Scylla

myminifactory

Ancient poems warn of a treacherous channel of water that death touches all who dare approach. Sailors must choose to risk their ship by sailing close to the monstrous whirlpool Charybdis or hug the rocky shoals where a creature, known as Scylla, Horror of the Sea, dwells in terror. No ship that dares sail in her waters escapes unscathed. Those who cling to survival whisper panicked tales of enormous black tentacles tipped with slavering hound heads that ravage whole ships to splinters with pitiless precision. Though it's her laughter they say that's most horrible; child-like, delighting in blood-soaked murder as men are dragged into the dark abyss. Poets have tried to romanticize this beast, providing some humanity to her monstrosity. They write she was once a beautiful Naiad wronged by a jealous priestess and transformed. Yet old poems say she was born this way, beget by gods full of jealousy and loathing; dropped into the sea to terrorize mankind. Would that Scylla had remained in the sea, but the nightmare has come ashore. Dragged by dog-headed tentacles, she roams our streets, plucks us from our beds, and fills the night with disturbing laughter. Scylla has come, and not even the gods can help us.