Not long ago a friend suggested that my books required more monsters.
This friend had my best interests at heart: she thought that more monsters could just possibly induce the unspeakably brilliant director Alfonso Cuaron to option The Chathrand Voyage Quartet, despite the many & obvious reasons not to do so. Personally I favor a more practical approach, such as incantations and offerings to Huitzilopochtli. Still, being a proudly scientific epic fantasist, I set out to consider the notion. Do I have a monster deficit? You tell me. Here’s is a quick list of some of the creatures in The Chathrand Voyage that could reasonably be labeled “monsters” (e.g., invented and deadly):
FAIR WARNING: while I’ve made the list below somewhat oblique (leaving out most proper names), I’d still suggest you STOP READING THIS POST if you haven’t read the books and plan to—unless you’re very good at erasing monsters from your mind.
5000-year-old demon crocodiles
700-ft tall trees with mouths and tentacles
fanged, burning, baby-faced incubi who spend their holidays as sheep
giant cats used as mountain steeds
flame trolls that crawl from lava tubes
giant homicidal religious rats (TM)
humanoid electric eels whose viscera glow through their skin
red boars
blue mastiffs
8-inch-tall ship-sinking warriors
sea-murths
cloud-murths
devil-mages
exploding insect cannonballs
marine trolls
emerald sea serpents
hrathmogs soldiers
Thrandaal ogres
bird-eating cacti
man-eating mushrooms
flying leeches
sulfur dogs
Not included: various beasties who take the stage only in the final volume, The Night of the Swarm.
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