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Large construct, lawful neutral
Armor Class 18 (natural armor)
Hit Points 133 (14d10 + 56)
Speed 0 ft., fly 25 ft. (hover)
Proficiency Bonus +3
Damage Resistances bludgeoning, piercing, slashing from nonmagical attacks
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 10
Languages —
Challenge 7 (2,900 XP)
Horrid Markings. When a creature that can read the Fathertongue language tries to understand the sigils on the guardian's chest, they must make a DC 18 Wisdom saving throw or be frightened by the guardian for 1 minute.
ACTIONS
Multiattack. The sanctuary guardian uses its Teleport. It then makes six Whirling Blade attacks.
Whirling Blade. Melee Weapon Attack: +7 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: 7 (1d8 + 3) slashing damage.
Teleport. The guardian magically teleports, along with any equipment it is wearing or carrying, up to 20 feet to an unoccupied space it can see.
REACTIONS
Parry. The guardian adds 3 to its AC against one melee attack that would hit it. To do so, the guardian must see the attacker and be wielding a melee weapon.
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Today marks the fourth month of our expedition through this hellscape Aldthar had named after that fool Batheron. For as long as I can remember, I questioned the sanity of my employers for this expedition, and at times my own sanity for accepting it, but I now understand the greater purpose, my greater purpose. This place has every sign of [Rhashenae, furduus], from the bizarre landscape, the crimson trees, and sadly, the automata that surround it. However, these things are not as the [Rhashenae, furduus] described them.
They are unmistakably modeled after the insect men we have found here time and time again, however they are like none we have ever seen, and during my travels I have seen quite a few changed ones, my interpreter called them. They are massive, even more so than the land dwellers, despite the lack of anything below the waist. Most seem to have at least 7 arms, losing some likely through the wear of time, the patchy silver skin showing this easier. Just as the prophecy foretold, their hornless heads carry twelve unblinking crimson eyes.
One thing I had not expected from them was what looked like some from of prayer. While some idly move about the warplands, others we have seen collapse to the ground and perform a wild set of motions with their remaining arms. While I cannot know for certain, every one I have seen has done this towards the center of the warplands.
My men seem to be much braver than me, and have decided to venture into those hellish fields. If the prophecy is correct, I know what remains at the center. I know I must follow. I fear for the safety and sanity of my men. [Rhashenae, furduus] help us.
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”
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| —an excerpt from the journal of a murite explorer, held and censored by the primary church of Aldthar
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