The spirit following Kogan is one ugly motherfucker: it's humanlike, but not enough; it stands 8 feet tall on gangly legs, ribs protruding from grey skin, wisps of dark hair falling over its rotted jaw. And when it smiles... it smiles from ear to ear. The thing's been sucking the lifeforce from Kogan ever since the very start of your journey. You don't know what it is or why it wants Kogan, but now it seems to be feasting on him, smiling that horrible smile. Instinct: To feed

• Extract life
• Consume
• Instill doubt

That Which Lurks in the Fog. There's no other name for it; it's more ancient than you, than Phainomora, than all of Creation. It's not a god; it's much, much older and more powerful. It had been sleeping for most of its unfathomably long life, if it can be called that, but now... now, it's awake. When you look at it, you can barely hold it in your perception. It's huge, you know that much. Wait, how many limbs does it have? When you try to look into what you assume are its eyes, you get the sense you are staring into true nothingness, oblivion. When you look away, you're left with a hole in your memory, the feeling of having just forgotten something. Instinct: To restore equilibrium

• Annihilate
• Remove memory

Professor Marketh Rasmodius helped you. He taught you how to survive the Mnemos; you watched him implant happy memories into Mnemos-affected men so they would die at peace; he gave you all known writings about the Mnemos to help you on your journey. Frankly, he doesn't want to hurt you. He hates Ailouros more than everything else in this godforsaken reality, but he offered him something he couldn't refuse: freedom from the clutches of the state, freedom from the College he so despises, freedom to study the phenomenon that has occupied every thought in his brain for a millenium. And you're in his way. Instinct: To control the Mnemos

• Implant false memories
• Disorient
• Manipulate time

You never trusted Prime Minister Ailouros, but you didn't think it would come to this. Somehow, like all the others, you believed he wanted the best for Phainomora, and could be convinced to hold off on his more destructive projects. How wrong you were. As he levels his weapon at you, an abomination of metal and fire, his expression just as cold and calculating as it was when he first called you to Heraclea, you ready yourself to fight. You notice something peculiar, though; he wears a vest made of thick fibers, an ugly thing among the stark *perfectness* of his suit. Perhaps it's dangerous, perhaps not; you don't have much time to find out as a loud *BOOM* cracks through the air. Instinct: To usher in a new age of industry

• Exploit a natural resource
• Manipulate subordinates