Wyndlass

Hardly anyone who meets a wyndlass lives to describe it. The few glimpses come from wary travelers who spotted one outside its pit and had the sense to run. They describe a vast black octopus-like body with at least ten whipping tentacles, each more than 25 feet long and studded with sharp barbs that bite deep into flesh. The arms sprout in two clusters of five, and between them sit three faintly glowing blue eyes and a heavy, crushing beak.

Buried in its pit, the wyndlass lies motionless until something wanders onto the surface. Then its tentacles lash out, seize the prey and haul it under, imposing a -5 penalty on surprise rolls. A victim dragged below soon suffocates under the normal rules for holding one's breath, and the monster eats at its leisure.

A held creature cannot defend itself against the other tentacles or the beak. The wyndlass normally commits one five-armed cluster per target, so despite its ten limbs it can engage only two foes at a time, and its beak can bite only creatures it is already holding.

Tearing free requires a bend bars/lift gates success, and the barbs tear the escapee for 1d6 points of damage per tentacle that was wrapped around him.

The creature is not evil and takes no pleasure in killing. Its enormous size simply demands constant feeding, which has earned it a monstrous reputation.

A loner, the wyndlass passes nearly its whole existence hidden in its pit. Intelligent creatures avoid its lair, if they learn of it in time.

It chooses a spot on a well-used game trail or road and burrows down, oozing a fine oil that blends with the soil into something far slicker than water or ordinary quicksand. Those who have handled the stuff swear it cannot even be felt between the fingers. It offers no buoyancy at all, so swimming is impossible: anything that steps on it plunges straight under into the waiting arms.

When game grows scarce, usually about once a year, the wyndlass hauls itself out and creeps slowly off to dig a new pit elsewhere.

Few if any natural predators threaten it, but adventurers sometimes hunt it for its oil. That oil is an unmatched lubricant, and alchemists and wizards prize it most of all as a key ingredient in oil of slipperiness, which is the usual reason a hunting party sets out.