Ribbit ribbit. Dressed in torn, muck-covered robes, these slimy buggers think themselves emissaries of a ranine god. And maybe they are. They certainly have powers of healing, if you can stomach being splashed with their foul mucus. They aren't likely to extend that service to outsiders, though; instead, they'll try to take you down with a barbed, iron hook at the end of a long stick. After all, sacrifices must be made if they're to retain favor with their deity. Instinct: To support its frog brethren

• Heal a fellow frogman at a prodigious rate
• Launch a gooey projectile of slowing, sticky phlegm
• Choke and subdue with a barbed neck hook

Croak croak croak. Little warty munchkins. Some wizard or godling’s idea of a bad joke, these creatures are. They stand as men, dress in scavenged cloth and hold court in their froggy villages. They speak a rumbling pidgin form of the tongue of man and are constantly at war with their neighbors. They’re greedy and stupid but clever enough when they need to defend themselves. Some say, too, their priests have a remarkable skill at healing. Or maybe they’re just really, really hard to kill. Instinct: To wage war

• Launch an amphibious assault
• Snatch an item from someone's hands with a long, prehensile tongue