Three New Undead

I saw this picture, and suddenly this post happened.

Men can be classified only by their deaths. Monsters, maladies, and the moon all take men to strange graves, but the rest can sleep in honor. Their fates are as follows.

Those who die by beasts are eaten by beasts. Their souls are forfeit to the Forest Queen, who keeps them in the hems of her robes. They drop from her as she takes her walks, growing into trees.

Those who die by sickness are burned, and their remains taken for the Ash Mother's army. In the end days they will ravage the land with flu and flame, leaving it raw and burnt and beautiful, until once again men rise to claim it.

Those who die by drowning are forced to walk the ocean floor. Here they dance with the fishes and the cold, until the Silver Lady finds them in the deep and takes them to her garden on the moon.

All the rest are buried, safe in the earth's granite hands, and soon are born anew. So goes the cycle until they earn another fate or time wears their souls away.

THREE NEW UNDEAD

All of these can be turned by clerics as usual.

DRYADS OF THE HUNT (3HD, AC 15, immune to stabbing weapons)

Those who die from animal attacks are seldom buried. On moonless nights they rip from their graves, their bodies half devoured. These portions of missing flesh are filled in with ebony wood, giving them a spiraling, stripped appearance. From their mad mess of hair emerge antlers, seven crowned, always dripping in blood. These are Dryads.

Dryads speak with the voice of the Forest Queen, a voice which contains the cries of all her souls. Their proclamations deafen listeners with death screams, leaving them unable to hear any save the Forest Queen for five turns. If the Dryad hasn't successfully killed anyone in this time, she will bow, break off a single antler (a man pierced by it will be hounded by wolves for three days), and politely leave. If she has killed someone, she will fly into a rage. The Dryad will bite with wolf teeth (1d6 damage) and gore with antlers (1d8 damage), ceasing neither her assault nor her laughter until every man and beast lies dead in a heap before her. A sure sign of Dryads in the woods is stacks of unburied corpses.

When a Dryad dies her wood will wither, leaving only antlers and the half eaten corpse of a woman.

ASH WRAITHS

Men who die from fever burn up from the inside, and produce Ash Wraiths. They are moaning man-shapes of whirling ash, with red coals glowing where their eyes should be. They leave fire in their wake as they wander the woods. They try to find cottages where they can jump into fireplaces.

Ash Wraiths are dull and stupid things. Being made of Ash, they are immune to damage, though a cold stream or a cauldron of water can put one out. They spit teeth (1d6 damage) surrounded by clouds of ash at any that might obstruct them, but can only do so ten times before using up all their ash and falling apart. Anyone that breathes this ash in will fall deathly sick in 1d6 days, unable to move, their minds in delirium. Those afflicted make a daily DC 20 CON check; failure means the loss of 1 STR, 1 INT, and 2 CON (reaching zero in any stat means death). Passing checks reverses the condition, with rest and medical care giving +4.

When an Ash Wraith dies it leaves nothing but a burnt skeleton.

DROWNED MEN (2 HD, 12 AC)

Drowned sailors roam the bottoms of the oceans, emerging rarely to walk above the waves. They are horrid to look at, bloated grey and white forms that move tirelessly. Their very touch rots flesh and fabric (1d6 damage). They evaporate in moonlight, a painful process that leaves them running for the water.

Drowned Men talk constantly of their sunken treasure troves. Fields of gold coins carpet the abyss, they say, and mountains of rubies wait only for skilled hands to bring them to the surface. They are not lying. Despite their looks, they talk with all the guile 18 CHA provides, and often convince village crowds to follow them into the sea.

When a Drowned Man dies, water pours from his mouth for a week.