Welcome to Monsters Down the Path! I specialize in monsters and monster accessories (mainly deities) from the Pathfinder RPG! Specifically 1st Edition, though I’m still sinking my teeth into 2nd Edition content. New articles pop up every Friday (and sometimes Mondays!) reviewing creatures from across every 1e Bestiary, module, and Adventure Path! Sometimes I even mix in my own homebrew content!

Whether it’s me showing you a monster you’ve never seen before, revealing tactics or ideas of monsters you’ve never thought of, or because you actually like my homebrew stuff, you can show me a little love and/or thanks by buying me a Coffee!

Monster Spotlight: Fungal Crawler

CR 3

Neutral Small Aberration

Bestiary 2, pg. 127

These oversized cave crickets can be found just about anywhere in the caverns of the world, having spent countless years evolving in and adapting to just about every environment you can conceive of. The book gives us just a few samples of their most extreme adaptations: flying variants that flit about enormous underground pits, long-limbed variants that skate across subterranean lakes... and even fireproof variants that live comfortably in volcanic chambers! The key to their evolutionary triumphs lays in the fungal caps you see on their head; at first glance, one may believe the fungus to be the true mind in the vein of cordycepts, but the truth is that they're NOT two separate creatures living in symbiosis, but a full merge in the same vein as mitochondria and human cells, creating a single organism capable of truly impressive feats.

Fungal Crawlers are one of the many reasons carrion doesn't have long to fester in the underground, as they serve the same ecological niche in the Darklands as hyenas do on the surface, skeletonizing any carrion they detect but just as able hunt and kill smaller animals on their own, or take down larger prey items in packs up to 12 members strong. The book states that the Fungal Crawlers are the top of the bottom of the food chain, their hunting parties easily bullying other scavengers away from kills but falling swiftly to more determined predators, for which they make an especially tantalizing feast: crunchy insect with a delicious fungal center! All they have to get through is 16 AC and 25 hitpoints, which should be no problem for the many inhabitants of the Darklands, who have enough tricks to catch such a scrumptious little morsel off-guard and--

sorry, hold on, I just noticed there's nine entire words after "Immunities." Ah, well, that explains it! The reason Fungal Crawlers are so good at what they do is because of their Plant Defenses, their fungal body easily metabolizing the poisons that otherwise drip freely from the fangs of many Darklands residents (Crawlers themselves included!) and rendering them immune to an enormous amount of tricks other predatory species' possess: paralysis, sleep, and stunning. They're also, importantly, immune to mind-affecting effects (and less importantly, polymorphing), meaning no mystical lures draw them into danger or waiting maws, and no efforts to magically control or redirect them will work... and meaning that anyone hoping to domesticate these creatures has to do it the hard way. Such efforts often end in either frustration or tragedy, because while these things can be bribed with food, they cannot be trained, and will turn on their handlers the moment they feel endangered or simply too hungry.

Any creature attacked by a Fungal Crawler is taught a swift and painful lesson in underestimating even lowly Darklands wildlife, the beasts capable of taking down prey significantly larger than themselves so long as they initiate... and they probably will, considering their +9 to Initiative checks! A Fungal Crawler opens pretty much every battle with a Leap, this dangerous maneuver requiring them to succeed a DC 20 Acrobatics check during a charge attack (and with a +14 to such checks, they're very likely to succeed), but succeeding means they hop into the air and slam into their foes, making four claw attacks for 1d4+2 damage each for an opener that often shreds smaller prey to pieces. If more than one Fungal Crawler is in the battle, expect this to happen over and over again as each one charges one after another.

Once landed, Crawlers can only strike out with two of their claws at once as part of a Full-Attack for 1d4+2 damage each, but they also put their bite to work for an extra 1d6+2 damage. Crawlers have trouble digesting solid meals so they inject a caustic poison into their meals to reduce it to an easily-slurped slurry; this poison has its uses against prey that's still alive, dealing 1d2 Str and Con damage a round for up to 4 rounds to anything that fails a DC 14 Fortitude save. The venom of a single Crawler isn't likely to have a big impact on a party--especially since it's purged from the system after a single successful save--but, again, they hunt in packs, potentially melting through even the tankiest Fighters in short order.

Thankfully, though Crawlers have numerous defenses against magical muckery, they're still vulnerable to being smashed to a paste. They're just as vulnerable as any bug to being critically hit, flanked, or pulled apart by precision damage, and their formidable offense drops off quite suddenly after the first round when they can no longer make use of their dangerous Leap to deal 4d6+8 damage (and potentially more via critical hits). Their poison is more of an annoyance than a danger, even at this low of a level, and only elevates to an actual threat if there's more than one in the fight. Even then, killing just one or two Crawlers in a swarm of them will likely cause the rest to scatter; they're scavengers, after all, and are perfectly happy fleeing a party that overwhelms them and returning later to eat the bodies of their fallen kin rather than risking the colony.

Hell, they may actually follow in the wake of the party, entire packs feasting merrily on the trail of corpses and becoming a danger if the players have to turn back around for any reason! If the party shows any weakness or indication that they may be easy prey--and depending on why they're turning and running back the way they came, this is probably true!--they may find themselves suddenly charged at and shredded by the claws of these gigantic, hungry crickets.

You can read more about them here.

Treerazer is also a wonderful anomaly in that he's one of very few demons that was never a mortal soul to begin with. He is the offspring of Cyth-V'sug, himself one of many qlippoth-turned-demons, and was born possessing the strength of a Demon Lord with the ideals of something primeval. His motivations and behaviors can come across as strange and alien because he is strange and alien, having began life as a shard cleft from an entity representing consumptive fungal blight.

[rapid pencil-scratching noises] demon... lord... of.... chickens...

Monster Spotlight: Nochlean

CR 3

Chaotic Evil Medium Fey

Adventure Path: Return of the Runelords: Secrets of Roderic's Cove, pg. 84-85

Creeping through the shadows, slipping past cracked doors, creeping in through windows, and slithering under beds, these cruel and malicious Fey live for the thrill of being the boogeyman that terrorize sleepy little towns at night. Nochleans are rotten through and through, existing only to cause pain, misery, death, and despair with no purpose or reason, compelled by their very nature to vandalize homes, slay pets and livestock, and steal away children in the dead of night. Notably, that last one is explicitly a hobby; nothing is more entertaining for them than watching a family have a breakdown over one of their young ones going missing, and Nochlean gain nothing from the activity--they don't even eat the stolen child, magically convert them into more fey, or demand a ransom! They just do it for the love of the game.

To this end, Nochlean possess the eerie Child Scent ability, able to sniff out humanoid children no matter where they may hide, navigating perfectly through the darkness of any house. Their long nails and dexterous fingers can be used like a set of lockpicks, letting them use their +9 to Disable Device without any actual tools, and their wiry frames and light bodies grant them +12 to Stealth. With the ability to use Spider Climb at 3/day, even hiding one's children on second floors is little defense, and a 3/day Sleep available assures that their stolen cargo remains knocked out... and any parents who barged in to see the fiend are quickly rendered non-issues.

This isn't the only magic available to these fiendish Fey, as they can use Open/Close and Mage Hand at will to mimic hauntings, misdirect anyone looking for them, and pilfer small items with little fanfare. Ventriloquism also allows them to make their words sound like they're coming from everywhere, such as from outside a window, from inside a wardrobe, from under a bed, or from directly behind you when you least expect it. The highest-power spell Nochlean have available to them is usable only once a day, but it's a doozy: Dimension Door. Thankfully, while it's frustratingly useful when the Fey needs to escape the scene of its other crimes, the rules of consenting to magic in Pathfinder are pretty strict: even if a target is knocked out by Sleep, the Nochlean cannot then grab them and D-Door out. The targets of D-Door MUST be willing, even if unconscious, so the kidnappers have to get creative if they want to teleport away with their prizes. Normally this is through their +10 to Bluff, enough to fool most children that aren't immediately frightened by their appearance (or aren't frightened enough into compliance), but if that doesn't work they have little other choice but to do things the hard way.

Like most "bully" Fey, Nochleans are built to be frightening and tricky, but if an enemy isn't intimidated by their bluster or their magical antics, they're more likely to flee than fight. UNLIKE most bully Fey, Nochlean are actually able to fight, they just prefer not to. Their sole offensive action is a pair of claw attacks... but, as mentioned, their lengthy claws are sturdy and sharp enough to be used as tools, and thus deal MORE damage than the average claw attack at 2d6 per strike. Each claw also Grabs whatever is hit, and their lack of Strength is a smokescreen to cover for the fact their Agile Maneuvers feat grants them +10 to grapple checks, letting them hold fast to creatures that would normally be able to escape without issue.

Nochleans are further protected by DR 5/Cold iron, preventing most peasant weapons from dealing meaningful damage to them... but they have a very notable and very pronounced weakness that means even the average 1 Hit Dice citizen has a chance to escape or repel the foul Fey: Music Susceptibility. The exaggerated ears of a Nochlean grant it numerous benefits, such as wrapping around their heads and necks to help disguise their true nature when wandering among mortals, and a +4 to Perception checks, but their heightened hearing also saddles them with a Vulnerability to Sonic and an unpredictable reaction to hearing any music. The book notes that Nochleans cannot stand the sound of music and often try and flee it as swiftly as possible, with even simple whistling acting as a deterrent for one, but their Music Susceptibility tells something of a different story.

It gives anyone near the Nochlean the ability to make a Perform check using (Keyboard, Percussion, Sing, String, or Wind), with the Nochlean then having to make a Will save equal to the Perform result. So long as the music continues to play, the foul Fey suffers a different debuff based on the Perform: Keyboard inflicts sickened, percussion inflicts shaken, string inflicts stagger, wind inflicts confusion... but singing inflicts Rage. While this renders them unable to use any tactics more complicated than running up and clawing at someone and lowers its AC from 15 to 13, it does mean the boogeyman's base damage rises to 2d6+1 AND it gains +5 hitpoints, making it harder to take out and slightly more likely to take someone else with it. All of these debuffs (and one buff) last until the music stops, and given how common lutes (stagger) and flutes (confusion) are among adventuring parties, this frequently allows the players to swiftly pile on and dispatch the fey... provided it doesn't D-Door away.

Of course, perhaps the real problem isn't killing the Nochlean, but finding out where it's been taking people. The book grimly notes that Nochlean steal children just for fun, so many pragmatic ones will actually sell their talents to other vile and unrepentant souls, exchanging their stolen victims for wealth and finery without asking questions. Nochlean serve as good introductory antagonists for a campaign at lower levels and can be run as solo threats (they detest sharing territory with others of their kind), but even more than this, the presence of one can easily expose greater plots and much deeper corruptions going on in the background! We love a good multi-use monster!

You can read more about them here.

Skimmed through Thirst for Blood, the first book in the Shades of Blood AP and have mixed feelings on a lot of it that may clear on a more thorough read, but the main draw was the dive into the worship of Camazotz. I think the inclusion of Camazotz, Ah Pook (still really wish they used Ah Puch instead), and numerous Coatl deities kind of makes the justifications for cutting out the Osirion pantheon even stranger, but that's not what we're here for.

As lore goes, Camazotz's article simply re-states a lot of info we already knew about him from other sources, just a little longer. He's a savage deity (in both the sense of "a god that is savage" and "a god of what could be considered savages") with little room for nuance, as direct as a god can be with what he wants from the world and from the faith that has formed around him. He wants to drink blood, he wants to hunt, he wants people to be afraid of him, and he wants his followers to aspire to the same ideals. He abhors civilization and how "soft" it makes people in every sense of the word, going so far as to be sickened by the idea of easy prey and growing bored if his meals don't fight back.

Fittingly enough, his cultists are the player's first introduction to blood-drinking threats in the AP, and make for "starter villains" to set up more powerful foes. However, even a straightforward deity like Camazotz has a surprising number of mysteries and eyebrow-raising events, such as:

Camazotz is a straightforward deity, but for whatever reason, he can flaunt the rules that normally bind other gods and prevent them from acting, and maintains allies along demons, qlippoth, and sahkil. There are a few possible reasons he gets away with such audacious acts, with the most plausible being that... well, strictly speaking, the reason most gods don't do what Camazotz is doing is that it invites retaliation from their enemies, and up until recently, he didn't have enemies that regarded him as an immediate threat that needed to be destroyed, because in the grand scheme of things, he was a single predator devouring prey and spends the vast majority of his time waiting for prey to stumble into his lairs (or be sent to him by others) instead of seeking it out. He wasn't enacting any grand, worlds-shaping plans, and actually kept his own cults disorganized and disjointed by encouraging infighting and direct, bloody violence. Still, his actions make him an anomaly among the divine!

Yes, the Firgor is an in-universe explanation for players forgetting what's on their sheet. Use them wisely.

Homebrew Horror: Gremlin, Firgor

(Art by Wayworncrow!)

There are only a handful of items more useful to an adventuring party than Bags of Holding, items so valuable that few adventurers--even ones which tend to travel on their own--would live without for more than a few weeks into their careers for fear of traveling unprepared, or for fear of being forced to leave loot behind. Whenever the opportunity to obtain one arises, most would jump at the chance! And who wouldn't? You never have to worry about encumbrance again with one! The money you'd save hiring carts is astronomical! Unfortunately, nothing so convenient could exist without the whims of some fiend or Fey attempting to make a mockery of it, and these creatures are proof of it.

Without a need for air and having the ability to turn invisible on a whim, Firgor spend the entirety of their lives nesting within Bags of Holding and other extradimensional storage spaces like them, sustained partially by whatever morsels they can rake into their lairs with their long, rubbery arms, and mostly by "sacrifices" delivered right to them by unwitting explorers, adventurers, and merchants. Hidden by ramshackle suits of camouflage built from whatever knickknacks the bag's owner hoards, an unwitting victim may 'host' a Firgor for months or even years without realizing it's even there, and all the while the gremlin wreaks small but meaningful amounts of havoc on their lives.

No one is entirely sure when the first of these strange, alien-looking gremlins began to manifest across the world, and it's entirely by their own design. Firgor possess a small but potent number of psychic abilities granted to them by their unusual nature, chief among them the ability to simply force others to forget their presence. Any creature not looking directly at a Firgor tends to swiftly forget they ever saw it, and any item rendered invisible by the gremlin's spellwork is similarly forgotten until the gremlin decides to give its new 'toy' back for one reason or another. As Firgor age, they gradually leech magical power from the countless items introduced to their homes and gain magical powers of their own, culminating in the awakening of more powerful psychic abilities, such as the ability to temporarily seal away a victim's knowledge and skills. This intangible theft is the ultimate goal of all Firgor, who draw immense joy (and perhaps even psychic sustenance) from the chaos which erupts when someone cannot remember crucial information or access skills they once possessed.

How many times has it happened across the world, that otherwise competent and well-trained adventurers simply forget the true extent of their apocalyptic armory, misplace otherwise impossible-to-forget trophies, or lament the loss of a useful tool they should still have? Why do highly-skilled Fighters and raging Barbarians simply lose the ability to use the techniques they've been honing for years? How is it that Wizards and Witches smarter than entire rooms of people put together, alongside Clerics and Paladins who are guided by higher forces, cannot remember what spells they've prepared for the day? How many times has an adventuring party said, with panic tinged by exasperation, "You could DO THAT/You HAD THAT this whole time?!" in response to one of their members producing a heretofore unseen (or forgotten) item or skill?

In many of these cases the next two words out of the victim's mouth are tinged with surprise, then frustrated realization: "I... Firgor."

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Joke answer: it's because the ocean is scary and wants to eat you

Real answer: Completely unintentional! Though I have recently started playing DREDGE, a game I've come to really enjoy. The Old Crick WAS partially inspired by watching a friend of mine play through it, and kind of represents a sadistic and excessively wasteful fisherman.

Monster Spotlight: Gigas Clam

CR 11

Chaotic Neutral Huge Magical Beast

Adventure Path: Skulls & Shackles: From Hell's Heart, pg. 64-65

How many of you got jumpscared by reading the word "clam" shortly before seeing the Sugarplum Fairy from Cabin in the Woods pop up directly below it? I'm betting it was at least one.

Gigas Clams are massive, aquatic predators whose suspiciously human-shaped foot actually spends most of its time safely curled up between two shell halves that are hard as steel plates, like a normal clam. They are normally content to snatch up whatever blunders by them, grabbing small fish out of the water or sucking in larger meals with their powerful Siphon Jets, and as such pose little danger to the surface-dwelling world. Merfolk, sea elves, and other sea-dwellers quickly learn to avoid Gigas Clam territory, because these massive mollusks have a hankerin' for sapient flesh. Don't let the fact they're mostly sedentary distract you from the fact they're a predatory species on Golarion; it's easier to make a list of creatures that haven't evolved to feed on humans or elves in some way.

if you're wondering why the Gigas Clam's foot looks that way, that's why. The humanoid shape is just accurate enough that, when viewed through the gloom of the water, one could mistake it for a drowning victim or some form of merfolk. If you think that's a little ridiculous, then just take a look at the pranks clams on Earth are pulling on its wildlife for some perspective! At least this thing isn't made from mucus. Besides, the disguise doesn't have to be flawless, just deceptive enough to draw someone in close... because these clams have a threat radius much larger than you'd ever expect from what is, essentially, a living boulder, one made all the worse by the underwater combat rules, which you're going to have to keep in mind for the entirety of this article--these clams are underwater foes only!

We'll start with what I already mentioned: the Siphon Jet. This all-purpose orifice is responsible for grabbing prey, deflecting predators, and mobility, manipulating vast amounts of water to form short-lived but dangerously grabby riptides around any target the clam can see. Any Large-sized creature or object can be affected by this sudden blast of water, and failing a DC 22 Reflex save causes the target to move either 20ft directly towards OR directly away from the Gigas Clam, at its discretion. Any creature drawn too close to the clam gets to see the shell open, all the combat limbs unfolding as it assumes its battle stance, its full 15ft space and 15ft reach (!!) on display.

Gigas Clams attack primarily with the toothy mouth at the end of their human-shaped foot and their duo of muscular, tentacular siphons, the bite dealing 2d6+9 damage (and having a critical hit range of 19-20) and the duo of slams dealing 1d8+9 damage each. This isn't taking into account the possibility of them using Vital Strike, but with a reach so enormous and the ability to pull prey directly to them, they're unlikely to need it. More importantly is that the slams also Grab whatever they hit with their slam attacks (not their bite), and any creature that can't escape the grapple may be drawn into the Gigas Clam's shell and swallowed whole into a specialized chamber, taking 4d8 Acid damage a round as powerful digestive juices flood in. You'll note I said "primarily," and that's important to know for any prospective clam-hunter, because these bastardous bivalves have more than a few tricks hidden away in their shells. First and foremost is their Siphon Dart, because the siphon didn't already do enough, so Paizo decided this clam needed a gun. Gigas Clams can fire these tiny barbs made of sediment and calcified parasites as a ranged attack with a shocking range of 100ft (but only at a +11, compared to the +20 their melee attacks get), dealing 2d6+9 damage to whatever they hit while also exposing the victim to a paralytic toxin, because why should jellyfish get to have all the fun?

Any creature struck by a dart must succeed a DC 24 Fortitude save once a round for up to six rounds (2 consecutive successes cures), with each failure dealing 1d6 Str damage to the victim and fully paralyzing them for one round, making them easy prey for the clam. While an adventuring party heading underwater should have some magical method to allow them to breathe, this may not always be the case (especially if the clam is a random encounter or hazard!), anyone simply relying on holding their breath can be swiftly killed by this poison, because you can't hold your breath or swim while paralyzed. This is especially deadly if the clam is the one that engaged the surprise encounter by sinking the boat everyone was on first, causing enough chaos that it's likely no one has protection from drowning in place yet, which is something they CAN do, and it's yet another function of the Siphon Jet. This jet not only gives them a 60ft swim speed, but can also jet them up to 300ft in a single, unchanging direction, their steel-hard shell Trampling any creature in its path for 1d8+13 damage (DC 22 Reflex for half) and smashing through any obstacle that can't withstand 4d8 ramming damage and putting sizable holes in any ship that isn't reinforced. When I say "steel hard," I'm not exaggerating; their shells make them nearly invulnerable, having DR 10 that's only bypassed by a slashing weapon that's also magical. Not a problem for adventurers at this level, insurmountable problem for commoners finding their boats besieged by bivalves.

A single Gigas Clam can smash through rafts and rowboats in 2 to 3 rounds to doom everyone inside, but an entire bed of clams can pulverize vessels of any size... which is exactly what they do once a year on the first full moon of the summer. Entire swarms of these creatures enter a mating frenzy that necessitates them actively hunting down any sapient creature they can find, either attacking underwater settlements or sinking entire fleets of ships to gorge on the drowning cargo. This frenzy lasts for an entire month, requiring any ships passing through their territory to either take an enormous detour or have some means to protect themselves from being attacked from below by living, voracious cannonballs... or have some expendables to throw down and distract the hungry beasts. Like the player party! Either they win and kill the clams, or they die and they don't have to get paid. Win-win for the merchants.

A whole field of Gigas Clams is a foe no one should face, but for a party wanting to dispatch a one or two at a time, the most important thing they can do is get it onto land. NONE of the Gigas Clam's ranged tricks work on land, its Siphon Jets completely useless and its darts rendered a non-issue if it can't build up the water pressure it needs to fire them. it obviously can't use its swim speed or its jet on land, leaving it only with its 20ft movement speed. A beached clam is by no means defenseless, as it still has its considerably dangerous melee, but it's much more manageable.

You can read more about them here.

Homebrew Item: The Ocean's Angles

No one is entirely sure who authored the first copy of this strange book, as the first copy was found in the possession of a mathematician who could not accurately remember where they had bought it. Bereft of any maker's mark or signature and being written in an entirely unremarkable hand, The Ocean's Angles is nonetheless a remarkable book... if for nothing else than its impressive heft, being nearly two thousand pages long. Its every page is filled top to bottom with complex mathematical formulae and highly detailed anatomical drawings of numerous species' of fish in varying states of disassembly or reassembly. Though the book itself is nonmagical and its contents not directly dangerous to the psyche, its existence--as well as any copies of it--is still largely hidden from the public for fear of what sorts of catastrophes its formulae may cause if applied maliciously, or simply out of destructive curiosity... and, more mundanely, so the owners of these rare publishings can utilize the effects for themselves, for one reason or another.

The Ocean's Angles describes a method by which anyone with the correct tools and swift enough hands can, using entirely nonmagical methods, slice a fish in such a precise and unusual way that the pieces can then--if the instructions are followed exactly--be reassembled into two, three, or even more of the exact same fish. The method by which this is accomplished is not understood despite decades of study, as the process cannot be interrupted for any reason or the attempt fails and yields nothing but a pile of carefully sliced viscera. The Ocean's Angles details how to use its method upon nearly three-hundred different species' of mundane fish, and as time has gone on, many other mathematicians, esoteric chefs, and skilled fishmongers have found ways to apply its methods to new fish and added the resulting formulae to their own personal copies. A normal copy of the book can cost upwards to 6,000gp alone, but a personalized copy containing new formulae can potentially be priceless depending on which fish the user discovered a method to multiply, such as rare or sapient fish, Magical Beasts, or stranger.

To use The Ocean's Angles formulae to its fullest potential, the user must use a specially-made scalpel with an extremely thin but sturdy blade costing at least 3,000gp to create to the exact specifications listed in the book. Though the process is nonmagical, the knife itself may be magical to assure it is sturdy enough to slice through tougher skin and bones while retaining an edge as fine as paper. The fish to be used must be whole, and must have been dead for less than 24 hours (Gentle Repose can aid in this regard). The process is not recursive, and thus will not work on a fish that has already been used or any additional fish that result from performing it correctly.

The process takes precisely 2 hours to accomplish for any fish of Medium size, with the time halving for every size category below Medium (min 15 minutes) and doubling for every size category above Medium (max 16 hours). If the one performing the process is interrupted for any reason or performs any action except cutting and sorting pieces, the attempt is ruined and no new fish result from it. The one performing the process makes two rolls: Knowledge (Nature) to know exactly where and when to cut, and Sleight of Hand to then make the necessary minute incisions and move the pieces into their proper place. The basic DC for both is 20, and the end result is turning 1 fish into 1d2+1 fish.

For every 10 points over the threshold the performer succeeds the Knowledge (Nature) check, +1 additional fish is created. For every 10 points over the threshold the performer succeeds the Sleight of Hand check, the dice size increases (from d2 to d3, to d4, to d6, etc). The process is exact and cannot be rushed, and because each slice must not only be made at specific angles, but also specific times in relation to one another, the performer cannot take 10 or 20 on the attempt.

No one can say, precisely, where the excess mass comes from, but it is a clear violation of the universe's physical laws. As such, performing the process too many times in quick succession, or on especially unusual (or unique) specimens, may attract attention from cosmic forces with attitudes varying from amused to hostile, at the DMs discretion.

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Not traditionally. Walkena is god-like due to possessing divine blood and divine power, but he has no divine realm, no divine servants, and no power or influence outside the Material Plane. He may be descended from the Old Sun Gods, but he has not joined them.

The closest thing he has to a herald is his own high priest Zubari, the Guiding Ray, his 15th level Cleric, but any of his Inner Circle could potentially work as stand-ins for a more "active" Herald. Take a peek (from Undead Unleashed, pg. 58):

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Already a thing!

1am inspiration hits me again. I've reworked a few of Vodani's abilities, again, this time tinkering with Happy Hour and Intoxicant, as well as clarifying and cleaning up a bit here and there.

Happy Hour was reworked. The spell-likes that were originally conveyed by the ability was moved up to his actual spell-like list (Enhance Water was removed entirely for a few reasons), allowing me to condense the ability a bit more. The healing he gained from it was slightly increased, but the restorative effect was replaced entirely by a 10ft shift in any direction he wants without drawing AoOs. Since he can do this as a swift action, I'm hoping this will allow him to be a significantly more chaotic presence on the battlefield. The ability was shortened and streamlined, making his special ability block look much more pleasant (to me).

Intoxicant was buffed by literally just a +1 to its ability score damage, and clarifying language was added to convey it did indeed inebriate the victim while the ability itself was shortened a bit.