Technically, these aren’t creatures- and if you see one, it should be reported immediately for your own safety.
An omen manifest is a summoned energy, that possesses the ‘body’ made for it by the summoner. The body must be made from a bone and animal hair.
Summoning an omen is considered a necromantic act, and is illegal.
The Hamadryad is a subspecies of dryad, itself a type of nymph.
Thoroughly documented by the ancient Greeks, hamadryads dwell within trees.
Though they have a physical form, they are born bonded to their one particular tree, and may never leave it.
Should the tree die, the hamadryad dies with it- and vice versa.
Like many nymphs, hamadryads enjoy music and dancing, though they are more reclusive and shy than other species.
This particular specimen is the hamadryad of a cherry tree. Like its host’s winter branches it now looks bare and stick-like. Come spring, tiny blossoms will begin to sprout along its limbs.
We took a walk along the coast not far out of Revery to investgate a report of a beached kraken, only to find an empty beach- and something watching us.
Nobody can agree on what the eyes actually are. No one has ever caught one, or touched one- those who have tried have gone mad.
Several religions have claimed them as angels, spirits, prophets and omens. If you get close enough to one, you will hear it whisper- but no one can agree on what the eyes tell them, either. People have heard prophecies, dark secrets, horrifying truths and beautiful lies, the meaning of existence.
What we do know, is that the eyes like to hang out in liminal spaces: empty car parks, petrol stations, abandoned buildings, waiting rooms…
And they watch, and they whisper, and we don’t know why.
If you ever get that neck-prickling feeling of being watched, look down. Odds are, you’ll see a pair of golden eyes peering at you from the grass or verge.
Mosswatchers are a little studied phenomenon; a small, curious beast that seems to have only one hobby- care to guess?
They watch.
In fact, they have been known to watch for days at a time, and possibly even longer. Some theorise that they acquire their mossy coats from sitting still for weeks, or even month.
This six legged rodent is an effective harvester, active in hedgerows, farmland, woods and even urban environments from spring to autumn. 
Commonly characterized in folklore and stories as greedy and selfish, the hexury is merely an accomplished survivor; weathering even the harshest winters with ease in their secure, cosy ‘pantries’.
They make their winter home in a variety of places, including rocky crevices, rotten logs and holes in tree roots.
Once their collection is deemed sufficient, they seal themselves inside with a wall of gathered fur, dry grass, mud and saliva. Once secured, a typical hoard can last up to six months, though rarely is that required.
Freshwater Undine
Paracelcies Phoxinus
The freshwater undine prefers lakes and slow moving rivers, but can still be found in deep streams and waterways across the country.
Whilst the undine is often assumed to be a smaller, feral relation to the mermaid; this is not the case. Undine are closer to fish than men, and have all the intelligence of your average minnow.
They are solitary creatures and highly territorial, tearing at their prey with needle sharp teeth- and will have a go at an unfortunate fisherman, should they mistakenly catch one.
Wading barefoot in known undine territory is not advised.
I was eating breakfast when I heard it: a rustling in the pantry. Best case scenario: it was a foraging venomstriker; worst case scenario: I had mice.
Turns out, it wasn’t either of those: when I opened the cuboard; armed with a glass and a roll of newspaper, I found this little guy:
This is a devilmite, so named for its horned appearance and tendency to steal food. (i.e. Begone, devilmite!)
It was obviously used to people, and didn’t make a fuss when I took it outside- it even stuck around to suss me out, before scooting over the wall next door (A bakery, where it will probably decimate their stock. Oops.)
‘Look!’ Keeley shoved her handheld ORCID into Lesley’s face.
‘Good morning to you too, Claremont,’ Lesley said, taking a step back so that her eyes would actually focus on the screen. Keeley was practically bouncing up and down with urgency. Lesley grabbed her wrist to keep the handheld still.
It was was a photo of a wall, with a very familiar symbol painted on it.
Lesley groaned. ‘Evelyn is going to be thrilled.’
Evelyn was not thrilled at all. She scrunched up her fists, leant back into her chair and went uuuurgh– which, coming from evelyn was basically a temper tantrum.
Then she produced her own photo.
‘This was pinned to our door this morning.’
‘Is that a… corn dolly?’ Keeley asked. ‘It’s kind of cute. Some little cultist probably spent a lot of time on that! Where is it now?’
‘Jesper whisked it off somewhere- I think he’s dissecting it. I took the photos for the archive, if my dear brother actually turns up for work today.’ She peered at her ORCID owlishly, ever the long-suffering responsible sibling.
If it were up to Lesley, she’d just kick him out.
That’s probably why is wasn’t up to Lesley.
‘…I was just about to ask where Bartholomew was,’ Keeley said. ‘Are you sure he’s not just sleeping in the archives again?’
‘I checked the usual spots- besides, I actually heard him leave last night.’
‘Just…with all of this cult thing, it’s probably a good idea if we keep track of everyone. And not wander around Revery in the dark alone, like, ever.’ Keeley sounded worried.
‘Or,’ Lesley said, ‘We could let him get murdered by ritual sacrifice. Then I wouldn’t have to do it myself.’
seaflowerinstitute.wordpress.com 