Radiating outward are 10 to 12 spindly limbs, each ending in a barbed claw for tearing apart meat or digging through the soft ash. Rasts are canny combatants, using stealth and misdirection to ambush their victims. The pack almost always operates as a unit, instinctively working together. Instinct: To feed.

• Clamp down and drain dry.
• Amush with ash stealth
• Tear with multiple clawed limbs
• Lock Gaze and hold with primal fear

Every elf knows Death, or Gúr, as they call it. Few only knows, however, that there is something even Death itself fears. Gúr roamed the earth itself once as an elf named Tirithél. He was in love with the stars, but there was none he loved more than his kin, Mivinnial. When Mivinnial's time has come to pass from this world, Tirithél decided to go with her, and form the Realm of Death amidst the vast nothingness of the Otherworld so that mortal souls could have somewhere to go. Later on, a peculiar soul approached their gates: its skin, charred black; its eyes, burning cinder. Tirithél, now the caretaker of souls (Gúr), let it inside the Realm of Death and named it Gorthvór: the Black Dead. Gorthvór, however, started to corrupt everything it touched and warped all things to its own, wicked, black image. Gúr confronted it, but on his own he could not prevail. It was then, that Mivinnial sacrificed her very soul to banish Gorthvór back to the World of the Living. Since then, Gúr turned into a sad, cynical being and Gorthvór, well.. He's trying to turn the World of the Living into his own Realm of Death. Instinct: to corrupt or consume the living

• To sculpt and corrupt the flesh of the living.
• To reanimate the fallen and combine them into horrible abominations.
• To warp and darken the very essence of things.

The Ice Angel is a living ice construct created to inflict suffering in order to harvest the woe of its victims. It stands over seven feet tall, in the form of a humanoid female of amazing beauty. Its skin and clothes look bluish like thick ice. She does not speak any tongue known to man, rather her speech is the sounds of cracking ice. She carries an icy mace, spiked with numerous shards of ice that re-grow when broken in battle. Anything she touches and anywhere she stands begins to be coated in ice. Instinct: To freeze

• Inflicts woe

Golden utensils, Silver plates, crystal goblets. A vast an elegant dining table in the middle of a dark dank dungeons. The moment a single item is disturbed we see a swarm of cutlery fly through the air attacking anything that moves. Instinct: To attack intruders

• Swarm

Large Centaur like beast, colored like a great plains buffalo. Large threatening horns come down from it's head. well large bone spears fill it's hands. Instinct: Chase it down and crush it.

• Charging with spears

Itsy bitsy spider went up the waterspout... Instinct: to inflitrate

• Shoot forth binding webs
• Strike from the shadows
• Inject a paralyzing venom

"Ahh, the open road! The wind in your hair, the sun on your skin, the rolling landscape beneath your feet. The perfect place for the accumulation of knowledge, power and experiencing what the world has to offer! Now, where did I put my catalyst..." ~ Trakiris the stumbler. Instinct: to grow in power

• Undertake magical research
• Cast a weak but helpful spell

Sleeping. Waiting. Dreaming. The First Polyp knows why you're here. Instinct: to wait

• Slumber in the shadows
• Speak the tongue of madness

Warbaron is the last remaining mage knight in the world. Maybe his dead legacy is the reason why he's so pissed off all the time... Instinct: to fight

• Make a display of supernatural athleticism
• Cast a spell of elemental might
• Rally the troops to a devious cause

Minsys are weird, prank demons who form from the bodies of lost children. Creepy. Instinct: to prank

• Spread mischief through pranks
• Lay the perfect trap
• Create a brilliant illusiory double
• Vanish in a blink and reappear somewhere nearby