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Deep in the damp, moss-choked hemlock stands of the northern forests, there is a sound often mistaken for a lost child or a bitter wind groaning through rotted timber. Woodsmen who know better step softly and check the earth for glistening trails of salt and brine. They know the sound belongs to the Squonk (Lacrimacorpus dissolvens)—a creature cursed with an acute, tragic awareness of its own absolute hideousness.
First chronicled in William T. Cox’s 1910 classic Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods, the Squonk has long been a quiet favorite of folklore lovers and progressive rock fans alike. Covered in sagging folds of loose, ill-fitting hide riddled with warts, weeping moles, and pustules, the beast spends its solitary existence huddled in hollow logs, weeping continuously over its grotesque appearance. It despises company, avoids bright sunlight, and harbors an instinctive dread of mirrors or still water pools where it might catch a glimpse of its own reflection.
Despite its pitiful disposition, hunting a Squonk is nearly impossible. While it leaves an obvious trail of salty tears, it is an astonishingly nimble creature when startled. More famously, as old woodsman J.P. Wentling discovered when he managed to sack one in the hemlock ridges of Pennsylvania, capturing a Squonk rarely yields anything more than a damp bag. When cornered, trapped, or panicked, the creature’s emotional misery triggers a total physiological collapse: it simply dissolves into a frothing puddle of tears and bubbles.
Alchemy & Adventure Hooks
The tears of a Squonk are a prized reagent among hedge wizards and master alchemists, driving unscrupulous hunters to seek them out.
The Universal Solvent Base: Distilled Squonk tears resist magical coagulants and can be brewed into an oil capable of dissolving hardened resins, arcane locks, or petrified flesh.
Elixir of Sorrow: Alchemists brew the saline fluid into draughts of melancholia, dampening rage effects or putting violent beasts into a docile, weeping stupor.
The Purity Paradox: A Squonk dissolved through sheer panic leaves tears fouled with bitter bile, rendering them inert within minutes. To obtain viable alchemical tears, the liquid must be collected while the creature is comforted, soothed, or weeping from genuine, quiet relief—turning what could be a brutal hunt into a test of player empathy and roleplay.
OSR / Classic System-Agnostic Version
A loose-skinned, warty woodland wretch that flees at the first sign of danger.
Armor Class: 3 [16] (Fast and difficult to pin down)
Hit Dice: 1+2 (6 hp)
Attacks: Water Burst (Special Touch)
Damage: Blindness / Prone (see below)
Movement: 150’ (50’)
Save As: Thief 3
Morale: 4
Camouflage & Stealth: When motionless in heavy timber, undergrowth, or shadows, a Squonk is effectively invisible (hidden on a 1–5 on 1d6). However, its muffled sobs reduce surprise chances against alert parties to 1 on 1d6 if the party takes time to listen.
Water Burst: When cornered with no avenue of escape, the Squonk hurls itself at a pursuer, transmuting its physical mass into a high-pressure torrent of brine at the moment of impact. The target must make a Saving Throw vs. Breath Weapons (or Dexterity check). On a failure, the victim is knocked prone and blinded by stinging saltwater for 1d4 rounds. The Squonk immediately reforms at the edge of the splash zone and bolts into the brush at double movement speed.
Dissolution: If reduced to 0 Hit Points, grappled, or enclosed in a container (such as a sack, net, or cage), the Squonk lets out a despairing wail and dissolves completely into a 2-foot-wide puddle of salty, bubbling liquid. It cannot be killed for meat or hide; it simply ceases to hold physical form. If left undisturbed, the puddle evaporates into mist within an hour, reforming as a living Squonk in the deepest section of the forest at the next new moon.
Fifth Edition (5E) Version
Squonk
Small Fey, Neutral Good
Armor Class: 15 (natural armor)
Hit Points: 14 (4d6)
Speed: 40 ft.
| STR | DEX | CON | INT | WIS | CHA |
| 6 (-2) | 18 (+4) | 11 (+0) | 10 (+0) | 14 (+2) | 5 (-3) |
Saving Throws: Dex +6, Wis +4
Skills: Perception +4, Stealth +8, Survival +4
Condition Immunities: Charmed, Frightened (cannot be frightened further; constantly in sorrow)
Senses: Darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 14
Languages: Understands Sylvan and Common but cannot speak; communicates through whimpers and chitters
Challenge: 1/2 (100 XP) | Proficiency Bonus: +2
Melancholy Trail: The Squonk constantly weeps, leaving a glistening trail of saline fluid. Wisdom (Survival) checks made to track the Squonk by smell or sight have Advantage, provided the environment is not actively washed by heavy rain or running water.
Mirror Aversion: If the Squonk starts its turn within 30 feet of a reflective surface (such as a mirror or still pool) and can see its own reflection, it must make a DC 13 Wisdom saving throw. On a failure, it spends its entire turn weeping uncontrollably and its speed is reduced to 0 until the start of its next turn.
Slippery Agility: The Squonk can take the Disengage or Hide action as a bonus action on each of its turns.
Actions
Water Burst: Melee Weapon Attack: +6 to hit, reach 5 ft., one target. Hit: The target takes 4 (1d8) bludgeoning damage and must succeed on a DC 14 Dexterity saving throw or be knocked prone and blinded until the end of its next turn by pressurized brine. Immediately after the attack resolves, the Squonk teleports up to 30 feet to an unoccupied space it can see, reforming from the spray.
Reactions
Tearful Dissolution: When the Squonk is grappled, restrained, or reduced to 0 hit points, it can choose to instantly dissolve into a puddle of warm, bubbling tears. While dissolved, it is immune to all damage, cannot interact with objects, and cannot take actions. If the puddle is left undisturbed for 24 hours, the Squonk quietly reforms with full hit points at the following dusk and slips away. If bottled while dissolved, the tears remain liquid, yielding 1d4 vials of pure alchemical solvent before losing potency.
Food for thought
Befriending a Squonk requires flipping the standard woodland encounter on its head: traditional Animal Handling methods like sudden food tossing, sharp whistling, or trapping will immediately send the creature into a blind panic where it dissolves on the spot. Because the beast suffers from profound self-loathing and a paralyzing fear of rejection, winning its trust is an exercise in radical patience, tact, and low-pressure reassurance.
The encounter works best handled in deliberate stages:
Cover All Reflective Surfaces: Before making an approach, the party must stow polished shields, cover steel mirrors, and avoid drawing the creature near clear, undisturbed pools. If a Squonk catches sight of its own sagging, warty visage, the shock and grief will drown out any attempts at communication.
The "Ignored Presence" Approach: Never march straight up to it. The most reliable method is to sit down nearby with your back turned or angled away, quietly tending a low campfire, whittling, or humming a low, sorrowful tune. Giving the Squonk the illusion that it remains hidden allows its natural curiosity to slowly overpower its terror.
Tears and Comfort Over Treats: Standard rations don’t interest it nearly as much as soft, dry materials. Offering a warm woolen blanket, a patch of soft dry moss, or clean cloth to dab at its perpetually running eyes signals gentleness far better than dried meat. If food is offered, it should be mild and absorbent—crusts of dark bread or dry oats left sitting on a flat stone rather than handed over directly.
Gentle Reassurance Without Glares: Characters must avoid staring directly at the creature's deformities. Looking slightly askance while speaking in calm, hushed, empathetic tones convinces the Squonk that it isn't being judged or mocked. Validating its misery rather than trying to force cheerful energy makes it feel understood.
The "Tear-Bond" Ritual: In game mechanics, this can culminate in a shared moment of pathos. If an adventurer genuinely comforts the weeping beast—perhaps sitting beside it during a quiet rain, sharing a sorrowful personal tale, or simply allowing it to rest its damp, heavy head on a cloaked knee without flinching—the Squonk stops crying for the first time in its memory.
Once bonded, a Squonk becomes an intensely loyal, if high-maintenance, companion. It will gladly curl up at the foot of a bedroll or ride tucked deep inside a loose, dark satchel away from prying eyes. In return for safety and an uncritical friend, it can serve as an uncanny tracker of damp subterranean routes, an early warning system for stealthy predators (it hears pursuers long before anyone else), and a quiet source of pure, willingly gifted tears that an alchemist or apothecary can actually use.
