The whatsit live on rooftops and watch for cats to snatch. Stray cats, pet cats, mousers, and temple cats. Even familiars are a source of food for these nimble, long fingered menaces. They have even been known to snatch kittens out of the hands of children before hopping clear to a nearby rooftop. Instinct: to steel cats

• Leap high in the air
• Dash about with blinding speed

Magnetic ooze is alive in the way that a flame is. It scatters about a dungeon, its individual particles slowly attaining a balance between all metal objects. When a new source of metal it's introduced to its environment, the individual particles are unbalanced and attracted. Sometimes the clinging particles go unnoticed until significant build up is obvious but, en mass, the particles form a grey goo that stalks and envelops anything metal. Instinct: To creep toward metal

• Envelop metal
• Encrust their hinges and mechanisms

Dragons were around long before this world. What only a scant few know is that the world was built around them. When a dragon leaves this world, it leaves a dragon-shaped hole. Droken are that hole. Droken do all that dragons do and give every appearance of being a dragon; however, when you get down to it, there's nothing there. While droken pose no threat, they are themselves places of power, illusive placeholders. Instinct: To inspire terror

• Leave the scent of brimstone
• Cast draconic shadows
• Shake the earth with mighty roars
• Blast them with warm air
• Appear to them in reflections

Hanjos are the Great Forest's emissaries and nature's pickpockets. Appearing as poor travelers, they are fast talkers with even faster hands. A friendly pat on the back here, a hand shake here, "need a hand with that," and the hanjo has deposited seeds in you pockets, boots, gloves, hair, pack, and even behind your ear. When none are around, they collect seeds and put down roots. Instinct: To seed the Great Forest

• Direct their attention
• Tap the forest floor

You'd think the milk goblins, with their papery white skin, would be easy to spot, cowering among the rows of grain. However, the milk goblins burrow under the fields during the daylight and only emerge at night to steal trinkets and tools and foodstuffs from the locals. Instinct: To scavenge trinkets and tools

• Hide among the tall grass
• Make off with little things

A knee high chicken pecking at you is an annoyance, a tree high chicken is a terror. As such, the chickadon is something to fear. Its thick blanket of feathers renders all but the largest missiles moot and visions of its massive beak descending are the stuff of nightmares. Its giant talons have been know to knock over small buildings and scratch horses into the ground. When a flock of chickadons threatens a village, those who remain gamble with their very lives. Instinct: To fill its belly

• Lay giant eggs
• Fill the air with clucks
• Scratch with mighty talons
• Raise the dust with their wings

The slip is a man but not a man. Its bones and entrails, it can move them. Where our bones fuse, theirs can be unhinged, moved, and resocketed. They can -slip- in or out of most any cage that might hold them, they can enter most any room. ...and what do they want? To reopen old wounds and new ones alike, to lap at the blood that wells there. Obscene mockeries of men, the whole race of them. Instinct: To reopen their wounds

• Stalk the wounded
• Squeeze through the smallest spaces
• Dissolve their skin with enzymes