The Abbott of the Order was a great teacher and kind man. Thus it was a great shock to all when he was found dead in his room killed by a single bloodless blow. No sign of resistance or trespass. Alone in his room with the artifacts he studies. He had been complaining of headaches lately and seemed more and more distracted almost like he was confused by the thoughts in his own mind. A sentient artifact that communicates and interacts with the world through telepathy and telekinesis. remains alive until artifact is destroyed by any means (melt, smash to bits, vaporize, etc). Instinct: To destroy false religions and their followers

• to find a worthy wielder - enslavement
• Confuse mind of other
• Bend other to will
• escape

Instinct: to destroy those who follow false religions

• Find a worthy wielder - enslavement
• confuse mind of other

cannot be harmed by impure metals. Instinct: to purify

• Seek out nearby sources of impurity and cleanse them
• Painfully cleanse impurities

Mutated by strange magics, this spider has grown a large as a man. In order to sustain itself, it has shifted from making its webs to catch flying creatures, to those who traverse the land. Covering large areas of land with an almost invisible glue like substance, anyone who treads it it gets inevitably stuck. Instinct: To Devour

• Groundweb
• Paralyzing venom

Instinct: Do its master's bidding, no matter what the cost

• Zealot Rush

Sir Kindlin was a living legend...A champion of the common man, slayer of Dragons, defender of the faith, a Paladin beyond reproach. Far and wide he traveled dispensing justice to the wicked and hope to the down trodden...but something changed. Maybe it was the bloodshed? maybe it was the hypocrisy of the church? maybe the dark places he ventured and fell forces he fought corrupted his mind and soul? No one knows for sure...but now he is a legend of a different kind. A bloodthirsty murderer, A twisted parody of his former self, bent on death and destruction. When he appears, a wake of vultures await a feast...His name is only whispered now. Instinct: Kill the good, Make them suffer, Take no prisoners

• Merciless attack
• Fight Dirty

A very shallow empty body wandering the world in hoards. Instinct: Flesh

• Eat
• Poison
• Call Husks

A dead withering piece of flesh Instinct: Flesh

• Groan
• Poison
• Call Buddies

When the fog is thick, and the tides are right, that's when they come. Seaweed wrapped about their bloated bodies, the reek of death hanging all about them...slowly they shamble from the sea, toward the lights of an unsuspecting village. They've come to add new recruits to their ranks or slaughter all who resist. By dawn all that is left are shattered doors, broken glass, carnage and drag marks toward the sea. Instinct: Drown the living, Attack coastal towns, Roll in with the fog

• deceptivly fast and strong

You find them in every city...hanging around the docks, or in some seedy tavern, or skulking around the rat haunted alley ways. They rule through fear and intimidation, a blade never far from their hand. Sometimes they are protectors of the common man, but more often then not they feed off their vices...they run the numbers, they traffic with pirates and highway men, they pimp, they steal, and they will use extreme violence to protect what's theirs...Warriors, come out and playyyy... Instinct: Fight for the sake of fighting, Prey on the weak, Defend our turf

• Quick with a blade
• hit em low, hit em high!
• Assemble the crew!