Kraken

It is difficult to fully describe the form of a kraken, as nobody has ever really seen one in its entirety. They have a broad snout that sticks up out of the water when they feed, their thick, jagged, mottled grey hide giving the impression of a pair of rocky islets. One "island" is usually about 120 feet long and is somewhat taller than the other, while the other, 40 feet away, is about 90 feet long and fits neatly against the first when the kraken closes its mouth to swallow.   Divers examining the sides of a feeding kraken have noted the rocky texture extends hundreds of feet below, and some report large tendrils ending in paddle shaped fins some 4-6 feet across and 20-30 feet long oscillating back and forth, pushing water into the strait between the islands. Divers sent further below, hoping to see the rest of the immense beast, have never returned.   Krakens seem to dislike being observed - while one can sail right up into its mouth and catch fish, any attempt to see them moving tends to provoke their attention. And for creatures that live on a timescale more comparable to volcanoes and glaciers than humans, they can move remarkably fast when they choose to. The few survivors tell harrowing tales of tentacles the size of trees tearing through their ship, globs of viscous water the size of boulders spat at those who can fly, the island-like jaws crashing together in a instant.

Krakens sleep for millennia at a time, though they will destroy anything that manages to awaken them with their powerful tentacles. When they awaken, they shift and shake, shedding the tonnes of sediment and debris that has accumulated on their sleeping forms. Once awakened, they uncoil and swim for the surface, where they hang vertically, their mouths protruding just beyond the surface of the water and their tails hanging upwards of a thousand feet below.   Here, they wait, breathing the water in and out. On the inhalation, fish are drawn down, into the maw by the hundreds; on the exhalation, they belch out some of the partly digested fish from their immense stomachs, drawing huge numbers of fish from miles around, only to be consumed by the next inhalation. As they do this, they use the broad fins at the end of their tentacles to create a current that flows into their mouth from both directions, driving yet more fish to their doom. This cycle repeats for decades, before they finally clamp their mouths shut with sudden, terrifying force, swallowing even those creatures strong enough to resist the pull of their inhalation.   Once a kraken has fed, they swim off for a time, finding a suitable patch of sea floor, adjusting the layers of sediment to their liking before coiling up to rest for another few millennia. Some scholars suggest that krakens spend this time searching for a mate. Others argue that krakens have no need to mate, they simply exist. After all, what could kill such a beast? None have ever seen a kraken mating, or even seen a kraken small enough to be recognized as newly born or hatched, though the lack of evidence about kraken activities in general means this is far from conclusive.   None know how long they swim before settling in to sleep, nor in what waters they swim; there are no documented cases of any sapient creature having ever actually seen a kraken swim - only accounts of them being seen sleeping or feeding, and sudden appearances and disappearances, and reconstructions of what must have happened based on the evidence left behind - and, of course, those harrowing stories of the handful of beings that have seen a kraken angry and lived to tell of it.

Some anglers, either brave or foolish, actually seek out krakens that are feeding. The chaotic mix of converging currents make the waters between a kraken's jaws trecherous indeed, and the rock-like skin is far from forgiving of those who run aground, but for some, the immense concentration of fish make it worth the risk. Krakens don't seem to care about fishing boats stealing fish from within its mouth, though those experienced with these expeditions note that the currents in the mouth become unpredictable if they stay too long. This, they say, is the kraken's way of letting them know they have overstayed their welcome, and even the bravest of anglers put aside their equipment and make their escape as soon as they notice this change.