"I'm telling you, he had a beak and clawed hands!" said the prisoner. "Right. I've heard that one before. And there were a dozen of them," said the jailer. "Yeah! How'd you know?" "Because you ain't the first. I've heard lots of things. But the idea that there are a bunch bird men running things in this city is absurd. Think about it? Wouldn't someone have caught on by now? The council? The guards? The guilders? Shut up and face up to it…you did something stupid, and 10 years hard labor is your reward." Instinct: To collect that which shines

• Pass through society without drawing attention
• Numerous tools and weapons up its sleeve
• Blackmail: Let other people do your dirty work!
• Where there is one, many are sure to be found

Ghöl soldiers are the armored infantry of the emperor’s armies. Merciless, relentless, and hungry; they are the harbingers of the famine to come. Instinct: To advance the empire

• Gnaw off a body part
• Reinforce the ranks

Easily confused for goblin children, if not for their elongated earlobs and arms and little pot bellies. The littlings are the simple-minded slaves of goblins, though what keeps them slaves is anyone's guess. They seem quite content with being fed a diet of mouse kebabs and rewarded with gaudy little trinkets. Quick on their feet, there have been troops of trained littling tumblers, able to twist, jump and bound with tremendous dexterity. Of course, the cute and cuddly perception all changed on the day Ramsford was overrun by a hoard of 30,000 littlings. They poured out of the tunnels into the earth, overwhelming the inhabitants. The poor souls, both the golbin masters and and the human masters of the goblins were picked and nibbled apart by 60,000 hands and 30,000 mouths. Instinct: To serve the master

• Somewhat intelligently carry out an order
• Rips out anything not bolted down
• Pour forth from nearby tunnels and holes

As magic incarnate, the mageiadæmon assumes any functional physical form as it hungrily seeks out offerings of vassalage and places or people of power. Once magic fills the air, the mageiadæmon revels in its debaucherous feast, stripping naked to reveal a maelstrom of arcane energy barely contained. Mercifully, the mageiadæmon is not of this world, instead vigilantly dwelling amongst the platonic representations of arcane sigils, rituals, and eldritch power, waiting for a time when too much power is drawn from the arcane ether. And in that moment, it travels the arcane conduits to this world. So be wary of a spell gone awry with seemingly little consequence…for you may have open the door to a mageiadæmon. Instinct: To unleash all of the magic

• Overload a mortal coil with raw arcana
• Assume a mundane physical form
• Seize absolute control of nearby magic
• Call in the bargain that all warlocks make
• Reveal the true nature of magic

This massive frog-like creature has massive dull milky white eyes. Its skin, while strong as mail, is loose and flappy, enabling it to glide for brief distances. Not from this world, the hydrodæmon may be conjured here by powerful magic. It has also been known to rip through to this plane so that it may bear witness to the final moments of the water filled gasps of a large number of people drowning. Instinct: To drown the living

• Spit inky black sleep toxin at someone nearby
• Control or befoul nearby water
• Summon other hydrodæmons to this plane…if only for a short while
• Hear the final prayers of the drowned

The reconstituted frozen remains of a person ritually frozen then shattered, an ice mummer is the agent of what most certainly is a greater evil. Bound to its icy rusted bronze mask, the voiceless ice mummer is a harbinger of its master’s incursion. Instinct: To obey its master

• To be its master’s eyes
• Disperse in a whirlwind of ice and snow
• Reveal the horror beneath the mask