|Stone Mother||Tags: Alien, Unknowable|
|Type: Dark Urchin||Organization: Large Group (Medium)|
|Description: Dripping, Animalistic||Instinct: to enjoy|
|Attack: Slam ( d6)|
call every formian it spawned
Silently prowl behind
Turn flesh to stone, and vice versa
Stone Mothers are things are beasts from "Gertris Most Beautiful". They appear as sweating, bestial humanoid statues, at least until they attack by slamming their bodies into whoever has caught their single marbled eye. While they are clearly intelligent, all attempts at communication have failed. Their targets, who are never devoured, are turned to stone that slowly mutates over the course of the moon and eventually become mindless minions (treat as zombies but with Armor 3). They occasionally turn their minions back to flesh, sometimes before the mutation, but not always.
|Type: Reeking Incarnation||Organization: Solitary (Medium)|
|Description: Eight legs, Talkative||Instinct: To Dismember and reassemble|
|Attack: Spiked whip ( d10)|
Strike the perfect blow
Surprise from the mud
Grapple with their whip
Offer a reward
The oborkirk are an intelligent beast that have laid a complex plan and will do anything to bring it to fruition. They are the voices from the bogs of Jure Loss offering rewards for acts that seem to have no rhyme or reason. Upon their eight spindly legs they climb and cling to everything when not skulking in the mud. Their mandibles, if they were once arachnids at all, are two great thorny whips and they have an uncanny knack for striking the perfect blow from cover - knocking foes to the ground and causing weapons and shields to fly into the bog, lost forever. Given the opportunity, they will tear a victim apart and reassemble them as a scarecrow or talisman that they hang near their lair.
|Type: Sleek Hound||Organization: Small Group (Medium)|
|Description: several claws, Regretful||Instinct: to mutilate|
|Attack: Powerful jaw ( d8)|
send the pack to hunt
meld into the swamp
fly to a better vantage point
Gorehounds have a single purpose in their strange life - rip everything to shreds. They look like skinless dogs with their heads replaced with a "shovel" of bone, eyes and teeth rattling around under a tough mucous membrane. They prowl the Jure Loss in small packs, but their whistling grunts can be heard echoing, and they often call more of their kind for a big kill. There are a few among the pack that have great sacks they can inflate with swamp gases that give them the ability to clumsily fly into the gnarled limbs of the swamp trees.