The name Zhalpyil is a curious one indeed. “Zhal” comes from the Old High Church Cant, the liturgical trade language once used by itinerant priests of different nations to communicate. It means “split” or “schism,” with the Great Schism being described in the Cant as Zhalmayr. “Pyil” is, instead, from the tongue of Araksue, the last remnant of the great pagan language that was spoken by the wild tribes before the healing glory of the Church had broken. It means “child” or “baby,” such that “xuepyil” means grandchild (literally “double child”).
It is not known who bestowed such a name on Zhalpyil herself, for she bore it when she came to the Church in the belly of her pregnant mother who, despite her clear illiteracy, had somehow proudly written the name on both a paper tag and in stale blood across her own abdomen. The act of delivery killed her, but Zhalpyil survived. There were those who would have killed her then, but her pitiable sounds stayed their hands, and once it was learned that she could survive by suckling the blood from living rams, the Church reluctantly raised her.
Eventually, due to both her rapid growth and the fearful effect that she, if unveiled, might have on the unwary, Zhalpyil was confined to the old Chapel of the Sated Herb. She undertook some husbandry of the animals she needed to live, read vociferously of the former ecclesiastical library, and became an accomplished seamstress and needleworker, taking in repairs and orders in exchange for the funds needed to keep the Chapel in repair and her larder of rams stocked.
You will note that no images of Zhalpyil exist, and descriptions of her are vague at best. Indeed, if not for the infertile eggs she will occasionally and instinctively cement to the roof of the old belfry, it would not be sure that she is even of the fairer sex. Suffice it to say that she heavily favors whomever her father was, being only approximately human-shaped but far larger, with flightless gossamer wings, a dozen tentacled arms, and a torso more like that of a gastropod than anything human–to say nothing of the eleven feet of height and eight of girth.
It is her face that visitors who have glimpsed her without her veil find most striking–so striking, in fact, that several have gone mad at the sight. It is more like a coral reef than a face, made up of undulating structures that are pure anatomical fantasy. Her eyes, though, are said to be of a deep blue hue and quite kind.
High Inquisitor’s Note:
It has been my pleasure to interview Zhalpyil on several occasions. While she is capable of speech with the organs she possesses, the resultant voice is shockingly ordinary, as if issuing from a milkmaid rather than a monster. One of the reasons that the Church has been so forthcoming in its support of Zhalpyil is her intense piety, which she expresses through daily prayer and intense scriptural study. In this context, I asked her, once, what she thought of her own origin. Her response was: “I think my father prevailed upon my poor mother with false promises of power and glory, as the mighty often offer to the meek. I believe he was desirous of an agent that was partly of this world and partly of his, to act on his behalf. If he has ever sought to contact me, I am unaware of it.”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 