Dracula Duck

Looming out of the midnight mist comes Count Duckula, the feathered lord of the night who traded human jugulars for moonlit marshlands. Cloaked in high-collared velvet with crimson silk lining tucked snugly over glossy black plumage, this brooding waterfowl stalks ancient, cobblestone riverbanks with a sinister, web-footed waddle. Two tiny, razor-sharp fangs glint from beneath a pale yellow bill as he delivers a bloodcurdling—yet undeniably nasal—"Quuu-aack," summoning flocks of loyal pond-bats to do his bidding. Mortally allergic to garlic, silver, and daytime swimming, this immortal terror sleeps soundly in a velvet-lined nest inside a sunken coffin, proving that pure Transylvanian malice is at its most fearsome when it's utterly waterproof.