Cold Caller

Ravenloft was a D&D setting themed around the tropes of gothic horror-- vampires, werewolves, ghosts, suspense, curses, dark magic.  Basically it was "Dark Shadows: The RPG".  Which I'm pretty sure is actually a thing in its own right. 

Ravenloft had its own version of Frankenstein and his monster, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde., Dr. Moreau, Dracula AND Vlad Tepes (two different characters, one based off the vampire, one based off the historical figure), Abraham Van Helsing and lots of inspiration from Poe, M. R. James and other horror/macabre writers.  Thankfully, the game avoided Lovecraftian tropes for the most part (except for a land ruled by the octopus-headed mind flayers) since unfathomable, oozing cosmic horrors don't really fit with the very human horrors of gothic fiction.

  It also had, er, "mystic gypsies" called the Vistani-- though to be fair, the game did admit these people were based on the gypsy archetype of old movies, not on real Romani.

The March 1998 issue of Dragon magazine (#244) held a contest called "Terrors from Above", asking readers to come up with an original flying monster for Ravenloft.  The results were eventually compiled into a PDF book by the Kargatane, an online group of fans who generated tons of cool original work for the setting.

While the entries are pretty neat, there was a distinct trend towards creatures that were basically just winged gargoyles/demons or some slight ghost variant (2nd edition D&D had a glut of undead based on the "incorporeal spirit that cannot rest because they have unfinished business/were wronged in life/had some serious emotional issues" model). But there are still a lot of weird original creations-- including a D&D Mothman!

One of my favorites is the Cold Caller, created by Mathew Sernett.   Cold Callers are ethereal flying fish that use haunting, flute-like songs to lure people out of their homes on cold nights.  The creatures, which resemble pearlescent salmon with fluttering, gossamer wings, lead their entranced prey out onto thin ice, where they inevitably crash through into the frigid water. These unearthly fish then feed off the fear and panic of their victims as they struggle, slowly succumbing to the numbing cold.

I've always liked creatures that gain sustenance from emotional energy.  They aren't necessarily evil-- heck, the Cold Callers are nothing but dumb animals. Yet these emotional predators need the psychic terror of a sentient being to survive. The description even says they must feed on fear to gain enough energy to produce eggs.  

Cold Callers fit pretty well into the "gothic dread" feel of Ravenloft. Like the previous Righteous Clay, they play on the fear of dying or losing a close friend or loved one to the vagaries of nature. There's not a malevolent force, or even any kind of sentience behind this death-- just a stupid, hungry fish.

I like to think the Cold Callers were a deliberate creation of the mysterious and malevolent "Dark Powers" that control Ravenloft. A twisting of a natural animal to cause yet more fear and dread in the people trapped in the gothic land.

Duckbunny

And now for another one of my all-time favorite D&D monsters (if you haven't guessed by the name of this blog), the often-maligned  Duckbunny. 

Created by Johnathan M. Richards (with a nifty illustration by George Vrbanic)and first featured in Dragon magazine #243, the poor duckbunny has been tossed onto a lot of hackneyed  internet "stupidest D&D monster" lists.  Luckily, though, it has its fair share of defenders who understand the little web-footed anatileporid's* importance. Indeed, I don't think it's too far to say that some of D&D's more iconic monsters wouldn't even exist were it not for the humble duckbunny. 

First, let's talk about owlbears. A staple of D&D throughout all its editions, the owlbear is-- you'll never believe this-- a magical hybrid with the sharp beak, talons and keen eyesight of an owl merged with the bulk and strength of a grizzly.

 Sure the owlbear looks cool but, honestly, where the heck did this thing come from? If you want to get technical, the owlbear was originally created by D&D cofounders Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson based off of a cheap plastic "dinosaur" toy they used as a miniature for this weird pen-and-paper fighting game they were developing based off "Chainmail", Gygax's earlier medieval fantasy tabletop wargame. Here's an article by fantasy artist Tony DiTerlizzi talking about the owlbear's origins in more detail, along with other classic monsters like the Bulette and Rust Monster: 

But what's the in-story explanation for this weird hybrid? On the one hand, you could say that since the D&D multiverse is high fantasy, the owlbear just sort of "is", much like numerous hybrid monsters from myth: griffons, chimerae, quilin, uktena, etc.  The actual D&D lore, however, usually says that owlbears are magically-crafted guardian animals that proved too dangerous and untamable and were ultimately released into the wild.  Yeah, there's a fair amount of D&D lore that boils down to "a wizard did it", or for the even crazier, nonsensical stuff, "a mad wizard did it!"

Of course, why stop at making just one magical hybrid?  Richards' article provides several  pretty nifty crossed animals, including a cougar crossed with a giant salamander (an aquatic cat for defending moats), a dog with a scorpion (an enhanced guard dog with a stinger) and a giant turtle with a dragonfly (flying living transport-- which is totally getting its own post eventually).  

All this mixing begs a question, though: where does a sorcerous genesplicer start out?  You don't want to dive right into magically mushing a bunch of critters together without at least a little practice.  You'll likely either end up with a Cronenbergian horror-blob, or an out-of-control killing machine that will rip your throat out.  No, the aspiring wizard needs to start small, merging animals that couldn't possibly pose any danger.  Like, say, maybe a rabbit and a duck? 

So yes, the duckbunny is the apprentice biomage's entrance exam.  Though come to think of it, why not create a duckbunny?  You could make millions in the pet trade.  Who wouldn't want to own one of these things as a pet? 

A sentient platypus contemplating a duckbunny.  Done mostly because I wanted to draw a platypus wearing pince-nez

The duckbunny resembles a small platypus covered with white fur, bearing the rabbit's long ears and ducks yellow bill and webbed feet. Behavior-wise, it favors its rabbit progenitor, spending most of its time eating grass and hiding in underground burrows near water where it can indulge its anatidian side.  The article lists game stats for the creature, though these are mostly in place because every animal in old school D&D needed stats.  The things are barely worth any experience points, and are explicitly said to be unable to fight or cause damage.  Under that light, it's easy to see why the more "hack and slash and grab the treasure, raaaaawwwwrrgh!" section of gamers would dislike the duckbunny.  But hey, not every fantastical creature in your fantasy world needs to be able to eat your face off.

               

*I knew the Insomniac's Dictionary that I keep on my desk would come in handy someday.

Insomniac's Dictionary by Paul Hellweg.