"Gak! Cough! I just swallowed a bug."
Spiders of the moonlight, weaving webs of smoke, mist, and moonbeams.
Sometimes, someone is watching in the middle of the night.
Rats the size of cats, these insectivores are tree-top hunters. While they are useful to farmers and people, they are considered pests.
It is whispered at harvest bonfires that sometimes swarms will combine into a monstrously huge pile of Black Leaf Bugs, able to instantly stop anything it comes across. What is left explodes in a shower of maggots.
There are those as rich as kings but dress as peasants and worry not about funding. To visit their true homes one would see wealth of untold value scattered as dirt is in a hut. They know the monetary value of their possessions but they have long lost any true value to their owners. Experience is their currency and their curse. They dispense secrets of the ages as if discussing the weather. Few things have they not experienced so that very little gives them joy. They are the lost ones looking for new life while humoring the mortals around them.