Cryptids Do Lurk

[Vitalo]

Vitalo was still terribly new to the lands. He was foreign to their customs, yet the songs echoing from the mountains pull him closer like the rest of them. He is among many that watch her change, she is delighted by the season .. so terribly delighted that she changes them all. She has turned each and every equine near her into beasts. Terrible creatures with gaping maws and hollow eyes. His own body breaks in two, the sickening crunch of his bones transforming echoes throughout the crowd. He moves to cry out but the voice that escapes his thick neck is not his own... In fact it is different to everyone there. Each hears what they wish most to hear.. their mothers voice, a child calling out, a sweet song like the faerie's own. His song is a magnetic field pulling them closer, and suddenly he has the hunger for blood boiling at his lips. The wish to rip their flesh with his taloned fingers, to pin them beneath his misshapen hooves. He wants nothing more than to ruin each and every one of them there. Vitalo turns his horrific bodice to the crimson mare who created him, his mangled ears picking out each individual heartbeat on the mountainside. The faerie smiles at him, she coos and seems almost delighted with what she has made for herself. Ugly little play things that wished for nothing more than destruction. She has given him a clearly outlined purpose, pick out the weak ones... kill them. Nothing would stop him, the strongest mind would break beneath his hypnotic tendencies. he was unstoppable. Yet the faerie was a tricky one and cursed what abilities she blessed him with... The mountain was his prison.. and he was never to leave. His body would break under his own mind at times, his song too strong even for him. He was to stalk the forest and live in its waters... He was the mountains newest shadow. Its most murderous secret.

OOC: 333 words. Vitalo has changed into the mysterious pope lick monster WITH a twist. This creature is known for a hypnotic voice said to pull in those who are off guard , the creature is said to kill those that get close. I imagine it as some sort of goat sheep thing? The most descriptive image I got was a man with a goats head and sheeps legs but thats not grotesque enough for friday the 13 so there's his ugly little self. There is no known weakness for the monster so I chose to use his own mind as one.

[Kahvi]

Children are known to have endless curiosity and Kahvi is not different. The haunting singing lures her in like a moth to a flame. She is unfamiliar with the season and all the things celebrated. All she sees and hears sends shivers down her spine, a little fright but not enough to paralyze her in fear. Instead it excites her, and she watches with wide, amazed eyes.

First her attention is on the fairy, than on all those around her. ”Oh.” They start to change and before long she too joins the party.

Muscles and tissue shift under her skin, filling her out in all the right places, even though she’s only a baby. It makes her look more mature and feminine too, and sickly appealing for her young age. Kavhi shudders and gasps for air, her blue – no, they aren’t blue anymore, silver instead – eyes squeezing shut. At the same time, her transparent wings lose their feathers and the structure of the bones bends and twists. Gone are the feathers and instead she now supports leathery wings. Each end decorated with a sharp spike. No longer transparent, they are blue like the night sky and the ends fade to match the silver of her eyes.

Next are the horns, that start growing from her forehead close to her ears. They curl back first, only to bend forward and have the ends point backwards again. Like her wings, they are navy blue fading to silver. At the same time the hair of her tail has fallen out, leaving an almost black tailbone behind. It starts to grow, getting longer as her navy blue tail grows. It ends with a spade, once again silver colored. Her hooves have split, cloven now like a goat’s.

Those only sum up the visible physical changes. Inside she carries a new organ, a soavik, to store collected sexual energy. Since it’s empty, it hurts. Instinctively she expands her hold towards the horse besides her, luring the female in to her. The hold sparks attraction between them and with a light touch of her muzzle Kahvi sends pleasure into the mare’s body. She aches for her touch, her attention, which she gets in a wave of pleasure. And when she looks good, she sees the golden aura of the sexual energy and without hesitation the navy blue filly pulls it in to still her – sexual – hunger.


OOC:
400 words.
Kahvi turned into a Succubus. She grew ram horns, leathery wings (think dragon like), cloven hooves and a devil’s tail. She also has another organ to store the sexual energy she feds on. When the 'soavik' is empty, she's weak and sickly. Her mental abilities are to place a hold on another being – without that being noticing – to make them more willing and she can ignite emotions such as desire and pleasure by touch. For either of those she'll need strenght and concentration.


EDIT:
Forgot she already had wings, fixed that XD.

[rapt]

there is a dream in the space between the hammer and the nail ------ the dream of about-to-be-hit, which is a bad dream ------------ but the nail will take the hit if it gets to sleep inside the wood forever A riddle: when is a monster not a monster? He is no longer Rapt, but something other. He elongates, limbs stretching like rubber, and it should hurt, but it doesn’t – his body shifts like it’s long been meant for this. His features melt, and distort, as if his bones have turned to wax, and he should frighten him, but it doesn’t. It excites him. He has never been a monster – he is a boy who loves monsters. His skin turns slick and rubbery, the hair melting away. A stretching in his head as horns grow, elongate, and he thinks again of that man, goat-horned and cloven-hooved, the only thing he’s ever loved. His tail elongates, grows barbed, and when it switches against his flank he feels his skin slice beneath it, the coppery scent of blood in the air. Wings extend from his shoulders, membranous and thin. He moves them experimentally, lifts a few inches off the ground. Hadn’t he always wanted to be remade? He certainly feels remade, now, made in the terrible image of beasts who serve old and insane gods – fitting. Somewhere, the fairy is laughing at her own cleverness. He opens his mouth to ask a question - why me, why now, why, why, why - but all that comes out is a high-pitched, gibbering noise, something maddening and strange, a language that he has yet to comprehend. He is a monster. When is a monster not a monster? Let it be, then, this is his new shape and his new language, he embraces it, he walks with a confidence he had never possessed as a lowly boy. He walks with purpose, even if the purpose is to serve an old god on a mountain that doesn’t exist here; to suckle at the feverish breast of a another awful creature. Fitting. Of course it’s fitting. If Pollock could see him now! He lets out another cry – this one almost like a howl – and he celebrates in this new life. He had never envisioned himself a monster, but now, he cannot imagine anything else. When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. rapt caius x else

from the cthulhu mythos, a nightgaunt is a thin, black, largely featureless thing with inward-facing horns, membranous wings, rubbery skin, and a barbed tail. they serve other, greater gods. weaknesses include dependence on stronger monsters and difficulty communicating.

word count: 359

[satire]

I think Bigfoot is blurry, that's the problem. It's not the photographer's fault. Bigfoot is blurry, and that's extra scary to me. There's a large out of focus monster roaming the countryside. We’re gonna put the cry back in cryptid, y’all. Buckle up. Satty is no monster, he’s a goddamn masterpiece. You’d think the jump from badly made piebald horse to less-badly-made simian-like creature of American folklore that is said to inhabit forests, especially in the Pacific Northwest (source: definitely not Wikipedia) would be harder. I mean, okay, they’re both a little weird and a lot hairy, and Satty has always moved kind of like a guy in a gorilla suit, and he loves staring at cameras and creating great American hoaxes, and never mind that Beqanna exists outside of America, I guess, I have never been made so think so hard about logically where it would exist will someone stop me. Also, both Satty and this cryptid share the nickname “Skunk Ape” (so does an ex of mine, but that’s another story). So Satty goes from quadrupedal to bipedal, and we all ignore the fact that quadrupedal is not a real word according to Microsoft Word, because heaven forbid I look up anything except this Bigfoot Wikipedia page. His piebald fur grows thick, like that weird bathroom carpeting some nightmare houses had in the 70s. It also grows darker, but we don’t have a simile for that that doesn’t devolve into bathroom humor and you brought bathrooms into this, Brenda.. He also grows taller, like the great redwoods of California, and his brow ridge grows, much like the eloquence of my similes. And his feet? They just get fucking big, man. Satty is no more graceful in this form than he was as an equine, so when he runs it’s like letting that bull loose in a china shop, except instead of a bull it’s like a 6 foot ape moaning and stomping everywhere with his giant fucking feet. So some small trees are knocked down, and the earth is full of these tracks that would make MonsterQuest flip TF out. He’s not perturbed, though. Like I said earlier (I think), it’s kind of a natural jump. Like evolution, except not at all. But ol’ Skunk Ape is here, at the fairy’s bidding until she realizes she made a huge mistake and turns him back into a regular old immortal talking horse. But right now Satty’s having a great time, just yelling and running around and really making a case for himself, acting a fool.

I'm uhhh....sorry. for all 394 words of this.

bigfoot traits: large, hairy, probably has claws. weaknesses: is always blurry.

[Ibelin]

She'd been alone a long time, preferring her own company to that of other horses; particularly that of stallions.  They were liars and brutes, and Ibelin had yet to meet one that would prove her hard-earned opinion wrong.  Yet, when the fairie calls a sweet song out upon the air, the blue taffy cannot even think of resisting its summons.  So she follows after it, her wing-feathers brushing against her body, until she is before the smiling fairie.  The pegasus wonders why she and other arriving equines have been gathered, but a tingling in her body distracts her before she can manage to get any words out.  Distracted, Ibelin glances down to see the dark shade of her coat draining away until she is a stark, snowy white from nose to tail.  Her wings, too, are caught up in whatever is happening to her; a shower of feathers erupts even as the skin and bone of her wings is pulled and absorbed back into her body until four limbs are all that remain to her.  The hybrid mare scarcely feels this sensation occurring, as a heavy and all-encompassing sadness descends upon her and thoughts of her lost foal, her Brighteyes that never had the chance to live, flood her head and heart for the first time in years.  There was no need for her to possess wings, she realizes.  She had to scour the earth in quest of her child, even if the search took all of eternity and beyond.  Somewhere out there, her daughter waited, and she would find her.   Ibelin turns away from the fairie, away from the gathering of monsters and still-arriving horses around her.  Tears slide down from both her eyes as she walks away.  Her tears no longer itch her skin as they fall down her cheeks, for Ibelin has become intangible, a spirit without a solid physical body.  Wait for me, little one.  I'll find you.  


Ibelin has become a Woman in White spirit, based after the legend of La Llorona (the weeping woman).   Obsessed with finding a lost child, the Woman in White focuses entirely upon her search, and does not do typical ghostly activities such as haunting a specific place or person.  Strengths include abilities such as super strength, invisibility, and teleportation, and weaknesses include salt, iron, and being unable to step onto holy ground.  (Source: Supernatural Wiki, ghost)

[Senneth]

up on the sun looking sad and beautiful She wakes feeling as though she is floating. It strange and exciting as she opens her eyes to a blurry sun. It's autumn and she feels cold, too cold to be normal. With a stretch and a yawn, one little arm lifting high over her head- Wait. Senneth looks at her arm. It is green an bumpy. The woman is now wide awake and proceeding to hop around as her eyes stand to tall on her head and she is hairless. -NAKED- She tries to shriek but all she manages is a loud 'ribbbbbet' before panic sets completely in. Senneth doesn't understand but all she wants is to be back in her horse form! (poof) The buckskin is restored... "What is the world...?" She attempts to understand before the sounds of geese heading south for the winter distracts her. She looks up, watches, and then- (poof) A fat, grey goose stands there with a dark head and angry eyes. Senneth can't believe this. All of this changing hurt as her blood, body, and bones mutate and shift. The mare lady goose slowly conjures the idea of her equine form and within a few mere moments, she is returned. Senneth nearly dies with relief and does not understand fully for she is not a gifted horse like most of the others...but suddenly with a bat of her eyes, she can change everything. A fox, a butterfly, a wolf. She shifts from one to another to another! The woman has never known such freedom in her young life. Gone are the tears and pain from abandonment, from the abuse. She could show them all if she wanted. Let another one of those bastards try to ruin her. A smile touches her lips as she simply conjures up the idea of a massive black dragon with deep blood red eyes and belly scales. The fire brews in her depths as she grins. She hopes this magic will never end. Senneth

Senneth is a shapeshifter! I wanted the poor girl to experience something wonderful for once.

Her weakenss comes in the form of her reflection whether it is a mirror, water, glass, ice. It reveals who she truely is and it humbles her and forces her to return to her true form when she looks into it or she walks in front of it.

[Ander]

So much has happened during this last year. The Taiga went down and together with his home, he’d lost his mother, grandfather, Polaris, all the others. It’s why Ander easily lets himself being lured in. It’s her song, the decorations, sending a pleasant hum through his body. Never before he’d had the chance to experience something like this. Many gathered around, an excited thrill in the air. Something was about to happen, but when it does, it’s nothing like Ander expected or could ever dream of.

The pleasant hum turns into a fire, which starts to burn deep within his chest. The feeling not entirely unfamiliar, but never before it had been this strong and it’s still growing. Blinking his rub eyes Ander snorts surprised and two puffs of smoke escapes from his nostrils. His fire was finally burning. And the fire wasn’t the only thing.

His longs burn with the fire, each time he coughs he spits some out. At the same time his coat gets scorched by the inner heat. First the hair is gone, then it is like his skin starting to melt, but only for a moment. Starting by his golden nose, towards the black of his coat, scales start to take his coat’s place. Black and golden pointed, with a pair of burning red eyes. Red eyes that hold a vertical pupil and allow him to see further than ever before. After blinking, he takes his environment in through infrared gaze.

His skull deforms, and Ander hisses in pain as a pair of horns starts to grow from, piercing his skin. When done, a pair of horns sprout from his forehead, looking like a pair of antelope antlers, only a little shorter and slightly thicker. Black base and golden tips. His teeth are different too, sharp and ready to tear through flesh. Another hiss is pulled past his lips – together with a small jet of fire – as the skin on his back tears, and from it, two black leathery wings start to grow. Thick bones, strong and muscled with a thin membrane between them. Black to gold. Last are his hooves, which dissapear in favor of claws.

The monster is hungry, the monster wants to feed, to feast. A loud roar has all those around them frozen, either paralysed by fear, or simply held due to an invisible force.

OOC:
394 words
Ander turned into a dragon like creature. Has scales all over his body, black with golden points. To go with the look he grew a pair of black antilope horns with golden tips and black dragon wings with golden tips. His eyes have verticle pupils and he has dragon vision. Also able to breath fire, exhale smoke and roar loud like a beast. His hunger and desire of flesh is almost unsaturable.

Weak spot will be the scales on his stomach and the transition from leg to stomach.

[Chemdog]

This is what you get for your curiosities.

This faerie’s troubling little look, the wryness of her expression as she flicks a wave of magic over the gathering group that sweeps through with eerie accuracy; it all makes him uneasy right away. Chem’s teal eyes shut hard and suddenly the atmosphere, along with much more, morphs into something different entirely. You had to watch her decorate, really? Look at you now, fool. Well, he can’t, but he can feel it most certainly. He is hardly any smaller, but shaggier, and a bit more…carnivorous? He laughs aloud with nervousness bubbling through his amused chuckle. If you don’t laugh, you’ll cry, eh? He stretches out to have a look at himself, compelled suddenly to extend his new front paws and unfurl his body behind him with a yawn.

Muscles find their place and bones restructure without pain as he settles with the sorcery that’s robbed him of his stallion form. With the reforming of his body, his mind follows; memories and emotions flooding violently and falling into his mind rapidly. His ankles ache, his ribcage, neck and muzzle feel tight, almost constricted. A recollection of shadowy figures and a twinkling golden chain, thin in appearance but what a clever trick it was… Fenrir growls and rage boils within his veins, froth forming at his snarling lips as he’s swallowed into his own memories of pain, betrayal & solitude. They tricked him and they bound him with their Dwarven chain, too strong for poor Fenrir – such a strong pup – to break from. They ensnared the poor wolf after they had raised and fed him through pup-hood. Gelipnir, this enchanted chain forged by the Dwarves was made of the sound of a cat’s footsteps, the beard of a woman, the roots of mountains, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird… And Fenrir could not escape it. The metallic taste of Tyr’s blood coats his tongue as if it were seconds ago that he severed the God’s hand from its wrist socket. A wave of loneliness trickles down his spine as he throws his massive head back with a long, somber howl from deep within the cob-webbed chasms of his sordid heart.

The son of Loki & Angrboda will break free one day and have his revenge, he’ll have Odin’s head in his jaws when Ragnarok consumes the worlds.

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words: 398


Chem has been changed into Fenrir, a giant wolf born of a giantess and Loki, the shape-shifting pseudo-God. According to Norse Mythology Fenrir was tricked and bound by the Gods with a magical chain then cast off somewhere to be lonely and kept far away from everyone because it had been predicted that all three of Loki's children would one day destroy everything - which did happen anyway.

Fenrir is a giant wolf, big teeth and stronger than anything from Aesir to Venir. His weakness is that he was able to be tricked and chained until the coming of Ragnarok when he finally broke free and went head-to-head with Odin, chief of the Gods, where he proceeded to eat him.

[Starlin]

She’s still half asleep, but the lilting tune rouses her, brings her to the mouth of the cave she’d spent occupying. Yawning widely, she follows the music, her feet taking her south. Starlin passes the cliffs, then the mountains, the hills, woods, and finally cross the river at the base of the Mountain. None of the stories had prepared her for the sight in front of her. The Reckoning is an old mare’s tale to the grullo filly and her generation; this world is all they have ever known.

Yet here it is in front of her, the mountain from her childhood fairy tales.

There are others beside her, she knows, but they are not important. Nothing is important except what is in front of her.

The Fairy.

Something happens, changes, shifts. The bright spark of magic had been soaring toward her, and she thought she’d been ready. Turns out she didn’t even have time to brace herself before it strikes her, knocking her backwards – though her feet seem weighed down to the earth. (In truth she doesn’t do anything but flinch.)

Black. Solid and Heavy. Nothing but blackness and then…light.

Blurred, soft light, seen from fresh eyes. This is a new one, Starlin’s mind thinks. How delightful. The grullo paint shakes her head as if to clear it, and the soft clink of metal is suddenly audible. It is loudest to Starlin, who wears the three rings in each white ear. It matches the gold at her ankles, bangles that Starlin recognizes as her Mother’s. Yet she wears them know, and she knows – without a doubt – that Mother no longer does.

Starlin laughs. It is a pure, bright sound, but the length and intensity is far from natural. Maniacal, eerie, abnormal. It is the crazed laughter of a creature victorious. With a small frown, a pair of purple wings erupt from her shoulders, vanishing in an instant to be replaced by a crown of antlers, and then a shifting from adolescent to adult, dark to light. This is the preferred shape, after all: glorious, well-muscled, and gold.

The djinni prefers this form to the weakness of the younger one. It knows now that the world has forgotten it, that the memories of trickery and mischief have been too long faded in the minds of the residents of Beqanna.

The opportunity for destruction seems endless.

It laughs again.


Word Count: 398

Starlin is a djinn, the un-anglicanized version of a genie. She can grant wishes, teleport, and shapeshift. She loves a good joke, and can be bound to a receptacle and controlled by whoever possesses it. She is also incredibly physically weak. She must rely on her wit (because her body’s energy is being spent on looking “perfect” rather than how she actually looks), and even a small fall could result in tragedy for the host body. The djinni would simply find another host if that were to happen.

[City]

The freckled mother thought maybe she had been far enough away from the shenanigans to miss this sudden clap of magic that wraps all that stand before the busy little fae. No such luck though and she too is changed like the others. She was just passing through and not at all interested in the behavior of a decorating little faerie – in fact, she usually stays as far away from the buggers as she possibly can because…well…this shit right here.

She groans and kicks at the feeling of her muscles untwisting from her cracking bones. Oddly enough, there is no pain at all. Even when her body shrinks a little, her toes split and horns start to break through the flesh between her ears (which grow and widen). She is an oversized goat, pearly long hair and two massive curling horns like a ram adorn her pretty caprine head. She is Heidrun – she knows immediately as she is always aware of things to do with her Gods, especially their mead making she-goat.

Over Valhalla she lounges and watches, nibbling on the leaves of her favorite tree, Læráth. A depthless cauldron is always beneath her swollen udders and the clearest, most delicious life-giving mead pours and sometimes dribbles from her teats and fill the cauldron each day. Upon her hind legs she eats for herself and all the while, perched atop Odin’s great hall of fallen warriors, she never runs out of sweet honey wine for the einherjar.

Of course Odin’s enemies could have her dead if she were not protected by him, by the magic of the hall itself. She is, by herself, not a fighting sort of animal. She is guarded by the same eagles and wolves that guard the hallowed halls of Valhalla. Day in and day out the battles bring new arrivals to be carried in by the Valkyries themselves. The new einherjar dine, sing, wrestle and of course – drink plenty of mead! Endless rounds for all as the cauldron is never empty, and Heidrun never runs dry.

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words: 341

City is transformed into Heiðrún the mead giving she-goat that sits atop the hall of Valhalla (Norse Mythology), Odin's hall, and fills a giant cauldron with the best mead known to man or Gods. She never runs dry and is always fed by her favorite tree. She cannot defend herself at all, she's a goat, but the guardians of Valhalla along with Odin, protect her.