Molluscollas: Titan of the Tides

Greetings again, dearest readers, to my humble study. We have, at last, put the proverbial final nail in the coffin of that exhausting business of blood sucking beasts, if you would excuse my vulgur turn of phrase, and it is my intention to move on to topics altogether less macabre. Although the vampyre mythos allowed us an entry point of near universal recognition, in truth, much of the content of library pertains to subjects of much less general infamy, though, to the true scholar of this world's many wonders and horrors, no less vital for and deserving of study. The many crevices, crannies, and craters of this vast earth are filled with creatures of such magnificent and bizarre character, though the topic of today's discussion happens to reside deep beneath the surface, in the very depths of that great mystery, the ancient seas.

I speak of course of the Molluscollas, or the "Giant Tidal Sea Snail", an undersea enigma dating back to the foggy unknown of prehistory. These enormous mollusks, seemingly eternal in their age, were long mistaken for natural features of sea floor, owing to their colossal size and glacial movement. It was not until renowned oceanographer, Amphillius Finnegan, himself a member of the aquatic community and a marmen of great social standing, accidentally discovered their existence when he had the misfortune of attempting to build his summer estate on the side of a particularly large Tidal Sea Snail's shell, thinking it nothing more than an undersea mountain. This rather amusing anecdote should provide an adequate image of the sheer size of these nautical mammoths.

An early account detailing the habits and anatomy of the Giant Tidal Snail, including a small mention of the
Hooked Sweeper isopod. Taken from Vernon Trembley's  excellent Creatures of the Deep and Dark.

Tidal sea snails, in as far as we can tell, are perhaps the most even tempered and benign creatures in existence. They are exceedingly slow in all regards, but a certain gentle contemplative manner appears to pervade their every action.  They are also truly ancient, and it is theorized that even the youngest tidal sea snail is in fact older than even the most distant human civilization of antiquity. In all likelihood, these creatures are exceptionally wizened and thoughtful.

It is a great misfortune, however, that they are extraordinarily dangerous to be anywhere near, due entirely to their exceptionally powerful respiratory process. Unimaginable volumes of water are drawn violently and irresistibly into the tidal sea snail's breathing apparatus via the many, mountain-like spouts that cover the shell. This water is processed within the creature's viscera, and then expelled with incredible force, after which the process begins again. The vicious ebb and flow of water caused by the tidal sea snail's very breath is of such disastrous scale that their simple presence is comparable to a gargantuan, undersea hurricane.

This has made their study quite difficult, as approaching a tidal sea snail, even one of relatively small stature, is a dangerous affair. Even the strongest swimmers of the undersea world keep a wide breadth of these creatures, lest they be drawn inevitably into their depths.

One small, but fascinating discovery has been made on this topic. For years, scholars believed that living matter drawn into the tidal sea snail's vortex would simply remain caught within their depths. This theory was disproved relatively recently, providing the scientific community with not only a more complete view of the tidal sea snail's biology, but the discovery of a previously unknown species altogether.

I refer of course to the "hooked sweeper", an especially huge breed of giant isopod, found exclusively within the many orifices covering the tidal sea snail's shell. Although relatively small compared to their host, the hooked sweeper is the largest isopod in the world, and possesses unique anatomy to allow survival in such a strange  environment. The signature "hooks" at the end of the creature's appendages act as anchors, providing the sweeper with a grip so powerful it can resist the tidal sea snail's otherwise irresistible effect. Each of these hooks is covered with hair like follicles, as strong as steel chord, that fit effortlessly into the minutely porous surface of the shell, making traversal of the mollusk's interior tunnels no great challenge. Much like smaller isopods, the hooked sweeper scuttles back and forth searching for organic matter to break down and ingest, keeping the tidal snail's inner workings virtually spotless.

Although usually benign, tidal sea snails can become aggressively territorial under certain circumstances. Two in particular are notorious for this, and it is a great misfortune that both appear to have made their homes near areas of great scientific curiosity. The first, which researchers have nicknamed "Titanspout", has long prevented any series scholarly study of the ruins of Aquamentis, and the second, nicknamed "Ridgestalk", has made itself a major obstacle to the excavation of the Nautilian Gate, an undersea passage thought to lead deep into the interior of the earth. Why these two have chosen these sacred places as their homes is unclear, though it is in all probability a simple coincidence.

Thus far, I can say I am earnestly pleased with the progress we have made in this endeavor. Although there is a daunting amount of material before us, I have found this to be an occupation both enjoyable and worthwhile, if only as it has allowed me ample reason to return to volumes I have long left unattended. I cannot remember the last time I so studiously read Antonio Malaquia's En La Casa Del Sol Sinistra, or been drawn deeper into that ill fated artist Jinni Servidi's chilling encounters with darkness in Noctumundi, a volume of which I have already spoken at some length.

But now I have gone off topic by a great degree, and as such must close this entry. My dear nephew, Toby, has gone to great lengths to improve the quality of our illustrations, but the process, like the ancient vellum and papyrus with which we work, is delicate. I must say today's entry is a marked improvement, so I must pay gratitude to the dear boy for assisting with such dry work as his doddering uncle has chosen to immerse himself.

Until next time, dear reader, farewell!

-Scrivner