped in lamps, ideas that come from an 18th-century edition of One Thousand and One Nights, although the specific legend is presumably older - they are not part of the original concept of djinn.

In D&D, djinn are described as powerful inhabitants of the Elemental Plane of Air, since many  (although by no means all) of the magical powers associated with them in myth are linked with the air. In the game, the alternative Anglicised name for the beings, "genie", instead refers to a broader category of being, of which the djinn are merely one of the most common. While the wish-granting, oil lamp dwelling, sort of djinn are stated to exist in the universe they are, at best, extremely rare and not typical representatives of their kind.

D&D Monsters: Golems

The golem is a creature of Jewish myth; a man formed of clay, as Adam was said to have been, and brought to life by a skilled rabbi. This usually involves a holy word, either written on parchment and placed in the golem's mouth or carved directly into its forehead. The resulting golem works as a servitor, and is incapable of speech. In the most famous version of the tale, it eventually goes berserk when its creator forgets to deactivate it on the Sabbath, and it ends up breaking the holy commandment not to work at such times.

In D&D, however, the word is used for a much larger class of creatures, humanoid forms made of pretty well any material and animated to serve their creator. Some of these, too, have a habit of going berserk, although the trigger for doing so is decidedly more random.

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Clay Golem

The clay golem is, of course, the one that most closely resembles the being in the original myth. In this respect, it's notable that it has to be created by a powerful priest (and, in, 1E, specifically a priest of a benevolent deity), rather than a wizard or necromancer. In 1E, it is shown as a humanoid figure sculpted from clay and apparently wearing a loincloth. For all we can tell from the picture, this might be a part of the moulded clay, just an artistic convention by its creator, but, from 2E onwards, we're told that a leather jockstrap is an essential accoutrement for all clay golems.

One has to question why this might be, and the only reasonable answer seems to be that the earth elemental required to animate the clay body won't do so unless it's, ahem... anatomically accurate. Why the earth elemental might insist on this, however, is a bit of a mystery, and it's compounded by the fact that it's manifestly not true of the clay golems in the 2E and 5E illustrations - which, of course, also are not wearing the garment that the accompanying text says they are. This is because the 2E clay golem has been sculpted as if it's wearing a full set of clothing and armour (which are surely part of its body) and the 5E version is a particularly crude sculpture that lacks nose, ears, or toes, and only has four digits on each hand. And if you can put up with those bits missing, it's hard to see why you'd insist on another body part you'd have no conceivable use for.

The description also implies, incidentally, that nobody creates golems in a female image. (Apparently, at least one such is mentioned in Jewish tales of the beings). 

The 5E version also looks as if it's formed from regular, moist, clay and this is implied to be true for most of the others as well. The exception seems to be that clothed 2E clay golem, which resembles one of the terracotta soldiers in the tomb of the first Chinese emperor in our world and, as such, is implied to be earthenware ceramic - that is, fired clay, not the raw material.

As described in 1E, the clay golem is invulnerable to most weapons, even if they are magic, and can only be affected by a few spells specifically intended to damage earthen material. While it's understandable that stabby weapons, such as spears or rapiers, wouldn't do much to something that lacks any internal organs, it's harder to see why axes and swords can't, say, lop a limb off... one would have thought they'd be more effective on a homogenous non-brittle material than a mace would be, but there you go. 

The 3E version isn't quite so invulnerable, although it's still pretty hard to hurt, and while the original was at least easy to hit, this one has very impressive armour. It's as strong as a hill giant, while being considerably smaller and, for that matter, is also slightly shorter than in 1E. It still moves slowly and clumsily except when it puts on brief bursts of magical speed. For some odd reason, it is healed by strong acids, which one would otherwise expect to chemically alter the composition of the clay, but have little effect on its integrity one way or the other. Much of this remains true in 5E, although the resistances are downplayed and there's no additional resistance to sharp weapons. 

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Stone Golem

The stone golem is essentially an animated statue, something that's common enough in myth and fiction, but would not be described as a 'golem' in such a context. We're specifically told that, so long as they're humanoid in form, stone golems can be carved in whatever way the creator wants. Which explains both the stylised forms shown in 1E and 5E and the more realistic statuary of 2E... doubtless many other looks are possible in a range of artistic styles. Presumably, the more powerful earth elementals used to power them are less bothered by anatomical form than are the weaker ones used to animate the lesser golems.

It's also clear from 3E that there's no requirement for a stone golem to be a specific size (as seems to be the case for the clay version), since some exceptionally large ones are stated to exist. The cost of the enchantment probably makes the construction of small ones non-profitable, but otherwise the main limitation may be getting a large enough piece of solid stone and the inconvenience of using something too big to enter castles or whatever.

While flesh and clay golems are inclined to go berserk, following their inspirations in horror movies and mythic legend, stone golems are much more dependable. They remain slow-moving, doubtless because of their ponderous weight - the quoted figure of 2,000 lbs (900 kg) given in 3E is probably about right given the stated height of the golem and the density of granite. The latter is said to be the preferred construction material and explains the impressive armour rating in 3E; the lower rating in 1E is probably due to the fact that you need a decent magical weapon to damage them at all in that edition and hitting them isn't really the problem.

The downside of constructing your golem from stone, on the other hand, is that, compared with clay and iron, it should be much harder to repair if it gets damaged. Indeed, 3E does say that it takes magic to do this, presumably by bonding separated chips of stone back together again. A bonus is that its signature power allows it to slow the movement of other beings around it, possibly by infusing them with earth elemental energy and increasing their density.

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Iron Golem

The original version of the iron golem appears to be a manlike piece of iron statuary, possibly cast in a single block. All later versions, however, are shown as mobile suits of armour although, as with the stone golem, we're specifically told that many different forms are possible. Whether there's anything inside the suit of armour or it's simply hollow isn't apparent from the 2E illustration, and is arguable from the 5E one, which at least looks to have a solid hinge at the elbows. In 3E, however, there are some internal struts and pistons clearly visible in places, suggesting something of a more mechanical nature than is the case for the stone golem.

Such automata do figure in Greek myths, with perhaps the closest resemblance being to Talos, a creation of Hephaestos, the smithing god. He was bronze, however, not iron, something that may have been felt to sound less effective in a post-Bronze Age fantasy world. Or the iron golem may simply be an attempt to have something that's basically a robot in D&D, without all the troubling electronics - although rather more robot-like creatures have been introduced to the game since.

As one might expect, an iron golem is difficult to injure absent spells that specifically target metal. It is hampered by lightning, which might well be expected to have some effect on conductive metal, but intense heat is actually beneficial, apparently allowing the softer red-hot metal to meld back into its original shape as if it were being forged. (Of course, a sufficiently hot blast furnace ought to melt it, but then iron isn't known for its resistance to acid either, and that seemingly does nothing to it).

Like all standard golems, it moves slowly, and is as strong as giant much larger than itself - although exactly how strong does vary between editions. This is probably due to a combination of its iron composition being able to sustain more stress than fleshy muscle and the fact that it likely doesn't feel pain and can't be exhausted. As with other golems made from inanimate matter, it must be using the senses of the elemental that animates it, since it doesn't have any natural eyes - although it is notable that its darkvison is superior to that of a regular elemental, so it may be boosted in some way.

An oddity of the iron golem is its ability to spew poison gas. While some of the automatons in Greek myth (although not Talos) could breathe fire, poison gas is a different matter. It might be inspired by the 1963 film Jason and the Argonauts, which features Talos, looking very similar to the 1E illustration. In that film, Talos is animated by poison gas, although he is destroyed once it escapes from his body.

That's clearly very different from the iron golem, which uses poison gas as a deliberate attack that can be rapidly regenerated. While a golem could potentially have some sort of chemical crucible inside it that can mix reagents to create the gas, it doesn't appear to need restocking, and it doesn't eat, so it seems unlikely that the gas is created by any mundane (al)chemical process. Likely, there is some kind of chamber and attached piping, but the gas may be created magically - taking nitrogen and oxygen from the air to make nitrogen dioxide, for example, but without the need for high temperature and a platinum catalyst.

D&D Monsters: Flesh Golems

The flesh golem, as depicted in D&D, is quite clearly based on Frankenstein's Monster. This, of course, has its origin in Mary Shelley's original story, but it's probably fair to say that most people's perceptions of the creature are more heavily influenced by the take on it in the Universal Pictures horror films of the 1930s. So it is with the flesh golem, which owes rather more to the movie version than to that in the novel, despite attempts to transform its look from 2E onwards.

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1E

The debt to Frankenstein's Monster is particularly clear in the 1E illustration, which gives the golem the high, almost cylindrical head seen in the 1930s film version. Otherwise, the golem is an animated humanoid apparently stitched together from pieces of human body; it is hairless with a lantern jaw and distinct brow ridges. It is stated to be 7½ feet (230cm) tall which, given that this is obviously taller than the vast majority of humans, implies that either the magical process which creates it enlarges the original body parts or that multiple pieces are grafted together to make the body. 

D&D Monsters: Pixies

Pixies are a form of fairy originally found in the folklore of southwest England, specifically Devon and Cornwall. They are typically more benign than many other fairies, but still mischievous and inclined to cause trouble for humans. In D&D, they were one of four races of fairy-like beings in the original Monster Manual, and seem to be intended as a bit of light-hearted relief, a potentially humorous inconvenience, rather than dangerous monsters to be slain. Of the four originals, they are the only ones to remain in the core monster books for both third and fifth editions.

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1E

As originally described, pixies look much like elves, except for being only 2'6" (75cm) tall. Or at least, that's what the text says, since the pixie in the picture looks a lot smaller than this. Assuming that the stated figure is accurate, however, it's still a good four inches (10 cm) shorter than a typical two-year-old human child. This makes them the tallest of the four fairy races, and far closer in height to a halfling than, say, a dwarf is to a human.  More distinctively, of course, they have two pairs of wings projecting from their back, which look to be similar to those of a dragonfly. 

They are highly intelligent, much more so than the average human, but, as one might expect, physically rather weak. Even when they are visible, they are not especially easy to hit, and this probably implies high natural agility as well as them simply being a small target. They seem moderately gregarious, typically being encountered in groups of a dozen or so, although there's no indication of how their society might work. That there's no indication of more powerful individuals among them may well imply an egalitarian culture and it's notable that they all have a fair amount of innate magic. Like most other non-human races in this edition, they speak their own language, which is specifically distinct from that of the sprites, their smaller and more benevolent counterparts.

2E adds that they are vegetarian and nocturnal and have societies based on family ties - which implies that they reproduce like humans do, rather than being some sort of purely magical spirit. Their wings are said to be silvery, and to resemble those of moths.

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3E

In 3E, the wings now resemble those of a bee more than anything else. They have the same height as before, but we're told that they typically weigh around 30 lbs (13 kg). This is a typical weight for a 2-year-old human... which, remember, is notably taller than a full-grown pixie. When we add this to the fact that the pixie in the illustration is unnaturally thin by human standards, he would have to be much denser than a human - perhaps due to heavy bones - for this to make sense. Most likely, they're quite a lot lighter.

Most of the detailed numbers provided for the stats are in line with what we had in 1E; the intelligence score remains the same, they're physically weak, but highly agile, and so on. Their acute senses weren't mentioned before, but seem a logical extrapolation. They have, however, shifted to a "good" alignment, and we're told that they go out of their way to fight evil. Rather than just mucking about, as they did before. Some of this may be due to a fusion of the pixie with the sprites of earlier editions since the latter are now a general category of which pixies are a part, rather than a distinct race. 

They also live in larger groups than before, with "tribes" of about 50 individuals being common. They now speak the same language as most other fey - and, for that matter, centaurs. A slightly less physical nature is implied by the fact that they're difficult to hurt without using "cold iron" - a term that, in reality, simply means "iron or steel used to make weapons", but, in D&D tends to imply something a bit more special.

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5E

Pixies have drastically shrunk in this edition, now being only one foot tall (30cm) - much smaller in comparison to a halfling than a halfling is to a human, and, indeed, smaller than the smallest of the 1E fairy types (the brownie, at 1'6"). Their skin is green, not caucasian, and, no longer cadaverously thin, they have childlike bodily proportions, if a comparatively adult figure. The wings of the one in the illustration resemble those of a butterfly, but we're specifically told that there is some variation in wing-form between different pixies, so the various different forms we've seen up to this point aren't necessarily contradictory.

They have to maintain concentration to stay invisible, which isn't especially hard but isn't quite the innate invisibility of 1E, either. The resistance to regular damage and vulnerability to "cold iron" have both gone, and they're even punier than they were before, as befits their smaller size. A significant change is that they are now no more intelligent than humans, although they retain their inherent charm and heightened senses. They have also abandoned the use of weapons, having previously wielded daggers and been crack shots with bows that were surprisingly effective for their size.

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Although pixies shrink in 5E compared with prior editions, all agree that they are much smaller than humans, and they even make halflings look tall. Despite their magical nature, there's nothing to indicate that they aren't physical, biological beings (except possibly the resistance to damage in 3E) rather than some neutral counterpart to demons or angels.

Smaller size does bring some scaling issues with it but, for the most part, nothing that's especially insurmountable, since there are obviously many mammals that are much smaller than pixies. Indeed, the 5E pixie is sufficiently small that, especially with light bones or the like, they might actually be able to fly without absurdly large wings or much in the way of magical assistance - they're considerably smaller than, say, a golden eagle. For that matter, the larger pixies of other editions could technically fly without magic, but they'd need at least a six-foot (180 cm) wingspan to do so, which they clearly don't possess.

The size of the brain does present more of a problem if we're sticking to real-world biology. Scaling issues mean that it must be smaller than that of a human infant, which makes it hard to believe that they'd be more intelligent than a human adult. A certain degree of improved compactness or unusual architecture can get round this - crows, for example, are a lot more intelligent than you'd expect for their size and mice aren't exactly dim by animal standards, but neither are going to write the works of Shakespeare any time soon. So it's likely that, here, real-world neurology is taking a back seat to a fey soul of some kind.

The wings also do present issues other than their size. The actual structure of them isn't much of a problem, with some sort of strong, possibly chitinous, material composing their surface (covered with microscopic coloured scales if they resemble butterflies or moths) and veins running through them just as they do in real insect wings. But it's less clear how they would attach to the skeleton and musculature, both of which they'd need to do in order to function.

If pixie wings fold as those of insects do - and, in fairness, most of the pictures are ambiguous on this point, so they might not - they require a complex joint at the base to allow multiple different motions, rather than just flapping. The wings seem to originate to either side of the spine in the upper back so, since they can't be anchored to an exoskeleton as they are in real insects, the joint must either be on an extra set of clavicle-like bones below the shoulders, or perhaps connected to the rear part of some of the ribs. 

Although small size and a correspondingly light body help, the flight muscles would still need to be large which, per the usual vision of what such creatures should look like, they don't seem to be. For that matter, if the muscles worked like those on insect wings, they'd have to run through where the lungs should be on a mammal, occupying much of the chest cavity. So, while magic might not be required to keep pixies aloft, it probably is more manoeuvrability in the air, or for take-off and landing, perhaps by providing a boost to modified intercostal muscles.

The various unique powers of pixies are, however, all magical, and these don't change much from edition to edition, including invisibility, the ability to cause confusion, read thoughts, create floating lights, and so on. At least in the earlier editions, there's an indication of a reasonably sophisticated culture, considering that at the very least they own (and presumably make) fine tailored clothing and magical weapons. It's clearly one that stays very far apart from typical human society, and therefore pays little, if any, role in the wider history of most game worlds.