Listen up, boy, we're taking the Swampramp Road, so for the Gods' sake do not stray from the path. In the crude huts of the mudflatters, the elders tell stories of The Eyebiter. They say it's not man nor beast, but something else entirely. They say it haunts the Dire Marsh and considers the Swampramp Road to be its dining hall. It sneaks up, quiet as a mudfish in the murk, and before you know it the thing has latched onto you and holds you tight with its many arms. It won't eat you, no no no, it won't even KILL you. That's the worst part. It only takes your eyes. I can see you don't believe me, but why else would this caravan be taking a full case of eyepatches to the mudflatter village? Some kind of pirate costume party?

Instinct: To seek the precious sweet fluids of succulent eyeballs

• Struggle to immobilize a victim with unexpected tentacles
• Devour the eye of immobilized prey
• Savor fresh eyeball in a drunken stupor