It seems that the common diet for these creatures is something enigmatically referred to as "Green Soup" or alternatively something else known as "Blue String Pudding". It is not clear what these things are, but only these creatures seem to eat them. Likely some kind of remnant diet of their former lives. However, when these creatures get too hungry, especially from lack of these peculiar foods... sometimes a terrifying transformation takes hold and they become one of the "Soupstarved", bulking up significantly, they lose a lot of their intellect but seem to let loose terrifying howls in their musical voices, and are full of a berserker rage as they try to feed on anything that might make them feel whole once more. Instinct: To feed

• Explode into action

Despite being scavengers, clangers have some peculiar sound-based knacks. Their language is inherently musical, this is true. But a fair number of them are seemingly able to naturally or perhaps trained in being able to extract music (and moreover sound itself, although it seems music is more valuable) from their surroundings, for later storage or use in some way. If desperate, these 'musicallists' can try to shape the sounds that they've gathered on the spot in order to force out some arcane puissance. Not always a good idea, especially for them. But who knows what trick they might pull out, if threatened... Instinct: To acquire

• Harvest sound itself
• Improvise dangerous words of power on the spot

Strange, rat-like humanoids from the stars is a simple way of putting it. Technically correct but it does not describe the beauty of their language, or the ingenuity of their scavenging ways. Their scavenging ways are obvious given what they carry and the patchwork armour that they wear. Some sages maintain that they are the remnant of a star-travelling civilization that collapsed, and left its peoples scattered in remote, barren places where their foes could not find them. Now they subsist on junk that falls to their homes. Although not inherently vicious, if presented with a great enough opportunity, especially a great enough bargain they can be great allies. Instinct: To scavenge

• Unerringly find things of use or value
• Disappear in a cloud of metal scrap
• Whistle a song to call more of its tribe

Oh, what a harmless little thing! A rabbit sat atop a treet stump! That's what they want you to think my friends, but then some betentacled horror spears you with its barbed tendrils and drags you into its waiting maw! Anyway, and that today fellow councillors is why we should begin a program of destroying all stumps and killing all rabbits. Just in case. Instinct: To feed

• Lure in the foolish
• Surprise them!
• Grab with terrible tendrils!
• Maim (or even eat) with your terrible maw!

Following a similar ecological niche as all manner of silly creatures that disguise themselves as something else, this particular one does not wait for someone to put it on. Obviously, since it looks like its namesake. Instead, it waits clinging to the ceilings or corners of ceilings and tries to get the jump on unfortunates wandering through its territories, feeding upon their remains. When in flight it flutters like a weird jellyfish in the air, which looks vaguely beautiful - so there's that at least. Instinct: To feed

• Wrap around someone's head and suffocate them
• Surprise them

What on earth would cause this mollusk-like creature to shape like a stalagtite? The urge to hunt of course. With this in mind, and given enough exotic environments, this creature could end up shaped like any number of things that might hang from the ceiling, such as a chandelier or similar. But who would keep these things around in their home? Wizards, who else? Instinct: To feed

• Drop on the unsuspecting
• Surprise them!

Sometimes you have to wonder: Is everything a trap? And if you have angered the right (or wrong) kind of wizard, then the answer is probably yes. Why else would the death linen exist? Masquerading as sheets, or pillows, or a set of clothes, or all of the above - this construct waits until its victim tries to wear or sleep on or otherwise interact with it before it tries to strangle and smother them. Efficient, and hard to pin down as a murder. Whimsical? Yes. Efficient? The jury is still out on that one. Another theory and/or origin of these is less whimsical: The power of living nightmares have suffused these, and they now linger and wait to terrorise and murder those that they (subconsciously) deem to be victims. A more compelling origin, but no less silly. Instinct: To kill

• Smother the unfortunate
• Surprise them!
• Use secret poison fangs that no-one would have guessed you had

You thought that was a mere wall? Foolish! Always be suspicious, after all if gelatinous cubes exist then what others gelatinous horrors might there be, masquerading as anything and everything. Its touch will corrode and incapacitate until those engulfed are horrifically eaten. Not a great fate, all in all. Instinct: To feed

• Engulf the unfortunate
• Surprise them!
• Paralyse with a touch

Who would think the floor itself was a threat? The well-prepared it seems! Although fairly rare, there are creatures that exist (likely manufactured somehow or formed in response to the predations of adventurers) that blend in expertly to the floor of a dungeon or dwelling, waiting until prey walks into their centre, whereupon they spring up from all sides and smother and/or crush them to death. Then they feed. Sometimes it feels like the world is out to get you, doesn't it? Instinct: To feed

• Surround and smother unfortunate prey from below
• Surprise them

A large creature that resembles a manta ray. Its body is comprised of compartmentalized gas sacs, each filled with a lighter than air mixture, allowing it to sail through the air by gracefully flapping its body. It attaches to a ceiling and drops down on prey, suffocating it and digesting the corpses. Its underside has chameleon like skin, blending in to whatever surface it is attached to. Instinct: To feed

• Smother the unfortunates you land on
• Surprise attack!