The Unorthodox Tales


Theophenes sat on the stool and ordered a keg of wine."A whole keg?" the barkeep said, raising his eye at the large figure.

Theophenes sat on the stool and ordered a keg of wine.

"A whole keg?" the barkeep said, raising his eye at the large figure.

"Yes. Is that so peculiar?" the tall one quipped. He then calmly said in a large voice which was purposely muffled down to a dull roar, "I drink quite a lot. And just one side of a cow, please, or actually just a rack of lamb. I shouldn't overeat as I would like to travel in the morn. And barkeep?" The large fellow asked politely.

"Yes, what?" the bar keep asked, getting a little irritated.

"Do you have any knowledge of some good bounties? I'm itching for a good fight these days, and I thank you in advance for some quick service with this," he handed the halfling on the counter some small jewels and a gold ring. "How much will the meal be?" He asked.

"That's enough to buy me store, so tonight you'll have my best room and anything else but me daughters." the barkeep smiled.

"Fine then," he said, "in that case, I guess everyone's drinks are on me. Keep the change, and just relax tonight. And I'm sorry for the fights that might occur around me. I happen to have trouble following me, and it always-"

CRASH! A girl came flying through the window. Theo was the only one knowing that underneath all that armor was a woman, but she wore genuine battle armor. She looked like a tank with a sword, but he knew she was actually pretty nice when you didn't give her a pick-up line or a death threat. Or when she was in a robe instead of a suit of armor. Speaking of robes, he needed to mend his. He looked ratty, and that was no way for the K'norr fire priest to be shown. He then looked at the girl in the armor. This was not right. "You are not Lynn," he said.

"How can you tell?" the feminine voice said seductively.

"Lynn smells of sweat, blood, and steel," Theophenes said "you smell like magic powder, and dust from old books. This will hurt. Much. Bye" He then pulled his massive arm out of his red curtain sized full-body cloak, grabbed the illusionist mage, and threw him far out the window. "Never try to deceive a minotaur's nose."

Others looked at him with little surprise, because at the Belching Boar throwing people out of a window when you were tense was normal. They were confused as to what a minotaur was doing in a bar.

Lynn, the real one, then walked in, tired, and with the old mithril helmet she normally used to make it little known she's a female, in her hand. She spoke: "Can anyone here manage my wound?" She took her other hand off of her head and showed a nasty gash. She looked at the crowd stonily and sighed. "I guess you wimps haven't seen real combat." They were all shocked to see such a nasty gash, except for Theo. In all fairness, you could even see parts of her brain. It was definitely not helping anyone's appetite.

Theo came over, walked to her, his hands glowing. "Sartek aid me as I heal her wound with the divine flame of a warriors touch," he said as he used a small flame to cauterize the wound.

"Nice trick, Theo," Lynn said. "Burns like everything, though. Can't you learn some gentler healing spells? Or are you minotaurs as stupid as they say?"

"Call me stupid again and I won't heal a gash, I'll give you a worse one."

The halfling looked up. "Do da two o'ye want te share a room fer de night, or do ye prefer to-"

Lynn then picked up the barkeep and looked him dead on, "Listen here, you pig, we are warriors. I am not some sex toy or temptress. However, if you want to lose some parts, I'll be glad to oblige you, alright?" She turned to talk to the room. "And if any of you stupid thugs try to mess with me while I get some sleep tonight, I must warn you I always have a knife at my side." She then looked at the barkeep again. "How much for a room?"

"It's already been paid for, as well as every drink in the tavern tonight. Thanks to that Theo o'yours. He seems to be as interested in fighting as you, but a little more polite if I may be so blunt." The halfling said charmingly.

Theo looked through the bounties and found one worth 2,000 gold pieces he decided was interesting. "Seeking powerful mercenaries. Need for liberating oppressed people. Contact Ganorashi." He noticed the bounty because unlike most, it was in orcish writing. He wondered why orcs would run bounties, as they usually did things themselves, and if they did hire someone, they usually didn't hire someone who read. "Who is Ganorashi?" Theo asked the room, "Who is he!"

"Strange one, you do not wish to meet Ganorashi. You are a fool and too young to be useful to him." An aged voice in the corner said.

"Listen Gano, you may be an orc shaman, but I am a K'norr. I can help you. So can Lynn. Am I wrong, Lynn?"

"No, sounds grand. It'd better be a challenge though; I hate the idea of fighting a bunch of wimps."

"Fine," the old orc shaman muttered, "but tonight you should sleep. You need your rest. Tomorrow we ride," he said, his beard glistening and his old runic necklace gleaming. Then we shall see whether you have the resolve to fight alongside the others."

They went to their rooms and tried to sleep. Little did they know so little sleep would be very hard to gain. . .

Alright, this is interactive fiction. I would like the audience (you) to donate:

1. Bizarre characters. A few heroes please, as I have got my main villain. Actuallly, I could use some interesting sub villains as well....just find me an interesting character. No Stereotypes, PLEASE!!!!! Also let's try and keep it away from too much of the futuristic stuff. I have a fire priest, and I don't want uzis and phazers, thanx. NO HUMAN CHARACTERS!!!! Too easy to write in any role. I need a challenge. Orcs, Daemons, undead, dark elves, or drow(which from my understanding is basically like a dark elf) and other 'evil races' are good, but with a good nature. Or make it a villainous member of a goody two shoes race.
2. Some monsters. I need some simple, lightweight monstrosities. Nothing very fancy. Maybe just a few low-level common monsters. Take them from any universe that makes you happy. Again no robots or flying saucers or anything very technologically stellar. Just something like, mutant plants or something. I have other uses for the more futuristic things....

I only ask for this because i know very little, and I would love some input on fantasy realm material. Bookaya! (no body's using it yet....)

Authoratatively yours,


Name: Alesyx Dishonored

Age: 70, or 16 human years

Type: Drow Druid

Personality: Shy and serious, with a romantic heart

Abilities: Grow Trees, Charm Animals, Call Guardian, Soothing Rain (a healing spell, weak).

History: Cast out by the Drow for practicing druidism, and given the last name of 'Dishonored'. Currently wandering.

Guardian: A small Dyrad whose bush she keeps in a bag of soil with the leaves sticking out. She calls on it when she is in danger and it posesses a wide variety of protective spells.

Items: A walking staff which doubles as her weapon, large cloak she wears in rain and uses as a tent, her bush tied to her waist, and a water skin.

Quirky enough for you? The exact opposite of what a Drow female is supposed to be. Add some detail to ake her your own, though.

Name: Squick Elge
Race: Half Orc
Profession: Warrior (or so he thinks)

History: Squick (or,as his friends like to call him, 'Mr. Elge") is a warrior of medium renown from a small village. Although he does not remember it, he was beaten severely as a child for....humming and "lying". Mr. Elge was the only one in the village who could carry a tune. Then, there was the "imagination thing". All that lying about heroes that never were. It was embarassing. It was always too easy to catch him in the lie.

He was beaten. Severely. It didn't kill him, it made him stronger.

So now he's all grown up. He knows he should be happy being a warrior, but he's not. He as a calling, he just doesn't know what it is yet. So he contents himself with bashing skulls (which he is good at) and chasing skirts (which he is lousy at).

If you listen closely, in the small hours, you can hear him humming as he dreams.

The blood from his non-orc side (Mom never admitted who Dad was, but she always smiles. wistfully. This is followed by a screed about how unreliable men are) is from a line of talented Bards.

Which is now part of his curse.

Whenever he hears a song or a story, he must hear at least two more from that person (friend or foe). Or he will get very, very angry (berserker strength).

As soon as he figures out what he *really* is (and he's going to be conflicted: some scars never heal), and when he *accepts* what he really is, he will advance twice as fast as a Bard than normal, and his base charisma doubles (mothers, hide yer daughters). He'll only be comfortable as a bard for so long, however, before going back to being a mediocre warrior. The better he becomes as a bard, the more uncomfortable he will become, the shorter a time he will spend as a bard. Which is mighter, the sword, or the song?

Yes. His father is a Bard, and still alive. The song he composed about Squick's conception starts:

"Of course I will woo thee, my darling, my dear!",
I would slay my own mother, so deep was my fear.

Name: Sir Cedric de Burgoune.
Class: Paladin.
Race: Zombie (Human).
Age: Um...Rotty?

Personality: Quixotic, a relic of a lost age. Cedric is confused by the world he's been brought back to and the current state he himself is in. Even still, he's brave and resolute, ready to draw blade against any and all that might do harm to the innocent. The standard paladin, really.

Background: Cedric was a great hero, playing the role of the valiant warrior to the T. Dragons slain, damsels rescued, villains apprehended, the usual.

Then he died.

Rather heroically, at the least, fighting off the latest "Tide of Darkness", which earned him several posthumous awards, and a military burial with full honors.

Fast forward a few hundred years. Times have grown grim; and heroes like the ones of old seem to be in short supply. So why not bring one back? Such was the thought of a novice spellcaster.

And so, Sir Cedric de Burgoyne walks the earth again, complete with his trusty steed, the stallion; Hillroll (buried with him, of course). Unfortunately, the spell didn't work entirely as planned; his personality and memories remain the's just that his body's, well, undead. Rather unpleasant, really. Hard to kiss the damsel when you've got no lips, after all...

On the plus side, at least he doesn't rely on eating brains. Cannibalisim is a sin, after all.

Reynaud, Le Duc De Marchand,

This character's true origin is lost in the mysts of time. He is an elf nobleman so old that he appears middle-aged, and his exploits are a byword for ruthlessnes and infamy. When he rides, he rides a coal black steed of reputably demonic origin.

Reynauds appearance is magnificent. He dresses in black silk, white ruffled shirt, exquisite cravat, knee breeches and gleaming shoes. He is an expert with rapier, longsword, or dagger, and he affects a bored, sarcastic, languid air.

Despite Reynauds formidable character skills, his greatest asset is his matchless intelligence. He is the master of guile, strategy, and manipulation. He has many servants, and a few good friends.

Reynauds character is a curious mixture. He is immensely cynical and has indulged in every form of vice in his time, but he is generous to his friends and values them highly. He has taken quite a liking to Sir Cedric de Burgoyne ( See Tumbleweeds character above ) with whom he can reminisce about the old days.

Reynaud always travels with his personal bodyguard of 20 men at arms let by his captain Klaus and sergeant Helm. He travels with three coaches, a retinue of servants, his valet Maurice and his coachman/groom Armand. Severalof these individuals are of character status.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

hmm.. i didn't see that you didn't really want villains. Also my last contribution was not perhaps bizarre enough. Why do you want bizarre anyway ? I'll give one bizarre hero and one monster below:

hero: Brin and Bran and Bronwen

Brin & Bran are as typical a pair of barbarian brothers as you could hope for, except that Brin is a lizard man, and Bran is a Gnoll. Their father Bron was a good hearted barbarian warrior who just couldn't bear to slay the wee bairns after he had finished slaughtering all their relatives, so he took them home and brought them up as his sons. The brothers have a human sister called branwen who they are very protective of. Any man trifling with her will quickly become lunch. Any man seeking to marry her must prove that he is worthy by doing mighty deeds ( magick users need not apply ). She is currently 25 years old and still unwed.

Play Brin as a lizardman Barbarian, shrewd and suspicious.
Play Bran as a gnoll Barbarian, simple and amiable.
Play Bronwen as a tall muscular human female ranger. Handsome, rather than beautiful, she

continued ...

Play Brin as a lizardman Barbarian, shrewd and suspicious.
Play Bran as a gnoll Barbarian, simple and amiable.
Play Bronwen as a tall muscular human female ranger. Handsome, rather than beautiful, she is quite happy with her adventurous lifestyle, and not particularly interested in settling down.

Monster: Rat men
I used to use these guyts quite a bit. They are basically half human, half rat, undistinguishable in appearance from a wererat. They are a very flexible critters, because you can use them in many places and in many ways. A ratman tunnel might turn up anywhere, burrowiung nto an ancient tomb, down in a dungeon, up into a house etc. You can place them with a relatively weak monster like giant rats, or you can toughen them up by alowing them to spread disease via their weapons or by placing the odd were-rat in their midst. A were-rat is like a were-wolf, tough and immune to non silver or magic weapons.

*sigh* I did think up a character like Sir Cedric, but two undead paladins would be too much I think...


How about a golem that has no master?

Race: stone golem
Age: 4 years
Class: none (yet)

Dorin was created out of a meteorite that had been flung from the Elemental Plane of Earth several thousand years ago. The wizard bought the stone from a quarry that had unearthed it "as is". Thus, the rituals that activated Dorin didn't go as planned.

Fortunatley for the wizard, Dorin regarded him as a friend and became the wizard's lab assistant rather than a mindless slave.

About a year ago, the wizard was killed by a rival, and now Dorin has sworn vengeance. Too bad he has no clue who killed his friend. Now he has gone into the world to find his friend's killer and smash him into patee.

(Note: While Dorin is neutral, the wizard could just as easily been evil as good. Anyone is welcome to write that particular story.)

Nickname: Shaggy (true name unknown)
Class: Sorcerer
Race: Half-Nishruu
Age: 30

Personality: Erratic. The alien consciousness merged with his own has strange effects on his already-eccentric mind. Shaggy is the essence of Chaotic Neutral, following his whims; he is capable of magnanimous charity or inhuman cruelty. He has a marked fondness for female undead, vampires in particular...

Background: Once human and the leader of a greatly renowned sorcerers' guild, his life was significantly changed when he took drastic measures to put down a rival mage guild. A poorly-worded Wish spell used to summon a nishruu and send it against the rival leader resulted in his being permanently merged with the outsider. Mind devastated by this event, he destroyed his guild and all in it, then set off wandering the world to sate his hunger for magic.

The merger of sorcerous intuition and Nishruu magic absorption has given Shaggy an unusual ability - arcane and divine spells he is affected by are added to his own repertoire, he can 'learn' new magic from drained magic items as well. He is also immune to mental influence, though whether this is from the Nishruu hybridization or an innate Chaotic Commands-like effect of his altered consciousness is unknown.

Shaggy greatly enjoys showing off his magical power, which has led him to come to overwhelmed peasants' aid in bleak times, and to make life difficult for heroes, whichever opportunity presents itself. Other signs point to his damaged mind as well. For reasons known only to himself, he paints up his face as a harlequin. He wears ratty clothes and allows his long hair to go unkempt as well, it has matted into dreadlocks giving him the name he is known by. Shaggy is an unpredictable wildcard that may appear anywhere the magic he craves is abundant.

(This is a heavy modification of one of my own existing characters, made different enough to be a separate char. Use him if you like him.)

Wow. this is working up to be my kind of party.... a undead paladin, a mage merged with a magic eating creature, a nasty old elf, barbarians of a monstrous nature, and a free golem.

Thank you, ashaqua. I always wanted to write something cool on a golem besides the whole mindless slave deal. Now you've given me enough plot there......

I hope I can tie all this together...enough submissions now folks, I think this is enough weirdness to keep me thinking.

Unless you have more monsters. I figured on alot of character submissions. I now have enough characters to go around. BOOKAYA!!!! (use the word.....join us....)
Bizarrely yours,

Revack is a born-again convert of the sun god, Pelor, convinced to change his evil ways by a wandering missionary. Well, indirectly, anyway. The rest of Revack's tribe killed and ate the missionary, but Revack rummaged through his belongings, found Pelor's holy book, and took it for his own.

Though most goblins are quite stupid and ignorant of the written word, Revack had taught himself to read at an early age, and was unable to put the book down. The instantly renounced his wicked ways, and his dark god, Maglubiyet in preference for the benevolent teachings of Pelor, and travels the land on a personal crusade to convert others to his cause.

He has since attracted a flock of two followers, the first, a fellow disatisfied goblin, by the name of Varin, and a towering mountain of muscle and bone, an ogre who calls himself Plod. Varin and Plod are never far from Revack's side, serving as protectors, and are willing to lay down their lives to protect him.

Though, all three are loyal followers of their god, Pelor, and are ostensibly good people, although they still have the personality traits of their races. Revack and Varin quarrel a lot, as is their goblin way, and Plod is, like all ogres, dumb as a bag of hammers.

Xarjamogg. Alias The Unspeakable One. Alias the Decimator of Light. Alias the High Overfiend. Alias the Bane of Gods. Alias Mr. Kindly.

Mr. Kindly appears at first glance, to be rather... unusually named, since he resembles a sizzling mass of ripping claws, immense, blood-stained horns, tearing talons, whip-like tail, teeth like bayonets and cloven goat hooves. Mr. Kindly is a pit fiend.

But a NICE pit fiend. A risen demon, if you will. Millions of eternitys spent in the Big Black, (an Infernal colloquialism for the Nine Hells) grew old for Mr. Kindly, then known under a variety of names, but most prominently, Xarjamogg. He grew tired of torturing the condemned sinners, drinking the blood of the innocent and sleeping with his personal harem of six hundred and sixty six willing succubi bitch-princesses. He wondered, just what was the point of his existence, and why, since he was effectively immortal, any of the creatures he had brutally and relentlessly tortured to a gibbering wreck, had never said 'Thanks'.

So, Xarjamogg left the flaming pits of the Nine Hells and travelled to the Material Plane, to really make something of himself. He bought himself a nice little cottage in the countryside, and took to raising cockatrice, selling the eggs to wealthy aristocrats with more pretension than sense, and alchemists who used the yolks in various experiments.

Incidentally, The Archdevil he served didn't seem to mind his retirement, as he, in fact, rather enjoyed Xarjamogg's company, and the two had played golf together on many occasions. Albeit with the amputated limbs of the sinful as golfclubs.

Blackcloak The Ravager, aka "The Pissy Little Runt"
Race: Kender
Class: Rouge/Fighter/Handler
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

In a moment the shadows shift to reveal the legendary mad bomber of Clarksdale. Small of sature the figure throws back his hood the reveal the comely face of a Kender. His hair is dyed a dark balck and is pulled into a tight ponytail.

"So, you seek The Ravager?" He says in a voice that drips acid.

"Yeah, have you seen him?" The human asks.

"I AM BLACKCLOAK YOU DOG!" The Kender shouts.

"Um, right. So where's the evil mastermind, kid?"

In a flash of cloak and steel the Kender stands atop the gutted corpse of the human.

"Insolent dog." He mutters. "That will teach you to insult the Ravager!"

Stepping away quickly he pulles the hood back over his head. As he enters the croud and begins to obtain numerous interesting items he hums a merry tune.

"Well, it's so easy when you're evil
This is the life you see
The devil tips his hat to me
I do it all because I'm evil
And I do it all for free
Your tears are the only pay I'll ever need"



Oooh, what's that shiny thing over there.
Damnit, it's just a nickel. Eh, now I'm a nickel richer.

"Hey, you little punk!" ::a burly half-orc shoves his way through the crowd:: "That's my watch you're wearing, you little thief!"

Hey! Watch who you're callin' a theif you oaf!
You dropped it, I found it. It's mine. Finder's keepers, losers weepers.

"Liar, I saw you take it!" ::the half orc bellows::

Did not! You dropped it! If you were so worried about your stupid, little watch maybe you should have kept a better eye on it!

::the half-orc lunges at our little hero. in a flash the half-orc is spilling blood on the floor in great gouts from the blade of the Ravager::

::the knder climbs atop the body of the half-orc and, after quickly riffling through the corpse's pocket, dances a little jig::

So, right, the folks who potrayed me in an unflattering light. Let's see.... I've got it! My lawer will be contacting you shortly. You are all being included in a class action lawsuit for defemation of character. 1 million simoleans EACH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! How's that! I'll be rich! Rich, I tell you! HAHAHAHAHAHA!


Wow, this lawsuit business is really boring. Okay, I'll just burn your houses down in alphabetical order. Or in an order that seems more interesting once I refill my Zippo.

Nhillistic Kender rock.


Yes, my master. Right away, my master.

::struggles to not make a comment about the effects os caffine on Kender::

Mr. Ravager, sir, Hi.

My name's Olly. Like the way you dealt with EaterOfTheDead there, he had it coming... That'll teach him for insulting Marina... Anyhoo, I've come to you looking for a job as a flunky.

I've got great flunky credentials. I'm a master with a sword cane, an accurate shot with a crossbow, I don't drink or smoke, and I can take the full-ammo clip of a submachine gun to the chest and keep on ticking.

There's a small matter involving a portrait which I can't look at or I'll die, and some pissed-off vampire chick, her freaky friends and Sean Connery following me, but I can't help thinking I'll be useful to you. I can infiltrate groups of people as a double-agent and not be detected until half-way through the film, where I'll set a bomb only vampires and man-beasts can hear, and nick an escape pod, in order to confuse both the audience and cast for a good couple of minutes.

All this, AND I'm a classically trained actor educated at the Royal Academy of Pornographic (SHIT! I meant dramatic, dramatic!) Arts.

I eagerly await your response.

Mr. Ravager, sir, Hi.

My name's Olly. Like the way you dealt with EaterOfTheDead there, he had it coming... That'll teach him for insulting Marina... Anyhoo, I've come to you looking for a job as a flunky.

I've got great flunky credentials. I'm a master with a sword cane, an accurate shot with a crossbow, I don't drink or smoke, and I can take the full-ammo clip of a submachine gun to the chest and keep on ticking.

There's a small matter involving a portrait which I can't look at or I'll die, and some pissed-off vampire chick, her freaky friends and Sean Connery following me, but I can't help thinking I'll be useful to you. I can infiltrate groups of people as a double-agent and not be detected until half-way through the film, where I'll set a bomb only vampires and man-beasts can hear, and nick an escape pod, in order to confuse both the audience and cast for a good couple of minutes.

All this, AND I'm a classically trained actor educated at the Royal Academy of Pornographic (SHIT! I meant dramatic, dramatic!) Arts.

I eagerly await your response.

Sorry, Mr. Ravager, sir, terribly sorry... Didn't mean to repeat myself, sorry...

Would you like a lollypop?

Hmmmm, lolipop, yes, very crafty.

Tell me Mr. Olly have you yet killed Tom Sawyer?
Do so and you may join my merry band of assassins, thugs and terrorists. Your RAPA skills will be very useful to me as a spy among Her Royal Magesty's court.

I heard you perfectly well the first time. Now off with you before I tire of your Steve Townsend looking self.

Thank you, sir. I will take great pleasure in the murder of young Mr. Sawyer.

(Calls) Tom... Tom... Oh, Tom...

Tom: Whoa, dude! Like, I'm Tom Sawyer, and I'm like, in Victorian London. EXCELLENT!

Ah, yes, Tom, there's a good fellow... I'm in a bit of a predicament at the moment, perhaps you could help me out?

Tom: 'Cha? What up, dude?

Well, Tom, I've got a peice of dirt caught in the barrel of my pistol, perhaps you could help dislodge it with your tongue?

Tom: Knarly! I'll like, do as you say...

(Tom sticks his tongue down barrel of gun. I pull trigger. Walls get redecorated. Tom falls over, and doesn't get up.)

There. Done.

Good, good.
And I love the accent. Can I call you old chap?

Whoa, I just realized that there's a writer here who uses the name AngryLittleDwarf. Sorry, dude, I wan't trying to make fun of you.

It was Blackcloak's idea.

You may call me old chap, I'm probably a good deal older than you, what with me being immortal and everything.


Insloent fool. I must maintain moral among my men and to do that I must remain the coolest. That and I AM the coolest.

Who let you freaks in?

Sartek will squish your bones with his pinky!!!!!


angrily yours,

I would like to make certain of my understanding of the subject at hand.

A drow is a dark elf, right?

Inquisitively yours,

Yes, drow are dark elves.
And kender..... kender defy description....
No offence meant, my master Blackcloak.

Thank you.

Ooooh, the insolence! Punish him, Blackcloak! Punish him!



Is he sleeping? Yes? Awww...

Here's a monster:

Have you ever see any of the "tribles" episodes of Star Trek? Sworn enemies of the klingon empire. They just sort of sit around and multiply. But these not only multiply twenty times faster than rabbits but can digest just about anything.

*peeks head into tavern*


*looks back outside to friends*

Hey, there's a good Chinese place around the corner...let's go there instead...

*leaves with friends*

Been awhile... how's the story coming along, Theo?

Sadly, I haven't gotten to writing part 2. School's been sucking all the creative thought out of me, and I haven't been able to write one good, coherent, thought on it. That, and my computer melted down so I now I use the one at TMCC...

I'll get on it soon.

Hopefully yours,

Good luck.

Enjoy it while you can Theo. =) School is cool.

Thanks for the good luck I'll need it.
School will be better onde I have my own computer--and my own car.

Kindly yours,

Harde har

yes, I guess financial independence is a real benefit of paid employment.

If your wishing for monsters I have a sugestion, but also an oppinion. It seams that in all my magic-reading books the dark workers of magic seam to employ a creature or demon that already exsists somewhere in their realm. Why not have the bastards create them once in a while?

Example: Some humanoid form created out of bits of scrap and iron; a suit of arrmor, kitchen pots and pans, a stove for a chest heated red with fire, chains for arms connecting the thing together, and a two-headed ax for a right hand. Every time the monster was say, blown appart, or dammaged, it would rearange the chunks of metal into another form or pick itself right back up again. Turn into a mechanical dragon arrmor breathing fire from its furnice, a boat for crossing the river. Have it chop down trees, bash rocks, destroy a whole house with its bare hands, claws, chains, wrecking ball, hammer, whatever. Every time it ate something to feed its fire it would get stronger. Iron couldn't hurt it because it in itself would be made of metal. The Living Metal Monster, you could call it.

Another idea would be to have the castle the evil wizard lived in protect the man. In all the times I've seen the army invade a house or castle after some evil being I've only read about the man's own army as his only defence. Surly with the powers of magic they could do better. Have the stones rearange and trap them in a room of stone with no way out and crush them. Turn it into a living maze. Have the chains in the dungons strike out like cobras to hold their prissoners. The torches egnite and explode whenerver the good guy got near, spikes explode from the walls, holes in the floor suddenly appear.
Just go to the nearby movie store and pick up a few things in the horror section about haunted houses if you need any more ideas.