“Terrible minions. If ever see one of those spider-goblin creatures, run screaming, but not too loud or they might think you have the best scream and follow you home. Once they get there they’ll burn down your house making you tea and then salt the earth to dry out the earth so you don’t get mud on your boots. If only someone could figure out a way to kill the ruinous beasts.”
Spongy, flesh-colored spider-taurs with a gentle sloping dome of a spider body with a pill shaped torso at the front. A neckless head sits top the slender shoulders. From a cool beige all the way to a pale yellow, Unminions are mostly a uniform jaundiced yellowish color. Their frail limbs are strong enough to lift twice their weight, ten of these skeletal humanoid legs jut out like insectoid legs and their two gangly arms are slender but long enough to touch the foot of their back leg fully extended. The mood of an Unminion can be roughly determined by how active its arms are, compared to how limply they drag their arms behind them. At just 4 to 5 feet tall standing and 3 feet long, they weigh only sixty to one hundred pounds.
Despite constantly bumbling and tripping over themselves, they are as hard to kill as cockroaches and will often clusmily bump into the correct approaches and solutions to their problems. Socially, they are good hearted creatures and assume similar intent in all others, especially anyone that gives them orders or calls themselves their ruler, leader, or master. No amount of evidence, short of a direct defeat of a previous master, will convince them that their current master is wrong. This loyalty is the curse they bring to all who would use them. Any order they are given will be followed to the letter, and their clumsiness will conspire to ruin their master. A Unminion given guard duty will capture dangerous enemies to bring them right to their master’s private study for interrogation, and then leave to go alert their master. Sent to clean a barracks, a series of escalating accidents will see most of the furniture ruined, cleared away, and the barracks made clean if mostly empty. Unminions unswerving loyalty requires that any attempt by their master to dismiss them shows how much the master really cares and a lack of orders necessitates them to try and find some way to help on their own initiative.
Whispers in large cities wonder if missing children have been shackled to horrendous spiders. If, in the mad creation of the perfect servants, some wizard went too far. Others note the Unminions incredible luck and resiliency as a cosmic joke, a curse created by the gods of freedom to ruin all those who would dominate others. For truly, nothing short of the ruination of a current master will transfer the loyalty of an Unminion to another. What do they carry inside those domed spider abdomens?
It is unknown how long an Unminion lives and no recorded case has ever been made of an Unminion being killed nor has anyone discovered the source of their newborns. Collapsed temples will be excavated centuries later to find these patient spider-people in pockets of rubble delicately balanced to shield them from debris. Starving Unminions will often wander into unguarded food stores, find fat vermin to cook, or, as is the hope of every cursed master, go into stasis until their uncanny sense awakes them to nearby food to happen upon. The only way to get rid of a blight of Unminions is for the current master to lose the majority of their wealth, relations, and resources then lose decisively to a foe or rival. The enemy or rival must take or seize something substantial or the Unminions will not see them as their new master.
Unminions, typically communicating in their low “UNunUnuN” tones mixed with sign language performed with their dozen limbs, are mostly found in groups of 3d6-1 members. Most are as skilled as normal peasants, but occasionally some are found to have levels in valor bard, berserker barbarian, wild mage sorceror, or fey warlock. The only defense when one finds a group of Unminions is to surrender or flee and make no statements that can be interpreted to show your superiority, wisdom, leadership, command, or dominance of the Unminions or anyone within the Unminions earshot. Treating them as equals is dangerous because their good nature makes them incapable of understanding trades, and good will shows them that you would be a kind and deserving master to lead them. When an Unminion finds a newborn, and they are always found through happenstance, the newborn is raised on Unminion culture that prizes the philosophical discussions of good will and the nature of free will. A popular child’s tale is a back and forth collaborative story with the child where the parents always work the child’s responses to end the tale the same way, “and thus did Geoff earn his freedom. The beginning…”
If an Unminion ever comes to be the ruler of a sapient creature, their fortunes will turn sour and the gods of luck will strike them with a ruinous disease. They shrivel up and dry out, losing 1d4 maximum hp each day, imploding in a puff of yellowish powder when their hp hits 0. Their unconsciously lucky movements are controlled by the imprisoned souls of particularly heinous rulers, condemned to forever serve a bumbling, kind hearted slave. They continue on the sliver of a chance at returning to life or gaining control over the Unminions body, as well as the cruel tortures they can inflict upon their masters.
Central bureaucracies in the triumvirate empire have put Unminions to good use in the filing and legal agencies. Strict and extensive legal codes ensure that the Unminions are kept within limits and taken advantage of. Triumvirate bureaucracy is cited as the main reason for declining tax collection, increasing latency in response to outer kingdom queries, and a lingering malaise hanging over the whole affair. That is, it is cited by those who despise the centralized affairs of the empire but is dismissed as conspiracy by more loyal historians.