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There's nothing wrong with being a baku. There are all the privileges of being a light with the killing power of a shadow, even when there is no evidence that there has ever been a baku shadow. It is a very careful balance created by children who wanted their worst nightmares dealt with cleanly. These goodie-two-shoes started as a bit of joke. With an elephant’s head, tusks, and trunk, the body of a cat or tapir and the average size of 120cm (3'11") from head to tail, it's not intimidating in anyone's books, and definitely not any of the five that were ever written in Shadow. A natural temperament to humans that could make them as placid as an elderly family pet, their rivalry against all nightmares only puts a small dent in their high spirits and does little to interrupt their other favourite pastime: stealing socks.

Their power doesn't come from their stature or good nature, but the abilities their creators gave them. Their trunk is their biggest asset, capable of differentiating smells from over a kilometre away, extending enough to wrap around something it's own size, and crushing through a dragon's scales. Small and deadly but an edible reward, tasting much like salted cardboard with a good soaking of lemon juice.

It's no mean feat to confuse a grande dragon – in the real world known as wyvrens – with any other dragon. To not notice that it doesn't have arms, only wings, that it is at least 600cm (19'8") with a wingspan of up to 2000cm (64'7.5") and that it rarely runs out of firepower is a sure fire method of being eaten by one. These hungry beasts rule the skies. The tallest skyscrapers are almost exclusively dedicated to this mob. Their fiery temper is as obvious as their race because few others can go from quietly arrogant to flaming fury in seconds. Anything they eat is either burnt around the edges or so burnt the race of the snack would only be identifiable through their dental records. No consumer challenges a healthy grande dragon.

Despite being one of the most prestigious creatures to kill in Shadow, they're not all death and gloom. They are jealous and it can do well to divert them with jealousy over a raging appetite. Pointing them in the direction of someone else in Shadow with a better home or an abundance of treasure may be enough to spare your life. With the flavour, texture and toughness of burnt leather boots, distracting them and killing them may be the best option of getting them out of the way – eating them is only for the truly starved.

Only recently having regained apex predator status in Brighton thanks to the latest generation, this race has once again proven that it is more than a delicious snack that hordes anything that shines. For fifteen years, the gryphons of Brighton had slipped to consumers after dozens of lights surfaced with little predatory skill and none of the bloodlust of their shadow cousins. The last six years has seen a dramatic reduction in light numbers, meaning they are no longer regarded as glamourised chicken marinated in jalapeño chilies. Their legendary arrogance is once again almost well deserved.

Unlike the conventional gryphons through artworks in the real world, these gryphons are only identifiable by having the head of a bird and the body of a quadruped. The big cat-eagle crosses are known for their strength, the wolf-falcon crosses for their speed, horse-raven for endurance, and countless more. Escaping from these killers isn't easy. They hunt for fun and they hunt for food. They leave injured prey close to death for hours and come back to finish the job when they are ready. They may not be able to take on a grande dragon, but they have claimed the rooftops that the dragons haven't.

This rarity can clear out all other shadows in the Birrie within three years. There is no creature that knows how to stop this beast in the water. Which, to the relief of many shadows and lights, isn't a half bad thing considering that most creatures in Brighton don't live in the Birrie. Clocking in at an average of 730cm (23'11.5"), it is best to wait until it is on land to take care of it. Its fish tail makes it fast in water, but stumpy horse legs on its horse body are only giving its predators a favour. The snake's head is the thing to watch out for while it's on land. Poisonous fangs can paralyse in seconds, and then it will take its sweet time to crack open its victim's skull and have a feast on what's inside.

This terror of the water is more than a little off. There is nothing to prove they actually are as cruel as their hunting methods. The consensus in Shadow is that they hunt exclusively to feed their appetite, unlike every other creature. There is no discernible difference between shadows and lights. Lights try to clean up any mess they find in the Birrie that would disrupt a future hunt, however, more than a few shadows have been noticed to do the same thing. Avoid it's teeth, avoid the water, and staying alive around the Mamlambo should be a walk in the park. If you can stomach the taste and texture of used motor oil, this snack can keep you fed for weeks.

Cannibals sound unfriendly at the best of time, so cannibals in Shadow have just gone up another level in unfriendly. These half-eaten bipeds with cervine faces eat themselves and each other without a moment's hesitation. It's a saving grace that they don't need to eat often and sleep for a day after a feast because they are brutal. Capable of imitating the sounds of other creatures flawlessly, they will cry out like a wounded bottom feeder to attract others into their trap. By the time you've started heading to investigate it's already too late because, even though they are on two feet and 220cm (7'2.5") tall, they are bloody fast. Strength is the best way to get away, because there's little chance of outrunning a wendigo.

Not many creatures in Brighton know anything else about them since they have only started appearing in the last century, but they have made a lasting impression with the few who have popped up since. Nothing less than an apex predator has ever killed one, and whenever there have been two at the same time, it was never for very long. The only known method for killing them is to break their neck or tear them apart because they seem impervious to everything else. Most shadows will relish in the taste of rotting pork if they've taken down a wendigo. They probably will never have to again – and everything's thankful for that.

These ugly boys and girls are a pest or one of your biggest threats depending on which side of the food chain you stand on. They aren't like other creatures; they have no survival instinct. Danger is a concept they do not understand – most believe they will never die. They chew on bricks, mortar, metal, whatever they can get their hands on when they don't have anything with a heartbeat to hunt down and kill. Their rows of jagged teeth make short work of their snacks and the furnace in their bellies melt everything that goes in. The only thing on their minds is mischief and carnage. Shadow is the perfect place for these beasts, and their attitude on something that could do more damage would be terrifying.

Bigger creatures can crush these bony critters in one blow, snapping most of the bones in their small, emaciated bodies. At a maximum height of 170cm (5'7"), they are only intimidating in appearance, not height. Unfortunately for anyone who has to deal with them, they aren't edible without teeth to match theirs. Once the furnace goes out in their belly, they turn to stone and that's the end of their happy lives.

TBA

Child snatchers are not very nice people, so it's only natural that nachtkrapps know a thing or two about not being very nice. They're much better adapted to Wonder than they ever could be to Shadow, and yet, they still have enough bite to their bark to be treated with some deal of respect from other creatures. These overgrown ravens, the size of a ten year old child, are fiendishly quiet. Their red masks are like steel and capable of slashing and stabbing anything that gets near. Oh yes, nachtkrapps were only ever designed to scare little kids back into bed.

Contrary to basic Shadow logic, these birds prefer order to chaos. They like things going their way and can't stand to have a mess. Once they are done slaughtering their meal, they will neatly stack the remains into a pile on the side of the road so no one will trip over them. Anything that offends their delicate sensibilities opens themselves up to a lecturing. This is perhaps the best time to strike at them as their guard is down. The mask is entirely inedible, however, the rest of them tastes like cream that has been left out in the sun too long.

TBA

It is best to get rid of this misconception upfront: as beautiful as their human forms usually are, the harpy true form is vile. Harpies are hags with sagging tits, leathery skin that's pulled too tight on their bones, wings for arms, all vulture from the waist down and 150cm (4'11") tall. Hunting in committees, they yell at each other over a snack if they manage to take one down. They do not mourn the loss of a fallen colleague, but they won't eat it either. To them, the taste of cough medicine doesn't go down so well. Not every hunt is successful, and not everyone has something to eat at the end, but they are not cannibals.

There is no getting snuck up on by a harpy – they do not understand quiet. Their best offence is irritating other creatures to death. That's not to say they can't be deadly – they can be, especially in a committee – but they are more likely to badger and run when they are on their own. Working creatures up into a frenzy so they aren't thinking straight is part of their ploy to lower their prey's defences. It's a shame that that also makes the prey more likely to eat them.

Most things do not dwell too long on centaurs. If it wasn't for Bog and his position as a Councillor, they would never receive any real mention. The centaurs are not like the ones people know in the real world. They are not human from the waist up and horse from the waist down. The only part of them that is human at all is their torso. Their natural tendency is to be a herbivore, but that doesn't stop their shod hooves from trampling creatures in their way or grinding away on bones. It's just that they don't do it as well as most other things in Shadow and they don't know how to do it very effectively.

Most are dumb as a doorknob and timid as any wild horse. Their creators put only as much thought into them as they had to so they were scary enough to get a fright but not enough to really wet the bed. A lot of them graze in Almonte Park, picking up leftovers from meals that other creatures have spat out. They're crafty with their hands, though. If you want something made, they're the people to go too. They will want a favour in return – and favours can be lethal.