Unless you're a stone giant, hopefully by now you know not to kick one. Instinct: to roam

• Leap great distances
• Flash muddy brown light, disorienting and blinding
• Capture and strangle with masses of knotted prehensile hair

Calm and plodding creatures, Northern spiniphants are slow to react and not particularly social; preferring to feed off the winds that blast and tumble them across the stony tundra; preferring to exchange tales with the wind than with stiff bald bipeds. They have twelve limbs or thereabouts, oriented all around their body. Combined with their copious and eerily prehensile hair, they look like dread-locked soccer balls; albeit with huge tusks that emerge from their hairy depths when scratching frozen moss off a rock. Or when you punt one between two rocks and break some of its legs. and you notice the tusks of its gang flying at you in a screaming blood rage—screeching across the sky like savagely pointy meteors with great red-brown manes and trails of hair and legs. That is until your eyes are blinded by muddy brown light, and blood, and you run and they pursue and pursue and run 'til you die or they do. Instinct: to roam

• Leap great distances
• Flash muddy brown light, disorienting and blinding 
• Pursue in a blind rage when bloodied