#killer plants

...images from the lost continent of cult films, b-movies and celluloid dreamscapes

Fearsome Flora! Killer plants in horror movies of the 50's 60's and 70's.

(The kind of plantlife you won't find in your local garden centre.)

Art by Mike Dutton, © Wizards of the Coast. From Dragon Magazine #292

[Dragon Magazine lasted for 359 print issues and 71 digital issues, predating AD&D and surviving into the end of 4th edition. Over that considerable stretch of time, it served as a stomping ground for literally thousands of monsters. Some of them made it into mainline products. Some of them, like the remorhaz and the barghest, are prominent and have appeared in the core Monster Manuals. This is not for these monsters. This is for the various oddities and obscurities that appeared once and then sank into memory.

Take the death’s-head tree, for example. It’s the only monster in its article that didn’t get reprinted in the 3.0 Monster Manual II. The orcwort, which was notoriously poorly balanced, made it, but this guy didn’t pass. I did tone down its stunning effect from the whole area of its seed burst to just the direct target, which may have been the issue. But that seems like an easy fix, instead of throwing the whole killer tree out with the bath water.]

Death’s-head Tree CR 7 N Plant This tree resembles a gnarled, shaggy oak with twisted branches. On close inspection, it appears to have undersized, humanoid skulls growing from its branches.

For most of the year, the monstrous foliage known as the death’s-head tree is mostly harmless. They are not carnivorous, and stay in place during the day to photosynthesize and move slowly by night to find sunny patches and fresh water if conditions change.  They will only lash out if they are attacked by loggers, and tolerate birds building nests in their boughs and the like. Only after they are pollinated do they become dangerous. The acorns of a death’s-head tree are encased in an explosive coat, and require the blood of a humanoid creature to germinate.

In combat, a death’s-head tree flings its seedpods with deadly accuracy, and any creature struck can be stunned by the force of the blow. If creatures come close, they rely on their limbs as clubs, as they are too slow to move away from enemies pressing an assault. Once they have killed a creature, they move on, although if it was not littered with seeds already, they deposit a seed on the corpse. They can tell the difference between humanoids and animals, but are not intelligent to recognize, say, fey or undead as unsuitable hosts, and attack anything wingless and bipedal above a certain size.

Death’s-head trees are long lived, with life spans stretching into the centuries. They may form spontaneously from acorns watered with bloodshed, such as at a battlefield or mass grave. Although they are living creatures, they have an affinity for negative energy. This affinity does not extend to the undead, who are attacked during with acorn season if they are roughly human shaped. More misanthropic druids may cultivate death’s-head trees, making sure to move through their groves only in animal form.

The Venus Fly Trap is a carnivorous plant native to wetlands in North and South Carolina. Usual prey for this plant includes insects and arachnids.

Killer Plants: Growing and Caring for Flytraps, Pitcher Plants, and Other Deadly Flora

by Molly Williams

Explore the darker side of nature with this accessible guide to choosing, growing, and caring for carnivorous and predatory plants like Venus flytraps, pitcher plants, sundews, and other spooky guys.

So I couldn’t do things simply, so my attempt at @whumptober2020 is combined with @lookbluesoup’s excellent Fallout 4tober prompt list, mostly mashing together the two themes for each day. Naturally, we’re starting with New Vegas instead of 4, because Day 1 just begged to be an expansion of Carrot’s experience in Vault 22.

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1 | LET'S HANG OUT SOMETIME / Better Living, Underground

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Carrot crawled through the gap left by the great gear door, fingers brushing the pocked rust of the surface. The interior glowed an eerie green that almost seemed to come from the strange plants that draped every surface. She gazed around the hall, entranced.

“The logs show that several people have entered the vault over the past few months, but none have left…” Veronica’s voice startled her out of her reverie. She glared at the offender, who was reading from the entrance terminal with a look of concern growing on her face. “Maybe warn a girl next time, yeah?”

Veronica jumped as well, returning the glare. “Sure, I’ll just make sure next time I read a creepy terminal entry about how everyone before us has died that I warn you before I do it.”

Carrot grinned. “Perfect! So uh…remind me what this vault was? I think I zoned out when he was talkin’ bout the ‘speriment.”

Veronica frowned in thought, a hand on her chin. “Spearmint, huh? I dunno, I don’t think I see any spearmint around here…” She took a searching look around the room. “Might see some peppermint though!”

Carrot cocked her head, confused.

Veronica almost managed to keep a straight face, but finally broke down into snickering. “Sorry, bad joke. They were breeding hardier crops…er, making food plants stronger so they’d grow well even in bad conditions. Looks like it was successful.” She gestured broadly at the plant-enveloped room.

“That’s good though, right? What could be so bad about plants?”

The concern returned to Veronica’s face. “It should be good. For once, this vault was looking into some actually useful technology and clearly got results. We could do amazing things with the data they got. Make life better for the whole Mojave. Who knows what went wrong…Fingers crossed we don’t have to find out.”

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They found out. The giant mantises were nothing they were unprepared to handle, but Carrot shrieked the first time she stumbled over one of the fungus-infested corpses and it grabbed at her ankle. With that macabre discovery made, they were able to continue on in relative ease, until they reached the final level.

On the fifth level, they discovered violent plants. The Mojave always provided, at least, in excitement if nothing else. The plants had giant gaping, snapping, thorny mouths and a nasty tendency to spit spiky balls of some sort. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they also had snakelike tendrils that reached and grasped in search of anything that stepped too close.

And Carrot stepped too close. The vines that curled and clung with a life and intelligence no plant should have tangled around her arms, restraining her, reeling her in. The chatter of angry mushroom people and yells from Veronica faded as her mind returned to a shallow grave in the moonlight that was supposed to be forgotten, her hands bound, staring down a gun, no escape, no way out this time—

Her vision lit up with bright orange sparks, and heat seared along her wrists. She fell backwards, freed arms flailing, heart pounding.

“You alright?” asked Veronica, dropping her laser pistol.

Carrot squinted up at her from where she’d landed on the floor, rubbing her wrists frantically. She was breathless, panting, blinking the scene from her mind.