The monks of the Wyrd Menagerie do not speak of “summoning” the way a mage does. They do not “call” spirits like a cleric calls their god. They negotiate. They trade. They purchase violence with their own living body as currency, offering skin, breath, speed, bone, and waking life—piece by piece—until what’s left of them is mostly devotion and a heartbeat.

Their creatures are not pets. They are not companions. They are myths made hungry.

“A mage pays with knowledge. A priest pays with faith. These monks pay with the only thing no one can ever earn back.”
— Archivist-High Orlan Vey, Keeper of the White Vaults of Hidun

No two practitioners look the same after years of work. Some lose height as their spine compresses under unseen weight. Some move like their joints have been rewired. Some become frighteningly calm, the way a person grows calm when they’ve already decided they won’t survive the night. Their eyes often hold a strange softness, like someone who has already mourned themselves.

And yet… their temples are not places of evil. Not to them.
They believe they are doing what must be done—because the world is full of things worse than pain.

---

The Origin: The Monastery That Would Not Die

The earliest record of the Menagerie appears during the late Ashline Era, in the aftermath of the Hushed March, when entire roads emptied as if civilization itself grew ashamed of walking them. The scrolls claim a monastery existed near a ravine that was never mapped, because every cartographer who tried to sketch it forgot the ink halfway through. Survivors described it as a place of “unfinished architecture”—pillars that didn’t hold anything, staircases that climbed into blank stone, bells that rang without sound.

The monastery had no known name, only the title given by outsiders:

The House That Bargains.

Pilgrims arrived seeking miracles. Many were turned away. Some were accepted, but never returned. The few who did return came back quieter, thin as paper, and always with hands stained in something that wasn’t blood—but also wasn’t not.

They taught a philosophy that horrified every clean-hearted monk who heard it:

The body is not a temple.
The body is an offering bowl.

“They spoke as if flesh were only a coin you spend for meaning.”
— Master Yuln of the Salted Step, testimony recorded before his exile

In time, kings tried to destroy them. Priests tried to purge them. Wizards tried to steal their methods. None succeeded. Every time soldiers approached, they lost their way. Every time fire touched the temple walls, the flame dimmed and crawled backward like an animal retreating into its den.

And always, something watched from the ravine.

---

The Law of the Ledger

The Menagerie teaches that the world has invisible laws older than gods—laws of balance, and debt, and equivalent exchange. Not “karma.” Not “fate.” Something colder.

They call it the Ledger.

Every spiritual creature they summon is already real somewhere—either in the cracks between realms, or in the forgotten corners of collective fear. The monk does not create it. The monk does not invent it. The monk simply pays enough to make it step closer.

And the Ledger is cruelly honest.

If you want speed, you pay speed.
If you want armor, you pay skin.
If you want a guardian that never tires, you pay your future rest.
If you want a monster that kills like an executioner, you offer it something it can’t find anywhere else:

your heartbeat.

The oldest Menagerie oath is simple and unbearable:

“Nothing comes for free. Especially salvation.”

“There are spells that break bones and spells that break cities. This is not a spell. This is a contract written on the soul with a quill made of suffering.”
— Lady Tarmienne Voss, historian of the Tri-Point Scholarium

---

Why Their Creatures Are So Wrong

Most conjurations look like something from nature—wolves, hawks, elementals shaped like storms. But Wyrd Beasts are different. They do not resemble the natural world. They resemble ideas the world tried to suppress.

They are myth made into muscle. They are nightmares cleaned up just enough to walk. Their anatomy is always slightly incorrect, as if reality itself didn’t want them to fit.

A Lanternjaw Catfish that swims through air and drips water that vanishes before it hits the ground.
A Bone-Moth Shepherd whose wings chime like bells that were never forged.
An Owl that sees behind itself and knows what you will look like dead.
A Stag crowned with the absence of antlers, like the world ripped glory away from it.

These creatures feel ancient—not in years, but in meaning. Being near them makes people remember things they didn’t live through. Some describe it as a “spiritual pressure,” like a storm rolling in behind the ribs.

“The first time I saw one, my teeth hurt. That’s how I knew it wasn’t an animal.”
— Captain Rellin Marr, East Lustrian River Guard

The Ten Wyrd Beasts: Each One a Lesson

The monks do not name their summons the way children name pets. They name them the way survivors name disasters—shortly, carefully, and with respect.

Each beast is considered a “lesson.”
Not because it teaches kindness—but because it teaches the truth.

The Glasshorn Hare

This is the first contract, taught to initiates who still believe pain will make them stronger in a heroic way. The Glasshorn Hare shows them the reality instead: pain does not make you strong. It makes you used to pain. The Hare is speed and fragility made sacred—fast enough to escape anything, but delicate enough to shatter if it hesitates.

Initiates who rely on it too often begin to move like prey even when they are safe, their shoulders always slightly hunched, their eyes always searching for a hunter.

“It makes you feel like the world is chasing you even when it isn’t.”
— Sister Nelm of the Three-Breath Shrine

The Lanternjaw Catfish

This is taught next, and it’s always accompanied by warnings. The Catfish is hunger with a lantern inside it. It represents the way fear can illuminate your survival instincts… while still consuming you. People who summon it repeatedly begin to sleep in short bursts, waking like something was about to swallow them.

It does not “swim” through air.
It drifts like an executioner approaching.

The Bone-Moth Shepherd

A creature worshipped by no one, yet prayed to by many in secret. It represents the truth that the dead never fully leave; they simply become quieter. The Shepherd spreads silence like snow—soft, suffocating, and inevitable.

Those who bind it too long begin to speak less. Not from discipline. From the simple recognition that words are weak weapons against the Ledger.

The Salt-Tongue Basilisk

This beast is the first that demands exhaustion, and most monks refuse it the first time out of fear. It teaches the central cruelty of the Menagerie:

you do not get to keep your strength and also demand victory.

The Basilisk makes everything dry and brittle—muscles, morale, hope. It is the spiritual embodiment of the way survival can strip away softness until only function remains.

It is said some monks lose their ability to cry after the third summoning.

The Crownless Stag of Ash

The Stag represents martyrdom without glory. Its crown is missing. It has already been stripped of reward. It still charges forward anyway.

This is where most Menagerie monks break. Because the Stag teaches something that sounds noble until you feel it in your spine:

You can sacrifice everything and still not be thanked.

“A hero dies once. These monks die in small pieces every day.”
— General Hadrik Sorn, Siege Records of the Westbank War

The Hymn-Skin Serpent

The Serpent is not evil. It is worse: it is intimate. Its mouths sing wrong versions of your name, wrong versions of your memories. It represents the terrifying possibility that identity is fragile and can be rewritten by pain.

Those who summon it report strange dreams—walking through their childhood home, but every door opens into a different year.

They wake up missing small facts about themselves.

The Backward Owl

This beast is the Menagerie’s punishment for arrogance. It sees what you will not. It observes the consequences you try to outpace. It turns fate into a glare you can’t look away from.

The Owl does not hoot.
It exhales.
Like something tired of watching mortals repeat the same ending.

Monks who use it often begin to flinch before danger even happens—because the Owl makes anticipation feel like impact.

The Velvet Maw Mink

A creature of seams and quiet violence. It represents the truth that reality is stitched together, and desperate people can pry that stitching apart.

It is beloved by spies, assassins, and monks who no longer care about being “good.”
Because it is small, and quick, and terribly effective.

It doesn’t kill loudly.
It kills like a secret.

The Horned Woundbear

This is the beast of mass violence. The monks say it exists to remind the world what a “problem” looks like when it finally stops being ignored.

It is too big, too cruel, too much. It carries pain like a crown, spilling spiritual thread from its exposed ribs.

Summoning the Woundbear is considered an act of last resort, because the Ledger does not like debts this large. Many who summon it never fully recover their stamina. Their breath remains shortened forever, like their lungs remember being crushed.

“It was not a battle. It was an apology from the universe.”
— The Last Letter of Commander Jesh Vaul, recovered from the Blight Marsh

---

The Final Contract: Grave-Sun Leviathan

The Leviathan is not taught.
It is discovered.

There is no “master” who hands it down with a calm smile. There is no scroll describing it cleanly. There is only the warning found carved into monastery stone, deep enough that someone had to break their fingers writing it:

DO NOT BUY WHAT YOU CANNOT AFFORD.

The Leviathan is called Grave-Sun because it feels like a sun that died and came back wrong. It radiates funeral light and shadow at once, like dawn trying to crawl out of a coffin.

The contract requires everything. Not metaphorically. Literally.

When summoned, the monk becomes a husk—alive but unconscious, thrown onto death saving throws as if their body has been placed on the edge of existence and told to argue for itself.

And what happens next is the cruelest part:

If the Leviathan kills anything, the monk heals 1 hit point.
Just one.
A penny tossed into a beggar’s cup.
A reminder that survival is possible… but not guaranteed.

Worse still: while the monk lies unconscious, any healing magic given to them does not mend their flesh. It feeds the Leviathan instead.

This is why Menagerie monks often travel alone at high levels. Because companions, in panic, will try to save them—only to strengthen the monster that is already devouring the battlefield.

“Imagine watching your friend collapse. Imagine rushing to heal them. Imagine realizing you just gave life to the thing that killed your friends.”
— Saint-Binder Ilora, the Mercy Trials

Some believe the Grave-Sun is the final truth of the Ledger:
that the universe does not care about fairness.
It cares about payment.

And the monk who reaches this point understands something most heroes never do:

Sometimes victory costs you the right to enjoy it.

---

Why Anyone Would Choose This Path

People assume the Menagerie is for the cruel.
They are wrong.

Many who join do so because they were powerless once. Because they watched something terrible happen and discovered, in that moment, that hope does not punch back.

They became monks because monks are supposed to be disciplined and pure. But purity doesn’t stop hunger. Discipline doesn’t stop monsters. And so they found a different temple, hidden behind the world’s polite lies, where the truth is spoken like scripture:

“You can be good… and still lose.”

So they learn to sacrifice what goodness normally protects: comfort. safety. stability. the future.

They become men and women and beings who are willing to bleed spiritual currency onto the ground to buy one more minute of survival for someone else.

There are stories of Menagerie monks arriving at villages after raids—walking barefoot through ash, summoning a Glasshorn Hare just to distract starving wolves away from children. Stories of a monk using the Crownless Stag of Ash to hold a bridge alone so refugees could escape, then collapsing when the contract ended and their body remembered what it had paid.

“They don’t save you like heroes. They save you like someone paying debt collectors with their own ribs.”
— Elder Korrin of Montivv, Cheese-Field Records

---

How They Are Viewed in Lustria

In the courts of Lustria, the Menagerie is spoken of in careful terms. Not outlawed, not embraced. The noble houses know better than to provoke forces they don’t understand.

Some call these monks “blessed.”
Some call them “cursed.”
Most simply call them dangerous.

Even other monks avoid them. Because discipline is comforting when it looks clean. The Menagerie shows discipline as it truly is: not serenity, but endurance.

And endurance has teeth.

“If you ever meet one, do not ask what it cost. They’ll answer honestly, and you’ll never sleep the same again.”
— Magister Sava Quill, Tri-Point Faculty Notes

---

The Quiet Detail Nobody Writes Down

The Menagerie has one unspoken rule.

A cruel one.

A necessary one.

It’s said every Wyrd Monk, at some point, makes a mistake with their first summon. A Glasshorn Hare that leaps too early. A Lanternjaw Catfish that bites the wrong throat. A Basilisk that turns fear into collapse.

And someone dies.

Not an enemy. Not always.

A traveler.
A mercenary.
A guard.
A friend.

That’s when the monk learns what the Ledger truly means:

You don’t only pay with your body.
You pay with your memories.

Because guilt is a second contract that never expires.

And that’s why the oldest Menagerie monks are never proud. They don’t boast. They don’t posture. They don’t smile easily. They speak softly, like the world is fragile.

Because to them, it is.

Level 3: Wyrd Summoning & Contract

Bonus Action: You summon one Wyrd Beast you have unlocked into an unoccupied space you can see within 30 feet. The summon lasts for 1 minute, until it drops to 0 hit points, or until you dismiss it (no action required).

You can have only one Wyrd Beast summoned at a time. If you summon another, the previous one disappears.

When you summon a Wyrd Beast, you must pay its Discipline Point (DP) cost and its listed Sacrifice. The Sacrifice lasts until the beast vanishes.

Your Wyrd Beast is friendly to you and your allies. It takes its turn immediately after your turn and obeys your commands (no action required). If you are incapacitated, the beast becomes unstable and the DM may control it until the summon ends.

Summoner’s Price

Each time you summon a Wyrd Beast, choose one of the following benefits:

• Iron Breath. You gain a bonus to checks made to resist forced movement or effects that would knock you prone equal to your Proficiency Bonus.

• Blood Rhythm. The first time each round your Wyrd Beast hits a creature, you gain temporary hit points equal to your Wisdom modifier (minimum 1).

• Step Between Heartbeats. On the same turn you summon your Wyrd Beast, you can take the Disengage action as a Bonus Action.

Wyrd Beast Unlocks

You unlock 1 new Wyrd Beast every 2 Monk levels, starting at Monk level 3.

Unlocked at Monk levels: 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17, 19, and 20.
(10 total summons)

Spirit Save DC

Your Spirit Save DC for all Wyrd Beast features equals:

Spirit Save DC = 8 + your Proficiency Bonus + your Wisdom modifier

Glasshorn Hare

 

Small fey, unaligned

cost: 3 Ki points -10 ft movement

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 50 ft., jump 20 ft.

STR 8 (-1) | DEX 16 (+3) | CON 12 (+1) | INT 6 (-2) | WIS 14 (+2) | CHA 10 (+0)

Saving Throws Dex +PB, Wis +PB
Skills Acrobatics +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 12
Languages understands the languages you speak
Proficiency Bonus (PB) equals yours

Traits

Shatter Leap. The hare’s jump distance is always 20 feet, and it doesn’t need a running start.

Flicker-Step. Opportunity attacks against the hare are made with disadvantage.

Actions

Mirror Kick. 1d20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d20 + your Wisdom modifier bludgeoning damage. The target has disadvantage on the next attack roll it makes before the start of its next turn.

Cracklight (1/Day per Summon). The hare explodes in shimmering glasslight. Each creature of your choice within 10 feet must make a Dexterity saving throw against your Spirit Save DC. On a failed save, a creature is blinded until the end of its next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 5} Lanternjaw Catfish

Medium undead, unaligned (hovering)

Cost: 3 ki points- 1 AC

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 0 ft., fly 30 ft. (hover)

STR 14 (+2) | DEX 12 (+1) | CON 14 (+2) | INT 5 (-3) | WIS 12 (+1) | CHA 8 (-1)

Saving Throws Con +PB, Wis +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Drownlight Aura. Enemies within 10 feet of the catfish have a –1 penalty to attack rolls.

Actions

Gulp Bite. 1D20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1D20 + your Wisdom modifier piercing damage. If the target is Large or smaller, it can’t regain hit points until the start of its next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 7} Bone-Moth Shepherd

Medium spirit, unaligned

Cost: 4 ki points reduce your max HP while summoned by your monk's level +3

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 20 ft., fly 40 ft.

STR 8 (-1) | DEX 14 (+2) | CON 12 (+1) | INT 8 (-1) | WIS 16 (+3) | CHA 12 (+1)

Saving Throws Wis +PB
Skills Stealth +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 13
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Dust of Quiet. Creatures of your choice within 10 feet of the moth can’t take reactions.

Actions

Needle Wing. 1D20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d20+ your Wisdom modifier necrotic damage. If this attack hits, you gain +10 feet of Speed until the end of your next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 9} Salt-Tongue Basilisk

Medium elemental, unaligned

Cost: 5 ki points gain 1 point of exhaustion

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 30 ft.

STR 14 (+2) | DEX 12 (+1) | CON 14 (+2) | INT 5 (-3) | WIS 12 (+1) | CHA 8 (-1)

Saving Throws Con +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 11
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Desiccate Glare. Once per turn when the basilisk hits a creature, the target’s speed is reduced by 10 feet until the start of the basilisk’s next turn. This can stack, reducing speed to 0.

Actions

Salt Rend. 1d20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d20  + your Wisdom modifier slashing damage.
If this attack reduces a creature to 0 hit points, the creature crumbles into harmless salt.

Level 3: {Lvl 11} Crownless Stag of Ash

Large celestial, unaligned

Cost: 6 Ki points - 2 AC - 10 Ft speed

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 50 ft.

STR 18 (+4) | DEX 12 (+1) | CON 16 (+3) | INT 6 (-2) | WIS 14 (+2) | CHA 10 (+0)

Saving Throws Str +PB, Con +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 12
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Ash Stampede. The stag can move through the spaces of other creatures. The first time it enters a creature’s space on a turn, that creature must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw against your Spirit Save DC or fall prone.

Actions

Cinder Gore. 1d20+PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d20 + your Wisdom modifier fire damage.
On a hit, the target can’t take the Dash action until the end of its next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 13} Hymn-Skin Serpent

Large fey, unaligned

Cost: 7ki - reduce your max HP by 1/2 your current health while summoned

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 40 ft., climb 30 ft.

STR 16 (+3) | DEX 14 (+2) | CON 14 (+2) | INT 8 (-1) | WIS 16 (+3) | CHA 14 (+2)

Saving Throws Wis +PB, Cha +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 13
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Actions

Sermon Fang. 1d20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 10 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d20 + your Wisdom modifier psychic damage.

Choir Coil. When the serpent hits a creature with Sermon Fang, the target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw against your Spirit Save DC or become silenced (can’t speak, and can’t provide verbal spell components) until the end of its next turn.
If the target fails the save, you have advantage on your next attack roll against it before the end of your next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 15} The Backward Owl

Medium aberration, unaligned

Cost: 8 ki points gain 2 points of exhaustions

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 10 ft., fly 60 ft.

STR 8 (-1) | DEX 18 (+4) | CON 12 (+1) | INT 10 (+0) | WIS 16 (+3) | CHA 12 (+1)

Saving Throws Dex +PB, Wis +PB
Skills Perception +PB, Stealth +PB
Senses truesight 30 ft., darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 13
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Reactions

False Future (1/Turn). When a creature the owl can see hits you with an attack, the owl forces that creature to reroll the attack roll and use the lower result.

Actions

Ruin Peck. 1d20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1d20 + your Wisdom modifier force damage.
On a hit, the target can’t benefit from advantage until the end of its next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 17} Velvet Maw Mink

Small shadow spirit, unaligned

Cost: 9 Ki points - 3 AC- 20 ft of movement

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 50 ft., climb 30 ft.

STR 8 (-1) | DEX 18 (+4) | CON 12 (+1) | INT 6 (-2) | WIS 14 (+2) | CHA 12 (+1)

Saving Throws Dex +PB
Skills Stealth +PB
Damage Resistances bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing from nonmagical attacks
Senses darkvision 120 ft., passive Perception 12
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Slip Between Cuts. The mink has resistance to nonmagical weapon damage.

Actions

Stitchbite. 1D20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 5 ft., one target.
Hit: 1D20-+ your Wisdom modifier necrotic damage.
On hit, the mink regains 1 hit point.

Unzip Reality (1/Day per Summon). The mink teleports up to 30 feet to an unoccupied space it can see.

Level 3: {Lvl 19} The Horned Woundbear

Huge giant spirit, unaligned

Cost: 10 Ki points reduce max HP by 4 X your monk level while summoned

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 5 + (5 × your monk level)
Speed 40 ft.

STR 20 (+5) | DEX 10 (+0) | CON 18 (+4) | INT 6 (-2) | WIS 14 (+2) | CHA 10 (+0)

Saving Throws Str +PB, Con +PB
Senses darkvision 60 ft., passive Perception 12
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Bleedquake Aura. Enemies within 15 feet of the bear have disadvantage on Constitution saving throws.

Actions

Rib-Slam. 1D20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 10 ft., one target.
Hit: 1D20 + your Wisdom modifier bludgeoning damage.
Once per round on a hit, the target must succeed on a Constitution saving throw against your Spirit Save DC or be stunned until the end of its next turn.

Level 3: {Lvl 20} Grave-Sun Leviathan

 

Gargantuan mythic spirit, unaligned

Armor Class 13 + your Wisdom modifier
Hit Points 10 + (10 × your monk level) (it is meant to be terrifying)
Speed 0 ft., fly 60 ft. (hover)

STR 24 (+7) | DEX 8 (-1) | CON 22 (+6) | INT 8 (-1) | WIS 18 (+4) | CHA 18 (+4)

Saving Throws Con +PB, Wis +PB
Damage Resistances all damage
Condition Immunities charmed, frightened, poisoned, exhausted
Senses truesight 60 ft., darkvision 120 ft., passive Perception 14
Languages understands the languages you speak
PB equals yours

Traits

Grave-Sun Contract (Special). When this creature is summoned, you immediately fall unconscious and begin making death saving throws, even if you were not at 0 hit points. While it remains summoned:

• Your maximum hit points become 1

• Your AC is reduced by 5

• Your Speed becomes 5 feet

• You gain 3 levels of Exhaustion

Kill-Spark. Whenever the leviathan reduces any creature to 0 hit points, you regain 1 hit point.

Twisted Mercy. While you are unconscious, any healing you receive instead heals the leviathan.

Actions

Eclipse Maw. 1d20 +PB + your Wisdom modifier to hit, reach 15 ft., one target.
Hit: 1D20+ your Wisdom modifier radiant damage plus 1D20 + your Wisdom modifier necrotic damage.
The target must succeed on a Constitution saving throw against your Spirit Save DC, or it takes the damage once more at the start of its next turn

Level 6: Spirit Synchrony

While you have at least one summoned creature you control within 60 feet of you:

• Your summons gain a +1 bonus to attack rolls

• Your summons gain a +1 bonus to damage rolls

• Your summons gain temporary hit points equal to your Wisdom modifier (minimum 1) at the start of each of your turns

Level 11: Linked Defense

Reaction: When a summoned creature you control within 60 feet is hit by an attack, you can spend 1 ki Point to do one of the following:

Option A: Ki Shield

Reduce the damage the summon takes by:
1d10 + your Wisdom modifier + your Proficiency Bonus

Option B: Shared Step

Teleport the summoned creature up to 20 feet to an unoccupied space you can see.
This movement provokes opportunity attacks, but the triggering attack misses.

Level 17: Commander of the Called

While you have at least one summoned creature you control within 60 feet:

• Your summons gain advantage on saving throws

• Your summons gain resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage

• Once per turn, when you hit a creature with an unarmed strike, one summoned creature you control that can see the target may immediately use its Reaction to:

  • Move up to half its speed, and

  • Make one attack against that same target