Creatures Among Us

Creatures Among Us

Icelandic folklore doesn’t draw a neat line between people and monsters. Creatures aren’t just things that lurk in caves or under bridges — they live at the edge of farms, inside the dark of winter, and sometimes uncomfortably close to home.

Our Creatures line is rooted in that idea.

These beings aren’t imported fantasy monsters. They’re shaped by landscape, weather, hunger, and long nights. They exist because people needed ways to talk about fear, scarcity, danger, and the things you don’t look at directly. When the world is harsh, stories grow teeth.

Take the trolls — not the fairytale kind, but the old ones. Heavy, slow, tied to stone and mountains. Creatures of habit and territory. They turn to rock in daylight not because it’s poetic, but because daylight is exposure. These are beings that survive by staying hidden.

Then there are the in-between creatures. The ones that slip into houses, steal food, disturb sleep, or simply watch. Not always evil. Not always kind. Often just… there. Reminders that the world doesn’t belong to humans alone.

What matters is that these creatures were never just entertainment. They were explanations. Warnings. Dark jokes told to children and adults alike. Ways of giving shape to the unknown — and sometimes to very real threats.

Our Creatures designs aren’t about jump scares or fantasy aesthetics. They’re about presence. Texture. Unease. A sense that something is nearby, just out of sight.

Because in Icelandic stories, the creature isn’t always the problem.

Sometimes it’s the neighbour. Sometimes it’s the weather.

And sometimes it’s you.