Creatures starting their turn in the area take 2d6 Cold damage.

Creatures ending their turn in the area must succeed a Dexterity <LSTag Tooltip=""SavingThrow"">Saving Throw</LSTag> or take 2d6 Acid damage."

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Like the truffle it is extracted from, this spirit's vibrant colour and smell seem to entice all kinds of critters.

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The airily sweet mist makes you light-headed, feeling like you could reach for the sun.

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These partially burned balsam leaves exude a smoky, sweet fragrance.

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Ironically, the blinding property of behir scales mirrors the short-sightedness of the storm giants who created the first behirs - fashioned from serpentine lightning, they did not remain subordinate to their giant masters for long.

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In this transmogrified state, Belladonna loses its toxic properties, gaining instead an engrossing, perception-enhancing characteristic.

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The sap's dark colour, viscous consistency, and cloying sweetness belie its beneficial potential.

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Bonecaps are found growing upon burial mounds; their alchemical properties are flavoured with proximal death.

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Even the slightest sniff of this acidic tincture makes your eyes sting.

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While crows rend gobbets of flesh from battlefield dead, carrion crawlers prefer the seclusion of sewers and cemeteries for their feasting.

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The lonely tenacity of the Chasm Creeper might go some way to explaining its alchemical properties - strength like that could be useful when harnessed.

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Despotic, artistic, and terribly powerful, cloud giants often view themselves as elegant sovereigns over the cruder, more terrestrial giantkin.

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These tiny slivers of copper glisten when illuminated - almost like miniature bolts of lightning.

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Once plucked from the chest cavity of a recent corpse, this flower was dried and mixed with rare salts to enhance its alchemical properties.

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Often fed with the blood of the fallen, daggerroot is said to help create new victims - a property that only intensifies once the plant has been dried and burned.

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A thick miasma exuded by the bone shards of a dead god. For some inexplicable reason, it makes you feel safe.

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It is one of life's small ironies that the first step in creating an Elixir of Fire Resistance includes burning its main ingredient.

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Eagles have been known to kill tortoises by gripping them by the shell, taking flight, and dropping them from a great height. No one knows why they do this, because there isn't particularly good eating on a tortoise.

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Crackling, stinging sparks leap from these cinder when you stir them with a finger - but the ashes themselves remain almost unnaturally cold.

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The hard, implacable substance this was formed from hints at the stubborn nature of the flail snail, which has the general temperament of a cudgel on bad drugs.

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The gelid texture of this substance is a reflection of the frost giants who tame equally icy salamanders at the intersection between the Planes of Air and Water.

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Once used to wet a Gauth's eyes, this slime had mostly dried up before you could extract it. Still, its power remains.

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Discorporated from its shape, the tail essence gestures to the futility and endurance of conflict between spellcasters and their more sentient failures.

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These tusks came from hideous, pig-like creatures whose existence gave rise to the colloquial Stygian phrase 'going the whole hellhog'.

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These salts have a surprisingly vast colour palette - the yellows of fungus, greens of moss, and blacks and browns of old blood.

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Few sounds in the vast Underdark are as eerie as the clacking, echoing chatter of hook horrors - made even worse by the fact that they are usually a warning of even graver dangers to come.

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Molten earwax clings to the ashes, turning the whole into a sticky goo.

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Ice mephit ears boast the alchemical property of nullifying fire resistance. Though completely useless to the mephits itself, they seem to revel in the thought of imparting their own vulnerabilities onto others.

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Native to the Nine Hells, imps barely burn, but once they have perished, their wings turn to ash surprisingly easily.

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This fluid, harvested from a humanoid brain enthralled and experimented on by mind flayers until it gained a life of its own, is the perfect ingredient for psychic potions.

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The smoke coming from ki-rin hair releases a soothing scent, as well as the bulk of its heavenly magic.

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Crushed Laculite floats at the bottom of this tincture, infusing the water with the Underdark's mysterious energies.

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No surprise that Lolth's Candles lead travellers in the Underdark, given that their namesake is a goddess of deceit as well as spiders and shadows. Worse, distilled, they even blind and poison the unwary.

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The oil refined from these ashes will act as a catalyst for the prettiest bursts of furnace-hot flame.

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Touching a little of the substance to your lips, you begin to hear muffled pulses of sound - daubs of thoughts belonging to those nearby.

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Nothing but a watery sludge remains of what was once a mephit's wing. Still, its elemental magic lingers.

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The roots of the common mugwort weed can be dried and crushed to create a powder that looks unassuming, but is full of potential.

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The chaotic fugue of Timmask-induced confusion is in many ways the exact opposite of Myconid meditation, which is calm, spiritual, and does not involve even a little bit of puzzled drooling.

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A frenzy of tiny mushroom-shaped clouds fizzle and pop on the surface of this sublimate.

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One whiff of this sickly-sweet smelling vapour makes the sinuses shrink.

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In his troubled Underdark days, the drow with the heart of gold, Drizzt Do'Urden, often purified nightlight to draw out its luminance. By its light his face was pensive, thoughtful, and too-wise.

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The origin of the nothic curse is one-eyed Vecna, the undead lich and master of secrets.<br><br>Nothics themselves do not remember their former lives as wizards - but their eyes can still be distilled for the benefit of spellcasters.

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If Iggwilv's Demonomicon has the right of it, all oozes are the spawn of the Faceless Lord, the demon tyrant Juiblex - it also cites the useful motion-based alchemical properties of the substance.

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Pegasi hail from Arborea. There they serve elven gods, their wings spread like broad fans over lush gardens, and their feathers bright with blessings and powers of vitality.

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Ivory with the slightest hint of emerald - and thrumming with magic.

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Purple Worms are attracted by sonic vibrations. Drow and duergar settlements erect special arcane barriers to deter the incursion of these frightful monsters.

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Floral needles of scent thread the air around this extract with the smell of honeysuckle, balmy eucalyptus, crocus and cyclamen.

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Created using the dried gills of the rogue's morsel mushroom, this powder smells surprisingly sweet.

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The stench of this rotten flesh has only worsened during its journey through the alchemical process.

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A cloying sweetness rises from the secretion. It simultaneously sharpens your senses and makes bile rise in your throat.

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Poison is believed to be the coward's tool, but the soldier who works with so-called honest steel might reconsider this opinion if her sword reared up and bit her on the eyeball.

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Once, there were songs of Ettercaps and spiders that warded children away from dangerous woods - but songs are forgotten, children wander, and when the silken threads turn out to be stickier than first presumed, their small noises of surprise are abruptly silenced.

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Cheerfully dancing motes of bioluminescence, reduced to their fundamental matter.

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The belief that the Feywild is a dreamy plane of whimsical adventure is folly. The occasional rainbow-coloured glint from this substance could as easily evoke a treacherous oil slick.

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The suffusion of psionics through the nervous system is generally a slow, perhaps even generational process, as the gith and duergar might well attest to.

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The gelid texture of this substance is a reflection of the frost giants who tame equally icy salamanders at the intersection between the Planes of Air and Water.

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Remember this, as you hold these heavenly sparks: any creature that takes a role in the death of a unicorn risks incurring divine wrath.

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Inchoate arcane symbols form and dissolve in the salt grains.

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Small parts of Weave stick to this foul-smelling paste, imperceptible to any but the most attuned spellcasters.

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Get the strands wet and you can almost hear the lovelorn sobs.

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Unlike malignant blights, wood woads are created to fulfil a specific purpose. Considering the brutality of the ceremony by which they are made, the derived elixir will doubtless make one hardy and staunch as bark.

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Worgs, unlike phoenixes, do not rise from the ashes - but their savagery does.

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Far more bestial than their draconic cousins, Wyverns fill the sky with shrieks like some nightmarish airborne choir, their stingers adrip with beads of poison.

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These ground xorn scales would be indistinguishable from a pile of sand, if not for their otherworldly shine.

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While alive, yellow musk creepers feed on humanoid corpses, turning them into zombies, but in the hands of a skilled alchemist, their petals can be used for good.

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Oft planted near graveyards and gifted to the sickest of patients, black oleander is believed to keep necrosis from spreading.

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Even glazed over in death, the eye's colour is vibrant and menacing.

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Waxy-white slime excretes from the pores of this prehensile tentacle.

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The blood on this finger has clotted in strange swirling patterns - like a grotesque facsimile of cumulus clouds.

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The hairs on your arms stand on end each time you touch this remnant of a once-god.

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Lambent from within, these crystals are as the very progenitors of flame.

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Thanks to their mindless appetite for heat, frost salamanders are often tricked by bronze-forged azers. The azers set a campfire blazing, and the salamanders slither toward it hungrily, only to be ripped apart for their alchemically valuable tongues.

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Though noticeably smaller than a beholder's, gauth's eyestalks can likewise shoot terrifying rays. Luckily this one has long perished.

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Thanks to the finger's vast size, each spot of fungus, mud, and flesh stuck beneath its fingernail is agonisingly clear.

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Many view ki-rin as heralds of good fortune, and for good reason - even the tiniest strand of their hair holds a wealth of benevolent magic.

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Gazing glassily up at you, bereft of humanity, this bulbous eye evokes the gruesome curse of the nothics. For they were not always monsters, but wizards who groped too greedily for power.

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This feather would make the softest duck down feel like hedgehog quills.

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This ivory quill could be mistaken for a plain eagle feather, if not for the power pulsating off it in waves.

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Tiny veins of gemstone marble the gullet - evidence of the worm's unique (and highly toxic) digestive system.

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A sheen of clear poison coats this fang, like a wasp's autumnal stinger.

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Thanks to their mindless appetite for heat, Frost Salamanders are often tricked by bronze-forged Azers. The Azers set a campfire or a portable forge blazing, the Salamanders slither toward it hungrily, only to be ambushed and torn asunder.

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The unicorn's blood is dried to the ivory base, defiling the holy magic of the beast's horn.

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Strings of dry gristly sinew cling to the attenuated stump of this stinger.

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Though consisting mostly of plain rock, these thick scales have a crystalline shine no stone on the Material Plane possesses.

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Don't be fooled by the attractive musky scent these petals produce - these flowers feast on humanoid corpses.