Crawling Ivy

The vine is glossy dark green with triangular leaves, climbing on rootlets that grip any crack, and each autumn its yellow flower clusters ripen into bitter black berries. Two details give it away: the veins of its leaves are pale magenta instead of green, and close inspection shows the leaf surfaces are dotted with minute pores. It does not communicate, though magic might coax something from it.

The ivy covers house walls, wraps big trees or carpets the ground, and it can creep along on its rootlets to bring prey within reach. Anyone touching it or within 3 feet may be attacked, and it waits for its victim to come as close as possible. It gains +4 to hit anyone climbing the wall it covers or wading through a bed of it, and people unaware of its nature suffer -3 on surprise rolls.

Its first attack works like the 1st-level priest spell entangle; a failed save vs. spell leaves the target bound. A victim who avoids it can fight or back away, but a captive cannot help himself. He needs a rescuer, or a bend bars success that frees one arm. While he is trapped the vines make two strangling attacks per round for 1d6 points of damage each. He falls unconscious once he drops to half his hit points or after four rounds spent failing to escape the strangling vine, whichever comes first.

Then the vines simply hold him, and the leaves open their pores against bare skin and draw blood through the wounds, dealing 1d6 damage each round until nothing remains but a dry husk. Spells that affect plants work normally on the ivy, but it is immune to illusions and mind-affecting magic and takes half damage from fire and cold.

Bred by magical experiment, it lives entirely on blood and body fluids and needs neither water nor sunlight. An intricate set of valves and pumps in its leaf veins separates the blood and moves fluid through the whole vine. Every week it must feed on one victim per Hit Die or it turns brown and dies. It is smart enough to guard a home for a master who keeps it fed, a favorite trick of those who prize their privacy. Neighboring colonies share space and food without rivalry.

A berry sown in soil soaked with blood starts a new colony. Its blossoms are an ingredient of healing potions; a crushed flower pressed to a wound stanches bleeding and eases pain.