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Kite These small, upright-walking creatures possess unusually large heads, split by a gaping maw of razor-sharp teeth. They are thin-limbed and quick, and, when the need arises, they are able to move stealthily upon their heavily padded feet. Also of note is the enormity of their eyes, which is advantageous to their nocturnal nature; kites prefer to both hunt and travel at night. These dreadful little beasts habitually wear little clothing, as their skin is thick, tough and well suited to life out of doors. The kite dwell within forested regions, existing in small communities of two to seven family units. Hollowed trees and shady glades are their preferred choices for dens, although they have, on occasion, been discovered inhabiting small, hidden caverns. Kite dwellings are well hidden, for the protection of the females and children, who rarely wander far from the den. Through our observations we gleaned that the kite male occupies much of its time with hunting, for the kite prefer flesh and warm blood above all other manner of sustenance. Although their diet primarily consists of wild hare, boar and an occasional bear, it was our grievous task to observe that elven flesh seems to be a preferred delicacy of the kite. Through close studies of the hunt, we now know that kites are malicious in nature and enjoy as much the sport of tormenting their prey as they do the actual killing. Should a group of unwary travelers have the great misfortune of being discovered by a kite hunting party, they will shortly become surrounded by the stealthy beasts. As the shadows of evening deepen, the kite shall commence a most disturbing assortment of otherworldly shrieks and howls. This clamor shall proceed first from one direction, then another, as the kite endeavor to terrify and confuse their intended prey. Progressing with much malevolence, the kite will begin to fire barrages of small arrows into the group, attempting to generate chaos or perhaps cripple a party member. When successful, naive travelers scatter blindly in panic, allowing the Kite to attack and kill each individual with relative ease. One can typically overpower a kite, if encountered individually. Yet one must be on constant guard against discovery by a hunting party. Armed with tiny swords and bows, groups of kite are quick, vicious and will attack without mercy.

Siren Spider The Siren Spider is one of Arcanum's more deadly creatures. Standing nearly 7 feet tall, this terrible vision possesses the upper torso of a female human, but walks upon the eight legs of an arachnid. The very sight of this monstrosity, which is known to inhabit the desolate Vendigroth Wastes, is more than enough to weaken all but the most courageous of men. Until recently, it was believed that man served as little but the creature's favored prey. Through previously documented encounters, we knew that on occasion, the female siren spider would call a man out of his tent in the night, promising, in the words of the honorable Sir Gregor Seamus Darton, "unspeakable pleasures in the very voice of irresistible allure." If the victim was found at all, they were usually little more than a withered, emaciated husk. What had not formerly been revealed was precisely how the terrifying creature could lure a man into its clutches or by what means death was served to him. Through our studies however, we have brought the truth to light. As none had ever been seen, it was assumed that the male Siren Spiders were lone wanderers, or perhaps overseers of the young. We have discovered that this is not the case. In fact, no male of the species exists in any capacity or form. Through whatever process the Siren Spiders were originally brought into existence, be it the result of some dark and twisted magick or the curse of an angered god, their genus was left incomplete. As no male of the species exists, the creature has adapted an ingenious, and terrifying way to ensure the longevity of its kind. When the female is ready to mate, she seeks out an encampment of men. As night descends, she transforms herself into a vision of womanly beauty, calling out to the one she has chosen. The call itself, being a thing of magick, is irresistible except by the most powerful of mages, and the man is led easily away from his companions. When the victim finally comes to her, she throws herself upon him in joy and thanksgiving at having been found, doing all in her power to inflame his fervor. Men, being men, are particularly vulnerable to this sort of attack, whether magickal or otherwise. The outcome is rarely in doubt. Once the victim has served his manly purpose, the siren spider resumes her true form. She falls upon the defenseless, naked man, holding him fast with her eight anthropoid legs as she injects him with her deadly poison. The man ceases his struggles quickly, at which point the depraved beast proceeds to feast upon the blood from his lifeless body, draining it until it is nothing but a lifeless shell. The siren spider does not rest after its endeavors, but moves quickly to seek out a cave, proceeding to line the walls and ceiling with her strong, sticky webbing. Within a few days, the murderous female will produce a clutch of eggs, each being equal in size to the head of a man, which she places upon the padded walls of her nest. She then stands guard over her clutch for several months, guarding them vigilantly against Vendigroth's many predators until they hatch, at which point she offers herself up, and is devoured by her young.

 

Werewolf My colleagues and myself had many discussions regarding the study of the werewolf for this compendium, as Lycanthropy is best classified as an affliction, rather than an actual creature. Yet after thorough investigation, we now believe its inclusion within these pages is appropriate. Lycanthropy is a rare affliction which, for some reason as yet unknown, only affects those of human descent. A person, man or woman, afflicted with Lycanthropy, is generally unaware of the circumstance, and exists within polite society by day. As night falls however, the individual transforms into a werewolf. Werewolves are gigantic, bi-pedal creatures. They are covered head to toe in thick fur and bear a distinct resemblance to the vicious garoul. The strength of a werewolf equals that of an ogre and its sharp claws and powerful jaws enable it to eviscerate its prey effortlessly. Once in werewolf form, they become mindless killers, attacking and devouring anything and anyone they happen upon. As morning dawns, human form is resumed and they awaken, unaware of what has happened in the night, but often covered in blood or surrounded by the dead remains of their loved ones .A person thus afflicted rarely survives for long. In most instances, they are discovered and destroyed, or killed while in werewolf form, at which point they revert back to their human shape, revealing their true identity. In rare instances, an individual infected with Lycanthropy is able to exist undetected for a longer period of time. Once the disease has been present for several years, the werewolf transformation becomes permanent and human form is no longer attainable, even through death It has long been debated how the disease is spread from one individual to another. Some believe that it is through a gypsy curse, others that it is through the werewolf's bite. From our studies, we have determined that the latter is true. The origin of the disease is not known, and according to our research, pre-dates written history in Arcanum. It has been speculated that Lycanthropy was a more virulent disease in years past as ancient tomes bear record of packs of werewolves roaming the countryside. No true cure, aside from death, has ever been found. Although in recent years, rumors have abounded that the Master Mages of Tulla may possess a cure for Lycanthropy.

Lich Lich. The very mention of this unnatural creature strikes terror into the hearts of man, for the beast was itself once a mortal being, and now has been transformed, by its own hand, into living death. Only the mage of rare power is capable of transforming himself into a lich, and the grim possibility of failure, the consequence being eternity as a demi-lich, deter most from even attempting the forbidding and arcane right. When a lich is first created, it appears in every sense as the being it was as a mortal, both in intellect and form. It is only through time that the differences begin to display themselves to those who would observe. Slowly, the sinister magicks that gave birth to the unnatural being begin to twist and deform the lich, causing the facial features to become sunken, gaunt and skull-like and the body and mind to decay. As the years pass, the lich alters appearance completely, no longer resembling a mortal being, it is now purely a living skeleton with huge, sunken eye sockets and long, bony limbs held together by the dried sinew that was once its skin. Likewise the once great mind that controlled the lich has deteriorated into that of a crazed, yet immensely powerful beast, attacking anything unfortunate enough to cross its path, for a lich retains its full knowledge of magickal spells, no matter the stability of its mind. It seems beyond reason, especially in this age of enlightenment, that a mage would willingly choose to transform himself into such a monstrosity. I have done much research on the subject and found that, in the creation of a lich, there is usually a specific driving reason behind the choice. First and foremost there are those among us who fear death greatly, and would go to any length to save themselves from its cruel hand. For a select few, transformation into a lich grants the immortality they so desperately seek. The lich that results from this vein of thought survive purely for their own ends, existing to terrorize and destroy those left living. These are truly the most dangerous form of the beast. On the other hand, there are those individuals throughout history who have transformed themselves in order to serve a higher purpose, perhaps that of guarding a specific sacred item, or protecting an area from some ancient bane or curse. Those who had a task to perform that would require their immense magickal powers for a much longer period of time than their mere lifespan would provide. A lich of such history, while still terrifying, is usually benign unless disturbed directly. They are most often found in ancient ruins or secret caverns, guarding items long forgotten. It is believed that the ancient wizard K'an T'au has become just such a lich. Legend has it that he secluded himself in his great castle, S'nel N'fa many generations ago and attempted to transform himself into a lich so that he might forever protect the elven staff of great power that he is said to have possessed. K'an T'au was a great wizard, highly studied in many schools of magick, most notable were his accomplishments in necromancy and summoning. Many have gone in search of the staff of K'an T'au, and most of these adventurers have never been heard from again. It is highly possible that K'an T'au succeeded with his dark task, and even now stands guard over his most prized possession, a ghastly, nightmarish creature awaiting the next thief foolhardy enough to enter its domain.

 

Demi-Lich Throughout history there have been those that have sought immortality at any cost. Many have searched in vain for the fabled waters of life or begged blessings from the gods, but a few, who have studied the magickal arts, have access to an alternate, more sinister means of achieving their goal. Through spell, incantation and extraordinary magickal ascendancy, there are those who have attempted to twist themselves into the form of an immortal lich. Few have succeeded. Far greater in number are those who fail and are doomed to spend the remainder of their wretched existence in the form of a demi-lich. It is believed that through some misspoken word, incomplete gesture, or lack of capability, many that attempt the transformation reduce themselves into this incomprehensible monstrosity. Unlike the lich, the newly born demi-lich begins to decay immediately and it is quickly apparent to any observers what has occurred as the stench of death begins to emanate from every fiber of the once powerful mage. Having donned ritualistic trappings of the dead in order to complete the ceremony, the ungainly demi-lich is unable to remove them, and thus shall it remain, to decay within its death shroud, a dirty, filthy creature, slowly rotting to insignificant dust. Early on in its existence, it appears the demi-lich retains some semblance of humanity in both thought and motion. However, the incomplete metamorphosis effects some part of the mind, causing speech to be lost instantaneously, along with the ability to perform the more powerful magicks. Yet some form of memory must remain, for it has been observed that the demi-lich behaves as if in constant pain. It has been postulated that the demi-lich might be feeling the pain of its own decay, or, perhaps, lamenting the bitter memory of its own failure and inadequacy. Truly, we do not know. And as the years pass, this perpetual distress drives the demi-lich further into the realms of insanity. It is not long before the creature is nothing but a feral beast. Although a demi-lich is but a mere shadow of a powerful mage, we have observed that they, in the early stages of their transformation, still command considerable magickal powers, and therefore pose a significant threat. A newly created demi-lich usually has the ability to cast moderately destructive spells. With age and decay it begins to lose its mind, and, ultimately, its powers. Our work in the field has revealed that a demi-lich who is nearly decayed to dust will nevertheless attempt to do you harm. Due to the monstrosity's lack of strength, most victims will likely survive the ordeal. However, should you happen upon one with most of its faculties about it, might I offer the pertinent advice of protecting oneself against magick as swiftly as possible, and leaving the vicinity with the greatest of haste.

Shiverbit Several different specie of wolf reside within Arcanum, and while all are aggressive, predatory creatures, most pale in comparison with the fearsome shiverbit. This ferocious wolf makes its home upon the icy passes and steep slopes that join the Stonewall and Grey Mountain Ranges. One of the largest wolves in existence, this stalwart creature boasts thick fur which is white to light grey in coloration and provides both excellent camouflage and ample protection from the extreme temperatures found in its frozen, hostile domain. Appearing more intelligent than the common wolf, the shiverbit is cunning, agile and very deadly. The shiverbit can most often be found living in family groups, or packs, of 4 to 8 adults, dominated by a single male and female animal, although we have documented the occasional lone adult male. Within the pack, the dominant pair are the only members to produce pups, and on average generate one litter of four to six pups per year. It is our estimation that nearly half of all shiverbit pups do not make it to adulthood, falling victim to numerous perils presented by the harsh environment in which they live. As with most wolves, the shiverbit possesses magnificent pack hunting capabilities, being both stealthy and fleet of foot. Its crushing jaws are immense, able to tear through bone as if through twigs and it is highly territorial. Yet what truly sets this creature apart from its brethren is its remarkable defense mechanism used to deter natural enemies such as the polar bear, frigidon and yeti. To adapt to its hostile environment, the shiverbit has developed the ability to render its enemies harmless by freezing them solid. What has confounded those of us that have studied the beast, is exactly how it manages to do this. Common belief through the millennia has been that the shiverbit possessed innate magickal abilities, enabling it to freeze its tormentors at will. With the advent of the new schools of reason and science, a few have begun to entertain thoughts that this capability is not at all magickal, but rather some form of poison or chemical contained within the wolf, a technological, not magickal attribute. It has been noted that the shiverbit must physically bite the victim before the freezing process takes place. This in and of itself would lead one to suspect non-magickal means, as it is common knowledge that magick is a force of will, and physical contact is unnecessary. Yet as I pen these pages, although proponents for each side are extremely vocal, neither theory has been substantiated, as no one has, as of yet, been able to capture a live beast for study.

 

Oregolem How is it that we define life? For some, it entails a particular state of perception and reason, for others a mere biological and chemical state, and for others something different. There are those who would not classify the lifeless husk of the undead mummy as alive, but can you say the same of the immortal, fiendish vampires of legend who walked amongst us, reciting our poetry and seducing our women? What life burns in the great Spectral Wraiths of the Glimmering, whose bodies are incorporeal, and whose tongue is as frightening and incomprehensible as the howling wind? The answer, dear friends, is that life is defined in as many strange, wonderful, and oftentimes horrific ways as there are creatures that walk our fair land. And perhaps one of the strangest creatures of all is known as the Oregolem. The Oregolem has been known to inhabit various places within Arcanum, yet tends to be found mostly within the deepest caverns of the Grey Mountains, or among the windblown dunes of the Vendigroth Wastes. The earliest dwarven histories speak of battles with these fierce and mindless creatures, which they named Njord Frigg, or the Furious Mountain. The dwarves feared it because it was relentless and unstoppable. They feared it because it was alive, and it was made of stone. The Oregolem is a massive creature; specimens have been known to exceed 18 feet in height alone. They are humanoid in appearance, with two arms, two legs and a shapeless head that may or not be split with an irregular, crooked maw. It walks upright, like a man, and has an extremely aggressive, and often deadly, disposition towards anything and anyone who disturbs it. It does not eat, nor is there any known record of it mating or producing progeny. They do not speak or make noise, save from the terrible grinding of the its massive stone limbs upon one another as it stalks its prey. Many are the stories of Stone Elementals and the wizards who summon and control them. Make no mistake. Many more are the stories of foolhardy mages who sought to defeat the Oregolem with similar magicks, and whose lives were forfeit because of that shortsightedness. The Oregolem, from what we can surmise, is no creature of magick. And although no blood flows within the solid stone of its rock carapace, it most definitely lives and is best left to its own devices. Our studies have shown that the only way to defeat an Oregolem is to literally blast it to bits, or to hack off those limbs which it might use for locomotion. It is not at all uncommon for adventurers to employ dwarven sappers if they believe that Oregolems might be happened upon. Advice for the itinerant traveler who stumbles upon an Oregolem? Run, my friends, plain and simple. Oregolems, as invincible as they might seem, are not the fastest creatures in all of Arcanum. Better be the coward's way than the crushing death between those great hands of stone.

Lethe Wyvern Listen closely to the tale of a horrific beast. Some say it is a true monstrosity, others a mere legend. None in our day and age have encountered the lethe wyvern face to face… at least none that have survived to tell the tale. Many ancient tomes and texts have been perused in order to gleam the description lying before you, and while some differ in their opinions, most agree that this fearsome beast, which walks upright on thick haunches, is nearly double the height of a man, and twice as fleet. Dragon-like in appearance, it is often described as being colored to match whatever the surrounding countryside. Expansive wings adorn its shoulders, yet in all of the research available to me, I have found no mention or proof that it has the ability to fly. Diminutive, viper-like eyes adorn the sides of a large reptilian face, yet I pray you do not become complacent with an opinion that this creature can not behold its surroundings. The tomes I have examined speak much of the Lethe's ability to see vast distances, and even the slightest of motions will send its lengthy neck whipping around to determine if the thing sensed might serve as a worthy meal. The lethe wyvern is described as consuming all manner of flesh, that of both man and beast. Its numerous rows of razor-like teeth are undoubtedly most helpful in this endeavor, and it is believed to possess the most terrible and sharp claws, which are most certainly used for ripping prey asunder. Yet the most fearsome quality of this monster is the venom carried deep within its deadly fangs. Each account I discovered bespoke the same tale of the Lethe's treacherous venom, which poisons not the body, but the mind. The Lethe will envenom its prey repeatedly, causing the intellect to degenerate, and thus forever altering the mind of the hapless creature. Soon, the intended prey is too lack-witted to flee, and it is then that the lethe may enjoy a live meal at its leisure. As a fact, the only accountings of survivors that I came across described once intelligent gentlemen, now become blithering fools, who required care to perform even their most basic needs until the end of their days. Whether or not there is an antidote to this deadly and degenerative poison is unknown.

 

Kuljin It is oppressive, malevolent, paralyzing. It surrounds us completely, pressing in from all sides, bringing with it visions of terror, torment, death. One's blood runs cold, slowly the hair stand's on end and the flesh begins to creep. The senses are crippled, apprehension builds quickly, the heart begins to palpitate and panic ensues as terror's icy claws rip a man's strength asunder. Darkness remains one of mankind's greatest fears. Neither is this fear unfounded, as it is an instinctual reaction long built into our species for good purpose. One example of the wisdom driving this innate proclivity may be attested to by any dwarf, for it is their race who most often encounters the deadly kuljin, deep within the darkest caverns. These small, shapeless creatures that inhabit the deep, gloomy recesses of the underworld have never been viewed by the light of day. To adapt to their subterranean existence, the kuljin are colored black as pitch and possess razor sharp claws. Traveling in small packs, and feeding on all manner of flesh, it is speculated that the kuljin retain several rows of small, razor sharp teeth, for they devour their prey with amazing quickness. >From what we were able to ascertain, these creatures are small in stature, and bipedal, or ape-like in form, although a specimen has never been examined closely enough to give legitimacy to this opinion. The kuljin can see perfectly in the complete absence of light, which makes them excellent hunters, well suited for their environment. Thankfully for us, this is also their greatest weakness, as light not only blinds them, but appears to cause them extreme pain. Consequently, kuljin flee in terror from any source of light. But woe to the unfortunate soul whose torch sputters and dies when the kuljin are about; his life is as good as forfeit. While researching these vicious creatures deep within a dark and twisting cave, one of our pack animals tripped, landing upon the lantern tied to its side. Being at the rear of our team, the beast was plunged into darkness, whereupon a pack of kuljin rushed upon it immediately. Its screams of terror and pain bombarded our ears and filled cavern with chaos. We rushed back to save the poor beast, but were too late. As we stumbled back, the kuljin retreated from the light, and the grisly sight that met our eyes will surely haunt my dreams for years to come. There before us on the ground, barely recognizable and still writhing in agony, was the partially devoured pack animal. It's flesh stripped away to the bone on its haunches, legs, head and neck, devoured in a matter of moments by the opportunistic kuljin. The chill that went down my spine and the terror that gripped my heart was suffocating as I moved to put the beast out of its misery. I now know firsthand, why it is we fear the dark.

Holy Defiler Evil wears many faces. Often, sadly, it is known to wear the face of the good and the righteous. Or, in the most sorrowful cases, it will twist the true face of goodness into something unrecognizable, horrible, completely devoid of its former nature. Such has been the fate of what has come to be called the Holy Defiler. These tormented souls, like the lich, were once great and powerful mages. And, like their spiritual brethren, they have been become evil through the use and manipulations of the darkest magicks. What sets the Holy Defiler apart from the rest of its kind is what it was before, and the sad realization of what has been lost in its shadowed transformation. Holy Defilers are called so because they were once holy men or white necromancers…they practiced the more benevolent magicks, concentrating on those spells which heal the body and the mind. Unfortunately, as with all things, there is always a darker side to even the best of things. Holy Defilers, from what we can ascertain from scattered books and accounts, seem to have looked too closely at the dark reflection of white necromancy, those spells of soul poisons and conjuring of spirits, and were eventually lost to the evils which they discovered in those depths. In time, they were overcome with their obsessions and became something abominable. Holy Defilers surround themselves with helpless servants of all kinds, broken under the great power of the creature and living only to sacrifice themselves for their master's well being. During our travels, we were fortunate enough to survive a foray into the Bangellian Deeps, and there we happened across a most peculiar conflict. A lumbering Feraloch had discovered the lair of a Holy Defiler and its minions, an enslaved group of orcs. We watched in horror as the raging beast tore into the unsuspecting and mindless orcs, eviscerating them with great sweeps its claws, working its way toward their master. And yet, not moments after the orcs had fallen to the ground they were up again and fighting, healed or resurrected by their twisted lord who stood apart from the fray, unmoving and fearless. In time, the sheer numbers of the orcs were more than enough for the unfortunate Feraloch, and he was eventually torn limb from limb. We made a hasty departure before we too suffered the same fate. Pure is the evil that uses the face of goodness for such dark ends. May you never have to gaze upon it.

 

Gyr-Dolour It is often the lot of many to suffer greatly throughout their lifetimes, as the result of one tragedy or another, and through this suffering, to experience the very depths of despair, guilt, desolation, and utter hopelessness. Such occurrences of devastating emotions have plagued men and women throughout time, bringing them to the lowest points in their existence, and it is at these times that they become prime targets for the vile gyr-dolour. Reptilian in appearance and diminutive in nature, the gyr-dolour are physically weak creatures, standing merely one quarter the height of a man. Their coloring is dark, varying from muted browns to black and their bodies are covered in small, smooth scales from head to tail. The gyr-dolour possess two undersized forearms, which they do not appear to make use of overmuch and they walk upright, upon their hind legs, enabling them to move at a quick pace when the need arises. Small, dark eyes adorn either side of a long snout, whose short, sharp teeth see use merely as a defensive weapon, for the gyr-dolour feed not upon plant nor animal, but upon those dark and powerful emotions which emanate from our very being. These creatures can sense the emotional state of their prey from great distances, and are often seen scurrying about the edge of town at times of great sorrow, such as the death a beloved wife, or child, waiting for a chance to find the sorrowful alone, so that they may feed. It is the nature of the tormented soul to seek solitude, and in doing so, they open themselves, and perhaps welcome, the pestilence of the gyr-dolour. When a pack of gyr-dolour encounter a tormented soul, they slowly approach the person, cooing in an odd, sorrowful tone. It is believed that they resonate the despair back to the person, forcing them into even darker depths, until they have given up all hope and become oblivious to the world around them, so lost in the depths of despair are they. It is then that the gyr-dolour take up residence in a loose circular pattern around the prey to feed. They never touch the victim, staying just out of reach at all times, and in fact never physically harm their prey. It is in the mental capacity that the victim is harmed. Forced to relive over and over again memories of darkness and despair, resonated and amplified for the gyr-dolour's own needs until the victim's mind and body waste away and death ensues. Once the gyr-dolour have begun feeding upon their prey, interrupting them can be a difficult and often deadly task. For when provoked into attack, their blows cause little physical damage, but instead seem to drain the strength right out of a man. They will continue to attack until the rescuer is unconscious upon the ground, at which point they will return their full attention back to the prey, no longer concerned. This nonchalance on their part may stem from experience, for small wyverns and various carrion eaters, even death lanterns, have been known to lurk about feeding groups of gyr-dolour, waiting to clean up the scraps, or take advantage of any failed rescue attempts .I was unable to ascertain the exact process used by the gyr-dolour to feed upon their prey, noting only that the more sorrowful and tortured the prey, the healthier and more plentiful were the gyr-dolour. After several months of study, it is my opinion that the gyr-dolour possess some form of magickal ability that enables them to gain sustenance from the powerful mental images and forces at work in the tormented mind. The gyr-dolour are truly one of Arcanum's most vile creatures.

Shadow Crawler They invoke sheer terror in some, mere annoyance in others, but they are never far from us. I have a colleague who is most adamant in his belief that we are never more than three feet from one at any given moment, yet they most often remain hidden away from our prying eyes, seeking nothing from us, but to remain undisturbed in the shadowy nooks and crannies of our world. Even when confronted, most are relatively harmless and easily dispatched, but that cannot be said of all specie of spiders. One very significant departure from this rule can be found in the dreaded shadow crawler. The shadow crawler, at the basest comparison, it is a standard spider in appearance and in habitat, preferring the shadowy darkness to the bright light of day and feeding upon its prey in a most unpalatable manner. Yet one encounter with this particular spider, and it is quite evident that the similarities end quickly, for this monstrous example of the arachnid species is equal in height to a full grown halfling, it's eight thick, segmented legs spread out to a daunting width. It is black in coloration, yet it is not solid, rather the shadow crawler appears as some partially transparent ethereal apparition, lending it a great advantage in concealing itself. It prefers caves and deep crevices as lairs, but has also been found inhabiting ancient crypts and burial tombs. Hunting habits are another area where the shadow crawler differentiates itself from the common spider. Unlike its brethren, who lie in wait for prey to become caught fast in their fine spun webs, the shadow crawler must hunt for its food, as it is incapable of producing a webbing substance. It does this by wandering from its lair to a location that might prove fruitful and concealing itself from sight, usually deep in shadow. The beast is a patient hunter, as we witnessed our specimen remain practically motionless for nearly ten hours before a possible meal, in this case a young forest ape, happened along. The encounter was both brief, and brutal; the spider sprung forward as the ape passed, knocking it to the ground with its powerful front limbs. The ape never had a chance to recover and the shadow crawler all but pounced upon the hapless creature, sinking razor sharp mandibles into the ape repeatedly, no doubt injecting a stunning poison. The forest ape ceased its struggles quickly, and the shadow crawler set about draining all sustenance from its meal, leaving behind nothing but a withered husk. What shocked and amazed us all the more though, was what happened afterward. A large crashing was suddenly heard from farther up the path, the spider turned, having just finished its meal, just in time to encounter the rather large group of apes, led by a huge male specimen. The troupe of apes stopped dead, obviously to assess the situation, and when the lead male spotted the drained corpse upon the ground, he began to beat his chest and emit a most spine tingling and ferocious howl. He was quickly joined by the other members of his group, and they began to advance upon the spider. Seeing itself at a distinct disadvantage, the spider did not flee, as I had anticipated, but backed away slowly from its meal. Suddenly, the fresh corpse began to twitch and shudder. Within moments it stood, a macabre sight, placing itself between the two adversaries, preparing to defend the creature which had just stolen its life! This seemed to enrage the apes further and they quickly advanced towards the spider, only to be attacked by the ape zombie, from which they recoiled as if in horror. One of the males managed to get past the reanimated nightmare, whereupon the spider attacked and overcame it much as it had done earlier with his companion. No sooner had this second ape been dispatched, than it too joined the ranks of the undead army. This seemed too much for the apes, and they quickly turned and fled back down the path, whereupon the corpses collapsed upon the ground and the shadow crawler proceeded to feed upon its newest victim. Needless to say, we have found the shadow crawler to be a highly unique arachnid, best avoided at all costs by the citizens of Arcanum.