GHOUL, n.
A demon addicted to the reprehensible habit of devouring the dead. The existence of ghouls has been disputed by that class of controversialists who are more concerned to deprive the world of comforting beliefs than to give it anything good in their place. In 1640 Father Secchi saw one in a cemetery near Florence and frightened it away with the sign of the cross. He describes it as gifted with many heads and an uncommon allowance of limbs, and he saw it in more than one place at a time. The good man was coming away from dinner at the time and explains that if he had not been "heavy with eating" he would have seized the demon at all hazards. Atholston relates that a ghoul was caught by some sturdy peasants in a churchyard at Sudbury and ducked in a horsepond. (He appears to think that so distinguished a criminal should have been ducked in a tank of rosewater.) The water turned at once to blood "and so contynues unto ys daye." The pond has since been bled with a ditch. As late as the beginning of the fourteenth century a ghoul was cornered in the crypt of the cathedral at Amiens and the whole population surrounded the place. Twenty armed men with a priest at their head, bearing a crucifix, entered and captured the ghoul, which, thinking to escape by the stratagem, had transformed itself to the semblance of a well known citizen, but was nevertheless hanged, drawn and quartered in the midst of hideous popular orgies. The citizen whose shape the demon had assumed was so affected by the sinister occurrence that he never again showed himself in Amiens and his fate remains a mystery.
A demon addicted to the reprehensible habit of devouring the dead. The existence of ghouls has been disputed by that class of controversialists who are more concerned to deprive the world of comforting beliefs than to give it anything good in their place. In 1640 Father Secchi saw one in a cemetery near Florence and frightened it away with the sign of the cross. He describes it as gifted with many heads and an uncommon allowance of limbs, and he saw it in more than one place at a time. The good man was coming away from dinner at the time and explains that if he had not been "heavy with eating" he would have seized the demon at all hazards. Atholston relates that a ghoul was caught by some sturdy peasants in a churchyard at Sudbury and ducked in a horsepond. (He appears to think that so distinguished a criminal should have been ducked in a tank of rosewater.) The water turned at once to blood "and so contynues unto ys daye." The pond has since been bled with a ditch. As late as the beginning of the fourteenth century a ghoul was cornered in the crypt of the cathedral at Amiens and the whole population surrounded the place. Twenty armed men with a priest at their head, bearing a crucifix, entered and captured the ghoul, which, thinking to escape by the stratagem, had transformed itself to the semblance of a well known citizen, but was nevertheless hanged, drawn and quartered in the midst of hideous popular orgies. The citizen whose shape the demon had assumed was so affected by the sinister occurrence that he never again showed himself in Amiens and his fate remains a mystery.
Ghouls either remain in spirit form or steal the bodies of living beings—living beings only—either human or animal. They can only do this when the spirit of the living person, during sleep (either natural or induced hypnotically), is separated from the material body; or, in other words, when the spirit is projected. The ghoul then pounces on the physical body, and, often refusing to restore it to its rightful owner, the latter is compelled to roam about as a phantasm for just so long a time as the ghoul chooses to inhabit the body it has stolen.
— Elliott O'Donnell, Werwolves
By contrast, a ghoul, as a friend of ours puts it, is "a real nothing." Traditionally filthy, frightened of shadows, and existing on a dull diet of corpses (which you cannot charge to your Diners Club account), he scarcely seems a monster to aspire to.
— Editorial, Fantastic Vol.8 No.4
"A ghoul, as I'm sure you know, is a disgusting creature who opens graves and feeds on corpses."
— Baron Sardonicus, Mr. Sardonicus
A ghul knows that emotions drive men. With cleverness, it changes its form, creating a disguise that lures a victim by preying on his passions. The creature can become anything, though its body mass remains the same, and it can never transform its mule's hooves. The night-beast cleverly hides them with flowing cloth or strapped-on shoes, but cannot change them as it can the rest of its body.
This pestilential thing survives by eating flesh - any kind of flesh. It is the succulent taste of betrayal, however, that makes the grandest meal. To prepare such feasts, the ghul creates a disguise, fosters trust in its victims, then tortures them when they're at their most vulnerable. These connoisseurs of misery seem to enjoy the enjoy the emotions that seep into the flesh of their victims...
This pestilential thing survives by eating flesh - any kind of flesh. It is the succulent taste of betrayal, however, that makes the grandest meal. To prepare such feasts, the ghul creates a disguise, fosters trust in its victims, then tortures them when they're at their most vulnerable. These connoisseurs of misery seem to enjoy the enjoy the emotions that seep into the flesh of their victims...
Humans who consume the blood of Nosferatu gain the same benefits as other ghouls: incredible strength, increased vitality, and a reprieve from aging. Along with these gifts, however, they also receive a foul taste of Nosferatu's curse. After a thrall has taken the third dose of his regnant's blood, he begins to take on subtle changes that render him unattractive and unsightly. It's only a slight transformation, but mortals who deal with Nosferatu ghouls always suspect that something is not quite right with them. Acne, greasy hair, weight problems, slouching gaits and body odor are just part of the problem: there's an unnatural taint that goes deeper than pockmarked flesh...
— Vampire: The Masquerade — Clanbook: Nosferatu (Revised)
"These creatures always amuse me. Oh, certainly they can be useful – having minions who can go out in the daylight, however much they might not want to, is not to be underrated. Yet the irony is not lost on me, that I have some Humans — or former Humans, if you want to be precise – who are so desperate for the scraps from my table that they will even fight the rest of you for the chance to bite on a few corpses."
— Constantin von Carstein, Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay: Old World Bestiary — A Compendium of Creatures Fair and Foul
"[I]t is a beast that knows nothing of its days as a human being, a creature that shambles about as naked as the day it was born, and gorges itself on the flesh of the dead."
— Ghoul unit description, Battle for Wesnoth
"Carrion-reek breath and a seeking tongue that can taste decay from a mile away. Grim feasts in mausoleums and mass graves, serenaded with their gibbering language. A marriage of cadavers and carcass eaters. Corpses teach ghouls what it is to be patient. Ghouls teach corpses what it is to be wanted. Round and round.
They are the trash compactors of the secret world. Ghouls, as a general thing, have no higher agenda. They are what they are, following the scent of rotten flesh, digging up the dead for their morbid repast. Other supernaturals tend to treat them with disgust. Humans instinctively avoid those burial spots that become ghoul feeding grounds. The ghouls fill their gross niche."
They are the trash compactors of the secret world. Ghouls, as a general thing, have no higher agenda. They are what they are, following the scent of rotten flesh, digging up the dead for their morbid repast. Other supernaturals tend to treat them with disgust. Humans instinctively avoid those burial spots that become ghoul feeding grounds. The ghouls fill their gross niche."
— The Buzzing, The Secret World
