All posts by Bruce Priddy

Eye Drinkers

Tall, sickly slender humanoids, with crow-like heads. Their bodies and heads are covered in uneven, sparse feathers. Their arms are lined with larger feathers, forming rough wings. On each hang is a long, multi-knuckled index finger, with sharp claw on the end.

Darrell clutched his face, blood from his now empty socket gushing between his fingers. The now detached eyeball was impaled on the creature’s long, multi-segmented finger. It brought the eye to its beak and delicately plucking it away. Darrell thought he could see a shiver of ecstasy run through the monster’s feathers as it swallowed his eye. Then it took a step toward him. “What would you have me tell you?” it said in his voice. 

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Nothingness

image is of a fair skinned man falling into a bottomless hole

Alternative names: Hungry Mouths, Silent Assassins, Haq’yiq

It ate him! The ground ate him! It opened up right under him and he fell in! I can still hear him! Help! Somebody please help us!

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Slug Horrors

A humanoid over all shape, the body long and round, the lower half touching the ground, holding the creature up. It has thin arms and legs, the legs useless and dragging on the ground. Its head is a human skull. Fleshy eye-stocks emerge from the sockets amd extend high above the head.

More of the creatures emerged from the piles of brown, reeking refuse at the foot of the yawning god. Things that were once men, but their bodies stretched, distended to hardly look human anymore. Their limbs were thin things, dragging useless as they crawled. Atop their heads they wore the skulls of their old bodies, eye-stalks emerging through the sockets. 

Alternative names: Feces of Lhuaggoglug, Servants of the Slug, Guides of the Labyrinth, Mar-iggu

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The Eater of Children

A broken, jagged tree stump with a few, short, naked branches. At the base of the stump opens a large and gapping, wet hollow.

(Unique Entity)

It is something left over from the most ancient days. Not plant or animal or fungus but something else. If there were ever others of its kind, they are long gone. It alone survived the cataclysms throughout the aeons by learning and adapting. Now it is less a living thing now and more a force of cold, hungry nature. Its form is never fixed for long, always changing to better hunt and hide, thought it may wear one skin for millennia. In these final days it appears as dried, barren tree, its mouth gaping and desperate. Perhaps even this immortal being is coming to the end of its life.

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LHAUGGOGLUG (Great Old One)

Lhauggoglug

It forced its way into my sleeping mind, made my soul stand before it. Something like a monstrous slug, with rolls and rolls of blubber covered in a stinking slime that seeped from visibly open, gasping pores. Spikes covered the thing. Some of them dug into its rolls of fat, creating wounds that wept greenish blood. Two tiny, useless arms rested against its belly. It’s face. Oh my god, it’s face. For a moment I glimpsed something so revolting that even in my dream I felt my stomach revolt. But when I looked back, what I saw resembled an immense human face, yards and yards across. Two stalks with eyes emerged from its forehead. Then, it grinned, as it were pleased to meet me. 

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Serpopards

Serpopards

Beings of pure rage, it radiates from them in palpable waves. They have the body of a great cat, with a head topping an always swaying snake-like neck. The tension in their muscles can be seen through their spotted fur. Their leopard-like faces are contorted, as if driven to an agonizing madness by their unending fury. Slobbering runs from their fanged mouths from their constant roaring and hissing.  

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Urayuli

You may see a tree where there wasn’t one before, indistinguishable from any of the other conifers in this forest. Except maybe a bit too symmetrical, a bit too full and round. If you look away for a moment, maybe that tree will be gone. If you’re lucky. If you’re not, you’ll see two glowing red orbs opening near the top of this “tree”. And you feel compelled to approach. You want to resist but your feet refuse to listen. Too late, you see the needles of the tree are stiff fur as the arms you mistook for tree limbs unfurl. Then the mouth filled with crooked, flat teeth opens…

You may see a tree where there wasn’t one before, indistinguishable from any of the other conifers in this forest. Except maybe a bit too symmetrical, a bit too full and round. If you look away for a moment, maybe that tree will be gone. If you’re lucky. If you’re not, you’ll see two glowing red orbs opening near the top of this “tree”. And you feel compelled to approach. You want to resist but your feet refuse to listen. Too late, you see the needles of the tree are stiff fur as the arms you mistook for tree limbs unfurl. Then the mouth filled with crooked, flat teeth opens…

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Ningen

The immense white thing threw itself upon the ice. Flippers shifted, melted, reformed into arms and hands. The tentacles that propelled it in the water became legs and feet as the thing stood. It’s skin boiled, rippled and grew brighter as it strode toward us.

The immense white thing threw itself upon the ice. Flippers shifted, melted, reformed into arms and hands. The tentacles that propelled it in the water became legs and feet as the thing stood. It’s skin boiled, rippled and grew brighter as it strode toward us. 

–unknown
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The Hollowed

The Hollowed

To see them is to see the embodiment of emptiness. When they stand, they are taller than any person but are as comfortable on all fours as they are upright. Emaciated and lanky, bones protrude beneath thin flesh the color of filthy snow. A slight breeze will ripple the skin. Thin arms terminate in rough taloned hands well below the knees. Vacant, bottomless eye sockets dominate their face, along with a round pit where a mouth should be. They emit a constant soft, rasping howl, the sound of a quiet wind, the only warning they are near. 

–unknown

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People of the Light

People of the Light

A caterpillar. A little brown and black caterpillar, the kind you’d call “wooly bears”. In the dead of winter and cold as ice…Incidentally, you know, the old timers say that the wooly bear caterpillar is a weather prophet. If the brown bands on his fur are narrow, there’s severe weather ahead…This one, you could hardly see the brown bands. Tough weather ahead, that’s what the old timers would say.

Wyllis Cooper, “Northern Lights”, Quiet, Please, 1-30-1949
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