WEAKNESS: Gullible.
TASTE: Unknown.
DEMEANOR: Pensive. Astute. Vicious.
Skreean Spike-Eared Vargax
SQUEEBLIN (Fuzzy)
Classification: snagger/gnawer
Two types of squeeblin have I seen; three to shiver your spine. There’s the fuzzy: cute and cuddly to lure you in for the pounce. There’s the softish: deceivingly vulnerable, it lies in the pathway like a toothy pillow. And there’s the verbose: grating insults spew from the thing’s mouth like lava from a chair. The squeeblin cannot be trusted—not with secrets or money or loved ones or shoes. Do not trust the squeeblin! I trusted the squeeblin (fuzzy!) and paid for it dearly. I did, however, manage to sketch this one before it betrayed me.
WEAKNESS: Pencils in eyes. Vain enough to want its portrait drawn.
TASTE: Like squeeblin.
DEMEANOR: Motionless. Assuring. Madly ferocious. Untrustworthy.
Fuzzy Squeeblin
SWEEFT
CLASSIFICATION: flapper/swooper/stinger/singer
How I love the swifty sweeft. How cutely they fly! How sweetly the sweeft swoops! When I was a youngish boy, full of adventurous longing, my brother and I, along with a friend, pacted, with full permission of my dear parents, to spend two days and nights in the woods near our homestead, pitting our wits and bodies against the elements for the sheer thrilling fun of it. For shelter we had only our tents; for weapons we had only our slings; for food we had only some nuts and a few strips of dried diggle. On the second day, once we had eaten all our supplies (foolish!) and were quite hungry (famished!), I spotted a bright yellow sweeft aperched on the branch of an apple tree, and although hardly believing myself able to hit such a tiny target, I knocked it from the tree with a single blow. It landed in a swump of sweefty feathers, dead. I held it in my hands and wept for shame. My father commanded me to honor the bird’s death by eating it, and thus I did, swearing never again to kill for sport—especially the swift and sweetly swooping sweeft, even if they do conceal deadly stingers in their tail feathers.
WEAKNESS: I cannot say, since it may be used against them.
TASTE: Like sorrow. And snottamus.
DEMEANOR: Innocent. Convicting. Harmless (but not their stingers!).
Sweeft
TAHALA
CLASSIFICATION: bearer/grunter/guzzler
Until my expedition to Skree, it was believed that tahalum existed solely in the Woes of Shreve, where they are put to hard work by the Woefolk in the Doonlands, chiefly for the transportation of humans (woe!) and bloodrock (woe!). A tahala is able to withstand the terrible heat of the desert sun, is strong enough to pull wagons and bear up to four riders, and can travel long distances without water. Imagine my dismay, therefore, when I happened upon a family (herd!) of tahalum grazing in the Plains of Palen Jabh-J! Had I taken a wrong turn and crossed the Dark Sea by accident? Had they transported themselves by some magical means or perhaps entered through a mysterious door (raggant!)? These questions have yet to be answered. Suffice it to say, these tahalum (seventeen!) seemed happier in the Skreean clime than any of the beasts I had seen in the Woes. They were, in fact, playing what seemed to be an animal version of the Skreean game zibzy. On my honor, it is true. (The younger team was winning by seven.)
WEAKNESS: Distractible by toy balls.
TASTE: Like sweeft.
DEMEANOR: Compliant. Lumbering. Competitive.
Tahala
THWAP (Garden)
CLASSIFICATION: biter/swiper/taunter/climber
No man or woman with a garden likes a thwap. No man or woman without a garden likes a thwap. No man or woman likes a thwap. The little beasts seem harmless enough until you’ve walked out one morning to discover that your totatoes and squish have all been stolen. I have watched farmers and gardeners from Dunwarg to Kimera and all the way up to Buve wring their hands with fury at an infestation of thwaps. The only way to catch one is to catch one, and that’s easier said than done. While the thwap will seldom bite or claw a human, they will throw rocks and vegetables at humans all day long, laughing all the while. Your best offense is to keep a big white dog to woof the thwaps into submission. Another offense is to not garden.
WEAKNESS: Dogs. Slingshots.
TASTE: Like yimp.
DEMEANOR: Speedy. Self-assured. Unrelenting in mockery.
Garden Thwap
THWAP (Mustachioed)
CLASSIFICATION: poser/snatcher/shaver
The mustachioed thwap is, among thwap-kind, the most vain. They steal, then they preen; steal, then preen; scurry, then preen. And who can blame them? Many times I have grown my lip hair long, only to fail to appear as dashing (handsome!) as the mustachioed thwap. I attracted this one to my sketching post by holding up a looking glass for seven hours. By the time my sketchery was complete, there were seventeen other male thwaps in line to pose.
WEAKNESS: Fashion.
TASTE: Exquisite.
DEMEANOR: Easygoing. Charming. Self-absorbed.
Mustachioed Thwap
THWAP (Tailhanded)
CLASSIFICATION: stealer/dodger/biter/climber
My service to the common citizens of Aerwiar was, I reckoned, to seek out the various malignant or benign animals, to classify, to discern, to sketch, and most of all, to warn. I did not expect to be a discoverer of species unbeknownst to even the sagest of naturalists! But a discoverer I am (unwittingly!), for this creature is so odd, so inexplicable, so unbelievable, that I hesitate to include it here for fear of invalidating the rest of my research. But as surely as I spotted the Skreean tahala herd, as surely as I spotted the glaggish troll, as surely as I had my hand gobbled, my flank antlered, my toe gnawed, my belly burrowed, and my senses rockroached, I tell you, this creature exists! Only one traveler showed any sign of recognition when I described (hesitantly!) this creature’s likeness, and that traveler told me he had seen such horrors deep in the Blackwood, east of the Green Hollows. If he jested not, then I understand not how this creature came to live along the edges of the Linnard Woodlands, yanking totatoes from the vine with giggles as mischievous as my grandmother Rebah’s—with its tailhand! I only saw the one. But it was enough.
WEAKNESS: Unknown.
TASTE: Unknown.
DEMEANOR: Impish. Gleefully roguish. Roguishly cute.
Tailhanded Thwap
THWAPPERFLY
CLASSIFICATION: leaper/flapper
Such beauty! Such corpulence. In the spring of the year, thwapperflies migrate from the southern Stony Mountains all the way to the Sleegrin Mountains, stopping along the way to munch leaves, flap wings, and hoard crunchibles in their stretchy (warm!) belly pouches. I spied one after a pleasant morning in Erwail, on the shores of Lake Jemanda, where in a café I happened upon a young maiden of great pulchritude, who stole me away to a secluded stonegrove and listened to my poetry for hours. We spotted the thwapperfly aperched on the trunk of a plumyum tree, whereupon it flapped, leapt, and crunched, as pleased by my poems as the Erwailian maiden (very!). So enraptured was I by this little creature as I sketched it that I noticed not the maiden’s dissatisfaction with my inattention. When I turned to display to her the sketch, I found her not. I did find her, however, on the way back to the village, set upon by a gunkee—a misfortune for which she blamed me later. Alas, though I rescued her, I had become to her undesirable in the extreme, and we parted ways on the shores of Jemanda. Let the reader beware: though the thwapperfly may seem harmless, I believe the specimen I sketched was devious in its intent, for it sabotaged my happiness with the maiden. How else is one to explain its appearance at that very spot at that very instant on that very day? How else to explain the now-obvious malicious glint in its eye? At least I have the sketch to remember the one lady in Aerwiar who enjoyed my poems.
WEAKNESS: Hammers.
DESTRO
YS: The happiness of others.
TASTE: Like thwap stew with a hint of luminescent wing seasoning.
DEMEANOR: Smug.
Thwapperfly
TOE NIBBLER
CLASSIFICATION: nibbler/sniffer/skitterer
Shall I ever dance again? Once, I knew how to pomple a wayglis—with complete spins, leaps, splits, and tippies! The band leader shouted, “Pomple a wayglis!” and the dance floor was mine to command. But now, alas, I must nurse my bean brew in somber sorrow while the others dance beneath the moon. All because of that blasted toe nibbler. There is little to tell. I awoke, felt an odd tugging sensation in the footish region, removed my leg from my bunk, and beheld the toe nibbler living up to its name. He had already finished off toes Pinky and Middle, and it was moving greedily on to Long when I squished it flat. Luckily, I captured another one in my boot (which I had to refit for my half foot!) and sketched it for you, dear reader, that you might retain your wayglis pomplery (if you have it!).
WEAKNESS: Stomping.
TASTE: Like tahala.
DEMEANOR: Squashed and prone (hopefully!).
Toe Nibbler
TOOTHY COW
CLASSIFICATION: creeper/crawler/squatter/chewer/gnawer/licker/gazer/sneaker/leaper/lie-in-waiter/human-hater/spitter/lurker/leaker/grinder/finder/dragger/blinder/clencher/binder/wrencher (of innards)/muncher/grinner/flexer/scraper/digester/chaser/pouncer
I ran for hours, dodging between glipwood trees, ducking under flangs of moss, leaping gullies (rockroach!) and hovels (digtoad!) to escape this ravenous horror. Words fail me. Fooglemumplivibnitrungl. Especially that one. Thank the Maker, my feet (partial!) did not fail me on the day the toothy cow pursued me (hotly!) through the forest. The rangers had told me that they had subdued the cows and horned hounds and bomnubbles that season, so I hoped to traverse the wood ungobbled. But as I haunched in a splay of roots to sketch a preening gambloat, my skin prickled with the deep and knowing knowledge that I was being watched—nay, appraised for gobbling by some hungering beast. I turned in time to see the toothy cow peering wickedly from behind a tree. Charge it did, and ran did I. For hours. Only after I slipped into a hollow log and smeared myself with the insect excretions therein (stinky!) did the cow abandon its hunt. I sketched heroically. There is little to be said of the toothy cow except that if you see one, you will probably think, Fooglemumplivibnitrungl. And it will probably be your last thought.
WEAKNESS: None.
TASTE: Like toe nibbler.
DEMEANOR: Wicked. Gloating. Sinister. Arrogant. Shameless. Brazen. Heartless.
Toothy Cow
TRICORN
CLASSIFICATION: galloper/pose-striker/good-fortune-bequeather
Rumors abound the world over that the tricorn exists, and numbered among the defenders of its existence are kings of Torrboro, Crith, and Anniera, as well as travelers, adventurers, and kettlesmiths galore—but for some reason this majestic creature dwells primarily in the realm of myths and legends. I believed it existed. At least, I thought I did. But when, in a pool of light among the woody foothills of the Stony Mountains, I saw the tricorn itself, I knew my belief till that moment to have been mere wishful thinking. Tears sprang to my eyes. My throat constricted. My hands were scarcely able to hold my pencil. Among all the hungering monsters of Skree, there was this one beautiful animal striding the land, imparting peace and light to all who saw it—and after all my suffering, my loneliness, my doubt, it had chosen to bless me with its appearance. Beware, reader, of the beasts of Aerwiar, but remember (remember!) that among all the toothy and ravaging frights, the tricorn haunts the land, reminding those of us with missing hands and toes that there is beauty unbidden and grace unsought.
WEAKNESS: None.
TASTE: Irrelevant.
DEMEANOR: Graceful. Gladsome. Silent. Peaceful.
Tricorn
TROLL (Glaggish)
CLASSIFICATION: pounder/clencher/grinner
The trolls of Glagron seldom travel beyond their own borders, but this one was, I surmised, a documenting traveler such as myself. He had a sketchbook and quill, and he sat drawing me for as long as I drew him. It is always best to avoid trolls, since they will most likely pound you to death or stenchate your consciousness with their odor (foul!). In this case, however, I thought it best to endure for the sake of international relations, knowing that I planned to traverse the Jungles of Plontst someday. His name, as I understood it, was Gwayne.
WEAKNESS: Unknown.
TASTE: Unthinkable.
DEMEANOR: Typically brash, violent, and unsensitive. However, Gwayne (smelly!) seemed a likeable fellow.
Glaggish Troll
WEXTER
CLASSIFICATION: creeper/squeaker
How the wexter survives is a question only a wexter can answer. Armless and soft (very!), the little mannish mushroom lives on or near the base of trees, disguising itself as a tiny umbrella for some reason. Since tiny umbrellas are exceedingly rare, the wexter is wasting its time. It might as well stand out in the rain, waiting for a gryfendril to swoop and swallow for all the trouble they take just to stand very still on the slope of a tree trunk and be swallowed by whoever happens to spot them (me!). They taste particularly good with roast gulpswallow and a dash of hozbit. Be warned: only fresh wexter is edible. Eat a rotten one and you’ll wake up in a donkey costume, declaring your undying love to a barn door. The barn door, if it could talk, would likely reply, “Silly man. You must have eaten a sploke of rotten wexter. Off with you.”
WEAKNESS: Anything hungry.
TASTE: Like toothy cow.
DEMEANOR: Casual. Deluded. Oblivious.
Wexter
YIMP
CLASSIFICATION: stuffer/muncher/nibbler
Yimps are cute. Yimps are also hideous. They squeal when stepped upon (who can blame them?), and they shout when snubbed. They rogle about in the tall weeds as if they have something very important to do, sniffing with apparent disdain at whatever living creature upon which they happen to happen. Be prepared if you are the object of the sniffing disdain, traveler, for if you do not show some sign of offense or indignation, the yimp will attack. It behaves as if it were bound to a strict code of dishonor; the moment you breach that code by responding to its snubbish snobbery with, say, good humor or, say, indifference or, say, sarcasm, the yimp will grow fiendish and fearsome. Its belly (not pictured here) features several glands that secrete an acidic and poisonous goo, which the yimp will distribute all over your flesh. So remember, if you see a yimp, don’t.
WEAKNESS: Shovels. Hammers. Traps. They are easily caught, as long as the catcher is wearing gloves and is offendable by rodential snobbery.
TASTE: Like wexter.
DEMEANOR: Condescending. Snobbulous.
Yimp
FIELD NOTES
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DESCRIPTION: ________________________________________________
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WEAKNESS: _________________________________________
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TASTE: _______________________________________________________
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DEMEANOR: ________________________________________________
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Pembrick's Creaturepedia Page 4
