SEALIGHT SAFARI: THE MEDIEVAL MONSTER THAT MANIPULATES ITS PREY

We heard the sound before we saw it. A soft sobbing noise, pitying and gloomy, accompanied by the occasional crack of bone. A wet, weepy noise, ushered forth from unloveable lips. Then, a solemn voice muttering a single sentence: 

“I’m ever so sorry…” 

We extinguished our torches and moved silently across the plain, making our way towards the cave mouth. The local clansfolk had told us that this was the beast’s den, but even without their help we’d have been able to find it from the trail of bones and tears left in the creature’s wake. My guide - a local by the name of Morien - was the first to see it, hunched in the dim light of the moon, the fur beneath its eyes sopping, blood dripping from its trembling lips. It was munching on the fawn we had left out as bait earlier that day, starting at the poor creature’s feet and working up towards the head. I notched an arrow and took aim as the monster looked upon us with its great, soft eyes. It let loose a dreadful moan. 

“Oh, I’m ever so sorry…” 

The arrow flew forth, striking the monster in the chest and knocking it back. It howled pitifully, and I felt a pang of agony fill my chest. I faltered momentarily, so mortified by the cruelty of my actions. That brief moment was all the beast needed. It spun around - wet eyes like runny eggs in the moonlight - and charged towards me, leaping upon my chest and gouging into me with its claws. Its jaws unhinged and closed around my left leg, cleaving through flesh and bone while I screamed for Morien to help me. The monster snarled once more, this time its mock contrition slipping to reveal the hungry predator beneath. 

“I’m ever so sorry…” 

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The donestre (pronounced do-NEST-ruh) is among the strangest and most sinister monsters found in medieval textbooks. Resembling a large, semi-bipedal lion with an eerie gift for speech, the donestre is first found in a 5th century text now known as the Mirabilia Orientalia, or The Wonders of the East. This text - written in Latin and supposedly written by King Pharasmanes II of Iberia¹  - tells of a mythical world beyond the boundaries of the Roman Empire, populated by wondrous giants, deadly dragons, dog-headed men, and man-eating monsters. I will no doubt return to this text in the future, as it provides a wealth of fascinating and seldom-seen monsters well in need of a reintroduction to the modern fantasy genre. 

The donestre we are discussing today come from an Anglo-Saxon translation of the Mirabilia, which is found in the same manuscript that contains the legendary Old English text Beowulf. The donestre seen here are polyglots, capable of speaking a variety of languages to lure in their unsuspecting victims. These creatures are intelligent, personable, and highly emotional, but they are also vicious, duplicitous, and violent. Many texts describe how these creatures will sit sobbing by the roadside, waiting for a kindly soul to offer a helping hand. Upon encountering this good Samaritan, the donestre will leap forth, devouring its prey from the feet up until only the victim’s head remains. The donestre - overcome with grief at its own insatiable and seemingly unwilling hunger - will mourn the loss of its erstwhile and freshly-devoured friend, and solemnly chat with their skull until a new victim arrives. 

There’s a lot going on here, isn’t there? Firstly, the donestre has a sort of Jekyll and Hyde complex going on; One half of its personality is vicious and violent, the other half mournful and innocent. It is seemingly sympathetic, but it may be using that sympathy to manipulate its prey and make them easier to catch.

There’s also an air of uncomfortable suspicion about the donestre. You see, the donestre comes exclusively from texts exploring a distant “Eastern” world, and as such tells us what the medieval mind expected from foreign lands and foreign people. It’s hard not to read accounts of the donestre as a sort of warning: When travelling, trust not the sobbing stranger on the roadside, lest they beat you to death and rob you blind. 

These features make the donestre a fascinating monster to throw at a TTRPG party. Adventurers - especially the heroic kind - will be drawn to the creature’s pitiful sobs as surely as a moth to a flame. If the donestre is cunning, it will have hidden the spoils of its previous kills, and will seem like nothing more than a mopey, innocent beast. If the donestre is not cunning, it will be sat weeping amidst a pile of bones, chatting idly to the unheeding skull of its most recent victim. Perhaps it will occasionally take up the skull and puppet it, forcing it to talk back, forgiving the donestre for its sins. 

Below, I’ve whipped up a handful of system agnostic statblock for the donestre that you can modify and add to your games. I’ve intentionally kept it rules-light to allow for maximum customisation. If you’re interested in 5th edition D&D, I did whip up a 5e statblock for the donestre many years ago over on my Instagram account. 

The DONESTRE

LARGE BEAST - LAWFUL MISERABLE 

Armour Class: Medium 

Health: Low 

Speed: High 

Skills and Abilities: 

Polyglot. The donestre can speak a minimum of five languages, including a language known only to donestres and their close cousin the manticore. 

One-Track Mind. Once a donestre begins to feast, it will become so overcome with guilt and shame that it enters a state of blinkered self-pity. While in this state, the donestre will not notice any creature sneaking up on it. 

Mournful Mimicry. The donestre can effortlessly mimic the sound of any weeping humanoid it has encountered at least once. An especially intelligent or empathetic creature may be able to recognise the sound as an imitation. 

Sympathy Pains. The donestre is capable of acting so pitiable that even its enemies will be filled with sorrow at the sight of it. Any creature within a ten-foot radius of the donestre must attempt to resist this sympathetic manipulation or become overcome with sadness. While overcome in such a manner, the creature moves at half its normal speed and other creatures will have an easier time overcoming its defences. 

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¹Who, it is worth noting, died around 300 years earlier.