A yearly tradition of mine is to draw a baker's dozen monsters for each day leading up to Halloween. It started off with just the classic spooks, but has since gone on to cover everything from mythological beasts to literary nightmares to unsung creepy things I think deserve more attention.
Halloween '22
Tsetahotsiltali
Long long ago, men and women had a dispute over whether they really needed each other, and eventually split into two separate societies. Things took a turn for the worse when the women began amusing themselves with inanimate objects and giving birth to unnatural monsters known as the Anaye (Alien Gods)...
One such child, "fathered" by a stone, was buried in a cliff and left to die. But he survived, sired children of his own, and gained the name Tsetahotsiltali (The Monster Who Kicks People Down the Cliff). As the epithet implies, Tse lurked on a mountain path and kicked any passerby off to be eaten by his offspring far below, while he himself was safely anchored to the rock wall by his long rootlike hair. Tsetahotsiltali's reign of terror was brought to an end by the heroic Nayenezgani (Monster Slayer), who was able to doge the Anaye's kicks, cut off his locks, and send him hurtling over the cliffside, where Tse was promptly devoured by his own family.
Lightning in living form, Raiju have the peculiar habit of sleeping in people's belly buttons. Having a huge beast crammed in such an itty bitty space is the least of a victim's concerns as the raiju's master wakes his pets by tossing thunder bolts at them.
The Sluagh are a host of the damned that were kicked out of hell and have nothing better to do than devour souls. Usually the gruesome gaggle race against Death itself to the recently deceased, but occasionally the horde chase down fresher prey. Those targeted by the relentless revenants have no hope of outrunning them, and must either quickly find a way to hide from all those searching eyes or duck in the nearest building and hope all the door and windows are closed. One could toss someone else to the wretched wraiths to save your own skin, though such a dastardly deed would ensure you joined the Sluagh host when you eventually die.
The car was promised the freedom of the open road, not to sit in traffic for hours and to go in circles following useless directions. It WILL have that freedom, even if it means totaling every other vehicle and sign in its way. In its blind road rage the car chased after a train that "cut it off," which mercifully lead it out of the city and into the countryside. Perhaps the acrimonious automobile is finally happy out there...
After a breakthrough in genetics research many companies rushed to "bring back the dinosaurs" for fame and fortune. The closure of a certain island park presented an opportunity, but the disappearance of a corporate sp— I mean, friend, meant their rivals had to make their dinos from scratch.
"B.-Rex" might not appear in any museums or books, but it's still an authentic dinosaur all the same. What's that, paleontologists disagree? What do they know, they've never SEEN a dinosaur, just rocks.
A different company attempted to make designer pets, so-called 'Pocket Pyroraptors.' Turns out rushing genetic mutants to the paying public is highly dangerous to both owners and the animals themselves...
A massive mollusc with a knack for mimicry, the kraken's favored hunting method is to disguise its arms as a swarm of sea serpents to confuse its prey and to draw any defensive attacks away from its own body. Not that many other creatures could actually harm the kraken, but the colossal cephalopod didn't become the apex predator by taking chances.
The kraken is frequently colonized by sea birds and sailors who assume it to be nothing more than an island. A free meal is a free meal, but still the kraken wishes they'd stop doing that. Perhaps it could sleep underwater instead of on the ocean surface... but it loves stargazing too much to ever do that.
A priest charged with transporting the dead back home decided to temporarily resurrect the corpses and have them follow him on foot, unwittingly creating qi—thirsty zombies called Jiangshi. These hopping vampires (rigor mortis leaving them unable to properly move their limbs) can be stopped by placing a magic paper talisman to their forehead. Or by dropping a bag of coins which the ghoul is compelled to count. Or by making it look in a mirror. Or by holding your breath. Or by throwing rice at it, which will absorb the evil spirit. Or by knocking it over. It's a good thing the Jiangshi have so many weaknesses, as they are far, far faster than appearances suggest.
... what's that? The talisman is supposed to be done on yellow paper? Oh—
The Squonk is a not-so-fearome critter that lives in constant misery over its own perceived ugliness (but it is perfectly squonk-shaped). The poor dear always tries to hide away but its loud sobbing and tear-filled tracks makes it easy to find, at which point the crestfallen creature literally dissolves into a pool of tears. Perhaps the puddle could be coaxed back into a Squonk with gentle encouragement.
But probably not.
The cyborg has upgraded their body a great many times over the eons, to the point that the only original body part that still serves any real function is their brain. And even that is being held together with embalming fluids, electrodes, and tape, only ever prodded into a true living state when the cyber-brain needs the old one's perspective on something.
Some are horrified by the implication that the cyborg is effectively a new person carrying an ancestors corpse around, but both the meat and mechanical minds agree it's not all that different from keeping an old journal handy.
Orcs live in deep, dark, hidden places since they suffer from agoraphobia, their eyes are ill-adjusted to sunlight, and most of all they hope to get away from their lord and creator. The goblins don't mind fighting the truly tremendous tyrant's wars (the yrch are always up for a good scrap), but the odiously honorable overlord's always been frustrated with his handiwork and keeps trying to "reforge" his little uruks (they secretly doubt their resplendently ruinous regent even knows what he wants to make anymore). To make matters worse, the great ghastly seems rather jealous of the gorgûn's skill in crafting weapons and lofty titles.
An exercise in teamwork gone sideways, Arthur has difficulty remembering "he" is a "we" now. That the countless creepy crawlies making up his body have to be provided for, or else he'll start eating himself. Of course he can always get more bugs, and as best he can tell there's no central "Arthur animal" to protect at all cost, but still he was trying to become a better person. Even if he isn't exactly a person anymore.
Baphomet doesn't exist!
Or at least they want people to believe that. The goat demon feeds on doubt and skepticism, and plays a tricky game of getting people to believe in them so much they stop believing entirely. So ridiculously circuitous is this scheme that even Baphomet sometimes rejects their own existence, a dismissal that paradoxically feeds Baphomet.
The other demons wonder why Baphy doesn't eat a normal emotion like fear or anger.
The serpent lost his limbs over a "prank" he pulled in his younger years. While he has zero regrets and has long since gotten accustomed to crawling along on his belly, the snake has been trying to steal a new set of extremities if for no other reason than to convince people it is not "all tail."
Recently the viper's been approached by a small wyrm demanding his tutelage and claiming to be his (great-great-great...) granddaughter. He very much doubts that claim but appreciates a willing follower all the same.
