"It's spreading. I've seen it. On trees, on vegetation. On animals. There was this raccoon the other day, it had glowing eyes, worms protruding from its ears. Black ooze leaking through the fur. It left wet paw prints on the ground, and right away the grass and ground were infected. Strangest thing of all, it was like I could see straight through it, and... and I could see stars. Dying stars."
— Marianne Chen, The Secret World
From out of shadows cast by some unseen shapes, shadows that seemed stretched-out and taut, tethered from corner to corner of the square room, something stalked into view. Into existence. It bulked suddenly where there had been nothing. It stepped out from behind some fold in space. It picked its way forward, delicate on pointed feet, vast body bobbing, lifting multiple legs high. It looked down at Rudgutter and his fellows from a head that loomed colossally above them.
A spider.
Rudgutter had trained himself rigorously. He was an unimaginative man, a cold man who ruled himself with industrial discipline. He could no longer feel terror. But, gazing at the Weaver, he came close.
A spider.
Rudgutter had trained himself rigorously. He was an unimaginative man, a cold man who ruled himself with industrial discipline. He could no longer feel terror. But, gazing at the Weaver, he came close.
"Dear God! It's literally a deer god!"
— Markiplier on Specimen 8 from Spookys Jumpscare Mansion
Although few in number, these slugs are hideous, reality-annihilating entities. To see one is to watch the leaves of trees slowly transform into metal, to hear the songs of angels in one’s ears, and to watch as the sky twists into a baroque painting with flights of smiling saints descending upon humanity. To gaze upon the emblems on its back is to know that God is real, and to rejoice.
