"Good morning," the Thing in the Well calls, "And how are we doing this morning Mrs. Westmen?" -- "Just wonderfully. How have you been keeping, Thing?" -- "Fine, fine. A little peckish, a bit in the mood for, you know, a nibble, a bite to eat. But don't worry yourself, perfectly fine." -- "It's quite alright Thing, I was just thinking I should bring by some lunch. How does a ham sound?" -- "You are too kind Mrs. Westmen, just too kind..." -- The Thing in the Well has lived in the village for longer than anyone can remember. It is traditional to fix regular meals for the Thing, and to present it with a sheep or pig on special occasions. Years ago a boy went down the well on a dare. He never returned. The subject has not been broached in the presence of the Thing. Instinct: To devour

• Politely collect tribute
• Leverage townspeople through secrets
• Purify water
• Hide in darkened waters

In the deep places beneath large cities, the rat hordes are almost civilizations unto them selves. Like all civilizations, they are guided by a higher influence. That higher influence is the rat catcher. Nobody is quite certain what the rat catcher is, but often its only visible feature is its ghastly, hypnotic lantern that the rats of the undercity compulsively follow. It is whispered that rat catchers may be the living embodiments of pestilence and entropy. Instinct: To scavange

• Lead rat swarms through the tunnels
• Appear as a will-o-the-wisp
• Ghostly lantern
• Overrun with rats
• Vanish without explanation

The Lonely Colossus is a creature of vast size, carved from the stone of mountains that stand far beyond the realms of man, dwarf or elf. Terraced as if it were a walking fortress, this creature of stone and magic lumbers like a slow hurricane through the countryside, apathetic to the efforts of mortals to stop or divert it's path. Nothing phases it, and nothing stops its slow and uncompromising journey. What is it looking for? None know. Where has it come from? None dare ask. Why does it never stop? Some say that, at its making, the gods granted it a single boon; It would inherit a concept to represent for all eternity. The Colossus chose "inevitability." Instinct: To ignore

• Pay no heed to mortals, their homes or animals
• Crush obstacles underfoot
• Swat nuisances like flies
• Flare the magical rune weak spot

A black dragon was attacked by a nest of ghouls and though it thought it was winning, the eaten ghouls continued to attack it from within. When the dragon finally died, the surviving ghouls from inside started to fight to gain control of its monstrous bulk. Eventually they managed to animate the rotting flesh of the dragon's corpse and now use it as a protective carapace in battle. Bones slowly being exposed due to the rot of the ghouls undeath, this draconic battle tank rumbles forward armored in bone and the remaining dragonscale. Instinct: To consume the living and birth the dead

• Vomit a half-digested ghoul
• Fly out of reach
• Turn rapidly swinging tail in a wide arc
• Crush someone to the ground

"Who would have thought that the goblin king would be so . . . attractive? I mean, I certainly didn't expect you to have such a lovely singing voice, at least, and . . . hold on, where are you taking my little brother? Come back here, you shiny-trousered creep!" Instinct: To find an heir

• Channel magic through dance
• Weave confusing illusions
• Dazzle into a false sense of security
• Kidnap suitable heirs

The goblin house cat is a far cry from the cuddly things we have above ground. With great, spidery legs, and bloated, pale eyes, they are barely recognizable as the pets we keep in our world above. They do, however, share our cats' capacity for cruelty, and goblins do nothing but encourage it . . . Instinct: Cause mischief

• Frighten the innocent
• Sneak through tunnels
• Alert its goblin masters

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

Little is known of the ancient god-king known as Shaft. His strange armaments and bizarre way of speaking are a mystery to others but efforts to speak of the specifics of his abilities often result in the speaker being unable to talk about him or his wondrous powers. Instinct: He's a complicated man

• Risks his life for his brother man
• Unearthly Cool
• Dig it

The chupacabras comes from another dimension to collect the blood from farm animals. It collects it but don't consume it. Whatever it does with the blood is a mystery. It almost humanoid features, look to be crossed with some sort of reptile. It moves like an animal but there is an aura of awareness around it that most find it disturbing. Not as disturbing as it eyes that are pool that reflect forbidden knowledge. Instinct: To suck the blood of farm animals

• Suck the blood of those distracted
• Can't be found if actively looking for it
• Know the secrets of reality

The Liar is a nasty critter born from dishonest spirits. The body of the Liar is a lumpy sphere fronted with a disturbingly human mouth. It has four arms terminating in stumpy hands, which it uses to climb trees and walls. The main threat is its tongue, which is prehensile, poisonous, and barbed. Surface exposure to the poison causes an irritating swollen rash, but too much exposure around the neck and face can cause suffocation when your airways shut. If you get away alive after being exposed to much of the poison, that larger dose does some nasty things to your brain. Auditory hallucinations, mostly, but potentially leading to murderous paranoia. The first lie the poisoned victim will tell is denying that they've been poisoned. Luckily, the main ingredient in the antidote can be found in a gland inside the Liar. Trying to administer the cure to someone who is convinced you're trying to murder them might be tricky. Instinct: To prey

• Perfectly imitate a voice
• Apply your Liar's Venom
• Ensare with your tongue
• Climb up and out of sight