Spiritjam

A spiritjam is what remains of a wicked cleric or wizard, once a human, half-elf or drow, who died while flying a starship and left its soul behind. It floats as a sheer, ghostly copy of its old body, but its starlike, glittering eyes and very long, clawed fingers set it apart from other undead, and its hair hangs about its head like a misty cloud. It glides through the void with ease.

Spiritjams hate the living, star travelers most of all. They slip through hulls and lurk inside the walls, studying the crew until they choose a first target, usually the ship's starhelm pilot or captain, aiming to leave the vessel helpless so the others can be fed upon slowly. Striking from behind, each claw hit drains 1d3 Intelligence; a victim at 0 dies, and survivors recover 2 points per day.

They prefer claws but turn to spells when outnumbered or threatened. A spiritjam keeps only the spells it had memorized when it died and can learn no new ones; its level is 1d6+6. Its gaze makes anyone meeting it save vs. petrification or freeze in terror for 1d4 rounds, and it is immune to fear and petrification. Blunt weapons, magical or not, cannot hurt it; only enchanted edged weapons can. Its magic resistance makes it worse still. It is turned as special undead, and a dispel evil that gets through its resistance banishes it for 1d12 hours.

It senses life up to 500 miles away and anyone using a starhelm within 5,000 miles. Being undead it never rests and can strike in space at any time, but on a planet it is active only in the evening and only while stars are visible, so most stay in space.

They lair on moons or dead worlds near inhabited planets, watching ship traffic before raiding the lanes, and some pursue enemies from their mortal lives. Wrecked ship parts and victims' belongings litter the ground around a lair. Once settled, a spiritjam leaves only if driven off or if nearby travel stops. Highly intelligent and multilingual, many collect art and valuables, and a lair often holds one to three starhelms, usually damaged, displayed like trophies.

Killing is their only joy, done like a plague, without reason. They need no food and have no natural foes.