"Gorgons". The stamping of metal hooves across the ravaged terrain of the Howling Badlands. The glint of bronze scales in a blood-red sunset. The cracked, dilapidated human statuary - that unbearable stench clinging to their forms. Sight beyond mortal sight in those black eyes of theirs. Fireside tales weave the portrait of an o'er-ambitious king, sent nigh-invulnerable beasts of burden by the gods to allow his people to prosper. What horrific betrayal warranted the fall of the Old Kingdoms, however, no one remains sure of. All that we have left is stonework and the braying upon the coarse wind. Instinct: To display power

• Turn flesh to stone with noxious breath
• Perceive incoming danger on multiple planes
• Charge someone

"Good morning," the Thing in the Well calls, "And how are we doing this morning Mrs. Westmen?" -- "Just wonderfully. How have you been keeping, Thing?" -- "Fine, fine. A little peckish, a bit in the mood for, you know, a nibble, a bite to eat. But don't worry yourself, perfectly fine." -- "It's quite alright Thing, I was just thinking I should bring by some lunch. How does a ham sound?" -- "You are too kind Mrs. Westmen, just too kind..." -- The Thing in the Well has lived in the village for longer than anyone can remember. It is traditional to fix regular meals for the Thing, and to present it with a sheep or pig on special occasions. Years ago a boy went down the well on a dare. He never returned. The subject has not been broached in the presence of the Thing. Instinct: To devour

• Politely collect tribute
• Leverage townspeople through secrets
• Purify water
• Hide in darkened waters