![]() The dobhar-chú does not travel alone but in mated pairs. However, if you do down a dobhar-chú, get ready for a bonus fight. According to Irish folklore, heroes have felled these creatures with daggers, spears, swords, and bullets, so they’re just as susceptible to conventional weapons as any animal, even if their size and speed make them far more formidable. The dobhar-chú is fast and fierce, but not impossible to beat in combat. You can avoid Nessie by staying out of Loch Ness, but the dobhar-chú can be anywhere. And, while lake monsters are tied to a single body of water, the dobhar-chú migrates, traveling a mysterious route across the Irish countryside. It can swim and run much faster than humans (or humanoids), keeping pace with horses on land. Unlike its lake bound brethren, the dobhar-chú is just as deadly out of the water, and horrifyingly fast on solid ground. Though the dobhar-chú is always spotted in and around lakes, rivers, and the coast, it is not a strictly water-dwelling monster. There are echoes of lake monster and kelpie lore in the tale of the dobhar-chú, with a few twists that are decidedly unfortunate for any who encounter this creature. It is said to have dark fur, teeth and claws straight from your nightmares, a powerful tail, and an absolutely insatiable appetite for human meat. Stories tell of a large creature, anywhere from seven to ten feet long, that combines the features of an otter, crocodile, and dog. Its name literally translates to “water hound.” Add all these description up and you get a pretty clear picture of the dobhar-chú. This creature has many nicknames: king of all lakes, father of all otters, the Irish crocodile, and king otter among them. Then you see it, a crocodile-sized creature covered with slick, dark fur barreling through the water toward you, jaws open, and realize your horse had the right idea.īetter draw your sword quick because the dobhar-chú is coming for you. You swear and hope you can find him before someone else does.Īs you turn to follow, you hear the splash of something in the water, something big. He bolts before you can get a firm grasp on the rein, crashing into the underbrush. Suddenly your horse’s head jerks up, he is alert and backing away from the water, startled by something. You crouch on the shore, washing some of the dust of the road from your arms and boots, enjoying the feel of cool water and clean skin. You dismount and guide your horse down to the water’s edge, letting the reins go slack so he can drop his head and drink. ![]()
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