What we believe will kill us. What we believe will eat us alive and spit our bones into the metaphorical dust and in the land of the newly dead who knows what that might mean. Are these the beasts that took Eesha away from us? Do they come from Heaven? From Hell? From some place stranger still, crafted by the dream-prayers of entities that we cannot yet comprehend? What beautiful crystalline structures make them up, what brilliantly impossible angles. Instinct: to colonize the land of the dead with cosmic ideologies

• exude energies of another place
• change a thought, just one
• know that which must not be known

Some rare heroes (or villains) can, when they die, achieve a sort of celebrity in the badlands where the dead await their final reward. These folk carry their body, or a form something like it, into the darkness when they go, and carry all the weight of legend and myth on their backs. As you might imagine, this makes them cranky and expectant of a sort of respect when they're approached. Particularly, they desire the approval and memories of the living. If you can remember (and tell entertainingly) their own personal mythology, you might just be able to befriend one. Otherwise, expect to become another victory in their already infamous lists. Instinct: to demand respect and attention

• block passage

Where there's one, there's another. Where there's two, there's ten. A hundred then, before you can blink and a sea of these displaced souls all gnash their teeth and moan and weep for all they've lost. They can smell the life on you. Lick the vapours of the living lands from your skin while they debase themselves, desperate for a way back to the sweet delicious warmth you carry in your blood. Maybe if they ask again, louder yet, maybe promises will encourage you to take them home with you. If not, maybe a sharp knife of ghost-stuff slipped between your ribs would let that warmth out. Instinct: to find a way out of this horrible place

• Clamour for aid or succour from the living
• promise something that cannot be delivered
• draw attention to the flickering heat of life

Where one might see a true hound, flanks dark and teeth sharp another might spy a hunting-hawk, circling overhead. Whatever their shape, it comes from the beholder, not the beholden beast itself. These things are Death's harrowing-crew, the spirits bound to Death to stalk the after-lands looking for ghosts who might have gotten away from the great queue that leads to the Gates and to their final rest. Those lost or escaped souls find themselves stalked by the beasts and, if caught, either carried back or torn apart, as depends the ferocity of the creatures. Instinct: to hunt and capture

• scent out an escaped soul

A puddle of intensely self-flammable ooze, seeking heat to consume and tinder to enflame. Instinct: burn and consume

• ignite in flames
• ignore a mundane attack

Corpses infected with the seeds of a animating plant. Instinct: feed on passers-by

• strangle a victim
• pretend to be a corpse

Even among the dregs of the beastfolk, some grow in strength and lead the others to victory in their bloody raids and conquests. Instinct: lead the armies of chaos

• assert dominance over the pack

The Leviathan in the deeps, sworn by oath to protect the Ziggurat, this creature will drag intruders below the waves to tear them apart. Instinct: protect the ziggurat

• consume someone whole

A hellish creature, the effigy of the chaos lord is animated by the many sacrifices that the beastfolk have made. Instinct: ruin the civilized world

• spread destruction
• summon magma-tentacles

The shaman is the defender of the grunt-pack, who erects the black wards and calls on the chaos star to protect those who serve it. Instinct: protect the clan

• cast a repelling ward
• cast forth a curse