There’s something strange that happens when you see a mammoth.

First, your sense of scale glitches. You watch it moving toward you — like a mountain that’s decided to walk — and your brain can’t quite process it. Out on the tundra, there’s nothing to compare it to. It could be smaller. But it keeps coming. And it keeps getting bigger.

Then you realize how small you really are. This creature doesn’t just walk the earth. It bestrides it. It moves with a gravity all its own, and it’s up to you whether you’ll be flattened by it.

There’s a reason these creatures were once worshipped as gods.

In some of our real-world cultures, the Mammoth was tightly woven into the mythology of the world. They were more than just food sources. Hunts were rituals. Trophies were sacred. The mere presence of a Mammoth probably brought communities together in single-minded purpose.

What happens when a band of ambitious adventurers disrupt this process?

That might not be a conversation your players are thinking of having, but the moment they draw steel or cast Speak With Animals, it’s a conversation they’ll have to have.

When you’re telling a story about cultural conflict, it helps to have a creature in your game that can symbolize both.

Perhaps, as your Party adventures their way across the tundra, they encounter a Mammoth.

Encounter might not be the right word. They experience the Mammoth, barreling towards them. Bleeding, furious, with spear hafts and arrows bristling out of its shaggy, matted hair.

Behind this creature is a band of hunters, armed with bow and arrow and spear. They’re in hot pursuit of the Mammoth, and their intention is clear.

What do you do?

This scenario is such a far cry from the usual D&D hunt-and-destroy mission. This Mammoth has done nothing to your Party. It’ll probably keep going if you let it. But what if these are the Orc marauders you were seeking? Are you going to interfere with their hunt by protecting this beast? Fight alongside them to gain their trust? Kill it yourselves to prove your strength?

Either way, your Party has to make a decision about this great beast – has to decide if this is a monster, or just another inhabitant of the world they live in.

Perhaps it is a hunt, but a very important one. Cultures throughout history have used hunts as initiations – rites of adulthood or leadership in order to prove one’s strength and cleverness. What would happen if this hunt were interrupted by a bunch of adventurers? It would be a great way to examine themes of hubris and colonialism – the imposition of your players’ values on the people who have probably hunted Mammoths for generations.

If they interfere with the hunt, they’ll have to answer to the people hunting it. This may mean facing down a squadron of experienced hunters, all furious that your players have ruined this moment for them. Can they fight their way out of this? Talk their way out? Whatever they do, you now have a community of Mammoth Hunters who have some very strong and personal feelings about your Party, and you can tease all kinds of plot threads out of that.

Maybe they offer aid to the hunting party. Another strong arm or some healing magic wouldn’t go amiss, after all, and it might mean that everyone gets home to their people this time. It could even be a great battle setup, full of tactical play and careful planning that ultimately results in triumphant victory. But what do your players really know about this Mammoth Hunt? Do they know its significance to these people? The prayers said before for victory and those said after in gratitude? Are they aware that they have probably helped to change a winter’s survival from a possibility to a certainty? Are your players conscious of the weight of their choice? Or was it just a fun session on a Saturday for them?

What if your players let the hunt progress? Maybe they’ve got the Prime Directive in mind – to not interfere with other cultures – and decide that it’s not their business what happens here. That’s all well and good… unless that Mammoth was special. Carved into its tusks was the map to the Gold Dragon’s lair they’ve been looking for. Tattooed into its skin, under layers of coarse hair, are the final words of an ancient Archmage, necessary for the ritual they need to do.

Or, by not interfering, they’ve let a band of hunters go to their deaths. Mammoths are not easy to bring down – they’re faster than most Adventurers, have an impressive number of Hit Points, and can potentially do about 65 points of damage in a single turn. Over 100 if your dice are happy that day. They may see the remaining members of that hunting party carrying their dead home, or what’s left of them, and know that somewhere, a group of people probably isn’t going to survive the winter.

Inaction is a choice. And in this world, it carries consequences just as heavy as a Mammoth’s footfall.

Like the other Beasts we’ve talked about in this series, Mammoths are far more than just mammoths. They have symbolic and cultural weight that you should be able to use to make your world richer and more rewarding for your players. Just by asking the question, “But what does a Mammoth mean,” you’re already building out your campaign world to create choices for your players beyond simply Fireball versus Lightning Bolt.

You’re asking them to choose what is right. And that’s the hardest saving throw in the game.