Age gelatin
A type of slime that when touched, ages only that part 1d6 years per round exposed. This includes all types of materials, e.g. not only organic matters. A simple splash of water is all that takes to remove the slime.
If ingested, the subject will age overall (i.e. every part of the body, as one normally does), but will also keep doing so at the same rate until they die of old age (unless they can cancel it out, or gain immortality and thus keep ageing but still be kept alive: the lich Richard of Bärfis is an example of that; he's a couple of thousand years old and can't really move, and looks more like a raisin that a man, but is happier than ever).
Age gelatin is extracted from the marrows of Time Swines, but can also be found in Time Limes for those preferring plant based magic.
A reek seer
These one-eyed humanoids predicts the future for small amounts of washnuts as only payment.
There are two types of reek seers, but what they have in common is that they're always wrong in their predictions.
The first type is always extremely, off the charts wrong (their prediction "reeks"): ask them if it will rain tomorrow, and they will tell you that a great sea serpent will erupt from the ground and spew forth an ocean with sharks and starfish and then another ocean will hear about this new ocean and come over and it will be two oceans and more sharks and then a rain cloud will come over as well and maybe a shark cloud and it will rain sharks and...and...and...
The second type is also always wrong in their predictions, only in a more realistic way: ask them if it will rain tomorrow, and they will tell you they don't know, end of discussion, go home, good bye. They smell like Danish cheese.
Lee
A sorcerer that is dependent on the wind to guide their spells; e.g. when they cast a bolt of fire, it will only travel the way the wind blows.
Tee ref
A type of oracle that only talks in tautologies.
Anal eel timer
Whatever it is, you should probably have it checked out in time.
Helena rattle me
A humanoid sloth, big as an elephant. It lacks eyes but uses a large bone rattle to navigate its surroundings; it takes two steps and then stops to rattle three times, fully focused on how the sound travels. It then follows the path that sounded the most promising in terms of food.
It also utilizes the large bone rattle as a club when hunting.
Wee nettle alarm
This plant looks like a ordinary nettle, but will not cause pain if brushed against. Instead, the toxin lies dormant until the subject is close to danger (as sensed by the toxin from the subject's heartbeat, among other things), at which time it triggers a reaction that causes the subject to scream (though not in pain).
The toxin lies dormant up till one hour.
Petal hen
This monster looks like a ring of the most beautiful poultry you've ever seen; vivid colours, posh feathers, round and healthy. They're all facing outwards from the ring, wings raised high in the air, clucking melodically; as it draws closer and closer, it's hard not to be mesmerized by the slow spinning dance.
And then, when they are right next to you, the false poultry lower their wings at the same time, exposing a round, gaping void of teeth and eyes, hoping to trip you over and swallow you whole.
Facet quail
These little birds suffers from low poly count, or dare I say, low Polly count.
Word
These pale, paper-thin monsters are actually non-hostile at first. They float through the air, curious, until they suddenly pick out one subject at random, after which they will follow it curiously. As this subject speaks, the entity transcribe these words onto themselves, until they're entirely filled with words.
At this point, they turn extremely hostile, moving words around to form new meanings, as if they want to misinterpret. Soon, the words will fly off their body as projectiles, targeting only the subject; the longer the sentence, the more damage it does.
When all words have left the monster, it goes back to its non-hostile routine, floating about, looking for a new subject.
Rage fly
These small insects are really upset. They will hover next to your ear and tell you how much they bloody hate you, this place, and all other beings, and that their food taste like shite, and so on.
Most people and animals never notice these flies. The only other being that can understand these flies are beetles, but they pretend not to.
Hell ffa
Small, round beans. Nutritious and edible if cooked, but hell will break loose in your stomach since a tiny replica of one layer of the abyss - or a mere slice of one - will materialize inside your guts for the next eight hours.
Roll 1d666 to determine which one.
Fowl ode
A wind spirit, invisible to the eye. It attracts birds by flowing itself through hollow trees and other narrow spaces at high speeds, thereby producing sounds of various pitch and scale. When a flock of birds large enough to satisfy its hunger is following its trail, it quickly wraps itself around the flock, and materialize as a lightning cloud for a split second, under which it discharge one powerful intracloud lightning.
It will then materialize as a thick shrubbery, which will fall (along with the dead birds inside) to the ground, where the fowl ode will slowly digest the birds over a course of one week, after which it will return to its wind shape.
Ten it
These goblinoid creatures are very much like any other goblin, with one very strange exception: with their final breath, they always point at something at random and utter something gibberish, which will multiply whatever they pointed at ten times.
Since this also includes living beings, one theory is that this is how Ten it-goblins reproduce.
A fey gone lit
Small, winged beings. Their fly patterns are highly irregular and mellow. They smell like the worst part of a bonfire, and they will talk your ears off - literally - which they will collect and turn into small beds.
Yo he feet peed
This monster is actually more afraid of you than the other way around.
