Introducing Quacklore.
Once upon a time…
...there was a person who we shall call Gallus. Gallus, as most of us do, liked to tell stories. Unlike most of us, though, Gallus was blessed with a family that leant itself to such things, and the internet forum in which to tell them- Tumblr, to be exact. For example, one year, Gallus’s family gathered for their annual harvest ceremony. The harvest ceremony was traditionally something of a raucous affair, known not just for its plethora of frankly disturbing food, but also for throwing together people with different political opinions, who tended to loudly voice dubious concerns with absolute conviction. One aunt in particular was well known for this, having in a past gathering mistaken a turkey stuffed with a Cornish hen for a pregnant turkey. Against all known logic, this isn’t an uncommon reaction to birds stuffed with other birds. However, she was convinced that the fully dead, fully cooked, and oviparous in life bird had been given an abortion by the assembled diners. For which, surely, she would be damned if she partook. In one fateful year, there was no turducken, but someone let the younger generation loose with a wide variety of tools, angst, and the fall harvest. In the tradition of harvest celebrations everywhere, they made an idol. Not just any idol, mind you. They made Slagthor the Annihilator.
Slagthor was a glorious sight to behold, if Gallus is to be believed- composed almost entirely of gourds, vaguely turkey-shaped, stuffed with firecrackers by an entrepreneurial cousin while nobody was looking, and blown to smithereens after dinner. Unfortunately, due to this, Slagthor’s original visage was never captured. However, his somewhat less pristine reincarnation in ice is available from a subsequent year. Sadly, although the reincarnation of Slagthor has become something of a tradition in the Gallus household, and a tradition for the fandom thereof, it is not the right season for pyrotechnic gamebirds. I would not dare to offend the spirit of Slagthor so. Besides, there’s been a drought for thirty years and there’s a fire ban in place- though I am a devoted subject, I see no point in being arrested for arson. What it is nearly time for is Easter. Of course, Gallus has Easter lore to match their harvest traditions. You see, in 1969, Gallus’s father nearly got banned from the catholic church for spearing a Jesus made of challah bread. Challah bread being, of course, far tastier and easier to shape into an edible deity than your standard church wafer, and Easter Mass being something of a big deal worth being excommunicated over. In order to make a proper reenactment, Jesus was anatomically correct and life sized, of course. And filled with raspberry jam. After a dramatic whipping, crucifying, and puncturing of the doughy savior, he was then devoured by the congregation.
In my neck of the woods, spring is also time for the annual duck race. Ducks are the ideal iconography for this town, being representative of Easter, yet nondenominational enough to be relatively inoffensive. One would assume that rabbits would be the chosen species, but rabbits are alarmingly incapable of floating properly when thrown into the glaciermelt river that runs through the middle of town. For about a week, the entire town dedicates itself to utter quackery- Duck themed decorations and foods abound. This culminates in the duck race, where literal thousands of rubber ducks, sponsored by spectators, are released into the river to compete for prizes. There are, in that moment, more ducks on the river than people that actually live in the town. And so I present to you an idol, in true traditional form, that I have created to represent the cryptid lore of the Midwest: Quacklore, The Ungrateful. Xe is the first of xis name. @gallusrostromegalus
