Monday Monster: Weasling

The creature, about three feet long plus a tail, peered out from the brush curiously. Locklar pointed and said, “I told you they looked like big weasels.”

Delsa looked, nodding as she spotted it. “Is there just one?”

Locklar shrugged. “I think there’s at least a couple of them. They’ve been shadowing us for a quarter mile.” He laughed. “They look harmless enough.”

The creature slowly, timidly crept out into the open, eying them cautiously. It approached to within two yards, then stopped and st up on its rear legs.

“Sort of cute…” Delsa admitted. “Maybe he’s hungry?”

Locklar was already pulling a piece of dried meat out of his pouch. Slowly, he held it out to the creature. The creature sniffed at it, its whiskers twitching, and it inched forward. Locklar smiled widely, encouraging it with soft words.

The creature reached out with its forepaws and took the meat. In a flash, it had stuffed it into its mouth, chewed, and swallowed. It held out its paws, apparently in hopes of more.

“You were right,” Locklar said. He looked back at the creature and shook his head. “That’s all I’ve got, little buddy. No more.” He held his open hands out, showing that they were empty. He turned to look back at Delsa. “Poor little bloke,” he said, “Probably just wants–OWWW!”

The creature had bitten Locklar’s hand, sinking it’s sharp teeth into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. And it wasn’t letting go. Locklar tried to pull free, but the creature’s jaws were locked. “Get this damn beastie off of me!” he screamed.

Delsa took one step toward them, then stopped short. All around them, poking their heads out of bushes or out from behind trees, were more of the creatures. They all stood on their hind legs, their sharp white teeth visible. There were dozens of them.

They started to close in.


No. Enc.: 2d6 (4d6)
Alignment: Neutral
Movement: 120′ (40′)
Armor Class: 6 [13]
Hit Dice: 1d3 hit points
Attacks: 1 (bite)
Damage: 1d4
Save: F1
Morale: 6
Hoard Class: VII
XP: 6

These creatures stand less than 3′ tall when on two feet, though many have tails nearly as long as their body. They shift to four feet for running and slinking into burrows, and their size and quickness make them difficult targets.

Weaslings possess an intellect comparable to that of a five-year-old human, though they are immensely clever when it comes to stealing food or evading attackers. Their underground lair (or sometimes a lodge in a pond or lake, in which case the weaslings can swim at their standard move rate) may contain valuables gathered by the clan over the years.

A weasling that hits an opponent with a natural ’20’ has locked its jaws onto the target and automatically hits every round thereafter. A target may spend a round trying to detach a clamped-on weasel, a successful ‘to-hit’ indicating success.

(White Box) Weasling: HD ½; AC 6 [13]; Atk 1 bite (1d6-1); Move 12; Save 19; XP 10

This is for those tired of using kobolds as the default weak creatures all the time. Particularly useful in wilderness settings, but these guys may also be encountered on the uppers levels of dungeons and labyrinths.

This entry was posted in Monday Monster. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Monday Monster: Weasling

  1. bat says:

    By the gods! What was the INT score on that guy? Who in the eleven Hells would pet a large weasel? I remember ages ago a professor saying that if weasel were the size of lions we wouldn’t be here.

    However, excellent write-up! For some odd reason I thought it was going to be a giant cobra…

    • Kilgore says:

      A giant cobra? Perhaps one with racial hatred toward komodo dragons? You’re going to have to wait until next Monday, after I’ve watched that classic movie you pointed out for me…

  2. SS says:

    Trying to imagine if my ferrets were all 3ft long and just slightly more cooperative…

    Yeah, I think *I’d* be the pet at that point.

  3. Ryan says:

    This reminds me of one of the more delightful encounters in my gaming history. While investigating some missing halflings, our heroes stumbled across a band of orcs who were dragging writhing, struggling leather bags. After a brief battle, the orcs were easily dispathced. Confident that we were about to rescue the missing halflings and be handsomely rewarded by their shire, we opened the bags…only to discover that they were actually full of half-starved dire weasels. Turned out the orcs had nothing to do with the missing halflings at all…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *