Sand Bride

Exiled to the desert world from the Negative Material Plane, this creature is a humanoid figure made entirely of sand, with two glowing red eyes. It usually hides behind an illusion of a lovely young woman, occasionally a man, beside a cool pool. It knows 1d6 human or demihuman languages.

Gliding unseen through sand at normal speed, it scouts travelers, nearly always picking groups short on water and sparing large, well-stocked ones. It loves to catch a straggler, who finds an impossible oasis; thirst beats suspicion. Daily it casts hallucinatory terrain once and seeming twice, at 10th level. Only druids and rangers above 5th level may save against the oasis, and saves against the seeming are at -2. Every round of conversation allows a disbelief save, since its small talk is awkward and its news stale. It urges a drink before talk and strikes as the victim bends to the pool, at +4 on that first attack. A victim who sips gets a mouthful of sand, fighting and defending at -2 and unable to cast verbal spells until he spends a round rinsing.

Each of its two fists deals 1d10 and drains a level. Someone drained dry becomes a husk that collapses into dust after two days and then only a wish can bring back. Earlier, remove curse with raise dead restores life but no memories or experience; a carefully worded wish returns the memories.

Mundane blades pass through it harmlessly, though it pretends to be hurt, even giving ground; alert foes may note it never shrinks. Only magical weapons destroy it for good. Each gallon of water deals 1d6, but water damage, alone or combined with magic, merely disperses it for a day. Losing, it melts into the sand over one round, and if foes stay put it has a 50% chance to rise behind one and strike again. It fears nothing, though some guess it secretly seeks a slayer to send it home. It may appear as a small giantess as readily as a human, and anything with low intelligence or better is prey.

Each is a lonely, suffering exile, cut off since a life-draining wizard tore a rift to its dark plane. One ranges wherever sand goes, crossing silt at half speed and no other ground, and lairs in a hidden pocket under the dunes. It covets mortal goods it cannot use: its hoard has double the normal chance of magic items and triple the chance of gems.

Nothing preys on it, and its appetite for life force has no end. Life-respecting wizards are its favorite prey.

This older, mightier version, also called mother of the bride, looks the same; whether it is unique or something a bride grows into is unknown. It plays a doting matron to thirsty parties, covering its poor small talk with fussing over the dear children while it learns who holds magic weapons or is a life-respecting wizard, then hits the most dangerous member first, by surprise if it can.

It casts at 12th level: only druids or rangers of 7th level and up may save against its terrain, and its seeming imposes -4. It centers its oasis on a pit or sinkhole when possible, and any hit on a kneeling drinker shoves him in for falling damage on top of the blow. Its fists deal 1d12 each and drain a level, and it may divide them between two adjacent foes. Permanent harm requires weapons of +2 or better; lesser ones leave it to reform in a day, and water does nothing. Once a day it casts destroy water, the reverse of create water, at 9th priest level, wiping out up to 4 1/2 gallons, usually after tailing a party until supplies run low. It fawns over good mages, strikes them first, and chases them if a group scatters.

It dwells in a hard-to-find cavern far beneath the dunes. Each magic item has double the normal chance to appear, so at least one is always there, if not always a useful one. It hungers for intelligent life even more than a bride but will drain beasts when nothing better offers.