Fear of spiders is all too common, and perhaps that is the greatest sorrow for those who have left the Great Spiders societies to wander. All too often does a group of adventurers see a spider larger than the rangers pet creep around the woods, and their first reaction is to put an arrow in each of its' eyes before it attempts to feed on them. While a human, elf, and even the occasional dwarf is a tasty treat, it won't satiate the desire to learn more of their world. Letting them live, and maybe even helping them, in exchange for some stories of their society is often worth it. Who knows, maybe it's not too late to eat them once they're done talking. Instinct: to wander

• Exchange insight for stories

A bruised and tired adventurer stumbled into a tavern telling the tale of her misfortune. Her party was moving back from a dungeon delve, hauling treasure with them, feeling like nothing could stop them now. Then the halfling whose job it was to scout got her hand stuck in a massive web. Before she could get loose, the weaver had shown it's face. The dwarf was taken out guarding the treasure, outmaneuvered and tied up in the spiders drag line. The halfling got out, but was swarmed by the weblings, the size of cats they were! The elf and human started to run, but the elf's foot caught a tripline, sending him face first into the sticky, web covered ground. The surviving adventure finished her beer, and asked the tavernkeep where she could sell her sword; her adventuring days were over. Instinct: Feed passersby to it's children

• Spin a trap or structure from sturdy web
• Trap their prey in sturdy webs
• Immobilize a trapped or cornered victim
• Call upon it's children for feeding time

On occasion a traveller will walk through the woods, and take note of eight small eyes staring at them from the trees. Experienced adventurers knows this is the sign to turn back, but most continue. Yeah, it's as big as a cat, but surely that's as large as they get, and it didn't seem hostile did it? And so they move on, oblivious to the hundreds of eyes watching over them, unseen in the treetops, and oblivious to the eight-legged crawling death waiting ahead. Instinct: Grow in strength

• Run across strands of web
• Use webs to call for their parents

Listen here, boy. These woods might look green and all genial like, but don’t end up like your pop. “Ho! That’s a strange lookin’ tree!” Was his last words. I saw it happen. Grasper, got him before he could even squeal. What’s that, you ask? Did he teach you nothin’? You’ve seen those caterpillars... yeah, yeah, the ones who turn into those pretty butterflies. Picture that but bigger than a horse. It’ll blend right in with the trees, then strike when you’re not ‘spectin it. It’s the stuff of nightmares, believe me. What’d you say? What’s it turn into if not a butterfly? Gods, boy, what’s wrong with you, asking me somethin’ like that? Don’t think I’ll sleep ever again. ((From the Dungeon World supplement "Grim World")) Instinct: To feed on unsuspecting prey

• Camouflage as a tree
• Grab someone suddenly
• Retreat to camouflage again

Sometimes you'll find yourself lost in the woods with no telling how long until you're out. Right when you think you'll collapse from thirst, you'll see a light. When the light leads you to a pool of drinkable water, you'd believe that angels are guiding you, but the truth is far more devious. Once drunk, the water will turn your skin blank and see-through. If you, by chance or divine favor, can continue without succumbing to their poison, they will come for you. They're a haunting breed of dog and man, though seemingly made from water rather than flesh and blood. There's no telling how many of them rests in a given pool of water. They may not be in all of them, but any of them. Instinct: Spread their territory

• Disappear in a body of water
• Poison water with a touch
• Call for allies from a body of water

Some places are crowded with spirits, kept around to ward monsters away. Some spirits find this an acceptable existence, though others want nothing more but to pass on. These ones will seek out the living that travel through their lands and seek their guidance. Those that aid the spirits find their way are blessed with their mark, while those that try to stand in their way are cursed by it. Instinct: Pass beyond the gates of Death

• Seek directions to the lands beyond
• Curse a foe with Death's mark
• Bless a helpful traveller with their ward

This construct was created centuries ago, as an attempt to ease the restless spirits of the world. Drawn to a place where the souls of the deceased gather in great numbers, it is forced to wander, absorbing any spirit seeking vengeance or driven by hate, so that it may carry out its orders. It cares little for morality or obstacles in its way, focusing only on the objective at hand. It’s metal plating carry regal colors of bright blue, crimson, and gold, and it's royal visage have brought unfortunate ends for many. Rivertowns have been drowned, forest settlements destroyed by overgrowth, and great cities crumbled in on themselves; spirits of the world uniting in vengeance against the living, reshaping the world to sate their hate. Instinct: Avenge the dead

• Absorb a restless spirit, captive or free
• Reshape elements into the tool for an ironic demise
• Effortlessly break through an obstacle in its way

The Martikhora prowls the forests and jungles surrounding villages and settlements. The villagers are under her protection, and she guards them from their worst foe: themselves. She believes that mankind should stay in their villages, where they are safe, and anyone who strays must be punished. Any unfortunate wanderer who finds themself in the Martikhora's territory will be punished with a painful death, and be devoured. She claims that offerings of treasure and food will cease her relentless attacks, but they never do. The Martikhora will flee when faced with a real threat, returning to claim her due only when she has the advantage to go in for the kill. Instinct: Punish the wayward

• Find travellers to feed on
• Ambush from the trees
• Poison someone with a well-aimed tail spike throw.
• Flee to lick wounds