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

The Vampyre - A Misunderstood Misnomer

Although under normal circumstances I would not think it appropriate to begin with such an advanced topic, my nephew Toby and I have together come to the conclusion that, due to widespread misinformation and misunderstanding on the topic, it would be best to address the issue as soon as possible. If you are one of those students of the supernatural who has made it their duty to seek out the truth behind the myth, then perhaps you will find nothing of note in this passage. However, I implore even the most self assured vampyre experts to maintain an open mind, as the spread of hearsay and, to put it simply, lies on this particular topic has for years truly baffled this humble Scribe.

I will not give voice to the popular notion of the vampyre, for fear of perpetuating the falsehoods that have cost many an amateur adventurer their very lives, but suffice to say that the classical image of the blood sucking fiend, shrouded in darkness and mystery, is nothing short of absolute nonsense. It is truly a shame that the highly respected Mr. Stoker, for years considered the authority on the topic and author of perhaps the most prolific work in the field, did so wholly misrepresent the dire creature in question, though whether this deceit was an artifice of literary technique, or simple misunderstanding of the facts as presented to him is unknown to even a learned man such as myself. For fear of appearing overly critical of a well respected man of letters, and one that is no longer present to defend his work, I shall grant Mr. Stoker the benefit of the doubt and move on.

The vampyre as is known in popular culture, to put it straight to you, dear reader, does not exist. Though we in the know strongly frown upon the use of the term, it has long been used to describe any of a variety of man-like creatures known to subsist on the lifeblood of others, though outside of this similar inclination of the palette, many of these creatures share nothing. As for myself, I prefer the far more descriptive term "bloodlings", or "bloodletters" depending on which side of the pond you find yourself, as it reveals more accurately the nature of the creatures without carrying the baggage and misinformation of the more well known "vampyre", but I leave the final preference in nomenclature to you, dear reader.

Now, I fear I have dwelt too long on naming conventions, so perhaps it would be best to address the meat of the issue. As I have stated before, there exist a variety of blood letting creatures that have for years been mistakenly referred to under the blanket term "vampyre", though they share very few similarities outside of their meal time preferences. The primary differences between these major branches, of which there are two, manifest in their physiology, their psychology, their choice of environment, and even their method of ingestion and reproduction. I shall deal with each branch respectively.

Perhaps the greatest misunderstanding of the vampyre lore is the strong connection to bats, due unfortunately to the propensity of a single breed of the creature being known to drink blood. I have always found this truly saddening, as generally speaking, bats are possessing of quite a gentle character, many of them feeding on fruits and insects, and pose no real danger to any human being's safety, even if that bat is of the blood drinking variety. Years of unreasonable and undeserved fear and mistrust has made these small wonders, wholly unique in the animal kingdom as flighted mammals, into the stuff of children's nightmares, little more than halloween iconography. Do not fear bats, dear readers, for you have truly been deceived.

In actuality, the true bloodling is typically more similar to either, depending on environment and breed, the mosquito or leech, both famous blood sucking creatures known the world over, though not typically feared. Whether these similarities are due to some common ancestor is still unknown, though noted supernatural anthropologist Verdi Cavagglioni has asserted in his paper, Dark Creatures of Prehistory: Evolution of Evil, some connection, owing mostly to his discovery of fossilized remains, thought to belong to an early blood sucking creature. More on this later, perhaps.

The first breed which we shall discuss is the flighted Mosquitus, named for the similarities to the blood sucking insect. Bloodlings of this breed are recognizable by their long, thin limbs, bulbous eyes, typically red or pink in color, and long faces. Their limbs are covered in short, thick hair follicles, and although their faces are traditionally hairless, they are known to grow these follicles on their heads as well, giving them a somewhat human appearance. They are very large, usually greater than six feet, though rarely more than eight, but a hunched posture tends to hide their great height. As mentioned above, they do possess the gift of brief flight, and sport thin, irridescent wings that typically hang loose behind them, the inspiration for the iconic vampyre's cape.

A diagram of the basic anatomy of the
mosquitus bloodling, taken from
Arthur Revenlowe's Fiends of Fligjht.

Although the mosquitus does share the trademark bite of vampyre lore, this is in fact only a method of keeping their prey ensared. The actual bloodletting and drinking is done through a sharp barb at the tip of the tongue, which acts like an organic straw. Although very strong, they are typically quite light, owing to remarkably thin, hollow bones, which allow for brief flight via the blindingly rapid motion of their wings.
In terms of intelligence, the mostquitus bloodling falls short of Stoker's vampyres by a great deal, though they are certainly sentient and capable of both speech and thought. They are primarily concerned with the acquisition of their meals, though, and rarely display the level of ruthless cunning that made Van Helsing's hated foe so diabolical. They tend to prowl after dark, seeking solitary victims in remote locations.

As far as reproduction goes, I believe the mosquitus bloodling quite surpasses the traditional vampyre in terms of sheer grotesque terror. Depending on the season and the desire to mate, this bloodling may inject a small parasite into the bloodstream of its victim. This parasite finds it's way to the victims brain, and works it's strange magic to alter the behavior of the victim, transforming them into an incubator of sorts. At his point, the victim may become quite dangerous, owing to the need for fresh blood to nurse the growing bloodlings inside, and may engage in acts of unspeakable horror. Their mind and bodies no longer their own, they often turn to violence to sate the unexplainable hunger within.

On this topic, I have little else I wish to share.

The second main branch of bloodling comes in the far less biologically complicated leech strain, often called the "bloodwoorm." Bloodlings of this variety are essentially a hollow, vascular tube, vaguely resembling the shape of a man. These creatures possess no eyes, ears, or functional digits on their appendages, and move only through a process of blood hydrolics that inflates and deflates sections of their vascular tissue as necessary. Sharp barbs line their round mouth-like orifice, and vulgar hooks on the underside of their limbs act to keep their victims incapacitated.

A somewhat crude depiction of a
mature bloodwoorm, taken from
Dangers of the Shallow Marsh,
by the late Bernard Barth.

Bloodwoorms do not appear to possess any centralized nervous system, brain, or any other organ of note, and as such exhibit virtually no intelligence or thought beyond the seeking of warm blood, which they appear to detect via an internal heat sensor. Reproduction occurs asexually after a blodowoorm has ingested enough to fill it's appendages to the point of bursting. The swollen limbs then separate from the central tube, each soon growing into a new, fully matured bloodwoorm. The sight of this process has been described by the lauded poet Savellius as

"-an absolute conundrum of the flesh, enough to make even the most stout hearted man question the wisdom, and even sanity, of the heavens above."

In terms of defense against these nightmarish creatures, again the popular lore steers us wrong. Although mosquitus bloodlings do appear to possess an aversion to garlic, it is more of a mild deterrent than a true defense. A wooden stake through the heart will kill a mosquitus bloodling, but only in that a stake through the heart would kill most anything with a heart. The bloodwoorm, of course, possesses no heart, and as such does not share that vulnerablility.

The surest defense I have found against any and all blood letting creatures is to prepare oneself with a high level of blood toxicity, for which there are many potent draughts. The creatures have no tolerance for the stuff, and I myself have witnessed a mosquitus bloodling drop dead after only a moment of feeding on a gentleman that had just downed several pints of Devil's Draught, a rather devilish brew and one of my personal favorites. A highly toxic cocktail of spirits has even been known to be effective in exterminating the mosquitus parasite, though  the recovery process is truly unpleasant from what I understand.
With this, I hope to finally put an end to the long tradition of misinformation and confusion regarding the vampyre, a work that, as I mentioned before, I have long been engaged in, as seen in my contributions to Harker's Quarterly and of course The Night Book, both excellent modern sources for further reading on the topic.

Although not directly, on topic, my nephew Toby has urged me to include a further point of disambiguation regarding Servidi's discussion of night walkers in her epic Noctumundi, of which I possess one of the few remaining  copies. In her work, Servidi categorizes the heirarchy of night walker lords and ladies, ancient and powerful demons thought to come from the pit itself. Much of their manner and characteristics seem to overlap with popular western notions of the vampyr, and in point of fact may have actually fed much of the misinformed vampyre mythos. Make no mistake reader, that the beings which Servidi discusses with such fear and terror, and at whose hands it is thought by many she met her grisly fate, are far beyond the reckoning of even the most seasoned occultist and should not even be considered a being of this earth.

But this, I assure you, is a truly advanced topic, and one that deserves a far greater depth of study than this humble Scribe can afford in this meager space.
Until we meet again, oh seekers of knowledge!

-Scrivner

Introductions and Explanations

Greetings, seekers of knowledge, to the personal archives of Professor Bard Scrivner, a name with which those already well versed in the the scholarship of all things dark, mysterious, and usually unseen should be familiar. Perhaps you have read my weekly column on defensive hexwork in The Keep, or perhaps seen my work on vampire disambiguation in Harker's Quarterly. If so, then there is no need for introduction, as you are likely as prepared as possible for the wonders and horrors that await.

I, Prof. Bard Scrivner, am what we learned men call a Scribe. As a Sworn Scribbler of the Order of Ironquill, it has been my duty, and often my delight, to capture on paper all things mysterious, wondrous, and altogether defiant of practical explanation. This glorious vocation, to which I have dedicated the efforts of my many years on this mortal coil, has made my life one of careful, studious observation.

In my years of study, I have accumulated a great wealth of information on a great many topics, and consider myself something of an authority on all things mystical and supernatural. My library is home to such treasures as a first edition of Nathaniel Volken's A History of Hauntings: Ghouls and Ghosts in The New World, an unedited copy of Demetrius Cerebruns's opus, Darkness in the Hearts of Men: Of Human Transformation and Transfiguration, and of course, my prized posession, Vivian Waldorf's own personal handwritten copy of The Sorcerer's Art, a volume I myself have pored over for hours on end. Within my personal collection is perhaps the most complete and comprehensive congregation of occult history in the western world.

After extensive deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that, for the sake of posterity, it is my responsibility to digitally archive as much of this valuable information as possible. First, for ease of access, as  it is my firm belief that knowledge of the world around us is the keenest weapon against  evil one can have in hand, and an informed population is a responsible one. Second, in hopes of preserving the works of many great masters, as a frightful incident with a fire imp in my study very nearly rid the world of the last remaining volumes of noted demonologist Jinni Servidi's Noctumundi, as complete a collection of night walkers as I have ever seen. Third, because my always astute nephew, Toby, insists that print media is a dying beast.

As such, I will soon begin the daunting task of archiving the entirety of my knowledge of the spectacular, a herculean effort which I hope, when completed, will be the crowning achievement of my extensive career.

Special thanks are in order, first of course to you, dear reader, for your time and interest, and second to my nephew Toby, who has taken it upon himself to  manage the more technical aspects of the process which, despite my wealth of occult experience and mystical expertise, have proven to be a bit beyond me.

Professor Bard Scrivner teaches Advanced Hexwork, Serpentine Anatomy, Literology and Creative Writing at the Genevieve Gingerminge School of Practical Magicks. When not teaching, he and his nephew Toby maintain the East Coast's largest collection of occult and supernatural non-fiction literature.