Leaf Leshy

Another PF2E bestiary poem chosen at random from creatures in the first bestiary between level -1 and 1. This one is level 0 creature. I love leshys. They are also a player race, so I wouldn’t strictly consider them ‘monsters’, but then I wouldn’t consider angels to be ‘monsters’ either.

Notably, this one took me longer than some to write. It’s a bit strange writing about random stat blocks. I also think if I were a DM I may only give out a stanza or two depending on how much I want my players to know about a monster in advance. Enjoy!


From the Journal of Vyscaria

Well… This is a different day. Remember how I encountered that Sprite? And it said some things about my relationship to the world around me? Yeah… Today I met Eresad, an elven druid. He was quite intriguing to me because of the little creature traveling with him. It was… well, something I’ve never seen or heard of. I followed him for a time, thinking I wasn’t seen, watching this green and leafy pet of his move around in the underbrush and climb into the trees above and retrieve things before gliding back down to his master. Eventually Eresad asked me why I was following him and revealed he’d detected me quite a while earlier. Heh. I admitted to him I was curious about his companion and he explained to me that it was a Leaf Leshy… And that he was a druid. Of course I am writing a song about this leaf leshy of his, but.. He also commented on my connection to the world around me… And offered to teach me a thing or two. Naturally, I’m accepting. We’ll see if there’s anything to this Sprite and druid soon enough.


Leaf Leshy

Among the trees and the forest glades
Nature’s little guardians roam…
Sharpening spears and honing trades
All in service to their home.

When they fight foes who stay afield
They shoot their seedpods fast and proud
Should they strike the pods are peeled
And the sound of that rings sharp and loud!

The leaf leshys are a particular sort;
Delighting in the mock battles they wage.
They’re happy in their homes with their peculiar court,
But careful if a true battle should rage.

Wearing pine cones for armor and clothes of woven leaves
They wander through their sacred grounds…
Leaving nary a trace with their barky greaves
They hear the flora’s whispered sounds.

The leaf leshys remain at ease –
Even in the fading light.
They glide with grace from the highest trees
Never feeling any fright.

When they wish they change their shape,
Becoming but a young sapling.
When they die the near landscape
Is covered with new growth they bring.

Among the trees and the forest glades
Nature’s little guardians roam…
Sharpening spears and honing trades
All in service to their home.

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