Little elemental incarnations, conglomerates of dust, grit, dirt and fluff. Like somebody scattered detritus on the ground in the rough shape of a human. It lurks under bookshelves, drifts on imperceptible drafts, creeps forward.
The quasi-elemental nature of dust is one of things broken down, crumbling, desiccated. It is not particularly compatible with life, and the attentions of such an elemental are likely extremely unpleasant.
Hit Dice 5, HP 20, Armour as unarmoured, crumbling touche (+5, d8 damage), save as fighter 5.
Immune to normal weapons and physical attacks. Fire, cleaning with water, strong winds and so on all deal 2d6 damage per round. Immune to poison, pain, fear, etc.
Can seep through any crack or gap.
This is the fate of those thieves who try to steal from the library, their bodies withered and their minds warped into loyal servants of the librarians, tasked with rooting out others of their kind.
Hit Dice 3, Hit Points 10, Armour as leather, Smack with Lantern (+3, d4) or Radiant burst (everybody illuminated saves vs magic or takes 1 damage), saves as Thief 3.
As a librarian: They do not sleep or tire.They are totally immune to any mind-controlling effect that would turn them against their work on the great calculation.
They can, if hidden behind a bookshelf, step to any other bookshelf in the library as if there was no intervening space, so long as the start and end points are both unobserved - effectively allowing teleportation.
All invisible beings within the area illuminated by the lantern-bearer are revealed, all illusions negated while the light touches them.
Animated skeletons, tasked with the basic maintenance and cleaning of the library. They wear overalls, and carry mops and brooms. They make their way through the library slowly, washing, polishing, scrubbing and dusting as they go.
They are intelligent, and self-aware, but single-mindedly devoted to their task. If you engage with them while they work, they will happily talk with you, and prove to be well-educated and philosophical. Many of their conversations among themselves take an existential bent. It’s not clear how, without lungs or larynxes, they are able to talk at all, but this doesn’t bother them.
A conversation with the skeletons, if relevant to the information the players want, will give +1 progress.
Hit Dice 1, Hit Points 5, Armour as leather, Improvised weapons (+1, d6), saves as fighter 1.
All the normal undead immunities and vulnerabilities. If injured but not killed, can use their action to put themselves back together, healing all damage.
A construct made of scrap paper, glued into a rough humanoid form, folding at the joints. Flat, angular, ragged and misshapen, it shambles and limps on asymmetric limbs.
The golem is built to serve the librarians when they need actual muscle, either in the manual labour of maintaining the library or in dealing with intruders. It obeys silently. It lacks identity of its own, and is a mere temporary thing that serves as for a time before being taken apart for materials.
8 HD, 28 HP, Armour as leather, 2 slams (+8, d6), saves as fighter 8.
Halve all damage from non-magical weapons. Triple damage from fire. Immune to poison, cold, etc. Mindless.
A human soul, compressed and refined into a weapon. Appears as a patch of darkness hanging in the air, vaguely reminiscent of a human silhouette. Like a miasma or shadow.
It does not remember its former life. It exists to serve, to hunt and destroy those who threaten the library. It is single-minded and has ability to conceptualize ideas outside of its role as a guard.
Hit Dice 2, HP 7, Armour as unarmoured humans, Chilling Aura (save vs paralysis to avoid, d4 damage and strength drain), save as fighter 2.
Shades are gaseous beings, immune to all physical damage save that caused by magical items. They can pass through permeable objects, and are unaffected by fire, poison, and so on.
As well as damage, those affected by a shade’s aura lose d4 points of strength permanently. Those reduced to 0 strength by this are resurrected as another shade totally enslaved to their progenitor.
Huge spiders the size of dogs that dwell in the ceilings and vents of the library. They hunt in the dark, creeping above their prey before dropping their webs over the victim like a net.
An ogre spider’s abdomen is long and thin, resembling that of a praying mantis more than the normal bulbous appearance of typical spiders. Meanwhile, their faces feature huge black eyes and thick maxillae that resemble a human skull.
3 HD, 12 HP, Armour as leather, bite (+3, d6 and save vs poison) or net (+3, save vs paralysis or be entangled and helpless), saves as fighter 3. Can walk up walls and over ceilings. Poison does d8 damage to dexterity.
Remember those brains in jars? Sometimes, the isolation of a brain-jar has an odd effect on the mind of the interred brain. Introspection and contemplation cut off from all sensory stimulus or ability to act result in profound shifts in outlook and ways of thinking.
At its most dramatic extreme, such a paradigm shift in the imprisoned brain’s thinking can unlock the mind’s hidden psychoactive potential. Flexing newly-discovered psionic muscles, the brain breaks free of its glassy prison and escapes.
Such brains only interact with the world through their psychic powers, and thus form a beacon to others of their kind. Soon, they will gather together into a sort of psionic choir, a loose flock of floating brains bobbing along on invisible psychokinetic currents, trailing their useless spinal columns behind them.
Hit Dice 8, Hit Points 8, Armour as chain (forcefield), Gentle Bump (+0, 1 damage) or see below, saves as MU 8.
Can levitate. Perceives the world through psychic resonances, so hiding behind things won’t help but emptying your mind of thoughts effectively makes you invisible to them.
Roll two d10s on the list below for what else the choir can do. All will have the same powers.
1. Project pain (all nearby save vs magic or take d4 damage).
2. Communicate telepathically.
3. Cause hallucinations (save vs magic resists).
4. Teleport objects short distances.
5. Read memories. Erase memories read, if they want.
6. Move things telekinetically (roll to hit at +8, damage is d4-d12 depending on what’s used to attack.
7. Cause inanimate objects to crumble to dust.
8. Predict the immediate future. (1-in-6 save to resist any effect through prescience).
9. Teleport self short distances.
10. Cause sleep (save vs magic or sleep).
A strange monster that has escaped into the library from fairy realms.
It’s form is essentially avian, like a heron. Long legs, and a serpentine neck ending in its head. Instead of wings, it possesses two spindly arms that end in wide human-like hands with splayed fingers.
The Bandersnatch lurks. It has an uncanny ability to avoid drawing attention until its hands have closed around whatever it wishes to steal. This might be an object, a piece of equipment, or a person.
As a fairy creature, the Bandersnatch is as mad as a box of frogs. It’s a sort of kleptomaniac, collecting things with no seeming connection between its collection. If prevented from taking the object it desires, it becomes enraged.
Hit Dice 10, Hit Points 25, Armour as unarmoured, two hands (see below), saves as thief 10.
Half damage from non-iron weapons, double from iron ones.
3-in-6 chance to go unnoticed if it wants to and hasn’t done anything dramatic.
Long arms give 15 feet of reach.
Each round, it can use each hand to do one of the following:
· Slap (+10 to hit, d4 damage).
· Grab (+10 to hit, grabs the victim, no damage. Escaping from the grab requires 3 successful strength rolls).
· Squeeze (hits automatically, does 2d6 damage to a grabbed victim).
· Pick a Pocket (3-in-6 chance to succeed).
· Snatch a Held Item (5-in-6 chance to succeed).
Roll a d12 every so often for what the Bandersnatch wishes to steal right now.
2. Shiny Things
3. Beautiful People
5. Stolen Things
6. String & Rope