All posts by Bruce Priddy

Tiyanak

An infant sitting upright, its face is nothing but a gaping mouth, filled with row after row of teeth.

Angela reached toward the crying infant, softly cooing to calm it. As she tried to reach a hand under it to pick it up, the baby turned. Where a face should have been was a hole, filled with row after row of sharp teeth. It leapt on her, teeth sinking into her exposed neck in a spray of blood. Angela fell backward, her hands batting at the creature in a panic. A gurgled screamed drowned in the blood erupting from her mouth

Alternative names: Tianac, Leech Children

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Pocong

A human standing upright, completely wrapped and tightly bound in a burial shroud. Only its rotting face is exposed.

It came out of the trees alongside the road, floating just a foot over the asphalt ahead of us. The headlights of our car illuminated a human figured, cocooned in dirty-white linens. It wiggled and struggled against its prison of bindings. A decaying face, eyes bulging and grin wide from rot, peered from the shroud. Suddenly, the driver unleashed a gout of blood-tinged vomit and passed against as the steering wheel. 

Alternative names: Hantu Bungkus, Kain Kafan, Shroud Ghost

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The Jailer (Unique Entity)

There's only keys on one hand. It is somewhat humanoid, but the heavy locks on its back have pulled down the skin on its back, creating a slug-like appearance.

Lurch by lurch, it squeezed itself through the narrow hallway. A trail of slime on the corrosion-eaten walls and floor marked its passage. It was something of a man with the fact of an insect. Mandibles worked back and forth, and over themselves, as if it were tasting the air. It seemed to have a slug-like lower half. Only when it dragged itself closer could we that a curtain of flesh, pulled down by the heavy locks hooked into the skin, concealed its legs. Keys worked into the fingers on one of its hands clinked and clanked against one another incessantly.    

Alternative names: Low Xopolhiti, Lord of the Regents, Ruler of the Abattoir

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MOTHER OF RESURRECTION, Avatar of Shub-Niggurath

It looks something like a giant, hairless rabbit. A tiny head sits atop a bloated and sagging body. Two teats rest against its belly, leaking greenish-white fluid. Its limbs are vestigal and useless, also resting against the body. Under its belly growing a transluscent egg-sack.

The nethermost caverns…are not for the fathoming of eyes that see; for their marvels are strange and terrific. Cursed the ground where dead thoughts live new and oddly bodied…out of corruption horrid life springs…

– HP Lovecraft, “The Festival”

Alternative Names: Bearer of the Black Milk, the Foul Fecundity

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Agonists

A humanoid being, naked, hairless, and of indeterminate sex. Skin and muscle have been flayed from the head, and bone has grown over the where they eyes once were. A heavy lock hangs from their neck. Hooks driven through bone hold the creature's mouth shut. Above the waist they are naked. Open wounds criss-cross their skin. Sharp, jagged pieces of metal protrude from random points on torso and arms. On each finger is a finger-blade. Below the waist, they wear a loose and long rough patchwork skirt.

It emerged from the glowing, seeping wound in wall. A living, human visage of pain. Scars and sores riddled its flesh, too numerous to count. Pieces of jagged, rusted metal protruded from the skin, some bleeding around the base. It had no eyes, bone grown over where the sockets once were. Yet it somehow saw it. It turned its head toward us. It chattered its teeth, exposed from the hooks peeling its lips back, in delight.  

Alternative names: Afflicted, Sufferers

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Regents

A naked humanoid, scars, chains, and jewelry obscuring their sex. Other jewelry adorns their bodies, either grafted into their skin or piercing it. Their heads are hairless. A halo-like crown has been grafted into the skin of their head. Their eyelids and lips are held open with hooks.

Bodies upon bodies, writhing on each other. All thin, starved. Each had open wounds. None cared. It was a display of utter, animal wantonness. From the middle of that pile of humanity rose a naked figure. Anything that could indicate its sex was gone, replaced with thick scar tissue. Seeping sores and jagged wounds competed for space across its body. Grafted into its skull was a halo-like crown, tarnished, corroded. It spread its hands and spoke with the voice of a sow. “Welcome to Heaven,” it squealed. 

Alternative names: Hesychasts, High Ascetics

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Cthoab

A giant grub sitting on a man's shoulder as he kneels over another person, the man eating the other person

We could blame it. That only way to ever sleep again, to go on, to do anything. Otherwise, what? Knot bedsheets and hope the ceiling fan holds? No. It was that thing, bug, grub, worm whatever it was. That did it. That’s what made us do those…things. 

Truth is, it just sat there. Fat off everything we did. It ate what we fed it. It didn’t make us do anything. It just freed us of our inhibitions. Everything we did…we because we already had it in us.

Alternative names: Carrion Grubs 

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Giggling Man (Unique Entity)

A short, round man, shoulders bunched up around his ears. Sparse hair on his head. Eyes bulging from their sockets and a wide, lipless grin on his face. Naked except for a leather apron. Instead of fingers on his hands, he has thin tentacles with suckers on the tips.

Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee. Tee-hee.

Alternative names: The Dollmaker, Tashkent Ripper, Butcher of Accra, Highway 42 Killer, Alan Perry Nichols (possible)

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Yg’bh

A centipede like creature emerging from a man, shedding him like an old skin.

Alternative names: Feasters Within, Con-Rit 

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 Lightning Vampires

A long, segmented vermiform. The body is fat and round and the tail narrow, with a short fin on both the top and bottom running the length of the tail. There's nothing to distinguish the "head" of the creature, except for a hole at the front of it's body. On the underside of the body, just beneath the hole are dozens of tentacles, electricity arcing between them.

From the storm clouds above us, tentacles unfurled, reaching toward us. They would have been invisible against the blackened sky if not for the myriad brilliant colors dancing along them each time electricity arced between their tips. One-by-one the tentacles plucked people from the ground, their faces in frozen in pain screamed. 

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