Monsters By Mike

A tribute to Dungeons and Dragons. An alphabet of fantasy monsters.

An ongoing project, created for the 50th anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons - the original tabletop roleplaying game. Inspired by classic artwork by masters like Erol Otus 

My own interpretation of 26 fantasy monsters from the early game - one for each letter of the alphabet - plus a poem, a rhyming guide to the adventurer... 

Each illustration, in addition to being produced as a Giclée or risograph print, will be worked up into a full-sized physical artwork, including paintings, woodcut prints, sculptural works and an artist's book.

You can see the full set, and progress below....
A is for Aboleth,
Scourge of the Glimmerseas,
Aberrant amphibious elder monstrosities,
Tentacular, squamous and feared by the brave,
Their psionic mucus can make you a slave,
Immortal, immoral, your soul will be lost,
To these triple eyed tyrants - avoid at all cost.
Inspired by Erol Otus, 
B is for Bulette,
Which lives underground,
A more scurrilous beast will never be found,
With teeth like a shark,
And claws like a bear,
If you chance on a Bulette,
You’d better beware.
C is for Carrion Crawler,
A myriapodous, burrowing foe,
Wherever the corpses will fall, there,
Will this scavenging necrophage go,

Once there it will feast on the rotting deceased,
Lay its eggs where the offals congeal,
Smell the reek of decay? Make haste. Run away,
Lest you end as a postmortem meal.
D is for Drow,
The dark elvenfolk,
From the shadowy Underdark gloom,
They are fair, I’ll avow,
But their cruelty, ‘tis spoke,
Is learned, begun fresh out the womb,

Their dark spider god,
Wields the whip and the rod,
To turn all towards cruelty and hate,
With their stealth and black arts,
Their Lolth-twisted hearts,
Both repel and yet more, fascinate.
E is for Ettin,
A bicipital brute,
With a cunning belying it’s size,
It’s worth not forgetting,
This diceph’lous galoot,
Has two brains between its four eyes,

It is vicious and coarse,
Twice the size of a horse,
Slain adventurers brave by the ton,
It’s adept at blood-letting,
And I could not confute,
That two heads are more fearsome than one.
F is for Firenewt,
Flame-belching lizardfolk,
From volcanic calderas,
Reeking of sulphur smoke,
Whence magma-boiled geyser jets,
Burp from the ground,
These ambushing salamen,
Are likely around.
G is for Githyanki,
Astral plane warriors bold,
Fierce ‘till death, proud and cranky,
In thrall to Mind Flayers of old,

They abhorred this position,
And seized manumission,
A rebellion savage and brave,

Stealthy raiders - no wonder,
They’re given to plunder,
For no one will make them a slave.
H is for Hook Horror,
If delving in dungeons you go,
With a high-pitched shriek, from its vulture-shaped beak,
It may hunt you in caverns below,

Armoured with chitin and hulking,
A hacking and clacking it comes,
For each claw like a scythe, if they don’t take your life,
I’ve heard alchemists pay hefty sums!
I is for Ithilid,
Flayer of minds,
Scourge of the Multiverse whole,
Sadistic and cruel,
Total psionic rule,
Is their only and ultimate goal,

While they further their aims,
They like snacking on brains,
Devoured while the victim’s alive,
Every senient race,
Must oppose them or face,
Their aberrant all-conquering drive!
J is for Jermlaine,
Pocket-sized fay,
Vicious, capricious,
They’ll ruin your day,

Their dun-twisted skin,
Is too big for their bones,
They live amongst rats,
In their warren-like homes,

Evil and spiteful,
‘Tho tiny in size,
Swarming with spiked-spears,
A nasty surprise.
K is for Kenku,
Quick, bird-headed folk,
Mischievous, magical,
Fond of a joke,

Shape shifting footpads,
Stealthy and thieving,
Skilled impersonators,
Adept at deceiving,

If ever a god appears,
Quite by surprise,
It might be a kenku,
In trickster’s disguise.
L is for Lamia,
Noble nor nay,
Chaotic, chimeric,
They delight in dismay,

With evil intent,
And bodies half-beast,
They seduce and enscorcel,
And after, they feast,

In old desert ruins,
In sands desolate,
Both graceful and deadly
They lie, and they wait.
M is for Minotaur,
Labyrinth born,
Broad chested and crested
With bull head and horn,

Strong as an ogre,
Bards often tell,
Of their sense of direction,
And keen sense of smell,

Legends recounted,
Of Kaz, Taurus, Thud,
Adventure and hunger,
Run quick in their blood.
N is for Norker,
Hobgoblin kin,
The dregs of the goblin court,
With a two-tusked grin,
And tough, leathery skin,
They are nasty, brutish and short,

They believe life is cruel,
And their goblin-gods rule,
Is the weak deserve violence and hate.
In their reeking cave dwelling,
You’ll know it by smelling,
These dangerous dimwits await.
O is for Ogre,
A commonplace foe,
With a name that’s a challenge to rhyme,

The monster, moreover
Irascible brute, is ill-tempered a lot of the time,

Voracious and hulking,
This creature likes bulking,
Its diet with dwarf flesh and elf,

So my warning most sober,
Adventuring rover,
Is Ogres are bad for your health.
Ogre - relief carving in wood
P is for Pseudodragon,
A drake, but in miniature scale,
Barely three feet to its nose, from,
The sting at the end of its tail,

Chameleon-skinned, and quick witted,
It psionically speaks, one to one,
To those its companionship gifted,
A familiar second to none.
Q is for Quasit,
Homuncular fiends,
With a wickedness large,
As they’re small.

Chaotic, infernal,
Prom’sing power eternal,
As into their clutches you fall,

To drag you, like gravity,
To depths of depravity,
Is this shape-shifting,
Demon’s desire,

You’ll ne’er meet a wilier,
Fell wizard’s familiar,
Than in Quasit’s
Quint’ssential attire.
Quasit - Acrylic and gouache on canvas 4ft by ​​​​​​​4ft
R is for Retriever,
Fell constructs born of the Abyss,
Each forelimb topped with a cleaver,
To rend foes for their demon prince,

Hell-forged by foul Demogorgon,
These spider-like beast track and slay,
Quick, yet hulking in size,
They fire beams from their eyes,
As they seize you then plane-shift away.
S is for Stirge,
A bloodsucking gnat,
Like a massive mosquito,
That’s crossed with a bat,

A long sharp proboscis,
For piercing the skin,
They’ll swarm you and bite you,
And drink what’s whithin.

So if you don’t want your claret,
To be drunk as a snack,
In dungeon or deep woods,
Keep the stirge off your back!
T is for Troll,
Neither timid nor droll,
They are clawed, razer-jawed,
Many parties they’ve gnawed,
Hungry mawed, when caught out on patrol,

Adventurers hate,
How they regenerate,
Only acid or fire,
Will cause them to expire,
Better build up a pyre,
For Trolls’ ire will not tire or abate.
U is for Umber Hulk,
Armoured entomic bulk,
Underground quarrying,
Mandibles flurrying,
Claw-flailing mightily,
Confusion-gaze sightly,
A fell foe fair fearsome,
Try not to get nearsome.
V is for Volt,
Its galvanic bolt ,
Can stun with a jolt,
So beware!

Lest they exsanguinate,
You, sound can indicate,
Through a humming vibrate,
Volts are here.

You can craft wands of lightning,
From tails, so if fighting,
They can make an exciting,
souvenir.
Wight,
Restless revenant,
Again-walking, undying,
Soulless slaves barrow-guard,
Enthralled.
X Is for Xorn,
Tripedal elemental,
Fearsome yet gentle,
Tho alien in form,

Geophage born,
Dimond-hard dental,
Stone, gems argental,
They eat, we adorn,

Xorn glide beneath the ground,
As we walk above it,
And hide inside the very rock,

Offer gold to Xorn you've found,
You’ll see they love it -
Tasty jewels will make them talk.
Y is for Yeth Hound,
Shadow pelt greying,
Outsiders Hell-bound,

Strikes terror the sound,
Of incorporeal baying,
Y is for Yeth Hound,

Night their playground,
Abhor sunlight raying,
Outsiders Hell-Bound

Few weapons will wound,
Wield silver for slaying,
Y is for Yeth Hound,

Face human-frowned,
Foul nature betraying,
Outsiders Hell-bound,

Fearsome profound,
Built only for slaying,
Y is for Yeth Hound,
Outsiders Hell-bound.
Z is for Zombie, Yellow Musk,
A creeper of unholy breed,
Look at this shambling fellow - a husks!
Controlled by the demon seed,

It lures with the scent of its orchid-like bloom,
Growing bright amongst ruins and the like,
Dazed is the knave who enjoys its perfume,
Then once-still vined-villain will strike,

Uncoiled it’ll grab,
Its thorns seeking to stab,
And it burrows its bulbs in your brain,

There it grow and devours,
And in 24 hours,
You’re a zombie; half-plant, all-insane.
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