#strosities

Subject breed: wendigo

Notable individuals: Michael, Jack the Ripper, The Butcher of the Trenches

Shifted features and abnormalities: Claws ranging from seven to eight inches at adulthood, large teeth similar to that of a crocodile, thick blood like liquid secretion from forearms to claw tips and mouth that quickly evaporates when shifted back to human state, blackening of skin and loss of nerves in lower legs.

Passive traits: Strong immunity to most toxins and capable of filtering out anything from rat poison to alcohol completely from system within thirty minutes. An extreme hatred and weakness towards extreme heat and love of cold temperatures.

Abilities: A wendigo’s claws are capable of cutting through nearly any organic material with incredible ease though primarily for flesh and bone they can chop into wood with enough force and cut through fruit better than mosts house hold knives.

Dietary behaviors: A wendigo’s diet consists primarily of red meat cooked as rare as possible if at all when at common human restaurants. Non red meats such as poultry, fish, and pork is often cooked to it’s full extent however due to a distaste for such flesh raw and no dependency upon it. The biology of a wendigo requires a high iron diet which has lead many modern wendigo to consufe leafier vegetables along with their red meat diet.

History of breed: Wendigos are more prominent in North America than any other area in the world. Many original colonists of the continent had no idea such a creature existed. In the past it was common for many wendigo to consume large quantities of human flesh however this was not true with some tribes even going so far as to ban it’s consumption, sadly however they are far over shadowed by those that did.

Historical rivalries-

Ghouls: Wendigo have often gotten into petty quarrels with ghouls over feeding habits with ghouls preferring red meats either cooked full through or long dead and preferring other meats raw due to high bacteria. These arguments rarely end in violence however so long as wraiths or banshees aren’t involved which may then cause the ghouls to feel confident in attacking the wendigo.

   Michael pulled up to his bar around 2:00 AM, he wanted to make it early to set everything up for his night with his friends. As he walked in after unlocking the door and turning on the lights he noticed how silent it was, it was calm and serene, almost enough so to were he would regret not enjoying it longer than he could. The lights were set dim and the liquor bottles all accounted for at the main bar area. 

   With thirty minutes left until Rebecca and Dante would arrive Michael grabbed on of his favorite each ales from the main bars cooler and walked to the back freezer where the extra liquor was kept. He walked inside and closed the door behind himself as it could open both ways, he seated himself on an empty crate and opened his beer to drink it. As he hit the half way point of the bottle he began to talk to himself.

Alright people who read this blog two things one you are one of my top 5 favorite mythical creatures two gonna have a strosities spin off coming up soon possibly, it’s gonna be historical spin off set during the second retribution war, basicly the strosities equivalent to World War Two, if I do decide to do it. Just in case any one is wondering why I’m doing a spin off with only two chapters out it’s simple I want to build up strosities as a universe and putting out a few historical stories for it helps set the foundations of what this world is like and how it’s different yet similar to our own. Any who stay tuned if ya want and if ya don’t well I mean I can’t force you and even if I could why would I want to I’d rather have my stories read by a few people who enjoy it and tons of people who read because I made them so.

   Michael awakens in his bed same as the last day only to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He recognizes the ringtone as one of his friends, a rougarou by the name of Rebecca, rather blunt with her words and incredibly perverted the two of them have been friends for years. The phone rings as Michael tries to fall back to sleep as Rebecca knows he get’s out of bed late thinking about all the times she’s had drinks thrown in her face by men and women alike for her perverted actions at bars, he laughs himself to sleep. thirty minutes later however he awakens again to the same ringtone this time answering “Victor’s bakery home of the biggest and best eclairs in town how can I help you... you know damn well I’m always up for some drinks... what do you mean special occasion?... No! that is the one thing you know I won’t drink too... I don’t care if it’s been three years I’m over it! you should try it sometime... No!” he hangs up and slams his phone on to the end table hoping to fall back to sleep despite the noticeable change in his mood.

   Michael wakes up about three hours later at 3:28 pm. He gets himself out of bed and walks over to his kitchen to prepare a steak for himself. With all his chosen spices picked from his cabinet and his pan heated and greased he sears it for a few seconds on each side, just enough to get the flavors of the seasoning into it. As he mumbles to himself at the table he can’t stop thinking about what Rebecca and him talked about on the phone. “Three years, yea that’s nothing compared to the six I went through.” He chews his near raw steak. “Sometimes I wish I could go back to it, just keeping it a secret like I use to.” He cuts himself another slice and continues to mumble “I wish I never made that promise to never do it again, I wish I never even told them about it, that I never stopped.” He finishes and sits on his couch in front of his T.V. in silence.

   The cell phone rings again from in his bedroom. Michael walks over to it to find it’s Rebecca again, reluctantly he answers. “What?... It’s fine... yea I’ll have some drinks with you and Dante after hours at my bar, still charging full price though... Yea I know I’m a cheap ass but I own a fucking business what the hell do you expect... alright but let’s get one thing straight I’m not drinking to celebrate no matter how many years I go without it... Why? because to me it ain’t something I’m proud of... It was fucking morphine Rebecca! I’m sorry but I don’t look at those years as something to celebrate even if they are over... They were Hell sweet blissful Hell and I don’t know if I should regret that I started it or ended it... You have no idea... What it’s like to be a fucking wendigo, to have your claws ripped out by human parents, to be looked at like a freak and murderer by humans and strosities alike. No matter what I say it won’t change for me and same goes for whatever you say about... It’s fine, I’m sorry I went off like that... No no it’s not your fault.” A brief silence passes over the two “First rounds on me alright?... cool see ya there at around three... bye” Michael hangs up his phone and prepares for the night ahead.

   A man named Michael wakes up in his bed at his house and begins the daily struggle of getting up for the day. He walks over to his bathroom and brushes his teeth in the mirror and checking the time on his clock. “2:47 pm” he says to himself “That should be early enough to drink.” as he begins to walk over to his fridge. He cracks open a new bottle of peach schnapps and begins to chug a little over half the bottle “Damn I wish this shit actually did something to me more than a light buzz.”

   Michael proceeds to turn on his television and flips it over to the news. The anchorman begins to describe a small gang fight between a human supremacy gang and a group of ghouls “Yep definitely early enough to drink” as he slugs down the rest of the bottle. He surfs the channels hoping to find some good news or at least a decent cartoon to watch but as always it’s all crap news and low brow fart jokes. So he does as he always does, watch the same B grade 80s horror flick on DVR for the twentieth time in a row.”Censored versions for TV always blow compared to the original.” as again he talks to himself while watching his movie.

   The credits roll as he rises from his couch to check the time once more “5:26 pm... holy shit it’s happy hour!” he then gets in his car and starts it up preparing to go to the only bar in town to openly serve humans and strosities alike, the one he owns. He still pays full price as to not blow through his funds for the business itself as owing money to yourself is rather unpleasant. The doors open and the jukebox plays as he steps in and walks to the bar before shouting out to it’s tender “Hey Dante over here you blood sucking son of a bitch!”. The tender turns to Michael “Hey Michael whats up ya blood thirsty psychopath. How ya doin?” Dante exclaims with vigor in his eyes and shaker in his hands “I’d be a hell of a lot better with some rye on the rocks.” Michael replies. The two exchange some words and Michael sips his whiskey.

   After several more rye on rocks and numerous beers Michael decides it’s time to go, he says his goodbyes to Dante and some patrons of the bar and steps outside. He starts up his car being immune to the more detrimental effects of alcohol and sits in it with the air blowing in his face. He breaths a bit before finally driving his way home and stopping at a police checkpoint. The officers ask if he’s been drinking and he answers honestly and hand them his ID, the officers look in both shock and surprise “So you’re a wendigo huh?” one of them asks.

“Yes sir that a problem”

“Not at all just wondering how someone could smell like they bathed in scotch and still act completely normal, I know a blood test won’t show anything in your system so you’re free to move on.”

“Thank you officer, have a nice night and stay safe, oh and don’t worry most of us don’t really bite”

The office let out a nervous laughter and wave Michael on. Once home he changed into a pair of shorts and dull white t-shirt before checking the fridge for a late night snack. He pulled out a raw steak and began to eat it with a knife and fork from his kitchen drawer. After his meal he went to his room and laid calmly in his bed staring at his ceiling fan. After about an hour or so of lying in the dim light he shut off all his lights, took his shirt off, and went to bed hoping as always that tomorrow would bring good news... or at least some decent cartoons.

Viewpoint: 1st person,

Character: Michael

   Hey there name’s Michael and I’m a strosity which is short for monstrosity which is short for freak of fucking nature that everyone and everything seems to hate and or fear... My kind come in many different I guess you could say breeds we’re effectively the same species as humans just different, kind of like dogs and wolves or cats and lions. Some breeds of strosities consist  of ghouls and they’re sub-types wraiths and banshees, blood drinking Chupacabra, Venomous gorgons, and many others each with their own unique features when shifted.

   Shifting is essentially when we reveal our true form, our teeth, claws, fur, scales, and whatever else we may have we bare out in the open. This also allows us to use our unique biological adaptations such as gorgona paralyzing venom or a banshees hellish screaming. There also used to be a trend known as “disarming” it was legal for much of my youth essentially a parent with a strosity child from having strosity in their family lineage could force their child to shift and remove “dangerous” features they may have such as claws, fangs, or even causing a concussion to inhibit non physical attributes such as with wraiths. The damage would repair after twenty five to thirty days however. I know of this as my human parents did such to me ripping my claws out every month even after the practice was banned. I spent the rest of my youth in a orphanage.

   Strosities also have varying diets depending on our breed, werewolves eat hearts to strengthen their’s as it took place of their liver and they are very prone to metal poisoning especially from silvers.Ghouls eat post rigor mortis flesh as the bacteria strengthens their immune systems along with caramelized sugars found in well done red meat and bacteria found in raw poultry, fish, and pork. I myself am a wendigo my diet is centered around iron I eat large quantities of red meat such as beef or lamb and in the past my kind often fed upon human flesh though I’ve never had it I can say I much prefer peaches.

   Humans aren’t always kind to us due to our history of grave robbing, murder, and cannibalism even though we fought along side them in the reclamation and retribution wars and most of us don’t perform those practices anymore. BEing a wendigo doesn’t help either with being recognized as the deadliest creature on the planet aside from black mist and hell screech wraith and banshee mutations. However I don’t hate people I mean how can I blame them? I litterally sweat a chemical that looks, smells, feels, and even tastes like blood from my arms and mouth when I shift not to mention the fucking claws. No I don’t hate humans, disarmer activists, anti-strosity gangs, and assholes strosities with superiority complexes over others and humans I fucking hate.