Crypto0321

 Mod W and Mod Y

[crypto0321]

Cryptid Chronicler

A cryptid themed activity book for kids and adults

CRYPTID CHRONICLER

We’ve all been bored waiting for the next cryptid encounter. That’s why the folks at Bashful Yammering decided to make a fun activity book all about cryptids. In an effort to further educate and disseminate, we have agreed to put the P.A.R.K. Ranger’s Guidebook in their Mothman Bundle to help get this vital information to agents in the field. This Kickstarter is the only place to get the guidebook so act fast before they run out.

[crypto0321]

Cryptid Chronicler

A cryptid themed activity book for kids and adults

CRYPTID CHRONICLER

We’ve all been bored waiting for the next cryptid encounter. That’s why the folks at Bashful Yammering decided to make a fun activity book all about cryptids. In an effort to further educate and disseminate, we have agreed to put the P.A.R.K. Ranger’s Guidebook in their Mothman Bundle to help get this vital information to agents in the field. This Kickstarter is the only place to get the guidebook so act fast before they run out.

[crypto0321]

[crypto0321]

Rose City ComicCon!

Come join us September 13th-16th at Rose City Comic Convention! We are at booth #GG06 , next to all the celebrity guest happenings. There will be an assortment of prints, stickers, coloring books and an activity book!

Also, exciting news! The very first printing of the P.A.R.K. Ranger’s Guidebook will be available for the first time ever!

[crypto0321]

“She seemed like a nice lady. When we moved in next door to her, we noticed the house was one of those tiny homes and a huge lot that was mostly unmaintained. We never really saw her come out much but the kids in the neighborhood always talked about how sweet she was. Then, one Morning on my way to work I noticed the house was gone. Like I said, it was one of those tiny homes, so I assumed she towed it away or something. That evening was when we found out several of the neighborhood’s children hadn’t come home from school.”

-Laura Wojcik, 2009

[crypto0321]

“It must have triggered the security light in the front of the house. I think that’s what woke me up. Or it may have been the hiss of static.

At first, I thought the static hiss was coming from the TV downstairs. As I descended the stairs I remembered none of our TVs make that sound anymore. I could still hear the static. The sound was coming from outside the front door.

I looked through the peephole and I’m sure I saw a figure disappear into the darkness at the end of the walk. I noticed a small, old TV on our porch. The screen was filled with white snow and the static sound became deafening.

Then, when I opened the door, everything was quiet and that little screen was black. “

-Tony Barrington, 2019

[crypto0321]

“I’ve been driving long haul for almost 30 years. - been back and forth across the country at least a couple hundred times. I’ve driven through every natural disaster known to man: flood, fire, tornado, earthquake, hurricane, and blizzard. I’ve seen every bad decision a person can make when driving (and made every single one of them myself). But I’ll tell you this, that day, whatever rolled out of those mists was something I’d never seen before and I never want to see it again.”

-Terry Clearwood, 1976

[crypto0321]

“I’d taken the Olds Ferry a hundred times and never once noticed that awful smell. It was almost enough for me to see my breakfast a second time. There were a few others on the ferry that mornin and we all looked at each other, commiserating on the foul stench. Then suddenly the ferry shuddered and the most horrible grinding sound could be heard. There was a reprieve from the raucous and I could see a giant, black horn bobbing up and down. Eventually, that horn went under and never came up again.”

Tyler Peabody, 1868

[crypto0321]

“I love her. None of you seem to understand our love for each other is real. She understands everything about me. She’ll take care of me now. No more family; she’s all the nurture I need. No more church; her words are my new gospel. No more wife; she’s my only true lover. No more…anything. I’m free.”

Peter Anderson, 1956

[crypto0321]

“When we bought the house  we knew it was a fixer-upper. So we didn’t even go out into the backyard. I mean, we looked out the huge, bay window and both my wife and I agreed it was odd to have a swimming pool in Vermont. The price was right, however, so we bought it without giving it any more thought. 

My wife, Clara, told me it started that first week we moved in. She would find me standing next to the pool, staring at the brackish water in a trance. She said we would argue about the work that needed to be finished on the house and other things. I don’t remember any of it.

My wife is gone now and the house is falling apart. I spend all my time staring out that bay window at the pool. Sometimes I notice I’m soaking wet. I’m not sure if I’m eating anymore. I’m just waiting. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. Something deep down inside tells me we should have never bought this house.”

Timothy Van Patton, 1994

[crypto0321]

“We followed the blood trail for about a mile before we came across the boar. It’s throat had been ripped out like something took a huge bite out of it. The smell was awful.-probably the worst thing I ever smelled. At first, we both thought is was the boar that smelled so bad. Sun was going down so it was getting harder to see but we seen more blood heading further down the trail.

We left the boar and followed the trail. We was only a few hundred yards from the boar when the smell became unbearable. I had to cover my nose and mouth and Jimmy started retching. When I looked back to see Jimmy losing his lunch is when I saw it. The light of the setting sun hit it in a way as if to spotlight it. It was like the swamp took the form of a man leaning over the carcass of that boar. It’s head turned towards me while it reached down to grab the boar. Unnatural looking yellow eyes stared back at me. A powerful blast of that stench hit me again and I doubled over. When I looked up again the swamp-man and the boar were gone.”

Abner Jenkins, 1975

[crypto0321]

“For hours we sat at the table sharing stories. Everything from our childhoods to what we did this week at work. We ate, drank, and talked to excess. From my seat at the end of the table I had a view out the back door of the turkeys. We’d had turkeys the whole time I was growing up. I mean there was never a time we didn’t have turkeys. Some of the other livestock came and went but, we always had turkeys. 

A few more drinks and half a pie later it was dusk. Mom was up doing dishes and I turned to say something to her when I caught a flash of light coming from the back door. I squinted, trying to make my eyes adjust to the light. There in the back yard, looking directly at me was a turkey. It was looking at me with a sort of intensity. It looked exactly like one of our turkeys from when I was a kid. It had the same pattern of patchiness and missing feathers I remembered. As I stared, The light became brighter until the whole turkey vanished in a burst of flame. 

Startled, I knocked over my beer and started stammering.

‘What is it dear’ my mother asked.

‘The turkey it…’

‘Oh don’t worry honey. He’ll be back next year’.

[crypto0321]

“I had only been an archivist at The Interior Museum for a couple of weeks. Everybody I worked with warned me about working too late in the library. The warnings were always vague and seemed childish: like they wanted to give me a scare.

It was sometime after 9pm when it felt like somebody was watching over my shoulder as I read. Several times I looked behind me but I saw nothing. As the night went on and I kept reading, my eyelids got heavier and heavier. Then, when I was about to close the book, a small, shadowy, black tendril lightly tugged at the corner of the page and turned it. I immediately snapped out of my stupor. Startled, I looked behind me again but I didn’t see anything except the shadows receding from the light of the desk lamp back into the rows and aisles.”

Deborah Gomez, 2017

[crypto0321]

U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service

CRYPTO-related operatives within the USFWS number less than one hundred. Most of these operatives work diligently to keep up to date with modern CRYPTO needs.

Through various units, USFWS operatives contain and in some cases, preserve and protect numerous cryptid populations. Whether it’s keeping tabs on FISH populations or containing a SNAKE outbreak, USFWS operatives are there.

USFWS operatives can be found anywhere there’s a wildlife refuge, hatchery, or preserve. Conservation Offices and Ecological Field Stations are also likely locations for operatives.

Most USFWS operatives conduct operations alone or in conjunction with other CRYPTO units such as P.A.R.K. Rangers. Many long-term cryptid missions are carried out by units such as the National Fish Hatchery System and the Endangered Species Program.

USFWS operations can be conducted any time of day, and include both short-term missions and long-term management.

Equipment utilized by USFWS operatives is predominantly mundane. In special cases, usually dictated by specific locations, operatives have access to AHS-enhanced material.

[crypto0321]

“It’s the same beach where I used to swim when I was a kid. It was late, but I wanted to see the beach one last time before I left the island in the morning. I sat down at the water’s edge and let the tide tickle my toes. The sound of the ocean drowned everything out and I lost track of time. The tide had risen enough to make sitting uncomfortable so I got up. As I turned, the moonlight caught something out of place in the water. At first, I thought it was a couple standing in the shallow water. The longer I watched the more peculiar the couple became in the sparkling water. They didn’t move at all. They appeared to be completely unaffected by the waves crashing through them. The moon’s reflection off the water finally revealed the truth of what I was seeing. It was not a couple but something with three, or four, legs reaching up to an armless torso and no neck to support a very bulbous head. While I watched, it turned its head toward me. Then suddenly, the thing’s legs collapsed like the air quickly leaving a balloon, and fell into the water.”

Valerie Perez, 2002

[crypto0321]

Children of the Maw

One of the largest cults found in North America, Children of the Maw, can be found in almost every U.S. state. Although not very organized, their membership often exceeds other CRYPTO-related organizations. Cult members are primarily preoccupied with committing acts of savagery in the name of the more violent aspect of Sebek. These acts include animal mutilation, vandalism, “fight clubs”, and more. Anything that promotes savagery and aggressiveness are possible activities for cultists. Although the largest concentration of membership is within the Everglades National Park, Children of the Maw can be found almost anywhere. Typically the only requirements are seclusion and the presence of some kind of indigenous reptile. Children of the Maw tend to gather and operate in small groups; a handful is the norm and a dozen or two would be quite large. Almost all ritual activity is conducted from noon to midnight. However, ancillary operations can be carried out at any time of day. Keeping with the savage and primitive nature of the cult, members are often in possession of bladed weapons. Many advanced members prefer to use claws and teeth.

[crypto0321]

“…Like I said, we were on the other side of the river. We’d been in that fire for three days and finally we could take a break. That’s when I saw it.

At first, I saw what I thought was an elk, calmly walk through a wall of fire on the opposite side of the river. I reached for my rifle -with my only thought being to put the animal out of its misery.

The beast’s back was ablaze but it didn’t seem to notice. It looked left and right before looking across the river at us. It could have been a trick of the smoke and flame but, it appeared to have a bunch of red eyes, like a spider. It stared for several moments as flames peeled from its back like autumn leaves falling up into the sky.

Then, as if it heard something we didn’t, it abruptly turned its head toward the wall of fire. Paying us no further mind, it walked back into the flames and disappeared.”

-Walton Gibbs, 1985