From a ways off I thought the thing was just a satyr moving house; a black-furred goatman all alone and carrying a bulging burlap sack on its back. Easy pickings. Rodger knew a shortcut through the woods and the three of us set up an ambush. The thing made an odd jangling and clinking sound as it approached, but I didn't notice all the chains until we'd dropped from our tree branch to surround it. By the gods! That face! Like something out of a nightmare. Blood red eyes and a pointed lolling tongue down to its waist. It slowly pointed at Clem and told him he'd been bad. Clem just started laughing until the thing lunged at him. Quick as a flash and that poor bastard is being shoved head first into the thing's sack. Which I suddenly notice is squirming and making these sobbing,  mewling sounds. Like it's full of crying babies or something. That's when I dropped my sword and ran. I dunno what happened to Rodger, but when I finally went back a few day later, the thing's hoofprints just... stopped. Like it disappeared into thin air. Instinct: To carry naughty children back to Hell

• Make a racket by swinging its rusty, bell-laden chains
• Stuff someone who’s been bad into its sack
• Open a portal to the Nine Hells