A young, pony-sized black dragon Instinct: To accumulate a horde

• Spray acid

These hunters in their mirror scalemail go out to bring down all those that aren't satisfied with the body given to them by the gods. To change ones own form with magic or pact is sacrilege and they are judge, jury and executioners. Every Druid should be careful around this order. If you can see your face in their armor: run! Instinct: Put an end to shapeshifters

• Lock you in one form
• cancel a transformation
• Bind you in spell-chains

The shaman up north in the caves? Let me tell ye; not only is he as old as the world but he brings the snow and the blizzard every year. Don't get fooled by his fassade though. He might look frail but his body can match any young man and this is before he turns into a polar bear to maul ye. Better stay away from him. Instinct: Protect the ancient caves

• Transform into a Polar bear // Transform back to human
• Unleash a blizzard // bite your head off
• Warn of ancient secret // immobilize in a bear hug
• Hide in the snow

One is a pest. A few is a problem. Unfortunately, they usually come in numbers reserved for bakers and the like. Instinct: to Breed

• Chew to Pieces
• Spread the infection

The tree-insect is much like a sitck-insect, but far larger, many of them reaching the size of redwood trees. They tear down old growth trees and drink the heartsap, constantly roaming the plains and forests they call home. The secretions from their leg glands fertilize the disaster they leave behind, but bold tribesmen will clamber up the long legs to steal it and ferment a potent liquor. Those slow enough to be caught up in their might claws will find that tree-insects also crave the heartsap of men. Instinct: to drink the heartsap of trees and men

• Bend the trees with horrible insect strength
• Strike from ambush disguised as a tree
• Rat-sized mites crawl its shell and bite with deadly poison

A Hobgoblin bandit with delusions of grandeur. Sir Stumpgouger found the arms and armor of a knight on a caravan he raided and, despite it not being made for a slightly lumpier than average hobgoblin, managed to cram himself into the plate mail. Ever since, he has demanded he be addressed as a knight and behaves in a manner he believes to be "chivalrous". This mainly just equates to putting thee's and thou's before most sentences, however, as he is still a murderous thief. Instinct: To Demand

• Into the Breach!
• Coerce from an Ambush

The Grand Duke's Guard are made of his garrison's elite fighters. They will defend the castle and their lord to the last man. Instinct: to Defend the Keep

• They Shall Not Pass
• Sweep the Legs
• Divide and Neutralize

Vrak is the jailer in the grand duke's keep. Vrak can seem a bit dim when he speaks to authority figures, but he delights in beating his prisoners and breaking their will. Does such a dark place create such a man or is such a man simply drawn to the world's dark places? Instinct: To Demoralize

• Beat with a Cudgel
• Mock his Captives
• Raise the Alarm

The large rats that are common to dungeons, remote keeps and even some castles can sometimes be driven to gather into groups. Sometimes this will result in two or more getting their tails tangled in such a way that a bit feces, blood, hair, or dirt could make the knot permanent. A giant rat king is when several of these large rats are entangled but learn to move, and hunt, as one. Instinct: To Feed and Grow

• Gnashing in All Directions
• Spring from the Shadows

The tragic result of the increasing industrialization in certain regions of the Dungeon World, the Degloved is an intelligent undead arising from those who have been maimed by machinery. When they die, all the individuals injured by a given machine release their hatred and malice, which flows back to the site of the injury, congealing into a creature resembling two human torsos (often one male, one female) covered in pale gray skin. The hands on each set of arms are long-fingered and apparently cuffed with festive red strips. Only on closer investigation or exposure does an adventurer realize that the strips are the very skin of those muscle-bare hands. The Degloved leap around on their powerful arms, stripping the skin from any so unlucky as to be caught by them. They fashion gloves from this skin which soothe their terrible pain for a time. The decadent nobles of a certain kingdom cherish these gloves, for each pair is unique and bound to those industries which have raised the kingdom up from mud-farming. Instinct: to clothe itself in new skin; to destroy machinery

• Remove skin without harming muscle beneath
• Rips skin that will never heal