10 Terrifying D&D Monsters For a Horror Campaign
We’re well into the swing of October (aka Spooky Season) when the leaves change, and the air turns cool and crisp. During this time of year, the outdoors beckons with the call to sit around a campfire, roast some marshmallows, and share scary stories (or listen to horror podcasts in this modern era). In the realm of tabletop gaming, it's the perfect time to infuse your Dungeons & Dragons sessions with an extra dose of darkness and fear.
While you can assuredly up that feeling of dread by changing up the in-game atmosphere a bit (may I suggest fog?), maybe adding some spooky ambient background music, and crafting a few sessions that build suspense and tension, the quickest way to intensify the fear is by introducing truly terrifying monsters to your party. I’ve gathered 10 of my favorite horrifying creatures from the expansive D&D 5th Edition universe. Adding just a few of these nightmares to your campaign will inject a touch of macabre excitement, sending shivers down your players’ spines and keeping them on the edge of their seats.
A Shadow as portrayed in the D&D 5th Edition Basic Rules.
“From the darkness, the shadow reaches out to feed on living creatures’ vitality … As a shadow drains its victim’s strength and physical form, the victim’s shadow darkens and begins to move of its own volition. In death, the creature’s shadow breaks free, becoming a new undead shadow hungry for more life to consume.” If that info from the Basic Rules doesn’t show why this is perfect for a horror setting, then I don’t know what you’re wanting in your campaign. Not only are Shadows simply terrifying, but even at 1/2 Challenge Rating, they could quickly kill one or more players, even at higher levels.
Shadows possess immunities and resistances, including resistance to non-magical attacks, making them formidable adversaries. They take Hide as a bonus action, making them slippery for already difficult-to-hit monsters. Their Strength Drain attack is the most terrifying, capable of reducing even the mightiest warrior to a lifeless husk in a matter of rounds.
Using Shadows in a Horror Setting:
Leverage Stealth: Shadows excel at hiding in darkness, making them nearly impossible to detect. Use their stealth to surprise and terrify players, enhancing the suspense of encounters.
Eerie Locations: Place Shadows in ominous settings like graveyards. Pair them with other undead entities such as skeletons, zombies, or wights for higher-level parties, intensifying the horror.
Unpredictable Attacks: Allow Shadows to utilize their hide action, enabling them to appear unexpectedly in different areas, attacking players from the shadows. This unpredictability keeps players on their toes.
Tragic Ambush: Initiate encounters with Shadows ambushing commoners or guards leading the group. As the commoner falls, vividly illustrate the emergence of a new Shadow from their corpse, adding another layer of terror to the darkness.
Visceral descriptions: This will apply to most every monster on this list, horror comes from being able to picture the situation at hand vividly. When a shadow attacks, describe how it drains its victim's strength and vitality in vivid detail as if it’s truly sucking the life out of them through their mouths. This will help to create a sense of horror and dread.
Shadows are the epitome of horror in D&D. Their deadly nature, combined with their ability to strike from the darkness, ensures your players will remain on edge throughout your campaign.
Swarm of Rot Grubs: 1/2 CR
A Swarm of Rot Grubs attacks in Mordenkainen Presents: Monsters of the Multiverse.
“Rot grubs are finger-sized maggots that eat living and dead creatures, although they can survive on vegetation. They infest corpses and piles of decaying matter and attack anyone that disturbs them. After burrowing into a creature, rot grubs instinctively chew their way toward vital parts.” While this description from Monsters of the Multiverse is the same as in Volo’s Guide to Monsters, these little guys got nerfed pretty hard in the newer material. Because of this, I will be focusing on the Legacy version, because, well, Volo’s Rot Grubs were small, yet utterly horrifying, and if you use them, go with that version.
At first glance, mindless maggots might seem insignificant against battle-hardened adventurers. But that's precisely where their potency lies. Picture your players navigating a battlefield strewn with the aftermath of a horrific fight — a landscape littered with rotting corpses, the air heavy with putrid stench. Why are your players here? Well, that’s up to you. But, as they move a series of undead monsters attack … Zombies, Skeletons, a Barrowghast (more on that in just a bit)? As your players are engaged in combat, one of them steps close to a corpse. Suddenly, a swarm of rot grubs wriggles up their leg, biting voraciously. It's a gross-out moment, but it's also the beginning of a potentially deadly situation.
Initially, the threat seems minor — a mere 1d6 damage at the beginning of the victim's next turn for each grub that infested it (based on a d4 roll). But here's where the horror creeps in: if the grubs aren’t dealt with swiftly (and with fire, their only bane), they burrow further inside their victim. Now its a ticking time bomb.
If no one does anything to stop the grubs, likely because they’re focused on a battle with a bigger threat, then at the beginning of whoever has been infested’s next turn there’s no stopping them. The rot grubs chew relentlessly, dealing 1d6 damage at a time, slowly advancing towards the victim’s heart until they succumb to the onslaught.
If you ever saw that show on the Discovery Channel, Eaten Alive, the idea of a parasitical worm destroying a person from the inside is what nightmares are made of. Rot grubs encapsulate that terror.
Using Rot Grubs in a Horror Setting:
Slow Play: The players have to know they’ve been bitten by these nasty little guys, they’ll feel them burrowing inside them, especially if you describe viscerally. However, they likely won’t realize the true threat yet, this will add to the terror in the next turn.
Lesser Evil: Make sure to pair these with bigger threats. If you have a whole party focused on some grubs, there will be no real danger posed by them. Sure, they’ll be gross, but that’s enough to build the fear at the table.
Visceral Descriptions: Yep, that again.
In your campaign, make sure that rot grubs aren't just a physical threat; they embody the fear of the unseen, a creeping menace that can turn any encounter into a life-or-death struggle in a single bite.
Gibbering Mouther: CR 2
The Gibbering Mouther in all its gruesome glory.
Why don’t we take a look at this l’il cutie’s description in the Basic Rules, “This creature is the composite eyes, mouths, and liquefied matter of its former victims. Tormented by the destruction of their bodies and absorption into the mouther, those victims gibber incoherently and are forced to consume everything in reach. [Its] body is an amorphous mass of mouths and eyes that propels itself by oozing forward, fastening several mouths to the ground and pulling its bulk behind.”
As you can see, for those seeking a truly grotesque and bizarre horror experience, the Gibbering Mouther is an ideal choice. Its description is really the only reason I had to add this monster here because it reminds me so much of my favorite horror movie, The Thing. Having one or two of these pop up out of a muddy swamp, bog, or any other watery area will give your players a fright, but, to be honest not much of a fight.
Unlike other monsters on here, this thing is dumb, slow, and easy to hit. Outside of a surprise attack as it comes up out of a watery hiding place it doesn’t pose much of a threat. While it isn’t rules as written, something I might suggest doing if you’re wanting to make this a bit scarier on the deadliness level, allow it to drop back into the mud anytime it gets hit, move up to 10 feet, and then pop back up. I wouldn’t have it get a surprise round every time it attacks, but without this feature, any spellcaster can sit back 20 feet, blast it with whatever spell they have, and lay waste to it in a few rounds.
No matter how you use them, their existence is terrifying and can be used to great effect in a horror setting. They can also be used to show your hand to players that there is some dark sorcery going on nearby as they are the result of foul magic and complete madness. Coming across a Gibbering Mouther means that the players may soon be facing a deranged magic user of some sort (I’m thinking Mad Scientist?)
Using Gibbering Mouthers in a Horror Setting:
Terrifying Introductions: Consider having the players hear distant screams followed by the unsettling gibbering and crunching of bones. As they approach, reveal a horrifying scene of the Mouther devouring a victim. Then, they see the face of the victim slide to the center of the writhing mess of body parts, its eyes turn on them as its mouth opens into a deranged scream and *plop* it suddenly dissolves into the ground below.
Visceral Descriptions: Sick of this yet? When introducing the Gibbering Mouther, emphasize the sickening sight and grotesque sounds to immerse your players in the horror.
Strategic Use of Abilities: Leverage the Mouther's blinding spittle and gibbering abilities strategically. Inflict blindness on players, creating disarray and increasing the tension during encounters. The possibility of causing PVP attacks adds an element of paranoia and fear within the party.
Sense of Dread: Remember that the Gibbering Mouther likely isn’t the main antagonist but a tool to instill fear. Use its abilities and presence to create a pervasive sense of dread, signaling to your players that danger lurks nearby.
By embracing the Gibbering Mouther’s body horror elements and leveraging its abilities, you can ensure that encounters with this monster will send chills down the spines of even the most seasoned adventurers, enhancing the overall horror experience in your campaign.
Nothic: CR 2
Nothics look scary, but their ability to get inside people’s minds is where their true terror lies.
“A baleful eye peers out from the darkness, its gleam hinting at a weird intelligence and unnerving malevolence. Most times, a nothic is content to watch, weighing and assessing the creatures it encounters. When driven to violence, it uses its horrific gaze to rot the flesh from its enemies’ bones.” As seen here, Nothics can be terrifying in the classic sense, literally rotting your players’ flesh with their dark necromantic powers, but that is honestly the most boring way to use a Nothic.
Nothics are once-human spellcasters driven mad by their search for forbidden knowledge. They no longer remember their former lives, but they still search for knowledge even if they no longer know why. Because of this unabating quest, they are often found in abandoned libraries and arcane academies where they seek to hoard and devour knowledge.
They have one ability that sets them apart from other monsters that makes them perfect for a horror setting, their Weird Insight. Using this from afar, gathering hidden information about each of your players, a Nothic can bring up some of the players’ deepest darkest secrets and use them against them. Their ability to speak Telepathically at a distance of 120 feet allows them to use their gained knowledge to torment your players, maybe even throwing images of their greatest fears into their minds. The Nothic will stay hidden with its +5 to stealth, follow along quietly, and simply drive player characters mad as they make their way through what it considers its home.
If your players happen to see it or confront it, it will first attempt to get them to let it return to the shadows safely if it shares some of its secret knowledge with them. If they don’t agree and push for combat, the Nothic will utilize its Rotting Gaze to great effect and attempt to slip away back into the shadows. If you want to up the encounter threat, while Nothics are known as solitary creatures, it’s your world and you could have a group of Nothics living together, maybe the same number of them as your party, each one able to mess with your players’ minds.
Using Nothics in a Horror Setting:
Create Dread and Paranoia: Using a creepy, sinister voice that whispers in the minds of your players’ characters will emphasize that they are never truly alone, even when the Nothic remains unseen.
Psychological Warfare: Use your players’ backstories, the secrets they’ve kept from their fellow PCs to sow some discord amongst the party, bringing them face to face with their greatest fears and deepest regrets.
Illusions and Nightmares: While not inherent to their abilities, consider replacing whispered secrets with illusions and nightmares. Make the players question reality, blurring the lines between what's real and what's a horrifying vision. This uncertainty intensifies the psychological impact, making your players doubt their own minds.
Master Manipulators: Finally, Nothics are adept at manipulating minds. Use them as pawns of a larger, more menacing foe. Have them subtly guide the players, using their telepathy to compel the party into dangerous situations, all while maintaining an unseen presence. Or, when they give their “secret knowledge” they are actually sending the players into a dangerous trap.
In the realm of horror, physical threats can pale in comparison to psychological terror. Nothics, with their ability to delve into the minds of your players and sow discord, can serve as the catalyst for a creeping sense of madness. By exploring the characters' fears, regrets, and secrets, you can drive a wedge between them, creating a pervasive atmosphere of horror that lingers long after the game session ends. With Nothics, the true horror lies not in what the players see, but in what they cannot escape: the darkness within themselves.
Doppelganger: CR 3
Doppelgangers are more horrific once they change shape, becoming anyone they want.
The Monster Manual states outright, “Few creatures spread fear, suspicion, and deceit better than Doppelgangers.” These shapechangers possess the uncanny ability to assume the appearance of any humanoid they've encountered, making them masters of subterfuge and infiltration. As a Dungeon Master, the key to utilizing doppelgangers effectively lies in patience and strategic storytelling. Slow-play them, allowing these enigmatic beings to infiltrate the party, gain trust, and silently observe their every move. Doppelgangers excel at reading thoughts, exploiting the party's trust over time, sabotaging quests, and sowing discord among allies.
Despite their modest Challenge Rating of 3, a well-played doppelganger can pose a deadly threat, especially to a low-level party, particularly if they manage to divide and conquer by splitting the party. In battle, their surprise attacks and strategic mimicry render them formidable adversaries.
The true horror of doppelgangers lies in the pervasive sense of paranoia they instill. In a world where anyone could be something else, trust becomes a precious commodity, and uncertainty permeates every interaction. Encounters with these shape-shifters lead to chaos, leaving parties vulnerable and fractured.
Using Doppelgangers in a Horror Setting:
Slow-Burning Suspense: Begin by allowing the doppelganger to infiltrate the party gradually. Build trust before unveiling their true nature. This slow reveal creates a palpable sense of suspense and dread, enhancing the horror experience.
Exploiting Abilities: Leverage the doppelganger's unique abilities to their fullest extent. They can spy on the party, unearth their deepest secrets, and employ this information to manipulate and torment. By impersonating trusted individuals, they can sow discord, breeding mistrust, and fear.
Creative Narratives: Don't shy away from creativity. Doppelgangers offer versatile horror scenarios. For instance, have a doppelganger replace a beloved NPC, or impersonate a party member and turn allies against each other. These imaginative twists deepen the horror, keeping players on edge.
In your hands, doppelgangers become potent tools for crafting horror and suspense within your D&D campaign. Their ability to infiltrate, deceive, and exploit trust not only challenges the party’s unity but also taps into the primal fear of the unknown, making every interaction rife with tension and trepidation.
Banshee: CR 4
Fear the Wail of the Banshee.
“Banshees are the undead remnants of elves who, blessed with great beauty, failed to use their gift to bring joy to the world. Instead, they used their beauty to corrupt and control others. Elves afflicted by the banshee’s curse experience no gladness, feeling only distress in the presence of the living. As the curse takes its toll, their minds and bodies decay, until death completes their transformation into undead monsters.” Despite this strange, and seemingly problematic, bit of lore from the Basic Rules that suggests beautiful female elves must bring joy to the world or be cursed, Banshees are undoubtedly a terrifying monster to throw against any party, and especially any low-level party, so I had to include them.
The true terror of a Banshee lies in its ability to unleash its devastating Wail. With a single cry, the Banshee can send any creature within 30 feet into death-saving throws. Now, it can only use this ability once a day. However, even at once a day, with some bad rolls, the Banshee can cause a TPK in a single action.
So, while it is only a CR4 monster, it could definitely kill a few characters at level three or less. Furthermore, the Banshee's Horrifying Visage can send survivors fleeing in terror, leaving their fallen comrades vulnerable to further attacks taking them one step closer to the grave with each hit. This combination of fear-inducing abilities makes the Banshee a formidable foe, emphasizing the stakes of any encounter.
Using Banshees in a Horror Setting:
This one will be slightly different than the others because I believe Banshees should be run in a pretty specific way to use them to their full potential. While their abilities make them scary enough – and if you run them correctly they can be a true force to be reckoned with – Banshees are also physically and mentally terrifying and their mere presence can add to the overall sense of deadliness in an adventure. The easiest way to do this is to use the actual Celtic folklore of a Banshee and have them work as harbingers of death in the session(s) before the players ever encounter them face to face.
A series of NPC deaths are occurring in this arc, why they’re happening is up to you. The one thing that matters is just before each death, the players, and maybe even the entire town, hear the wail of the Banshee. When each dead body is found, it is completely untouched but seemingly scared to death. This approach builds fear in the players, yes, but also gives them the opportunity to possibly come to the conclusion to protect their hearing (put in a ball of wax, prepare the Silence spell, etc.) before facing the Banshee. This will help you dodge that TPK (unless that’s what you want, you sicko).
Once the players are going toe to see-through-toe with the Banshee, they will know to fear its Wail and also know that it must be destroyed at all costs. Adding in a few minions into the final fight, maybe the skeletons of the people she killed in the town, would be useful to keep players distracted and focusing some attacks elsewhere.
In the end, the Banshee, with its mournful wail and ominous presence, adds an unparalleled sense of dread to any horror-themed campaign. When the air is rent with the Banshee's lament, adventurers must grapple not only with a supernatural adversary but also with their own mortality, fostering an atmosphere of fear and trepidation that lingers long after the session concludes.
Dybbuk: CR 4
A Dybbuk on a battlefield is a recipe for body horror.
The Monster Manual gets straight to the point with why you should be using these monsters in your horror-based sessions or campaigns, “Dybbuks delight in terrorizing other creatures by making their host bodies behave in horrifying ways — throwing up gouts of blood, excreting piles of squirming maggots, and contorting their limbs in impossible ways as they scuttle across the ground.” Unlike their counterparts in Jewish folklore, Dybbuks in D&D 5e are demons that possess corpses, wielding them as macabre weapons in their relentless pursuit of fear.
Much like Shadows, Dybbuks prove menacing adversaries, gradually draining characters' lives with their tentacle attacks and lowering hit point maximums with each strike. Their near invulnerability, resistance to various damage types, and agility — showcased through their use of Dimension Door — make them elusive and difficult to pin down. However, their true horror lies in their ability to possess any nearby corpse, transforming lifeless bodies into nightmarish puppets, a concept limited only by the DM's twisted imagination.
Despite only having 37 hit points, it gets an extra 20 with every body it possesses, and there is no limit to the number of bodies it can possess as long as it is standing and recharges its possession ability (which only happens on a 6, but still). Imagine the horror as your party comes across a bloody battlefield full of dead rotting corpses of various creatures. They are attacked by some low-level monsters. Who knows? Maybe a band of Gnolls is there gnawing on the flesh of the dead, drawn by their blood lust. Suddenly, the body of a Bugbear soldier, blood matted in its fur, half of its skull missing from the swing of an Orcs axe stands up and starts attacking.
They take it down and a weird, translucent jellyfish creature pops out and *fwhip* Dimension Doors 500 feet away giving, a few rounds of the less powerful monsters to attack and getting a few chances to possess another corpse. You get near and it lashes out Phantasmal Force, making you believe you see, well whatever it wants.
If used well, a Dybbuk can be a pain in the ass to take down and can pull certain characters’ attention away forcing a sort of party split on a battlefield. Plus, with its ability to frighten, it can keep players away, telepathically taunting them at the same time.
Using Dybbuks in a Horror Setting:
Work in Pairs: Combine Dybbuks with low CR monsters to gradually chip away at the party's strength, intensifying the sense of dread as they face a relentless onslaught.
Control Corpses Creatively: Spend time devising inventive and nauseating uses of the Control Corpse ability. Each manifestation adds a sickening horror to the encounter, heightening the players' discomfort.
Strategic Alliances: Shadows would be great to use with a Dybbuk, especially the idea I posed about killing a low-level NPC with the Shadows. As soon as they drop, the Dybbuk is there to possess the corpse of the dead ally.
Exploit Telepathy: Utilize Dybbuks' telepathic abilities to taunt and terrify PCs, creating disarray and forcing them into strategic dilemmas on the battlefield. This psychological warfare adds depth to the horror, making the encounter unforgettable.
Thoughtful incorporation of Dybbuks into your horror campaign transforms it into a nightmarish saga, haunting players long after the session's end. As the line between life and death blurs in the presence of these malevolent spirits, your players will find themselves immersed in a world where every dead body is a potential enemy and fear reigns supreme.
Adult Oblex: CR 5
An Elder Oblex sending out a simulacrum to lure an unsuspecting party member into its grasp.
When this monster was released in Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes, Todd Kenreck put out a blog post calling The Oblex, “D&D’s Scariest New Monster.” In MTOF it says, “Older oblexes … have eaten so many memories that they can form duplicates of the creatures they have devoured … sending these copies off to lure prey into their clutches … These duplicated creatures are indistinguishable from their victims except for a faint sulfurous smell.”
Adult Oblexes are not mere brutes; they are intelligent and cunning predators, capable of manipulating minds and trapping prey with calculated precision. Their consumption of memories grants them intimate knowledge of their victims, enabling them to anticipate the party's moves and exploit their weaknesses. Another danger posed by oblexes is their ability to cast psionic spells. These spells allow them to manipulate the minds of their victims, making them easy to kill or capture.
Picture this session playing out: You send your players into a small town at night, a place where they’re looking to rest, and there are only a few to a handful of NPCs in the town – an Adult Oblex can only send out 1d4+1 Sulfurous Impersonations – they chat with a tavern owner and the single patron, a farmer and his wife, whatever you come up with. They’re kind and welcoming, and maybe one of the members of the party (preferably a high Intelligence, low Wisdom character) goes off with one of the NPCs to a secluded area and, “Make a wisdom saving throw.”
The Oblex uses its multi-attack to first eat memories and then, using its pseudopods, it takes two swift attacks on the player who likely is surprised and therefore is being attacked with advantage, taking 18 damage with each hit for a total of 54 damage if all hits land and no Nat 20s are rolled.
Once that character’s memories are drained, they are likely downed. Lo’ and behold, they walk out from the hidden area asking another player for some help. Rinse and repeat on the remainder of the party. All the while, the Oblex is sitting in the upstairs of the tavern or in the farmer’s barn, just biding its time, collecting memories, and maybe even making Oblex Spawns with every memory it drains.
Using Adult Oblexes in a Horror Setting:
Psychological Warfare: Much like Doppelgangers, Oblexes thrive on sowing distrust among players. By impersonating trusted NPCs, they can shatter the very foundation of trust, leaving players in a state of perpetual uncertainty. Creating a sense that no one can be trusted always heightens the tension in a horror setting.
Questioning Reality: Use the Impersonations to toy with the players. They’re following someone down a hall, someone they’ve been speaking with when, gloop, the Impersonation disappears and the tendril slithers away in the darkness, unnoticed leaving the player to possibly delve deeper, maybe toward another foe or trap, maybe just questioning their own sanity.
Memory and Identity Loss: You can choose to up the horror by explaining how the characters’ memories are fully gone once eaten. Characters lose not only their pasts but their connections, their camaraderie, and their very sense of self. This devastating loss amplifies the psychological toll, creating a profound sense of despair that lingers long after the encounter ends. Emphasizing this aspect can magnify the horror, reminding players that their very essence is under threat.
Strategic Retreat: Make sure its prime body is in a room with a crack in the floor, that way when the players come to attack it, it can retreat, slipping through the crack and to whatever you have planned down below. This leads players on a treacherous pursuit, drawing them into dungeons, catacombs, or other nightmarish scenarios. As the Oblex relentlessly sends out more simulacrums to terrify and deceive, players must grapple with an ever-present sense of dread and uncertainty.
When employing Oblexes in a horror setting, focus on the psychological impact. The Oblex is not merely a physical threat; it is a force that preys on the mind, creating an atmosphere of fear, distrust, and despair. By delving into the psychological aspects of the Oblex's abilities, you can transform a typical encounter into a nightmarish tale that leaves an indelible mark on both characters and players, a chilling reminder of the horrors lurking in the shadows of your campaign.
P.S. If you want to run a similar encounter for a higher-level party, check out the Elder Oblex.
Barrowghast: CR 7
The Barrowghast is a nasty additon to the 5e line of monsters.
Coming straight out of the latest D&D book, Bigby Presents: Glory of the Giants: “A barrowghast is filled with necrotic energy and driven by spite and malice. Its blood is a thick and toxic ichor that gives the barrowghast a noxious stench. Barrowghasts no longer hunger for physical food and instead crave life energy drained from living creatures … they feast indiscriminately on any creatures they encounter. When barrowghasts drain Humanoids’ life energy, those Humanoids rise as zombies.”
You’ve heard of zombies, right? Well, what if we took those terror-inducing classic horror monsters and made them into giants? That is a Barrowghast. The Barrowghast is a grotesque spectacle, a walking dead hill giant whose once-mighty form is now a decaying husk, its flesh rotting and clinging to its bones, something straight out of nightmares.
Its very presence exudes a rotting aura, a miasma of necrotic energy that saps the life force of those who dare approach. A mere touch from its skeletal claws can paralyze its victims, leaving them helpless as it drains their very essence.
Send one of these monstrosities into a small village where the party is staying and you can have a hell of a final encounter as it life drains the townspeople, turning them into zombies. Because of its size, it packs a whopping 138 hit points, meaning it already is no easy task for a party to take down. Add to that the fact that it smells so rotten that it can poison with just a whiff, leading anyone who fails the throw to be unable to heal for a minute, and it’s a deadly foe on its own before you add any zombies into the mix.
Anyone who gets up in the fray against it risks being poisoned if they cause slashing or piercing damage to it forcing hand-to-hand PCs like fighters, rogues, and barbarians to rethink their approaches to battle. If they don’t and continue slashing and piercing, there’s a good chance they’ll be going down, especially once the zombies enter initiative.
Using Barrowghasts in a Horror Setting:
Zombie Army: As stated above, have a Barrowghast descend upon a peaceful village, where unsuspecting townsfolk fall victim to its paralyzing touch, transforming into an army of the undead.
Undead Guardian: Delve deeper into the realm of horror by placing the Barrowghast in ancient burial grounds, forgotten tombs, or cursed crypts. These macabre locations, tainted by dark rituals and lost lore, become the perfect lairs for the Barrowghast. The players search for a lost relic only to find it guarded by this undead behemoth. The encounter becomes a harrowing battle against both the Barrowghast and the fear that permeates the ancient, cursed air.
Undead Menagerie: Enter the heart of the wilderness, where the Barrowghast has corrupted the very fabric of nature. Picture a forest once teeming with life, now turned into a nightmarish realm where zombified animals, from wolves to squirrels, roam in undead swarms. Can you imagine being attacked by a swarm of zombie squirrels? All the Barrowghast is after is Life Force, why not beasts of the wild?
To zombify animals, or anything, the simplest way is to take their stat block (I’d use Swarm of Rats for a Swarm of Squirrels and give them a climbing speed) give them Zombie stats, add immunity to poison, and poisoned, give them darkvision, keep their original attacks, and make sure they have Undead Fortitude.
Incorporating the Barrowghast into your game introduces an element of horror that will linger. Its putrid aura, devastating abilities, and association with death and decay make it an ideal creature to instill fear in your players, transforming an ordinary adventure into a nightmarish tale of survival. Plus, giant zombie is just a fun monster to run.
P.S. Check out the other new Giant Undead from Glory of Giants, the Spectral Cloud. It’s basically the Cloud Giant version of this and while not as built for horror, still could be a solid addition to your game.
Nightwalker: 20 CR
Nightwalkers exist to make life extinct, and that’s just what they may do to your party.
We’re jumping way up there in CR with this guy, but I couldn’t pass it up. Now, I must admit, the description of the Nightwalker is lacking in Monsters of the Multiverse, focusing more on what creates a Nightwalker instead of how absolutely terrifying they are beginning by saying: “The Negative Plane is a place of death, anathema to all living things. Yet there are some who would tap into its fell power and use its energy for sinister ends. Most individuals prove unequal to the task. Those not destroyed outright are sometimes drawn inside the plane and replaced by nightwalkers—terrifying Undead creatures that devour all life they encounter.”
Take that last sentence and add this one from later in the entry, “... Nightwalkers exist to make life extinct,” and you have the beginning threads of what makes this malevolent monstrosity a horrifying foe. Did I mention they’re a Challenge Rating 20? That you don’t get death saving throws if it takes you down because its attacks drain your max HP? That is can paralyze you with fear from 300 feet away? That it is resistant or immune to nearly every attack other than magical weapons, force, or radiant damage? That it can fly?
Imagine sending your players to a city they’ve been to before. When they were here last it was a bright, bustling city. Now, it is unnervingly quiet, all of the street lamps that blazed before are out, casting the city in a blinding darkness. In the distance, moving amongst the buildings and the black sky, they see a looming figure, thirty feet tall, two spiraling horns of shadow twisting out of a shifting mass of shadows, its eyes gleaming with a cold, malevolent light. It turns those eyes on them, and then rises forty feet in the air, shadows gathering around it as it raises its finger to point at them, preparing its Finger of Doom attack.
I could give you some ways to add this into a horror setting, but the fact is, if this has made its way into your campaign, there’s nothing special you need to do to make it horrifying. The appearance of a Nightwalker doesn't just signify a challenging encounter; it heralds an existential threat. Its very existence challenges the players' understanding of life and death, serving as a reminder that in the vast expanse of the multiverse, there are entities whose motives transcend mortal understanding. Confronting a Nightwalker is not just a battle against a fiendish foe; it's a struggle against the encroaching darkness that seeks to consume everything.
Quick caveat: A bit of metagaming here, but if one of your players has Banishment stocked, they can take this guy out pretty quickly, especially since Nightwalkers have a -1 to Charisma saving throws and likely aren’t fighting alongside anything else (so the caster doesn’t have to worry about losing concentration). Just something to keep in mind so your big, scary fight doesn’t end in possibly a single round.