(Illustration by Jim Nelson comes from the Paizo Blog and is
© Paizo Publishing.)
So like us—warm-blooded, clearly intelligent, full of
personality—and yet living in a world so different from our own, it’s no wonder
aquatic mammals inspire tales of charming shapechangers. In Ireland, seals transform into selkies; in
the Amazon, river dolphins inspire tales of encantados.
Encantados are especially interesting because they aren't
shy or elusive fey—they like a fiesta.
These means that PCs are as likely to encounter them in the middle of an
urban, conversation-based role-playing session as they are on a wilderness
wandering monster table. Since their
imperfect shapechanging always gives them something to hide, players might either
find them coy—perfect for a romance subplot—or suspicious—making for a great
red herring in a murder-mystery scenario.
And when in doubt, obsessive kidnappers and violent
narcissists always make great villains.
Imagine the look on your players’ faces the next time they get critted
by a spear-wielding dolphin-girl bard during a thunderstorm she summoned…
An encantado
enchantress fuels her narcissism by always having several human thralls on
hand. Many of these she sends back to
their home villages bearing her squalling young. (She has no patience for children.) If these children grow up to exhibit half-fey
or undine traits, the encantado reappears on their fifteenth birthday to claim
them as her “heirs” (more accurately, her slaves). Those who acquiesce become her agents on
land. Those who resist she baleful polymorphs into dolphins, using
a wand she stole from a hag decades ago.
During a masked ball,
a dashing young woman dares an adventurer to best her in swashbuckling. During the duel, he accidentally knocks off
her hat and wig, revealing a gaping blowhole.
Aghast, the young woman then tries to kill the adventurer to protect her
secret.
Along the Uke River,
brides fleeing abusive husbands will sometimes hurl themselves into the falls, hoping
to be transformed into encantados. After
a baron loses his daughter to the falls, he hires adventures to bring her back,
whether she is a fey or a corpse. (The
marriage contract included a heavy penalty should the bride renege that he has no intention of paying, abuse or no—even
a raise dead spell would be cheaper.) Along the way, the adventurers will have to
brave the falls, kappa pranksters, bloodthirsty merrow, and the liberated encantados
themselves. Worse yet, not every bride
who throws herself into the falls is transformed…and many of the luckless
suicides return as undead.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 5
110
I pretty much picture every encantado trying to hide her
blowhole as Amy Winehouse.
I like the encantado now, but it took me a while to get over
the angry twitch I get whenever I see whale-fey. There’s a reason for this: As I’ve mentioned
before, 3.0’s Monster Manual
absolutely gutted the fey
roster. (And, if I recall correctly, its
authors went on to diss and dismiss the excised faeries in the pages of Dragon, rubbing salt in the wound.) And when Monster
Manual II came out, what kind of fey did we get? (Drum roll, please!)
…A 20-foot-tall orca-giant called an ocean strider.
I may or may not have screamed and thrown the book across
the room. You decide.
Speaking of which, I question the rationale of making
Pathfinder’s selkies monstrous humanoids while encantados are fey…but to be fair,
Pathfinder’s selkies are pretty damn monstrous compared to anything we saw in The Secret of Roan Inish.
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