The cynocephaloi of the wastes beyond the river's reach
Once an amazonian queen and her harem, the cynocephaloi were struck low for cannibalism.1 She and they are long dead—the ones killing you now are suffering for the sins of others. They are cursed with a wasting sickness: sickly thin, no matter how much they eat; narrow and emaciated. Oftentimes they eat you alive, unbothered to check whether or not you died before they began chewing. They even eat your bones.
Their shit is white from the calcium, and they smear this on their weapons. (The “white arrow” of disease is a common metaphor in Urukite literature). Prey too strong or who travel in too large of groups to take down directly are harried with barbed arrows from the darkness. When your wounds swell and weep pus they will track you by smell across miles of desert wilderness, laughing to themselves. You can hear it echo as you flee. All they want is for you to leave your wounded behind—an offering to the desert.
Appear either in bachelor-packs of 3d10 (1-in-6 chance) or otherwise in packs of 10d10+20, led by one matriarch—the males are her children and her lovers alike. Packs are always accompanied by 4d20 hyenas. Often found haunting battlefields and trade caravans.
Cynocephalos
HD 2+1
AC as armor
Damage as weapon
Morale 9, or 11 if he can hear his matriarch’s laugh
Runs faster than a human on all fours, especially across rough terrain
Those injured by a shit-smeared weapon must roll fortitude or contract the weeping sickness. Symptoms—other than the pus-weeping wounds for which it is named—include stumbling, drastic weight loss, both excessive thirst and peeing, and listlessness. There is a 2-in-6 chance of death within a day. Otherwise, another save may be made each week: success means recovery within another week, while failure means a fever-addled death. It is impossible to know which variant one has contracted until the initial twenty-four hour period has passed.
Hyena
HD 2
AC as unarmored
Damage 1d6
Morale 7
Runs faster than a human, especially across rough terrain
Sometimes a man forgets how to stand on two legs; sometimes he forgets how to hold tools in his hands. He allows his nails to grow long past their beds, and they harden into claws; he allows his armor and clothes to be torn from his body, and coarse fur grows in their place. A hyena is not a natural beast: it is a man who has entirely forgotten he was once one. He has become a dog in all respects but one—loyalty.
Matriarch
HD 5
AC as leather
Damage 1d6+2
Morale 10
Runs far faster than a human and always on all fours
She is far larger than the rest, and far more dangerous. None of the human is left. Birth means clawing her way free of her mother’s womb—an act that inexorably kills the mother—and her first meal is her mother’s corpseflesh. She proves her worth by fending off the rest of the pack from feeding on the meal—if she can’t, she too is soon devoured by the rest. A successful meal means fast growth. Her nails become knives and her fangs become spears—those are the only weapons she needs.
She can perfectly mimic human speech, though she is limited to the voices of those whom she has already heard. A favorite trick is to lure someone alone, then to enter the firelight and reveal herself, human whimper turned to inhuman chuckle. Those who hear her laugh and meet her gaze must roll breath or either (50%) be rooted to the spot, quivering slightly (just enough to excite), or flee in terror in a random direction away from her.