Mimics were a type of shapeshifting monster that could emulate normal objects or other things they saw. While the most famous type of mimic was the treasure chest ones, they came in all sizes and shapes. Some imitated weapons, others common household items. Mimics had a limitation that they could only emulate objects roughly their size, more or less. Or, more precisely, their body mass. Being an amorphous monster, mimics didn't care about hollow spaces inside their bodies.
They can create eyes, tongues, teeth, legs of various shapes and sizes, and, in some cases, even arms. Their coordination is lacking though. Object use by mimics is limited to rudimentary manipulation. Despite that, without a brain, they display no sentience and only rudimentary intelligence. Some mimics can be taught tricks and there's a tale of a hero who tamed a spear mimic which aided him in striking true by bending itself. Mimics have a superb sense of touch and are capable of detecting vibrations, heat, and light through their skin. They can hear the faintest of noises and recognize voices at great distances even in the damp tunnels they often inhabit.
Little is known about the mimic lifecycle. They reproduce by splitting. The circumstances that allow that to occur are unknown as simply shearing a mimic in two by brute force or a precise cut only results in two halves of a dead mimic. Therefore, some process in which the parent mimic grants life upon splitting must occur. No records of mimic reproduction in captivity have ever been found. How long a mimic can live is also a big unknown but scholars assume mimics do not die of old age. Others speculate that old mimics just lose their lifeforce and become the mundane object they emulate. One evidence that supports this claim is that body parts cut from a mimic are almost indistinguishable from their mundane counterparts in all physical aspects. A sliver of wood from a chest mimic's lid is, for all purposes, wood.
Another puzzling aspect is how they process mass. Though they do not excrete, Mimics can eat a lot of food at once, be it an adventuring party or trash and even carrion. Despite that, their mass does not change. Scholars believe all mimics have spatial magic and store excess food there. That might explain how they can stay alive for centuries locked in deep vaults. They are very resistant to poisons and practically immune to disease. Mimics apparently extract enough water from their food and do not breathe. Breathing would defeat the whole pass-as-an-object strategy.
Their amorphous bodies can take on the properties of the material they emulate. The steel corners of a chest mimic are as hard to damage as steel. it is as stiff as steel too, at least on the surface. The mimic is capable of using his entire body as if it was composed solely of muscle and sinew. The strength of a mimic is enormous. Chest mimics can use their lids and teeth to chew through enchanted steel plate armor. A mimic's tongue is powerful enough to crush and crumple said armor into scrap, along with the person inside.
It is highly recommended to fight a mimic from afar. Not only because of their monstrous strength but also because all mimics can coat their bodies with a viscous secretion that can turn into a powerful adhesive with but a thought. Often, melee weapons used to strike a mimic get stuck in the adhesive after the first blow. The adhesive is strong enough to rip the outer layer of skin. The process used by mimics to make their secretions adhere is unknown. Many researchers tried to discover the catalyst but the common belief is that the mimic's own magic triggers the reaction. It is also localized. Mimics can make one part of their bodies sticky while the rest of the secretion remains inert. A few of these monsters learn to spit their secretions, enabling them to entangle prey from afar. Others discover how to make their secretions slippery instead.
All in all, the mimics are a fascinating and dangerous family of monsters.
- Zagan Saiga, Compendium of Amorphous Monsters, Volume II.
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Night.
In the basement of a castle under construction, a book laid on the floor while the book's owner doubled down in a fit of laughter and giggles. The book couldn't move as many books ought to do and that would be a completely normal thing except for the fact that the book was alive.
"You... pfft!" Barbara bent over as she finally tried to make some coherent words. "Got paralyzed by your own creation?"
"This!" She grunted and sputtered as she tried to reign in her bout of mirth, pointing at the rusted disk of steel with two colored pebbles jutting out of one side, "doesn't seem worth it."
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Unless she reclaimed the artifact, my curse wouldn't go. Breaking it was out of the question, I wouldn't waste MP on that.
"Wait a sec," she raised a hand and turned around. More laughter.
I used a telekinetic spell to raise the heating plate and float it to touch her ankle. That's all it took.
> > For returning the stolen heating plate, you are no longer affected by {Curse of Paralysis}.
Yeah, fuck you very much, Loki.
With a sigh, Barbara turned around and saw the heating plate next to her boot, "you cheated!" She whined. "And I can no longer sense the item."
She crouched and picked it up. Her eyes told me she was skeptical of my creation. "What is this rusted piece of garbage supposed to be?"
"It's rusted," she pointed matter-of-factly.
Barbara picked me up. Despite regaining my mobility, my mimic instincts had no urge to go back to her without a good cause. She could retrieve her magical book on her own pace. I also was a bit disgruntled.
"Doesn't it paralyze anyone who tries to?"
"My {Appraiser} is only sixty-seven. Says it's not enough," she pouted, then straightened out her face to glare at me. "Do you hate my mom?"
"Why would you give her a piece of rusted metal?"
She raised an eyebrow, "Couldn't you make something nicer?"
"See? You could if you only tried." She patted my cover condescendingly.
She pursed her lips, "Nope. This is ugly, awful, and now will remain in my family forever."
Barbara's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
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Morning.
Mrs. Ambrose squealed as she saw the big, gift-wrapped box covering most of their modest dining table. "A gift? For me?" She pretended to swoon, "Why, you shouldn't, Mr. Book!"
All smiles again, Mrs. Ambrose picked me up and squeezed my covers between her arms and chest. "Why, thank you! Don't mind if I do!"
She pulled the ribbons, unfolded the gift-wrapping paper carefully, then pulled the box to the side. She then rolled the ribbons and re-folded the paper to re-use later. Paper like the one I used was already a gift in itself. I even regretted not buying more because it was delicious. In fact, I was a bit disappointed she wouldn't just toss it, because I was getting rather peckish to hear it ruffle.
Then she pulled the cover and almost fainted out of sheer exhilaration. "By the Goddess' what is this?"
"It's nothing, mom. Just something Nethe came up with last night," Barbara misdirected, then glowered at me for a brief moment. "Did you like it?"
"Like it? I love it!"
She then fished the large rectangle out of the box, arms spread wide to get it up. Binding to her will, the enchantments activated and the rectangle compensated for its own weight.
"It floats?" She wondered as it almost shot to the ceiling because she was lifting when it lost weight.
She leaned an elbow on the rectangular object, then tapped her cheek with a finger. "Where should I put it?"
"Why don't you place it over the old stove?" Barbara suggested.
Last night, after we stopped our silly act, Barbara demanded I made something else for her mother. I summoned mom's book and looked at the pictures of cooking appliances from her world, until we set on this.
Mrs. Ambrose new cooking apparatus was an enchanted rectangular slab of obsidian, a meter wide by sixty centimeters long and five centimeters thick. It had a polished stainless-steel trim, six sets of concentric rings above it. Inside the obsidian was the new heating enchantment and several others, powered by stronger Cores and six telekinetic immovable rods. It would take sixty metric tons of force to move the stove against its will, and even more force to damage it, unless you used Adamantite to cheat. It was also the weight it could lift and move around if used to carry cargo.
To operate the stove, all you needed to do was to touch one of the ring sets in the middle, then slide your finger outward. The rings would light up to indicate how many were on, each representing about ten degrees of temperature, starting from 40C up to 500C at the outermost one. It granted heat resistance so the user wouldn't get burned, and each "mouth" operated independently.
Its outward appearance was that of an "induction cooktop" from mom's original world. Black, polished to a mirror-like finish, sleek, and stylish. It was something that people from over there would consider "modern" and "designer appliance". Underneath it, some cleverly hidden panels and hinges could deploy an oven.
"Oh, today's lunch will be delicious! Can I sear meat straight over it, Mr. Book?"
Mrs. Ambrose gasped. So thoughtful!"
Barbara picked me up. "Mom, we need to go and check with the girls on patrol. Will you..."
She waved a hand to dismiss us, "I'll be fine, go do your job, your Excellency!"
With Arista out, Lily and Apricot were prowling around the valley borders, looking for spies or any other kind of trespasser.
The rusted heating plate, you ask? It was in Barbara's storage ring. After I explained what it did to her, she had some ideas on how to use it, none involving the preparation of food. She said she might even use it to cook one day if nothing else was available.
Such cruelty.