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Description

Cthulutherids are immense and monstrously deformed whale analogies. Though they do not rival or exceed the largest Earth whales in size, they are still massive creatures, with the biggest species reaching close to sixty feet in length and forty tons in weight. Unlike whales, they breathe through simple, spiracle-like gills situated below their heads. Also unlike whales, they are comparatively stupid creatures who lead drab lives nosing about in filthy waterways. Their immense, tentacled mouths serve a variety of purposes, from sweeping in algae and schools of small prey to digging through the seafloor in search of burrowing sea worms. They have no bones, instead possessing a very simple cartilaginous skeleton that boils down to a simple rod for a spine, some “finbones” supporting the flukes and pectoral fins, and some reinforcement of the flabby head. They make up for this by having powerful muscles and thick skin, and all species can eject a cloud of foul-smelling liquid feces and oily matter when threatened. The glands storing this are identified by a prominent opening behind each pectoral fin.

Blind and lacking sonar, Cthulutherids navigate by unrivaled senses of smell, touch, and electroreception. They are accustomed to very dark, murky waters and have little use for vision. Though they resemble whales and all but the most basal species swim like them, Cthulutherids are more comparable to goldfish or better yet slugs in their behavior (excepting the macropredatory Grinwhales, which are not shown). They aimlessly drift along near the bottom of the sea, greedily vacuuming up anything vaguely organic. Most species are generalized examples of these overgrown “goldfish” equipped with wide, tentacular “nets” and enlarged throats that allow them to vacuum up vast quantities of algae, plankton, or soft-bodied animals. They will also try mouthing any larger fauna that cannot get away and frequently attempt to swallow carcasses and the egg masses of various marine worms. They are not specialized for algae or meat, simply eating anything they can in an unending sea of night. Their bodies are bulbous and malformed, littered in scars and drab in color (though some warm water varieties are actually quite colorful for reasons yet unknown). Many migrate back and forth from the northern waters to the southern coasts depending on food availability, while others spend their whole lives miles below the surface digging through the seafloor for worms and carrion. Some are specialized filter feeders with wide, gaping net maws that can easily sweep in plankton. Others have short, broad tentacles for digging through mud or grasping large prey. Others yet are algae grazers with bloated stomachs and armored tails. There is even a unique lineage of specialist carnivores, the aforementioned Grinwhales.

Depicted are two kinds of generalists, a long, tubular bottom feeder found year-round in northern waters ranging from 100-500 meters deep. These are shy, solitary, and alternate between eating mostly animal matter in the winter to grazing on algae in the summer. Adults average thirty feet in length and are fond of burrowing when not pressed to mate or feed.

The other is larger and tends to swim near to surface. They feed predominantly on algae and schools of zooplankton, which they sweep in with their vast, netlike tentacles. Adults may reach fifty feet in length and are usually a sickly green in color. They are powerful swimmers, spending their summers in the north and migrating to the south in the summer to graze on algae. They will also opportunistically eat carrion and soft-bodied animals they stir up from the sediment. Like virtually any other “gentle giant” or “herbivore” on their world, they will gladly attack smaller animals and ravage nests when nutritionally pressed. Even so, they are usually quite placid, if one knows how to anticipate their stupidity and proclivity to destructive gluttony. Despite their size, they are nervous and very wary, mostly in shallow waters, where big loaches are a major threat.

A small Muck Dick swims alongside them. Having been separated from its pod, it finds some odd comfort next to these gigantic brutes. Without its own kind to keep it company, the instinctual urge for companionship must be satisfied by the next best thing.

Description

Cthulutherids are immense and monstrously deformed whale analogies. Though they do not rival or exceed the largest Earth whales in size, they are still massive creatures, with the biggest species reaching close to sixty feet in length and forty tons in weight. Unlike whales, they breathe through simple, spiracle-like gills situated below their heads. Also unlike whales, they are comparatively stupid creatures who lead drab lives nosing about in filthy waterways. Their immense, tentacled mouths serve a variety of purposes, from sweeping in algae and schools of small prey to digging through the seafloor in search of burrowing sea worms. They have no bones, instead possessing a very simple cartilaginous skeleton that boils down to a simple rod for a spine, some “finbones” supporting the flukes and pectoral fins, and some reinforcement of the flabby head. They make up for this by having powerful muscles and thick skin, and all species can eject a cloud of foul-smelling liquid feces and oily matter when threatened. The glands storing this are identified by a prominent opening behind each pectoral fin.

Blind and lacking sonar, Cthulutherids navigate by unrivaled senses of smell, touch, and electroreception. They are accustomed to very dark, murky waters and have little use for vision. Though they resemble whales and all but the most basal species swim like them, Cthulutherids are more comparable to goldfish or better yet slugs in their behavior (excepting the macropredatory Grinwhales, which are not shown). They aimlessly drift along near the bottom of the sea, greedily vacuuming up anything vaguely organic. Most species are generalized examples of these overgrown “goldfish” equipped with wide, tentacular “nets” and enlarged throats that allow them to vacuum up vast quantities of algae, plankton, or soft-bodied animals. They will also try mouthing any larger fauna that cannot get away and frequently attempt to swallow carcasses and the egg masses of various marine worms. They are not specialized for algae or meat, simply eating anything they can in an unending sea of night. Their bodies are bulbous and malformed, littered in scars and drab in color (though some warm water varieties are actually quite colorful for reasons yet unknown). Many migrate back and forth from the northern waters to the southern coasts depending on food availability, while others spend their whole lives miles below the surface digging through the seafloor for worms and carrion. Some are specialized filter feeders with wide, gaping net maws that can easily sweep in plankton. Others have short, broad tentacles for digging through mud or grasping large prey. Others yet are algae grazers with bloated stomachs and armored tails. There is even a unique lineage of specialist carnivores, the aforementioned Grinwhales.

Depicted are two kinds of generalists, a long, tubular bottom feeder found year-round in northern waters ranging from 100-500 meters deep. These are shy, solitary, and alternate between eating mostly animal matter in the winter to grazing on algae in the summer. Adults average thirty feet in length and are fond of burrowing when not pressed to mate or feed.

The other is larger and tends to swim near to surface. They feed predominantly on algae and schools of zooplankton, which they sweep in with their vast, netlike tentacles. Adults may reach fifty feet in length and are usually a sickly green in color. They are powerful swimmers, spending their summers in the north and migrating to the south in the summer to graze on algae. They will also opportunistically eat carrion and soft-bodied animals they stir up from the sediment. Like virtually any other “gentle giant” or “herbivore” on their world, they will gladly attack smaller animals and ravage nests when nutritionally pressed. Even so, they are usually quite placid, if one knows how to anticipate their stupidity and proclivity to destructive gluttony. Despite their size, they are nervous and very wary, mostly in shallow waters, where big loaches are a major threat.

A small Muck Dick swims alongside them. Having been separated from its pod, it finds some odd comfort next to these gigantic brutes. Without its own kind to keep it company, the instinctual urge for companionship must be satisfied by the next best thing.